Wedding Spells

by Morgana Best

  Ruprecht nodded solemnly. “I do believe you’re right. Does that help, Barb?”

  Barb said that it didn’t. “I can’t tell you about any specific individual, but one thing I can tell you is that someone has gone to a lot of trouble to plan this.”

  Something occurred to me. “Barb, do the tea leaves give any hint as to whether the target was Bertha or Alder? Or whether it was Bertha alone?”

  Barb spent a good five minutes looking at all our tea cups again.

  “I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt the target was Alder,” she said. “The only other thing I can tell you is that someone has gone to a lot of trouble to implicate Alder, and there is a significant amount of deception over this whole case.”

  Chapter 23

  The morning was cold, so I kept the fire going. I sat on the floor near the fireplace, sipping my coffee and watching the time on my phone, anxiously waiting for it to turn nine. Although Ridgewell Giggleswick had said I could call him at any time, I didn’t like to do so outside office hours.

  When it was a few seconds before nine, I called him. He answered straight away. That took me by surprise—I expected I would have to leave a message and he’d call me back. “It’s Amelia Spelled,” I said. “I have something to tell you, but I don’t know if it’s going to be any help.”

  “It’s best you tell me everything and let me be the judge as to whether or not it’s a help,” he said in measured tones.

  I launched straight into it. “I’ve found out that Bertha Bunyons had congestive heart failure, and she wasn’t expected to live much longer at all.”

  “That is interesting indeed,” Giggleswick said in a monotone. If he was genuinely interested, then he sure didn’t sound it.

  “How do you think that impacts on the case?” I asked him.

  “I’ll have to give it some thought,” he said. “Take heart, Amelia. Although justice has nothing to do with the law, in Alder’s case, I’m sure justice will be served soon.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said. “Please say hello to Alder for me.”

  “Will do.” With that, he hung up.

  I stared at the walls. “Do you think Bertha’s congestive heart failure and the fact that she was going to cross over soon had anything to do with the case?” I asked the house.

  The television came on so loudly, I spilt my coffee.

  “Well if you try to give me a hint, you’ll have to make it clearer than that,” I said. I didn’t know whether I imagined it, but I could swear the house groaned.

  I took off to the kitchen and gasped when I walked through the door. The kitchen had been that way ever since the house changed the interior of the rooms, but it still took some getting used to. Instead of a cute cottage look, the kitchen was now ultra modern: all stainless steel and suitable for a chef. Alder was a good cook, and I’m sure the house wanted him to live there. I’d love to continue living at my house too, but I didn’t think it fair to Alder. I grabbed a cloth and hurried back in to wipe up the spilt coffee, and then went back to my coffee machine to make another.

  “I’m going to have to do a spell,” I told the cats.

  They both stared at me.

  “Okay, I don’t know what sort of spell, but I have to do one. The others were at the shop and won’t let me come in, but it’s worse for me to be here going over and over everything. I’ll just have to do a spell. Inspiration will strike me, I’m sure.”

  I had a little altar room just off the library, and the house had made another one as well. Presumably the house wanted that one to be Alder’s. Thankfully, the house had not changed my altar room. I looked on the shelves at all my bottles of essential oils and potions, and all my dried herbs. “Now what sort of spell should I do?” I said to myself, tapping my chin. “I might as well do another spell that the truth will be revealed.”

  I had an uneasy feeling about it, but I couldn’t see what could possibly go wrong. I grabbed a yellow candle for communication and stuck it in the centre of my altar. My working candle at the moment was a particularly nice smelling candle of orange, grapefruit, and verbena. When my working candle melted all the way down, I always recycled the wax into the next candle and I liked to use a variety of scents. I lit my working candle first, because I figured that preparing for a spell was actually part of the spell itself.

  My mind went blank and I couldn’t remember what I needed for a truth spell, although I had done one countless times. I reached for my Book of Shadows and thumbed through it. There it was. Althaea root for truth, and compulsion herbs such as liquorice root and calamus root.

  In the past, the murderer had always come to the house to try to do away with me, and the house had always saved me. I figured I should add some protection to the spell just to be on the safe side. I selected dragon’s blood, frankincense, and myrrh incense powders. Together, they constituted Fiery Wall of Protection. I set a charcoal disc on fire and when it stopped sparking, threw the powders on it. A wonderful fragrance filled the room.

  I noticed my bottle of red brick dust and thought it a good idea to put more under the front door mat. The house usually protected me, but I was not going to take any chances.

  I wrote my intention that the murderer would soon come to light on a piece of paper and set it under the candle. I then took it back out and wrote the word ‘immediately’ under that and underlined it. I wrote the same words on another piece of paper. Then I remembered that coffee speeds up the working of spells, so I reached for some instant coffee and sprinkled some on top of the yellow candle. I made holes in the yellow candle with a small hawthorn twig and poured in the coffee and then pushed in some liquorice root and calamus.

  I had run out of Road Opener oil, which I always had to buy from the US since I hadn’t found it available in Australia. I decided to use orange oil instead, as orange was the main ingredient in Blockbuster Oil, used to break apart unfavourable circumstances. I stroked the candle upwards with orange oil and then rubbed the herbs into the sides of the candle. Now that the candle was suitably dressed, I lit it, focusing on my intent. I took the second piece of paper with a pair of tweezers and held it over the flame until it dissolved into ash.

  “I need to solve the murder. Give me a Jessica Fletcher moment!” I declared.

  The cats stared at me in confusion.

  “Haven’t you ever seen Murder She Wrote?” I asked them. “Jessica Fletcher always has a sudden ‘Aha’ moment. She knows the identity of the murderer in an instant.”

  I always read the candle working, and I was satisfied with this one. The flame lit easily, flared high, and my intention paper burned immediately. That meant the outcome would be successful, and fast.

  I had no time to waste. The murderer could be on their way over to my house this very minute. Of course, the murderer could just as likely go to the police station to confess. Who would know? I couldn’t take any chances. I grabbed the bottle of red brick dust and sprinkled some under the welcome mat at the front door and then returned to my altar room.

  I went back into the living room and turned down the TV. “Grandmother, the murderer might be on their way here right now,” I said. “Please protect me like you’ve done in the past.”

  The house turned up the television once more. “Why are you still watching Wasp’s Nest?” I said, squinting at the screen. “Is that a clue? Perhaps I should watch it.”

  The house turned down the TV.

  “Oh I get it,” I said. “You’ll keep the sound down if I watch the movie?”

  The house restarted the film. “Can you pause it while I run to the kitchen and make a nice hot coffee?” I asked.

  Perhaps this was the answer. I had done the spell and there was a clue in the Agatha Christie movie. I was immensely relieved. No one was coming to murder me, after all.

  I sat in a comfortable chair by the fire as the movie started. This was certainly better than people coming to the house to kill me. Why hadn’t I listened to the house and watched the movie
before? I shook my head. Silly me.

  Just then, there was a knock at the door. Oh no. It couldn’t be! The house paused the film and I walked to the door. There, standing on the doorstep, was Yarrow Larkspur.

  Chapter 24

  “It was you!” I exclaimed.

  Yarrow looked surprised. “Can I come in?”

  The manbag over his shoulder was big enough to conceal a gun or big knife. “Do you have a weapon in there?” I asked him. “A syringe of Thall-rat?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t understand. I’d like to come in and speak to you.”

  “Sure. Come in.” I stood back so I could watch him. I pointed to the living room. “Please go in there and take a seat.”

  I hadn’t expected my spell to work quite as fast as this, and I had been under the delusion that the clue was in an Agatha Christie movie.

  “So it was you, after all!” I said. “You won’t be able to kill me, you know. The house will protect me.”

  “Have you been smoking the happy weed?” His eyes were wide.

  “What? No! What are you talking about?”

  He frowned. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  So, he wasn’t going to be forthcoming. “What did you want to speak to me about?”

  “The police summoned me today and questioned me at length at the police station.”

  “Go on,” I said. I noticed he was wringing his hands.

  “Apparently Alder had a part in convicting me for one of my crimes.”

  “Oh yes, I heard that too,” I told him in the most even tone I could muster.

  “I actually didn’t know until the police told me today.” He sounded genuine, but then again I was a bad judge of character.

  I carefully walked into the room and sat opposite him. I was confident the house would protect me if he became violent, but for now it seemed he was simply trying to convince me. I decided to play along. “Of course you wouldn’t do anything bad to anyone now,” I said with a big fake smile.

  “Yes, that’s exactly right,” Yarrow said. “I didn’t know that Alder implicated me at the time. I didn’t know until the police told me today.”

  “Was he undercover or something?” I asked him.

  Once more, he looked surprised. “You don’t know?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know the first thing about it, only the police said Alder had something to do with convicting you for ice trafficking.”

  “No, he wasn’t undercover or anything like that. I don’t even know exactly what he did, but I think it was more paperwork.”

  “Paperwork?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Well, not exactly paperwork, but not undercover work,” he said. “I don’t know the details, either. Like I said, I didn’t even know anything about it until today. I just wanted to come here to reassure you that I had nothing to do with Bertha Bunyons’ death or with Alder being arrested.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “Can you tell me one thing?’ Without waiting for him to respond, I asked, “Why exactly did Bertha break your camera?”

  He shuddered. “I’d rather not say, but under the circumstances, I suppose I should tell you. It was because I took photos of those delightful cats.”

  “Cats?” I repeated in disbelief.

  He sighed. “Yes. She told me I shouldn’t take photos of cats as they were filthy creatures filled with germs. I told her that cats were nicer than most people. I’m afraid I was rather rude, and told her I would prefer to be in the company of a cat than in her company. She went crazy and broke my camera.”

  I tried to take it all in. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  He gasped. “It was too horrible to repeat! Imagine saying such dreadful things about cats. It’s all too awful.” He mopped his brow with a pale lavender handkerchief and stood up. “Goodbye now. Thank you for the pleasant chat.”

  I showed him to the door. As he made to step outside, I said, “So you’re really not here to kill me?”

  He must have thought I was joking, because he laughed and waved over his shoulder as he walked down the path.

  “Well, that’s one suspect down,” I said to Willow and Hawthorn. I shut the door, and had only taken five steps inside when there was another knock at the door. Perhaps Yarrow had forgotten his manbag.

  I spun back around to the door and opened it, but much to my consternation, Maeve McKenzie was standing there. She was clutching a handbag, but it was a small one. Still, it was plenty large enough to contain a syringe full of Thall-rat or any other deadly poison.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said in a firm voice.

  I was wondering what to say when she pushed past me and walked into the hallway. Once more, I pointed inside to the living room. “Go in,” I said. “Please take a seat.” There was no way I was going to turn my back on her.

  She sat down next to Willow and Hawthorn who had run ahead to sit somewhere they knew humans wanted to sit.

  The television blared again so I walked over to turn it down. Thankfully, the house didn’t turn it back up. I hurried back over and took a seat opposite Maeve. The house hadn’t let me down before, but I supposed there was a first time for everything. I couldn’t help my stomach churning or the feeling of dread that rose up within me. “What did you want to speak to me about?” I said in a small voice.

  “Bradley told me what happened with Camino at the Garden of Weedon,” she said.

  “Oh.” Why hadn’t it occurred to me? I silently berated myself. Of course he would find out. He worked there after all, and a woman posing as a giant potted banksia plant was hardly an everyday occurrence.

  “I can only assume Camino was spying on Bradley and probably on me as well,” she said.

  There was no point denying it. I nodded.

  “I understand you’re upset and everything what with Alder being arrested, and you’re desperate to clear his name, so no hard feelings.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I had no idea whether or not she was being genuine. I half expected her to pull a syringe from her bag and lunge for my throat.

  “I wasn’t lying to you the other day. I hadn’t seen Bradley in years. I didn’t deliberately cut him off, and he only got out of prison last week and sent me a Facebook message the day before yesterday,” she said. “He wanted to talk about the kids and I said we had to meet in a public place.”

  I decided to play along with it. “I hope he’s not going for custody.”

  She shook her head. “He hasn’t seen them since they were born, but he does want to have supervised visitation. I have to think it all through, of course. We always got on well and our break up was amicable. I think prison has done him a good service, because he seems like a changed man.” She reached into her handbag.

  I clutched one arm of the sofa, ready to duck out of the way, but she simply pulled out a tissue.

  “I don’t trust him, of course, and I’m going to make sure it’s all done through my lawyer. I’m telling you this so you don’t think I was speaking to him for nefarious reasons. I’m sure he didn’t have anything to do with that woman’s death, and if he did, then I know nothing about it.”

  “Thanks for telling me this, Maeve,” I said, still keeping an eye on her.

  In normal circumstances I would have offered her a cup of tea, but I just wanted her to leave the house as soon as possible.

  Maeve stood up and walked over to me. She was the hugging type, so I realised she wanted to give me a hug. As she reached for me, I jumped backwards. “Don’t be offended, but show me your hands,” I said.

  Maeve frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean?”

  I held up one hand in the air. “It’s a long story, but people always try to murder me in this house. The house always saves me, but I can’t take any chances, so if you’re going to stick a syringe of poison in me, I’ll have to stop you.”

  Maeve looked even more confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. �
�You don’t need to understand. It’s probably better that you don’t. In fact, is it okay if we don’t hug?” I suddenly thought up a good lie on the spot. “I’m coming down with a dreadful cold and I’m contagious. How about we wave to each other instead?” I gave her a small wave.

  Maeve continued to frown as she made her way to the front door. “Obviously, this whole situation is taking its toll on you, Amelia,” she said. “I think you need to see someone and get some help.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” I said, as I pushed her out the front door. I locked it and leant back on it. Another lucky escape! Still, I wasn’t as convinced of her innocence as I was of Yarrow’s, and if she came back to the house, I wasn’t going to let her in.

  “Do you think she wanted to jab me with a syringe but didn’t get the chance?” I asked the house.

  The house turned the television up loud by way of response.

  “Oh, that’s right—I was watching the TV for clues,” I said. The house was playing Wasp’s Nest again. “There must be a clue in that movie,” I said to the house. “Now let me see. There were a lot of seemingly unrelated things in that movie that all added up. Are you saying there are a lot of unrelated things here that add up? Are you saying that all these people are in it together?” I scratched my head. “No, if lots of people were in it together, you’d be making me watch Murder on the Orient Express.”

  The house turned the television up to a deafening volume. Hawthorn opened one eye while Willow continued to snore. I sprinted to the TV and turned it down, but the house at once turned it up again, thankfully not quite so far this time.

  “Work with me here,” I said. “I’m trying to see what’s special about that movie.”

  There was another knock at the door. “If that’s Maeve, I’m not letting her in,” I told the house, “or if it’s Bradley Wilson, I’m not letting him in either.” I crossed to the bay windows and peeked around the heavy drapes. “Oh no, it’s Prudence Pringle,” I said to myself. “And I didn’t suspect her at all.” To the house I said, “Grandmother, be on your guard. This woman surely wants to kill me.”