“Sorry, Ve dear,” Mrs. P said. “I’ll pipe down. Have you taken some aspirin? Or had some hair of the dog at least?”
Missy, who’d settled back into the fleece, lifted her head and wagged her tail.
“Not you,” Mrs. P pointed at her. “A little nip of rum…”
Ve went green again.
“Or perhaps not.” Pepe sat next to Mrs. P—on the far side of Ve.
I figured it was just in case she tossed her cookies.
Or hoiked, as Archie preferred to call the action.
Either way, Pepe was out of the line of fire. Being a tad bit persnickety, he didn’t like getting dirty.
Archie flapped a wing. “I wouldn’t mind partaking in a driblet or two if someone is offering.”
“I think we’ve had enough to last the whole weekend long.” Ve’s eyebrows dipped low, and her lips puckered as she tapped her chin with a fingertip. “Or at least for now. The weekend is still quite young.”
“Excellent point, Velma. There are many more Magnum episodes remaining,” Archie said.
“Exactly,” she agreed.
Mrs. P laughed again, then abruptly stopped when Ve sent a withering glance her way.
“Doll,” Mrs. P said, “what’s the word from Nick?”
Everyone turned my way. “No word yet. He’s still at the accident site.”
“Accident?” Pepe said, his wrinkly forehead lifting in confusion as one of his big ears twitched.
“Abby’s accident?” Surely they hadn’t forgotten about Abby so soon, though the thought of a shirtless, long-legged Magnum was more than a little distracting.
“Her death was an accident?” Mrs. P questioned, her tiny dark eyes narrowing on me.
“It wasn’t?” I asked.
“It is not what we have heard, ma chère.” Pepe pressed his hands to his chest, covering one of the gold buttons on his red vest. “We heard it was—”
“Murder!” Mrs. P cut him off, looking quite puffed up to break the news.
Shock dropped my jaw. “Murder? Says who?”
“We heard it at the Witch’s Brew,” Mrs. P explained. “And that the police were questioning a suspect.”
I was at a loss. “This is all news to me. Who are they questioning?”
“Alas, it is Ben Bryant.” Pepe folded his hands on top of his rounded stomach.
“They were dating, were they not?” Archie asked.
“Oui,” Pepe said. “Reportedly, they’d had a loud row last night and the animosity carried over to this morning. They were seen arguing shortly before the start of the race. Abby disappeared not long thereafter. Has the Elder not been by?”
Although everyone in this room knew the Elder’s true identity—my mother, Deryn Merriweather—most witches did not, so we tended to still refer to her as the Elder out of habit.
“I’m sure she’ll be by soon,” Ve said. “I know she has a meeting this morning with a member of the Coven and that might be keeping her.”
As a familiar, my mother’s form was a mourning dove, though I knew she could choose any form at will, including her human form, which would allow her to travel in this weather. Having unlimited access to varied forms was one of the perks of being the Elder—no other familiars could change at will.
The coven Ve mentioned was the Coven of Seven. My mother’s special advisors. Their identities were not known to me, and I doubted they ever would be, though I had some suspicions on a few of their identities. Ve for one. Godfrey Baleaux, a family friend, another. I was on the fence about Pepe.
“Well, doll, you don’t need the Elder’s permission to start investigating, do you?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t need permission.”
As Craft investigator, I was more than familiar with murder cases, having worked many of them in tandem with Nick—a partnership set up by the Elder not long after I arrived in the village. It was never easy to investigate homicides, especially when the victims were my friends. But it was important that I was involved, because more often than not, crimes against—and committed by—Crafters had motivation rooted in our magical world. Whether it be greed where magical diamonds were concerned or someone who wanted complete control over a unique spell … I worked the magical side of the case while Nick worked the mortal side. And together, we put the pieces together to bring killers to justice, while being particularly careful to hide some aspects of the truth from the mortal world.
My job as investigator started once I knew there was a crime committed.
Thanks to Pepe and Mrs. P, I knew.
Murder.
Chapter Six
I headed straight home from Ve’s, not quite knowing where to start my investigation until I spoke with Nick. If he was interviewing Ben, and Ben confessed then I had very little work to do.
I tried to picture Ben shoving Abby off that bridge, and I couldn’t. My brain wouldn’t go there.
If he’d done it, what could precipitate such an act? I didn’t know Ben to have a temper. I’d seen agitation in him a time or two, instances when he lost his patience. But certainly not the type of rage that would lead to murder. And Abby wasn’t the contentious sort. She was a peacemaker, which made her an excellent employee at Balefire. No one did customer service like Abby.
So if not anger, then evil? Or desperation? Revenge?
I tried to think of any motive for murder that fit this scenario, but there was nothing. Most likely because I couldn’t come up with a single reason why Abby had been killed.
I gave my head a good shake, and my hood slid off. I pulled it back on and told myself to get a grip.
I was jumping to conclusions. Hurdling, really.
I’d wait to see what Nick had to say about the preliminary investigation before I started picturing Ben in prison stripes. While Mrs. P and Pepe were reliable sources of village gossip, I had to remind myself that’s all it was. Gossip.
Snow was still falling steadily as I stuck close to the fence line and tromped through the snow piled high on my driveway, then veered off toward the front door.
A thunderous woof greeted me with enthusiasm from inside the house. Higgins had his face pressed into one of the sidelights flanking the front door. Drool smeared the pane, making it appear opaque.
“Hi, Higgs. I’ll be right in.”
He gave another woof, and I could hear the faint sound of his tail drumming the hardwood floor in the entryway.
I took a moment to brush snow off the dark purple “As You Wish” sign hanging from a porch column and also the smaller sign dangling below it: “By Appointment Only.” I couldn’t imagine there was anyone out and about today that planned to drop in to secure my concierge services, but one never knew around here.
I backtracked to the driveway and walked along the side of the house toward the mud room entrance. The alarm system didn’t beep when I opened the door, setting me immediately on edge. Mimi wasn’t due home for another couple of hours, and Nick was at the police station. Higgins came tearing through the kitchen, a brownish red-and-white blur, his feet sliding on the floor. Mere months ago, he’d have hurled his muscular body at me, but he’d been learning manners recently through a dog training class, so he simply knocked into me like I was a human bowling pin, sending me backward into the door.
Baby steps.
“Okay, okay, Higgs. I know. I love you too,” I said as he kissed my hands. His tail sliced the air and banged against the washing machine. It sounded a bit like an out of tune snare drum announcing my presence.
If anyone was in the house, it would be enough to alert them that they were no longer alone.
And although Higgins wasn’t acting as though anything was amiss, I was still worried about the silent alarm. I knew I’d set it when I left this morning … It was possible there had been a power surge during the storm, or something equally quirky that would have messed with the system, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
I quickly grabbed Higgins’ leash, which was hanging from the hook
by the door, and was about clip it on him and slowly back out the door I’d just come in when I heard a voice.
“Darcy?”
Higgins wagged his tail again, resuming the metallic beat, as relief loosened the knots in my shoulder and eased the pit in my stomach. “Mom?”
“Do you want some coffee?”
“More than life itself.” The morning had taken its toll on me. My body ached, my head hurt, and I just wanted a cup of piping hot coffee to drink while sorting through the events of the day.
Her laughter filled me with happiness, flooding out the anxiety I’d been carrying around since Abby had run off and never came back.
I shed my outerwear and noted Higgins’ woeful expression when I replaced his leash on the hook. “Later,” I told him.
His tail banged the washer even harder, making the mountain of clothes atop it wobble. Before an avalanche occurred, I motioned Higgins into the kitchen. “C’mon, now.”
My mother stood in front of a built-in hutch that served as a coffee bar, and I took a moment just to watch her. And to appreciate the magic in the world that allowed her to be standing in my kitchen, dressed in shades of white from her long cashmere wrap sweater to her cream-colored leggings.
She glanced my way as she set out two mugs. “Long morning?”
Annie, a beautiful black ragdoll cat who’d joined our family not that long ago, lounged on top of the fridge. I reached up and rubbed her ears, and could feel her purrs rumbling against my palm. “The longest. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here?”
Thick auburn hair streaked with silver was clipped back off her face. Her bluish-brown eyes sparkled. “Can’t a mother simply drop by to see her daughter?”
“Anytime you want.” We’d been apart for nearly twenty-four years, so I was happy to be making up for lost time. “But I know travel during this weather is difficult, even in your human form.”
She lived deep in the Enchanted Woods, in a weeping tree that stood in a luminescent, warm meadow filled with wildflowers. As Elder, she possessed all Craft abilities, not just Wishing. She could shape-shift at will, evaporate, and glow. But she often traveled about the village as a mourning dove. While we lived in an amazing, enchanted world, our magic did have certain limitations. We couldn’t teletransport quite yet. Mom would have had to fight her way through this storm just like the rest of us and a Mad Dasher she wasn’t.
The coffeepot gave a final burble. While filling the mugs, she said, “I adore the snow, and the storm isn’t blowing as fiercely in the woods.”
As I followed her into the living room, I noted her feet. They were bare, as always. When asked about it, she usually brushed off the idiosyncrasy as a quirk, but I’d long ago decided it had something to do with the Eldership. What, I had no idea, but if she wasn’t willing to share details, then it had to be something important.
Her feet also did not touch the floor—ever. She floated about an inch off the ground.
I veered off to the back door, to let Higgins out.
“Is Missy at Ve’s?” Mom asked.
I watched Higgins play in the snow for a bit before heading for the couch where my mother was already curled up, her feet tucked beneath her.
“She is. I was just thinking about how she’s becoming more Ve’s dog than my own.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
I blew across my mug before taking a sip of coffee. Heaven. I relaxed against the pillows, simply trying to find some peace in this crazy day. “It was strange at first. Now it almost seems normal to share her.”
“Ve is quite happy to have the company.”
I studied her. It was clear she and Ve had been discussing the matter. “I know.”
She laughed. “What I was trying to subtly say—and not doing a good job of it—is that the day might come when Missy stays with Ve. For good. Ve won’t mind. But will you?”
“It’s hard to say. I guess I’ll know when that day comes, won’t I?” A soft, melodic sound filtered through the tension in the air, and I said, “It’s alive!”
“What’s alive?”
I set my mug on the coffee table and jumped up. “My cell phone. It froze up earlier. Literally.”
Annie reowed at me as I dashed past the fridge. My cell was in my coat pocket. I found it just as the ringing stopped and the screen started to fade. I didn’t recognize the number.
On my way back to the couch, I let Higgins inside and quickly wiped him down with a towel that we kept in a basket near the back door. As soon as I finished, the phone chirped, alerting me to a voice mail. I listened, then frowned.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked as I hung up.
“That was a message from Quinn Donegal. She’s Abby’s roommate,” I added in case she didn’t know, which was probably silly of me. My mother seemed to know everyone in the village, witches and mortals alike.
“What did she have to say?”
“She said the Bryants are looking for business ledgers pertaining to the Mad Dash race. Abby had the ledgers last, but now they’re missing. Quinn was wondering if I’d seen them.”
“Intriguing.”
“For a few reasons. The first being that Abby died this morning. Shouldn’t they be more focused on her death than business matters? Second, if Ben Bryant is truly a suspect in Abby’s death, then the family has bigger worries than missing ledgers, right? So why are they so worried about them today? It’s odd.”
My mother didn’t seem fazed by the revelation that Ben was a suspect, so I had to presume Pepe and Mrs. P’s gossip had merit.
She said, “The timing is alarming to say the least, but you have to remember people grieve in different ways. There’s a chance they’re focusing on work to take their minds off the pain.”
I turned to look at her. “Are you saying that because, as the Elder, you know Ben is innocent? Or are you simply speculating?”
“Speculating.”
“Good to know. And also the ledgers aren’t missing.”
“They aren’t?”
“I have them.” I grabbed my tote bag. “Abby gave them to me this morning, asking me to look at them.”
“Why?”
I shooed Higgins from my spot on the couch and sat down, explaining how Abby thought she’d made a mistake in the race accounting. I flipped through the pages of the ledgers, but nothing immediately jumped out at me. I needed time to study the columns of numbers.
What I really needed was for Terry Goodwin to be home and not on vacation. He was a Numbercrafter and a certified accountant. A few minutes with these ledgers, he’d have them analyzed down to the last zero.
“Unfortunately for the Bryants it will probably be a while before they get these back. I’m going to have to give them to Nick. They’re evidence now.”
She raised her mug to her lips. “But there’s probably no harm in photocopying them before you hand them over. Just in case the information is pertinent to your investigation.”
I pointed a finger at her. “Aha! I knew you didn’t just happen to drop by today.”
Lifting her eyebrows, she smiled. “You clearly get your astuteness from me. Not that I don’t adore dropping in for coffee, but I do need your help as Craft investigator since Abby’s death might not have been an accident.”
“I’m already on the case, and am still hoping it was an accident.”
“As am I.”
There was something in her voice, a hesitation. “But?”
“I suppose it is possible Abby was dehydrated and became disoriented enough to fall from the bridge…”
“But?” I pressed.
“Vince was correct in saying his hex wore off at seven AM, restoring his victims to full health, precake. Abby would only be dehydrated this morning if she had been so before she ate the hexed cake, and I doubt an athlete such as herself would have allowed that to occur the night before a big race.”
I had no idea how she knew what Vince had told me. The Elder worked in mysterious ways.
I said, “Abby always carried a water bottle, filling it throughout the day. She constantly touted the benefits of hydration—to everyone, not just runners. It’s unlikely she was dehydrated before she ate the cake.”
“So we must then consider how she fell off a bridge—a bridge with a railing—by accident.”
Put that way, it seemed highly unlikely.
But murder? I couldn’t fathom someone hurting Abby on purpose.
My mother glanced at the clock, stood, and floated into the kitchen. Her outfit blended right in with the ivory cabinets. After rinsing the mug, she set it in the dishwasher. “I should go. You have an appointment soon, correct?”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she knew I was meeting Dennis Goodwin at Harper’s apartment, but it did. “At noon.”
“You’ll keep me informed about Abby’s case?” She pulled open the backdoor. Snow fluttered inside.
“I will. But wait, before you go…”
She waited, watching with patient eyes.
“If Vince’s hex wore off…” I struggled to find the words. I met her gaze. “Harper. How worried should I be? Should we be?”
In an instant, her face and her eyes clouded with concern. She tried to mask the emotions with a sudden, bright smile, but it was too late. I’d seen it.
She cupped my face and kissed my cheek. “Darcy, I’m sure Harper will be just fine.”
With that, she stepped outside, and in a blink she turned into a beautiful gray bird soaring upward, disappearing into the falling snow.
I stood in the doorway a moment, wishing I hadn’t asked about Harper in the first place.
Because after her reaction, I was more worried now than ever.
Chapter Seven
Not ten minutes later, I was back outside. Hat, boots, and gloves on. Higgins’ leash in hand. I’d promised him a walk, but it would have to be a quick one. I was due at Harper’s apartment in fifteen minutes.
The snow had let up for the time being, and the village looked like it belonged in a snow globe. Everything the eye could see was dusted in white. Village maintenance crews were out and about clearing streets, walkways, and parking spaces.
To Catch a Witch Page 6