To Catch a Witch

by Heather Blake

  Higgins was sniffing to his heart’s content as we meandered on the village green. I’d left a voice mail for Nick about the ledgers, and sent a text to Mimi to let her know I’d be at Harper’s for a while, and she texted back that she would be home soon.

  As Higgins and I walked, I was trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. I was kicking myself for not nagging Harper to go to the doctor earlier, but I’d believed she was heartbroken, not truly physically ill. I just hoped it wasn’t something serious, and that Dennis could work his magic to cure her completely.

  “Darcy, hey! Hello!”

  I stopped short and found Glinda Hansel waving a gloved hand in front of my face. Higgins and her golden retriever, Clarence, were giving each other undignified once-overs. Dogs. Sheesh.

  “Are you okay?” Glinda asked. “You were in another world. And not a pleasant one by the look on your face.”

  Glinda, a Broomcrafter like her mother Dorothy, often had an angelic look about her because of her pale blonde hair, light blue eyes, ivory skin tone, and the slightly rounded features of her oval face, like her button nose and full cheeks. But there were many times in the past that I’d believed she was the devil in disguise. But those days were past. Much to her mother’s dismay, Glinda had decided she didn’t like herself very much. Over the past year, she’d made big changes in her life to eliminate the malicious aspects of her personality. She wasn’t quite at an angelic level yet, but it had been a long while since I pictured horns on her head.

  I didn’t know how much falling in love had influenced her behavioral changes, but it was obvious she was over the moon in love with Liam Chadwick, a local artisan. If they could survive the hell we all went through last winter and come out of it better people … then I had no doubt they were meant for each other.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Abby? It’s terrible. I’d just talked with her yesterday at Godfrey’s. She was bubbling with excitement. If I’m being honest, it was a little nauseating. I feel bad about thinking that way now.”

  “I hate hindsight,” I said, echoing a thought from earlier today.

  “It’s a bit like a slap in the face, isn’t it?”

  It was.

  Godfrey Baleaux, a Cloakcrafter who owned the Bewitching Boutique, was Pepe and Mrs. P’s guardian, and was practically family to me since he’d once been married to Aunt Ve. He was the third of her four husbands.

  A city plow exhaled black exhaust as it rumbled down the street, lining the green with a snowy mountain range. “Did you know Abby well?”

  “Not especially. Just in passing. I saw her running a lot while I was out walking Clarence. She was always friendly.” She leaned in. “Is it true Ben Bryant is a suspect?”

  Clarence heard his name and started enthusiastically wagging his tail. Glinda rubbed his head, and he pressed his nose into her thigh and looked up at her with adoration shining in his big brown eyes.

  “I haven’t talked with Nick since earlier this morning, so I don’t know for sure. That’s the rumor I hear. I’m still hoping it was a tragic accident.”

  “I have a hard time believing anyone could accidentally fall off the Aural Gorge bridge. Even in a whiteout. I’m also having trouble with Ben being considered a suspect. I once saw him stop running to move a caterpillar off the path. Hardly the homicidal sort.”

  Glinda had once been a police officer on the village force, but had left under less-than-stellar circumstances. Since turning her life around, she’d opened a private investigation agency that was keeping her more than busy. Which was to say, she had good instincts. If she thought Ben was a gentle sort, then I took her opinion to heart. But that didn’t mean I’d blindly accept it as fact. “That’s good to know about him, but we both also know anger can transform even the most docile person.”

  “True enough.” Keeping hold of Clarence’s leash, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her down coat. “And I did hear that Ben and Abby had been arguing.”

  “I heard that too. Did you hear what they’d been fighting about?”

  “No. You?”

  “No.” I reeled Higgins in so he wouldn’t chase after a squirrel climbing a tree nearby. “Have you ever heard anyone say anything negative about Abby? I can’t think of a single person who didn’t like her.”

  “You mean other than me thinking her perkiness was nauseating?”

  I smiled. “Other than.”

  Snow crystals glistened in her blonde hair as she shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard. No, wait. There was an incident at Balefire.” She squinted as though trying to remember the exact day and time down to the nanosecond. “It was months ago. Springtime, maybe? Do you remember?”

  Now that she said it … “The police were called, weren’t they?”

  “Yeah. There had been a fight at the store. One of the runners went off the rails. But I think there was something about the Craft involved as well. There were whispers about a memory cleanse being used.”

  “I don’t remember that part. I’ll have to ask the Elder.”

  She glanced away quickly and called for Clarence to stop eating so much snow. “Yes, she’d know.”

  I wondered at her odd reaction, but didn’t dwell. “Do you remember the runner’s name?”

  “I’m blanking. I do remember he and Abby had been dating. Pretty serious, too.”

  “Duncan Cole?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Duncan Cole.”

  It was slowly coming back to me. Duncan had been kicked off the Balefire Racing team and while no official reason had been given, there were murmurs in the running community he’d been caught doping. He and Abby broke up not long after.

  “I assume you’re also working the case?” she asked.

  Although Glinda had no idea that the Elder was my mother, she did know about my job as the Craft snoop. “I am—since Abby’s death is suspicious.”

  “If you need any help, let me know.”

  At one point in our relationship, I would have been suspicious of such an offer. But we’d come a long way. “I will.”

  “What’s that smile about?” she asked, her forehead crinkling in puzzlement.

  Higgins had his face to the sky, his mouth open, trying to eat snowflakes. I brushed the snow from the top of his head and said, “Sometimes life amazes me.”

  “How so?”

  “I can’t help thinking about last year around this time. What happened.”

  “Please do not remind me. I was horrible.”

  There was no arguing her words. She had been horrible. I put an arm around her in a half-hug. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. The opposite, actually. I was just thinking about how far we’ve come. You and me. If you’d asked me last year if we’d willingly work together, never mind be friends…”

  She laughed and some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. “You know,” she said, shifting the leash from hand to hand, “I’ve worked hard at the changes in my life, but I give a lot of credit to you, Darcy.”

  Another plow rumbled past. “Me? No. You’re the one in therapy.”

  “That’s true, and I have the bills to prove it, but seriously. I don’t know how to say it exactly. There’s a way about you, how you seem to have faith in people who don’t have faith in themselves … and are willing to help them see it.” She shook her head. “It’s hard to explain, but I saw it firsthand all the time in the past year, and now I see it happening with Vince. There’s not many people in this village who are willing to associate with him, because of his type of magic. But you … You haven’t given up on him.”

  I felt an unexpected rush of emotion at her words. “I don’t give up on people easily. I’m stubborn that way.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  I shrugged. “I see the good in him. Just like I saw the good in you. I mean, I saw it eventually.”

  She grinned. “I didn’t make it easy for you. But that’s what I mean. How is it you can see the good when no one else doe
s? That’s … a gift.”

  “I don’t know about that. The gift will be when Vince starts to see the good in himself. He doesn’t yet, but I’m hopeful.”

  Her gaze met mine, held steady. “Thanks for helping give me that particular gift.”

  Believing in someone—and helping them to believe in themselves—wasn’t always easy. I thought about how many times I’d wanted to cut Glinda out of my life. The times I had, even if it hadn’t lasted long. I thought about the pain she’d caused. Not only to me, but to people I loved. Seeing the changes in her, however, made me glad I hadn’t given up on her. “You’re welcome.”

  “Well,” she fanned the tears in her eyes, “if this isn’t the perfect time to ask you a favor, I don’t know what is.”

  I laughed. “What kind of favor?”

  She glanced around. “I don’t want to talk about it out here, in the open. Are you free tomorrow?”

  I tipped my head, studied her. Saw flashes of anxiety in her eyes, but also something else. Joy? An odd combination that left me even more curious. “Eleven okay with you?”

  “Perfect. Can you meet me in Godfrey’s workshop?”

  “Godfrey’s workshop?”

  “That’s right. You can’t tell anyone, okay? About meeting with me.”

  “But Godfrey will be there…” Especially since the meeting was before the boutique opened at noon.

  “Oh,” she brightened, “he knows, so the boutique is safe.” She glanced around again. “I should go.”

  I looked around too. She was acting so oddly. “Everything okay?”

  She flashed a big smile. A genuine one. Her blue eyes sparkled. “Everything is great. See you tomorrow.”

  As she and Clarence walked away. I stared after them, wondering what in the world that had been all about. Then I suddenly remembered Vince’s words this morning, asking if I’d seen Glinda lately. Surely he knew what was going on as well.

  I supposed I’d find out soon enough.

  As Higgins and I walked home, I realized I was grateful I’d run into Glinda.

  Because for a few moments, she’d taken my mind off what was going on with Harper. But now I had just enough time to drop off Higgins, run to the Gingerbread Shack to pick up some treats for Harper, and then hotfoot it to her apartment to find out what was wrong with my little sister.

  And find out if Dennis Goodwin could fix it.

  * * *

  The Gingerbread Shack, a bakery specializing in miniature treats, held a corner location on the main square. It was a prime spot along the same sweep of connected shops as Spellbound, which anchored the other end of the buildings. The weathered brick building had brightly colored mint green trim, giving it a splash of whimsy to break up its typical New England architecture.

  It was one of my favorite places in the village. Not just because of its delectable desserts, but because one of my favorite people owned the bakery. Evan Sullivan had become an instant friend the moment I met him, just after I’d moved to the village.

  The enticing scent of chocolate and cinnamon washed over me as I pushed open the bakery door and promptly came face to face with Quinn Donegal, who was on her way out.

  “Darcy, hi. Did you get my message?” Quinn’s ash blonde hair was swept back in a low ponytail. She wore little makeup, but truly needed none. Hers was a natural beauty, born from good genetics.

  Her hands were full. One hand gripped a to-go coffee cup. The other had hold of a Gingerbread Shack snack box, which was appropriately shaped as a gingerbread house that had a witch waving from a doorway.

  The snack boxes—used only for small take-out orders—were new, the brainchild of Evan’s boyfriend, FBI agent Scott Abramson. I’d drawn the design, and it was no one’s imagination that the witch looked just like Evan’s twin sister, and my best friend, Starla.

  Quinn and I stepped out of the entryway, off to the side near a pair of high-topped bistro tables. Evan stood at the counter on the far end of the store, adjusting shelves of miniature delights in the display case while clearly trying to eavesdrop.

  “I did get the message,” I said. “So sorry I haven’t gotten back to you yet. I’ve been waiting to hear from Nick, but he’s been understandably busy.”

  The store was bright and airy with its white bead board trim and large, bold close-up photos of cake slices that Starla had taken. Only two of the tables were taken, but the shop still felt full of life under the chatter and laughter of those eating Evan’s treats. It was part of the magic of his Bakecrafting. His desserts brought contentment to those who ate them.

  It was clear Quinn hadn’t eaten any recently since her eyes misted and her voice cracked as she said, “Yes, understandable.”

  There was a fragility about her, the air of a woman just barely keeping herself together. One crack and she’d break in two. The mama hen in me wanted to pull her into a hug, but I didn’t know her well enough to know if she’d welcome it. “How are you holding up?”

  She held up the box. “With chocolate. Lots of chocolate.”

  “The mini devil’s food cupcakes are my comfort food of choice.” Though I sampled all of Evan’s creations, I always came back to these.

  “Mine are the chocolate cream puffs with hazelnut cream and dark chocolate drizzle.” Confusion suddenly wrinkled her brow and she tipped her head. “Why do you need to wait for Nick to call me back?”

  “I have the ledgers the Bryants are looking for.”

  “You do?”

  “Abby gave them to me this morning. She wanted me to look them over.” This morning. It seemed a lifetime ago yet it had only been a few hours.

  “She did? Why?”

  “She thought she made a mistake with the accounting and asked me to take a look. I’m surprised the Bryants even noticed the books were missing, considering all that’s going on.”

  “It is strange,” she agreed, her lips pulling downward in a deep frown. “I don’t know why they’d want them back so badly today of all days, but Joe was … He wasn’t happy Abby had taken them out of the store.”

  Hmm. It seemed to me that wasn’t a normal response, either, especially when Abby had been in charge of the race. Was there something in those ledgers he didn’t want anyone to see? Had he fudged the numbers, perhaps? It would certainly explain wanting the books back so desperately.

  “Who usually takes care of the accounting at Balefire?” I asked as casually as I could.

  “Joe, mostly. Sometimes Madison.”

  Madison and Joe. The proceeds from this year’s race had been earmarked to offset the medical expenses from Aine’s surgery. With their financial troubles, I could easily see them tinkering with the numbers.

  “Does Ben help, too?”

  “No,” she said with a wan smile. “He’s not very good at math, except when it comes to calculating mileage and PRs. He’s a whiz at that.”

  PRs. Personal records. Many of the runners I knew were continually trying to top their best running times. And what she said about Ben jibed with what Abby had told me this morning. “Do you remember if there has ever been any accounting issues with the store?”

  Quinn, who was picking at the sleeve on the coffee cup, suddenly looked me in the eye. “Not that I know of, but honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “No?”

  “The Bryants, Joe and Madison especially…” Her eyes welled, and she swallowed hard. “Let’s just say they’re very different people behind closed doors.”

  “How so?”

  She glanced outside. “They’re just not nice is all.”

  A couple passed by us on their way out, letting in a burst of snow as they left. I put my hand on Quinn’s arm. “Do you think they could have had something to do with what happened to Abby?”

  In a whisper, she said, “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t know. I can’t imagine anyone hurting her.”

  My head spun. I didn’t know Madison and Joe well, but what I knew of them didn’t warrant this reaction. They had always be
en friendly toward me, and charitable within the community. But I quickly realized what I knew of them was their public image. What if Quinn was right and they were different behind closed doors?

  It was troubling to say the least.

  Quinn went on. “I can’t believe Abby’s gone. This whole day has been nothing but a nightmare.”

  “Do you know if Abby had any enemies?” I asked.

  “No. No enemies. Everyone loved Abby.”

  “You just said Joe wasn’t happy she’d taken those ledgers.”

  “He’s furious. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t love Abby.”

  Furious. Anger often caused people to act rashly. Even toward people they cared for. It was something to share with Nick as soon as I could.

  “What about her ex? What do you know about Duncan Cole?”

  She startled, stiffening up. Weakly, she said, “Duncan Cole?”

  “He was on the Balefire Racing team. Dated Abby? Surely you remember him.”

  Her green eyes widened. “Oh yes. Of course I know Duncan. He and Abby broke up a long time ago.” She went back to picking at the cardboard sleeve. “Why are you asking about him?”

  I wanted to ask why she’d freaked out at hearing his name, but since she was a mortal, I couldn’t out-and-out tell her I was investigating Abby’s death. I thought fast. “I remembered there was a big blowout at Balefire with Duncan, and he and Abby broke up afterward. Maybe there’s bad blood between them?” I sucked in a breath, since I’d rambled all those words in one big rush. “You know, so I can pass it on to Nick to investigate.” I smiled, hoping I didn’t come across as a nosy lunatic.

  “There’s no bad blood,” she said firmly.

  I moved farther out of the doorway when someone came into the shop, bringing in more snow. Evan’s welcome mats were downright soggy at this point. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I battled inwardly about how much to ask. Especially since Quinn was grieving, and I didn’t want to say anything that would split her fragile façade in two.

  I chose my words carefully. “Is there any truth to the rumor that Ben and Abby had been fighting recently?”

  I noticed she had started to tremble, and I felt instantly guilty I’d pressed too hard.