“Did Ben give you an alibi at least?”
“Said he last saw Abby at the trailhead and confirmed they argued about her running the race. He said she ran off onto the trail, and he went back to the village.”
“That jibes with what Quinn told me as well. Did you get any other corroboration?”
“Plenty of people claimed to have seen Ben around, but no one can pinpoint a specific time until seeing him at the race’s starting line. But let’s just say Quinn is right. That Ben did go back to the tent. He could have easily turned right back around again and gone after Abby.”
“True.”
“How long would it have taken to backtrack, find Abby, get her onto the Gorge Trail somehow, attack her, and get back to the starting line before the race started? Was there time?”
“You’re forgetting how fast Ben is. If he put some effort into it, he could run a mile in less than four minutes. Which probably isn’t likely with the conditions and terrain, so I’ll give him six minutes just getting to the bridge and back. Abby left the tent about fifteen minutes before the race, so there’s eight minutes or so to lure and attack. Plenty of time.”
“I wish I found someone who could rule him out as a suspect. It would make my job a whole lot easier.”
My skin tingled when he said “wish” but the sensation faded quickly. I couldn’t grant Nick’s wishes any more than my own. He’d once been mortal, but after he married Melina, a Wishcrafter, and she told him of the Craft, he’d been adopted into our culture, becoming a Halfcrafter. Half mortal, half Crafter. In his case, half mortal, half Wishcrafter.
The penalty for a witch telling a mortal of their powers was losing them. A large price to pay for falling in love, but a price Crafters deemed necessary so witches would take protecting their heritage seriously. Loose lips came with a big penalty, and usually a lot of thought went into the decision. Witches who told potential spouses were usually ones who would rather not keep such a big part of themselves from someone they loved. And keeping the secret took a toll. Most of those relationships failed quickly.
Nick didn’t have any powers as a Halfcrafter, but he was allowed to know all the ins and outs of our ways, and that knowledge allowed him to raise Mimi as Wishcrafter. She was carrying on her mother’s legacy.
“I’m going to check with Vince about surveillance footage. Starla’s idea, and it’s a good one. Because if anyone has an eye on the goings-on in this village, it’s Vince.”
“Very true.”
I wanted to talk to him more about the case, the ledgers Abby had given me, Joe’s anger, Quinn’s dodgy behavior, and about Duncan, but when I heard steps on the stairs, I went back to ladling stew. There was plenty of time later tonight to nitpick every detail.
“Is dinner almost ready?” Mimi asked, striding into the kitchen. Dark spiral curls bounced around her face. “Because Aunt Ve is suggesting baby names to Harper, and Harper looks like she wants to jump out the window. We need a distraction, fast.”
Most of the time Mimi seemed like she was thirteen going on forty. She was more mature than most adults I knew. She had an endless quest for knowledge that shone in her brown eyes, was whip-smart, had a quick laugh, and I loved her more than words could say.
I handed Mimi the tray with three crocks of soup on it and half a loaf of the baguette. “Here you go. Ask Ve about piña coladas to change the subject. I’ll be up in a minute with some drinks and to check the lock on the window.”
Mimi laughed. “Gotcha. Can you even believe we’re having a baby? A little Harper. She’s going to be so cute.”
We. It said a lot about our family. Harper wasn’t alone in all she was going through. Not by a long shot.
“She?” Nick asked.
“It has to be a girl,” Mimi said, heading for the staircase. “It just has to be.”
I filled a crock for Nick and handed it to him, then put the last soup bowl back into the cabinet.
“Not hungry?” he asked.
“Lost my appetite.”
“Because of Abby?”
“Because of a lot of things. It’s been a long day.”
“The longest,” he agreed, watching me intently. “Tomorrow has to be better.”
I was thinking it couldn’t possibly get worse.
But then had the sinking feeling it just might.
Chapter Twelve
Early Sunday morning, I skipped my usual morning jog to enjoy a leisurely breakfast with Nick and to entertain a bored Harper. She wasn’t used to downtime, especially not lately. I made a mental note to stop by her place to pick up some books. If there was one thing that would perk up her spirits, it was reading. Dennis Goodwin was due to stop by to see her in another few hours, and I hoped to be home by then. I had a few errands to run beforehand.
The first being a stop at the Witch’s Brew for coffee before I met with Glinda Hansel at the Bewitching Boutique. It was half past ten when I headed out, and sunbeams set the village alight in sparkles as they danced across snowbanks and snowcapped trees.
Despite the cheerful weather, anxiety had taken root on my emotional state. Between thinking about Abby’s case and worrying about Harper, I hadn’t slept well. I’d been up early, studying the photocopies of the ledgers that Abby had given me, and trying yet again to see what had caused her to think she’d made an error. Everything looked fine to me. I was usually good with spreadsheets and accounting so I felt as though I was missing something obvious, especially given Joe’s reactions to Abby taking the ledgers from the store. But for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what it was. I’d left the ledgers with Harper in case she wanted to puzzle it out while I was gone, since she was itching for something productive to do.
Somewhere nearby a squirrel chattered loudly, and I picked up the chick, chick of a cardinal as well. Temperatures were on the rise as I crossed the village green, and at this warming rate it wouldn’t be long before all the snow melted. As I walked along, I found I was actually looking forward to seeing Glinda and finding out why she wanted to hire me. Because sometime during my sleepless night I’d realized why her behavior seemed so odd yesterday.
She’d been happy.
Truly happy.
It hadn’t been easy for her getting there. Especially with a mother like Dorothy, whose wickedness tended to exemplify everything Glinda had turned away from in the past year.
I jumped and let out a yip as snow toppled from a branch, plopping in front of me. Then I laughed at my reaction, hoping no one had seen me. But it just proved how on edge I was after yesterday’s events. And as I crossed the street in front of the coffee shop, my thoughts went again to Abby Stillwell.
In these quiet moments, I kept picturing her fighting for her life. Had her attacker snuck up on her? Or had she met someone along the trail? Another runner? If she’d been alone, she might not have noticed anyone approach. After all, she’d been running, and every step of hers would have been loud as her feet hit the snowpack. Then there was her breathing and the pulse in her ears and the wind to take into consideration. Plus, she was wearing a hat. It was entirely possible someone could have taken her by surprise.
But she was a Vitacrafter. She should have been able to sense the danger around her, no matter the circumstances. And though she was no longer an Olympic caliber racer, she was still fast. She should have been able to get away.
“Darcy! Good to see you. Are you going inside?”
Noelle Quinlan had come up behind me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin yet again. My feet slipped on the slushy sidewalk, and I shot my arms out for balance.
Noelle grabbed my sleeve to help steady me. “Whoa, there!”
Her choice of words made me wonder if she knew how much she resembled a horse. I hadn’t always thought so—not until Dorothy Hansel Dewitt had pointed it out last spring while ridiculing her. But now it was all I could see every time I bumped into Noelle. Curse that Dorothy. With Noelle’s dark hair, which was usually pulled back into a ponytail, long face
with big bright white teeth, and strong jaw. She was beautiful, to be sure, but there was no denying an equine similarity.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine. Thanks. Just lost in my thoughts.” I stepped away from the door so someone could go inside.
“I can only imagine. It’s probably impossible for Nick not to bring his work home with him. It’s a shame about Abby. Truly terrible. A tragedy.”
Little did Noelle know it wasn’t just Nick who brought his work home. As a mortal, she had no idea I was a witch, let alone an investigator for the Craft. “Did you know her well?” I asked, not wanting to miss an opportunity to learn more about Abby. So I could figure out who might have wanted her dead.
“Only as a client,” she said. “Sweet woman. I can’t imagine who would want to hurt her. When I met with her last week she was all smiles, full of love and light.”
Her sentence sank in, and I tensed. “Last week? Was she a recent client?”
Noelle was the top real estate agent in the village. She possessed boundless energy, a perpetually chipper attitude, an over-the-top work ethic, and she seemed to know everyone. All those qualities had launched her company, Oracle Realty, to the top of the best agencies in the state.
“Yes. We signed the paperwork to list her house last week. She’d requested holding the listing until the middle of this week.”
After the elopement. That made sense, I supposed. But Abby selling her house was one more thing that had taken me by surprise. I’d spent a portion of every single day with Abby last week, and she hadn’t said a word about listing her house for sale.
Why the intense secrecy?
Noelle lifted an eyebrow. “Do you happen to know who her next of kin is? I know her parents passed when she was younger and she didn’t have siblings. But maybe an aunt, uncle? Did Nick say?”
Noelle was always working. “He didn’t say, but since it’s Quinn Donegal handling Abby’s funeral arrangements, I doubt Abby had any close family. But you could ask Quinn. If anyone would know, it’s her.”
Noelle took out her phone and typed something into it. I presumed it was a reminder to check with Quinn. Houses in the village were a hot commodity.
But this news also made me wonder about Quinn. Had she known Abby was selling the house? And how soon was she now going to have to find another place to live? I figured she had time to find a new living situation. Even if Abby had a will, it could take quite a while to sort out her estate.
“Ladies,” a male voice said from behind me, “is the quest for morning coffee so rampant the line is now forming outside?”
“No, we’re just blocking the door.” I shifted to the side so Vince could pass by and was grateful I hadn’t jumped the way I had earlier. “How’s your hand doing?”
“Still attached to my arm.” His left hand was heavily bandaged from the base of his fingers to his wrist.
“Did you need stitches?” I asked.
“No need. ‘It’s just a flesh wound.’”
“Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” I said, picking up that he was playing the movie quote game. And also that he was trying to change the subject. I tipped my head. “Did you even see a doctor?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a girl.”
“Don’t be such a stupid head. Get it looked at.”
“Stupid head?” he asked. “That’s the best you could do?”
“It’s been a long day and a half.”
Noelle cleared her throat as she put her phone away. “Sorry to interrupt your tiff, but I need to get inside. I didn’t realize the time. I’m late for a meeting with Marcus.”
Then her gaze cut to me as if she thought she’d said too much. Months later, and his and Harper’s breakup was still the talk of the village.
I said, “Tell him hello from me.”
“Oh, you can tell him yourself if you’re coming in.” She motioned with her chin. “He’s right there.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Marcus was sitting at a table near the counter, watching us. He still looked as miserable as he had the day before. I waved.
He waved back then quickly glanced away.
Vince said, “Is Marcus selling his house?”
Noelle gave Vince a once-over. “Are you in the market for a house, Vince?”
I wanted to know, too. Currently, he lived in the apartment above Lotions and Potions. Sure, it was small but it was plenty big enough for one person. And I noticed Noelle didn’t mention Marcus’s house was already under contract. She wasn’t going to let a potential client slip out of her grasp so easily.
“I might be,” Vince said.
Before I knew it, she’d whipped out a business card. “Do you have an agent representing you?”
“Not yet.”
Out came Noelle’s phone again, and I swear I saw dollar signs flash in her eyes, foreseeing a big commission in her future. And so much for being late to her meeting with Marcus. She seemed to have all the time in the world once she sensed a potential sale.
“You should give me your number too.” She handed Vince the phone to punch it in himself. “So I can keep in touch. If you’d like to discuss me representing you, we can set up a meeting.”
Vince looked like he was trying not to wince as he gripped the phone with his bad hand and said, “Why does this feel like some sort of covert way to get my number? I mean, if you want to ask me out, you should just go for it.”
Confusion filled Noelle’s eyes, briefly covering up the dollar signs. “What? Oh!” She laughed. “I get it. You’re funny.”
“But seriously,” he said, handing the phone back to her. He grinned and gave an exaggerated wink.
Her cheeks flushed red and she chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Bye!”
She hurried into the coffee shop, but not before I saw her take another look at Vince. Assessing the potential, perhaps, in more ways than one.
I glanced at him once she was out of earshot. “Dorothy hates her, too, doesn’t she?”
It wasn’t really a question. I knew Noelle was on Dorothy’s hate list—and had been since last spring when she considered Noelle competition for a TV host job that never materialized. It was right about the time Dorothy and I almost had a knock-down, drag-out catfight on the village green after she threatened to have my dog Missy put down.
“Can’t I flirt without any hidden motivations?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Can you?”
He laughed as he held open the door for me. “Probably not.”
“Are you really looking for a house?” The scent of coffee, strong coffee, filled the air and my soul. I needed a heavy dose of caffeine if I was going to make it through the rest of this day.
“I could be,” he said, stepping in line behind me. “One with a yard. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.”
“Big, small?”
“Why? You’re not thinking about trying to pawn one of yours off on me, are you?”
“What? You don’t like drool and tiny escape artists?”
“They’re not high on my list, no.” The line inched forward as he added, “A dog like Clarence, maybe.”
A golden retriever. “Then yes, you need a yard. A big one. I’m meeting with Glinda right after this, by the way.”
He adjusted his glasses. “So she finally got in touch with you.”
“But she wouldn’t say about what. Don’t suppose you’d care to give me a hint?”
“Don’t suppose I would.”
I took another step forward. “Since I’m asking favors, I don’t suppose you have surveillance footage of the village from yesterday morning, do you? From the cameras at Lotions and Potions?”
“Is this about Abby?”
He didn’t beat around the bush in asking, so I didn’t in answering. “It is.”
“Something in particular you’re looking for?”
“Not so much something as someone.”
“Ben?”
“Mostly.
Though footage from the whole morning would be good to have.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The line was moving fairly steadily. As we neared where Marcus and Noelle sat with their heads bent over paperwork, I nudged Vince’s arm and whispered, “Ask me how Harper’s feeling. Ask me loudly.” I motioned with little jerks of my head toward Marcus.
With a furrowed brow, Vince stared at me as if I had six heads that were all having spasms at the same time. “You’re pressing your luck today.”
“Please,” I added.
I heard a low groan before he said, quite loudly, “How’s Harper feeling today, Darcy? Any better?”
I almost laughed at his stilted kill-me-now inflection but managed to keep a straight face. I used what Evan, a theater buff, would call my “chest voice” to make sure my words would carry over to Marcus. “Sadly, no. It turns out she’s really sick. The doctor’s making her take a week off to rest. And she has to get daily injections for a while. She’s staying with me until she’s feeling better.”
True concern flashed in Vince’s eyes. “Really?”
“Really. Dr. Goodwin said it’s a good thing she saw him when she did, because the disorder she has can be fatal if not treated.” I lowered my voice so only he could hear me. “She’s going to be okay.”
“So, basically, that food poisoning she had saved her life?”
I frowned at him. It might actually be true, but still. “Only you could turn that around.”
He grinned. “It’s a talent.”
“Next,” the woman behind the counter said.
I stepped up and placed my order, feeling Marcus’s gaze on me the whole time.
I waited for Vince to order and made sure I kept my gaze on him as we walked out.
Outside, Vince said, “I’m guessing Harper doesn’t know what you’re doing with Marcus?”
I glanced at up him and blinked innocently. “What am I doing?”
He laughed as he walked off.
My interference might be wrong, but it was past time someone lured Marcus back into Harper’s life.
And that someone was me.
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