I’d completely forgotten to bring some soup with me and was chastising myself as I pushed the doorbell. Quinn pulled open the door almost immediately. Her hair was piled high on her head in a loose top knot, and mascara was smudged under her eyes as though she’d been crying. She wore a heavy, hooded sweatshirt, loose sweatpants and sneakers.
“Darcy, hi.” She looked surprised to see me, but stepped back to let me pass by. “I forgot you were coming by. Come on in.”
She seemed so flustered, I believed she had forgotten and wasn’t just feeding me a line. After I brushed past her, she stuck her head out the door and looked left, then right. Seemingly satisfied with whatever she was looking for, she closed the door and flipped the lock.
She caught my worried gaze and said, “I’ve been hearing noises and they’re freaking me out. Come on in. Excuse the mess.”
She wasn’t kidding about the mess. There were clothes and books and shoes littering the living room, along with DVDs, picture albums and kitchen ware. Cardboard boxes were scattered about, some already taped closed while others waited, flaps open, ready to be filled.
“What kind of noises?” I asked.
Waving a hand, she said, “Just creaks and things. Undoubtedly, it’s the wind. I’m just being a little paranoid after what happened to Abby.”
As I moved a wool coat aside and sat on a chair, I noticed the garment bag holding Abby’s wedding dress hanging on a hook near the coat closet. I fought a wave of sadness and said, “I’m surprised you’re moving so soon.”
Quinn crouched down and shoved a handful of clothing items into a box. Leggings and tees, sweatshirts and shorts. “This is Abby’s house, not mine. It doesn’t seem right to stay. And … it hurts to be here.”
I understood her grief. “Do you know what’s going to happen to the house? Did Abby have a will?”
“Not that I know of,” she said after thinking about it for a moment. She loaded her arms with shoes, then dumped them all on top of the clothes she’d just loaded into the box. “She has no family that I know about, either. Maybe there’s a long-lost cousin or something somewhere. She never mentioned anyone, and I think she would have.”
It took everything in me not to visibly wince at her packing methods. I itched to take over the task. “Do you need some help?”
“Thanks, but I’m almost done. I’ve been running boxes to a storage unit all afternoon—I’m just taking the essentials with me for now. I should be fully out of here by tomorrow afternoon, before Abby’s memorial.”
“Where are you planning to go?” Lucinda’s suspicions were echoing in my head, and I didn’t like the thought of Quinn leaving town. But unless she was under arrest, she was free to go wherever she chose.
“Short-term? I’ll find a hotel. Long-term? I’m not sure yet. It’s something to figure out later.”
“A hotel? Is there no one you can stay with here in the village for a few days?”
Reaching behind her, she grabbed a packing tape dispenser and sealed the box, then pushed it aside. She dragged an empty box closer and dumped in a load of books and more shoes. “Not really. I don’t want to impose on anyone. And honestly, I’d rather be alone.”
Glancing around, I noticed a framed picture of Quinn and Abby on the mantel. It looked like it had been taken at one of the local fairs. They appeared … happy with twin goofy grins.
“How did you and Abby meet?” I asked.
Quinn paused in her packing and gave me a wistful smile. “Balefire, a little more than two years ago. I was fresh out of college and working as a running shoe representative. Balefire was one of my accounts.”
“A running shoe rep even though you don’t run?”
“And I was a horrible salesperson, too,” she said with a light laugh. “I was probably the worst person for the job. Although I had been a communications major in college, I wasn’t comfortable in a sales role. Abby took pity on me and pretty much kept me afloat. We became friends. Every time I came to the village, I stayed a little bit longer. I love it here. There’s just something so … magical about this place.”
The cautious way she said magical had me on alert. It was as if she knew there was magic here. But she was a mortal. Wasn’t she?
I had no way of knowing if Quinn knew about the Craft unless she volunteered the information. And I couldn’t risk asking her without putting my own powers in jeopardy.
But if she did know … who had told her? Abby?
I silently berated Craft rules.
Quinn went on talking and whatever was in arm’s reach went flying into the box. “One day when I went into Balefire Abby mentioned the store was looking for a social media and website coordinator and said the job was mine if I wanted it. But I knew I couldn’t afford to live around here, especially on an entry-level salary. That’s when Abby mentioned she’d been looking for a roommate. I didn’t find out until later that the Bryants hadn’t known Abby was hiring me. They weren’t happy about it.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t really like me much. Still don’t, honestly. Ben’s nice enough, but everyone else is dismissive.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, because I knew it was true.
“It’s okay. It’s only because I’m not one of … them.”
I bit my tongue to keep from saying “a witch?” and instead said, “One of them?”
“A runner.”
I smiled, though I knew Quinn being mortal didn’t help her cause with the Bryants. Especially after the disaster with Duncan Cole outing them all as witches in a fit of temper. With a mortal among them, they would have to watch their every word around Quinn.
“I have two left feet and prefer to do yoga.” Without missing a beat, she popped into a pose that made my body ache just looking at it. Using only her arms, she held up her whole body while twisting her legs. She let herself down. “But the Bryants don’t really consider yoga a sport. You should hear the way Madison and Lucinda mock it.”
I could imagine.
Sighing, she picked at a piece of lint on the carpet. “I quit my job today. I should have quit a long time ago, but I liked my job, and Abby more than made up for their indifference. Without her there as a buffer, they will be unbearable.” Her eyes filled with tears. “There wasn’t a better person around than Abby. She was funny and sweet and so selfless. I always told her that when I grew up I wanted to be just like her. But even if I hadn’t been joking, that wouldn’t be possible. There was no one like Abby.”
“No, there wasn’t.” I wasn’t picking up on any jealousy in her tone, just love. But to test the waters, I added, “I was often envious of how she could defuse a situation with her calm, yet happy demeanor. She had every Mad Dash vendor wrapped around her finger.”
“I know just what you mean. I experienced it firsthand. And I envied that, too. Her easygoing nature. I envied a lot of things about her, actually.”
“Oh? Like what?”
She sat back, bent her knees, pulling them close to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. “I don’t even know where to start. Her sense of humor? The way her laugh could make the crankiest person smile? Her morals. How she never met a stranger.” She sighed. “I guess I was most envious of the way she could fit in anywhere. I told her that all the time, too, especially at work.”
“Where you felt you didn’t fit in.” Had that been the jealousy Lucinda picked up on? I suspected it was.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t just feel it. I knew it. Despite how hard I tried, how hard I worked, Joe, Madison, and Lucinda were never going to treat me like anything other than a nuisance.” Suddenly Quinn’s head snapped up. “Did you hear that?”
I listened but heard nothing out of the ordinary. “What?”
Shaking her head, she said, “I thought I heard something.” She went back to packing, tossing items even more fervently than before. “My mind must be playing tricks.”
Her anxiety was giving me anxiety. “Do you have any reason to think
the person who hurt Abby would come here?”
“I don’t know, do I? I don’t know why she was killed.”
I was at a loss at what to say. I didn’t know why either.
When her phone rang, she lurched for it, then frowned after glancing at the screen. “Sorry,” she said to me. “I need to take this.”
I studied her as she answered. She looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I wondered why. Sure, she was grieving, but it felt like it went deeper.
“No, no,” Quinn said into the phone. “That’s not going to work. The memorial is at five. I’ll need you there by four at the latest to—” She looked over at me. “I’m going to have to call you back in a couple of minutes, okay? Yeah. Got it. Bye.”
She dropped the phone in her lap, then tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
When she glanced my way, I saw the tears in her eyes. “Catering problems. Seems it’s extra hard to do anything at the last minute. Flowers, food, printing…” She fisted her hands, then abruptly released them, spreading all her fingers wide. “I still have to find a pastor and figure out music. I didn’t realize what a huge task I was taking on, but I … I have to do it for Abby. She’s … family.”
“Maybe I can help,” I said, taking the opening she’d presented. “I have contacts with most everyone in the village. I worked with Stef at the Sorcerer’s Stove for the race catering. I’m friends with the owner of the Black Thorn, too.” It was the only floral shop in the village.
“That was Stef on the phone. She says she doesn’t have enough staff to set up when I need her to.”
“I can help with that,” I said. “With my job, I’m used to hiring crew on a moment’s notice. I have a long stand-by list.”
She looked like she wanted to argue but then thought better of it and slumped in relief. “Okay, thanks. I’d appreciate the help. I’ll let Stef know you’re taking over. And if you can handle the flowers, too, that would be great. I couldn’t even get a call back today. A call back would have been nice.”
She obviously hadn’t planned many events. Vendors were notorious for not returning calls in a timely matter. “Lydia Wentworth doesn’t usually work Sundays, but it’ll be okay. It’s short notice, but I know she can work magic.”
Literal magic. She was a Floracrafter.
“I know I’m asking a lot, but tomorrow was the only day that worked best for the memorial service. Ben and Joe are leaving with most of the Balefire team on Wednesday for the Auckland Grand Prix, a big race in New Zealand. They won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”
I knew Joe and Ben had been training for an international race but didn’t know it was so soon. I filed away that tidbit to share with Nick, then the date clicked. Wednesday? “Was Abby supposed to go to?”
“No, she hadn’t qualified for the races, and the Bryants needed her help at the store.”
“But she and Ben were supposed to elope on Tuesday? He was just going to leave her here? Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
She shoved more belongings into a box. “Elite athletes don’t exactly live normal lives, with their training and race schedules. But what do I know? I just do yoga.” She slammed a boot into the box.
On that note. “I have those ledgers for you.” I reached down for my tote bag at my feet and let out a squeal when something furry brushed against my hand. “What is that?”
Quinn reached beneath the chair. “Sorry. It’s just this old thing.” She tossed the wig into the open box.
A wig made of long brown hair. “Was that Abby’s?”
“Abby’s?” Confusion filled her eyes. “No, it’s mine. From an old Halloween costume.” She set a stack of towels on top of it in the box.
“Did Abby ever borrow it?” I asked. “Or have one of her own?”
Quinn looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses as she put a red leather photo album on top of the towels. “It’s possible, I guess. We do share a lot of stuff. Usually clothes, since we’re the same size. Why do you ask?”
I was having trouble coming up with a single excuse. “Just curious,” I said lamely as I sought a change of subject. Then I remembered. “I almost forgot again. The ledgers. Photocopies, since Nick has the originals. I managed to talk him into letting me photocopy the books for you since Joe seemed to want them back so badly.” I pulled the photocopies from my tote and held them out.
She didn’t reach for them. “I don’t want them. I forgot you were coming by, or I would have canceled. You can give them to Joe or Madison.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay.” I tucked them back into my bag and kept digging for more information. “There were, in fact, some discrepancies with the accounting. But not on Abby’s end. The discrepancies happened last year.” I explained about the vendor disbursements.
She started tucking smaller items in around the towels. Measuring cups, candles. She reached again for the tape dispenser. “Like I said before, I’m not surprised. They don’t play fair.”
“Who? The Bryants?”
“Ben’s a good guy. Lucinda’s cold but okay. But Joe and Madison…” She shrugged. “They think only of themselves. What they want. What they need. They don’t care about hurting others.”
It seemed to me she was talking about more than feeling like an outcast. Or even about creative bookkeeping. “How so?”
Her chin came up, and there was fire in her eyes when she said, “Take Duncan Cole for example.”
“Abby’s ex-boyfriend?”
“Abby adored him, and he adored her. It about killed them both when they broke up.”
“Lucinda told me about what happened, the doping.”
“But that’s what I mean, Darcy. There was no doping. I found his original lab results months after he was kicked off the team. His tests were normal. Someone doctored the report on the Balefire end.”
“But why would they do that?”
She looked at me. “To get rid of Duncan. They didn’t like him dating Abby. They didn’t think he was good enough for her.”
Instantly I knew it was because he was mortal. Have mercy, as my aunt Ve would say. No wonder he’d flipped out on them, if he hadn’t really been cheating and thought one of them had set him up.
“Did you know Duncan was in the village yesterday morning?” I asked.
“You … you should go, Darcy. Thanks for coming by. And thanks for your offer to help with the memorial, but I can probably handle that on my own.”
I was dizzy from her one-eighty. What was she hiding? What was she so afraid of?
“Quinn, if—” A crash came from down the hallway. It sounded like breaking glass.
She spun toward the sound. “You heard that, right?”
“I definitely did. Do you have a cat? A dog?”
“No.”
“Come on,” I said, quickly grabbing the coat I’d moved off the chair earlier. I pushed it into her arms and rushed her outside. I slammed the door behind us.
I called the police as we huddled on the sidewalk in front of the house. Quinn was shaking, so I kept an arm anchored around her.
It didn’t take long for two village police cars to roll up—along with half the village it seemed. There was never a lack of rubberneckers around here.
As we waited for the police to search the house, I said, “Do you really want to be alone tonight?”
She shook her head. “But I don’t have anywhere…”
“Let me make a call.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t.”
Tear brimmed in her eyes. “Thank you.”
Aunt Ve was giddy with the thought of another a houseguest for Archie to entertain. I’d stepped away from Quinn and the crowd when I called to make sure Ve knew that I hadn’t yet ruled Quinn out as a suspect in Abby’s death.
My gut instinct was that Quinn hadn’t killed Abby. She was too skittish, too scared, to be a cold-blooded m
urderer. But that didn’t stop me from thinking she knew more than she was letting on. Ve had assured me her house was under a top-notch protection spell, a gift of Andreus, but promised to be extra careful. She also mentioned something about how piña coladas tended to loosen tongues.
I warned her that could work both ways, and she’d just laughed.
I’d hung up, hoping she had plenty of memory cleanse in the house.
Just in case.
When I turned back toward Quinn, my gaze caught a familiar face on the fringe of the crowd. I did a doubletake, but when I looked again the person was gone.
My mind could have been playing tricks on me, but I didn’t think so. Madison Bryant had been in the crowd. Yet, she hadn’t come over to Quinn to ask what had happened.
It made me wonder if that was because she already knew …
Chapter Eighteen
“So nothing was taken?” Mimi asked later that night. She slipped a piece of pizza crust to Higgins as we sat around the kitchen island.
“No,” I said. “Nothing was missing.”
Despite having a perfectly functional and lovely dining table, around this island was where we usually ended up eating most every meal together. It was small island, custom made with a butcher-block top and a navy blue cabinet—the only color in the primarily white kitchen. Separated by two pizzas, a bowl of Caesar salad, plates, and a lot of napkins, Mimi and Harper sat on one side of the island, Nick and I on another. Higgins and Missy had parked themselves at Mimi’s feet and Archie was perched near my elbow—as far away from Higgins as he could manage.
It was cramped yet cozy. Loud yet calm.
It was home.
Higgins happily licked his lips as he chewed the crust and drool flew. Missy patiently waited her turn and was rewarded with a piece of pepperoni.
“Mimi,” Nick said from his spot next to me.
She blinked at him innocently. “But they’re hungry.”
“Hardly,” Nick said with a smile. “No more, or soon Higgins will be need to go on another diet, and do I need to remind you how well that went over last time?”
To Catch a Witch Page 17