To Catch a Witch

by Heather Blake

  It had been at their old house, and Higgins had howled so long and loud the neighbors had finally called to make sure everything was okay.

  Archie huffed. “I heard the caterwauling all the way from my cage. Off-key as well. Mimi, do not subject us all to such misery again, I beg of you.”

  I had no doubt Archie’s comparison of Higgins’ yowls to a cat-cry had been on purpose—a subtle insult that was, alas, completely lost on Higgins. The two had a love hate relationship. Higgins loved Archie, and Archie loved to hate Higgins.

  It didn’t help that Archie was in a mood, so his patience was worn thin. He’d been uprooted from Ve’s while Quinn stayed with her, due to Quinn’s allergy to feathers. No one knew if that included familiar feathers, but we didn’t want to take the chance. The last thing she needed right now was an allergic reaction.

  In the short time span that he had been here, Archie had complained about his dinner (mixed fruits, vegetables, and seeds), our lack of a decent sound system, and that there was no rum in the house.

  I was ready to stuff a rag in his beak.

  Harper added, “I remember that. I had a customer at the time who wanted to call the police because she thought someone was being attacked.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Mimi said, glancing around the table.

  We all nodded.

  “Sorry, Higgs,” Mimi said to the dog and patted his head. He slurped her arm up and down, probably searching for stray morsel. “The tribe has spoken.”

  Harper grinned at the big dog, then wiped drool splatter off her arm with a napkin and said, “Why break in to someone’s house and take nothing? Was someone lying in wait to harm Quinn?”

  Leave it to Harper to turn the conversation back to the investigation. She loved being in the thick of things, and it showed by the glow in her eyes. Or maybe that was Dr. Dreadful’s treatment. Or the fact that Marcus had called her earlier this afternoon. She hadn’t answered—and he hadn’t left a message—but still. Maybe my speech got through to him, and he was finally starting to come to his senses where she was concerned.

  His gift to her had been a bookmark made of filigree silver. At one end, a charm of entwined hearts so twisted together it was hard to distinguish where one started and the other ended, dangled from a small chain.

  A charm quite fitting of their relationship, I thought.

  Harper hadn’t tossed the gift straight out the window, so maybe she was starting to come to her senses too.

  Nick reached for another slice of pizza. “Thousand-dollar question. Could be someone heard about Abby’s death and decided to rob the place, not knowing someone was still living there. Or maybe someone was searching for something they hadn’t been able to find.”

  Like those ledgers? Did the Bryants know that I, and now Nick, had them? Had Madison broken in, looking for them?

  Archie cleared his throat. “‘I know how to search your mind and find your secrets.’”

  I racked my brain trying to place his quote but came up empty. “No idea.”

  “You’re not even trying,” he accused.

  “Don’t make me pluck you.”

  “I am unafraid, Darcy Merriweather. You threaten to pluck me at least once a week, and yet here I sit with full plumage. The correct answer is Inception.”

  He was standing on a tall driftwood perch I’d bought a couple of months ago for when he visited. The local pet store, The Furry Toadstool, touted the stand as a place for parrots to roost and play. I hadn’t seen a thing on its description about it being a place for grumpy macaw familiars to sling acerbic taunts.

  “Higgins, do you want to kiss the birdie?” I asked in a singsong voice. His fluffy tail thumped the floor as he looked at Archie with bright, hopeful eyes.

  Archie squawked. “Not the drool! You cruel, cruel woman.”

  I tore off a piece of my pizza and held it out to him. He eyed it for a moment like he’d rather eat straight-up hemlock, but eventually gave in to the inevitable. His love for cheese outweighed his irritation with me.

  “Does Quinn feel like she’s in danger?” Harper asked as she poked at her salad. She’d eaten a few bites of pizza but not much else.

  “She told me—and the police—that she had no reason to believe someone was after her, but she never stopped shaking the whole time the police were there. Whoever broke in, for whatever reason, has left her terrified.”

  Harper said, “Maybe she knows something she hasn’t realized yet. And the person who killed Abby is now after her. Way to go, Darcy, leaving her with Aunt Ve when there’s a possible serial killer stalking her.”

  She was definitely feeling better. “I’ll pluck you, too,” I threatened her.

  Archie chimed in. “’Tis not such a menacing suggestion as it seems on the surface, Harper, as your eyebrows are, shall we say, rebellious? You should take Darcy up on the plucking offer. Soon.”

  Harper’s fingertips went to her brows. “Hey! I’ve been sick. Dying, even. For the love. Sheesh.” She leaned in close to Mimi’s face. “Are they that bad?”

  I was heartened by her reaction. This morning Harper wouldn’t have cared if she had ferrets for eyebrows. It was good to see she was starting to care about her appearance again. But I had to wonder, once more, if this change in her had to do with feeling better … or Marcus.

  “Depends on your definition of bad,” Mimi said diplomatically as she assessed Harper’s unruly, bristly brows.

  “On a scale of one to Higgins?” Harper asked.

  Mimi looked at Higgins, then Harper. Harper, then Higgins. “They’re up there with Higgins.”

  “Great,” Harper said, slapping a hand over her forehead. “You all can stop staring at my eyebrows now. How did we get started on this anyway? Weren’t we talking about Quinn?”

  “Plucking,” Archie reminded.

  Mimi added, “After you said Darcy was leading a serial killer straight to Aunt Ve.”

  “Oh, that’s right. How good is that protection spell on Ve’s house?” Harper asked with a hint of a smile, turning her full attention on me.

  How she could joke about this, I’d never know.

  “The best. Ve will be fine. Quinn, too, if someone tries to come after her there.”

  Nick said, “I have patrol watching the house as well, just in case.”

  Just in case. I didn’t want to think of that kind of scenario.

  “But someone, like who?” Harper asked. “Duncan Cole?”

  “Revenge,” Archie said. “A classic motive. Perhaps he’s after everyone who worked at Balefire.”

  “‘With great vengeance and furious anger…’” I said, glancing his way.

  He folded his wings and looked away.

  “Oh, come on,” I said, then started humming the final Jeopardy! music.

  “Not the Jeopardy! music,” he cried out. “Curse you! It’s Pulp Fiction.”

  “Don’t make me separate you two,” Harper said, pointing at Archie and me.

  “There’s no evidence Duncan was involved,” Nick said. “Yet.”

  I added, “It’d be nice if he would come forward for questioning.”

  Nick’s trip to interview Duncan had proven futile. He hadn’t been home, nor had the apartment manager seen him in a couple of days. The trip to Wakefield hadn’t been a complete waste of time for Nick, however, as the apartment manager not only had on file Duncan’s vehicle information but an updated phone number, too. Nick had called it and left a message. If Duncan didn’t return the call soon, Nick would have no choice other than to label Duncan a person of interest in the case and splash his picture all over the media.

  So far Duncan hadn’t called back.

  The only phone that had rung tonight had been mine—a return call from Stef at the Sorcerer’s Stove. Sometime between the crashing vase and the interrogation by the police, Quinn had a change of mind about my helping with Abby’s memorial.

  Stef and I had managed to work out a lot of the catering details over the phone, bu
t I was meeting with her tomorrow morning to go over some last-minute planning. I’d also phoned Lydia Wentworth from the Black Thorn at home and called in some favors for help with the flowers.

  And I’d texted Glinda that I could meet her on Tuesday at the Gingerbread Shack. It gave me a day to plan how to handle that situation.

  Higgins’ head suddenly came up, and he raced to the back door, barking. Missy quickly followed suit, though she raced past him and went straight out the dog door.

  “Is Mom here?” Harper asked loudly over the barking.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. The back patio was brightly lit, and I didn’t see her out there.

  Higgins scratched fervently at the door, and Nick went over to let him out. Higgins flew out the door.

  I walked over. “What is it?”

  “Not sure,” he said, flipping on the flood lights that illuminated the whole backyard.

  Both dogs raced back and forth along the fence line at the back of the yard. There was a good twenty feet of woods behind the fence, separating our yard from the Enchanted Trail.

  Harper and Mimi joined us at the door. “I don’t see anything,” Harper said.

  Mimi squinted. “It’s probably a raccoon.”

  “Probably,” I said. But I’d seen Missy and Higgins harass raccoons before. This was a different kind of behavior. Frantic, almost. “Archie?”

  “Aye, aye,” he said, saluting with a colorful wing.

  I held open the door and he flew out and soon disappeared into the woods.

  “Look,” Mimi said. “Missy and Higgins are calming down.”

  It was true. Both had stopped barking but hadn’t left the fence. I opened the door and called for them.

  Nick’s phone rang as he said, “It’s work. I’ll be right back.” He strode toward my office to take the call.

  I kept a close eye on the dogs. They were taking their sweet time. I called to them with a little more urgency in my voice.

  “Do you want me to go get them?” Mimi asked.

  “No,” Harper and I said in unison.

  I glanced at my sister and guessed the look of apprehension in her eyes mirrored my own. I called the dogs again, and this time, they listened. I let out a breath of relief as they turned toward the house.

  Archie circled above the back yard, then flew back inside and landed on his perch. “It’s too dark to see much of anything back there, but I noted some footprints near the fence. Whoever they belonged to is gone.”

  Footprints. Whose? And why was someone back there?

  As soon as the dogs were inside, I locked the door, and also Missy’s dog door. I didn’t want her going in and out tonight.

  We were still at the door when Nick came back. Before I could tell him about the footprints, he said, “I have to go. Duncan Cole’s car has been located.”

  “Where?” I asked, feeling dread spiraling through me.

  “In the playhouse parking lot. Duncan’s somewhere in the village.”

  I didn’t like that news one little bit.

  “What does Higgins have in his mouth?” Harper asked as Mimi tried to corral him to wipe his paws. “Is that a leash?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, crouching down. Higgins thought we were playing keep away as I reached toward his mouth. He tossed his head this way and that, preventing me from getting a good grip on his new toy.

  In his sternest voice, Nick said, “Drop it, drop it, Higgins.”

  Higgins glanced up at him, then reluctantly let go of what he’d dragged inside.

  My breath caught when I realized exactly what it was.

  A noose.

  “Is that blood?” Harper asked, horrified as she pointed at red specks on the thin, blue, braided rope.

  Mimi grabbed hold of my hand, squeezed it tight. “That’s sick.”

  Nick took a closer look at the frayed ends rope. “I don’t think so. It’s…” He squinted. “Lint. I need to get this into an evidence bag. I’ll be right back.”

  I stood in silence, trying to take in what had just happened.

  And trying to ignore the fact that the noose had my name written on it in dark, permanent ink.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I was on my way out for my Monday morning run with Starla, wondering if I should have canceled, when I spotted Ve coming down the sidewalk toward my house.

  It had been a long night.

  Police officers had been at the house until the wee hours, searching the yard for any footprints they could use to take an impression—and unfortunately, there hadn’t been any usable ones. The noose was now evidence. It had been made of a short piece of rope and wasn’t long enough to hang so much as an eggplant, but the threat came through loud and clear.

  I’d upset someone with my questioning. But who?

  And I couldn’t shake the feeling that the rope looked familiar. However, I couldn’t place where I might have seen it. In the Mad Dash event tent, maybe? I simply wasn’t sure. If it had been there, any number of people had access to it. All the Mad Dashers. The Bryants. Quinn. Possibly even Duncan Cole. The list was endless.

  One thing was abundantly clear to me: Time wasn’t on my side with this investigation. I could only guess that whoever had killed Abby was now after me—to stop my investigation. If my questions had agitated someone enough to make a threat on my life, what would push them over the edge to act on that threat? The sooner I found Abby’s killer, the better. Not only to bring justice for Abby, but because now my life depended on it.

  But I couldn’t just hide out here in the house, as much as I wanted to. I had a job to do. My mother—and the Craft—were counting on me. Until I figured out who’d hurt Abby and threatened me, I’d just have to be extra careful. Carry protection charms with me at all times and avoid potentially dangerous situations.

  While we as a family were all on edge, last night we’d decided as a group to try to carry on as usual. A little more careful than usual, but still. After a long night of little sleep, Nick had left to drop Mimi at school then head to the station. Harper was still sleeping, and Archie had been summoned by my mother. I’d already been on the phone this morning, raiding my contact list for a crew to work as servers for the memorial reception tonight. I had a list ready to take with me when I met with Stef later on.

  “Good morning!” Ve called out when she spotted me. “Cute hat. One of Harper’s?”

  My usual running hat was my pink Balefire beanie, but I couldn’t bring myself to put it on this morning. Instead, I’d grabbed a woolen hat Harper had made in her crochet group. A fluffy pom-pom bounced against my head every step I took. Even though it was another rare warm day, well over freezing, I liked to keep my head toasty when I ran. “She made it for my birthday.”

  Ve inspected it. “She’s getting good. I was just coming over to check on her before getting some coffee and muffins from the Witch’s Brew. How are you all doing this morning? You had quite a night.”

  Half the village had strolled by our house last night, wondering what was going on with all the police cars. When Ve heard the sirens, she came straight over to check on us but hadn’t stayed long because of her houseguest. “We’re okay,” I said. “I’m extra grateful this morning for the protection spells on the house.”

  The spells that undoubtedly kept the intruder from coming inside the yard.

  In what might have been related news, there was no news on Duncan Cole’s whereabouts—he’d never returned to his car. And while the police wanted to question Duncan, at this point he was simply a possible witness. So no manhunt.

  Had he been the one to give Higgins the noose?

  Was it one of the Bryants? If one of them was guilty, they wouldn’t want me to keep nosing around.

  We had no way of knowing who it was who’d been behind the house quite yet. Hopefully some DNA could be extracted from the fibers of the rope, but those tests could take weeks. Months, even.

  But one thing was clear. I’d hit a nerve somewhere. It was
just a matter of figuring out where.

  I could, however, rule out Quinn. She’d been at Ve’s during that time.

  Ve’s coppery hair was twisted back and pinned in place, but a few strands fluttered in the chilly breeze as she said, “I have to admit I’m surprised to see you going out for a run. After everything…”

  She wore a knitted shawl, pinned at her shoulder with beautiful agate broach that I knew was a protection amulet. I was glad to see her … alive. I hadn’t wanted to let on, but Harper had freaked me out last night with her “leading a serial killer to Ve’s house” talk.

  “I’m a little surprised myself,” I said. “But I don’t want to live in fear. I’m not completely crazy, however. I’m meeting Starla, and we’ll be sure to stick to well-traveled paths.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say so. How’s Harper feeling this morning?”

  The sky had clouded over, and forecasters were predicting a sharp drop in temperatures and another storm tonight into tomorrow. Mimi was already giddy at the thought of a potential snow day. “She’s still sleeping, which is a good thing, I think.”

  “It most definitely is.” Ve threw a glance toward the house. “I won’t disturb her then.”

  “How was your night with Quinn? I’m guessing no piña coladas since you’re upright.”

  “Unfortunately, no. No Tom Selleck, either, alas. Quinn went straight to the guest room and has been in there since. I did hear her speaking to someone on the phone during the night. She was crying, but I couldn’t make out what was said, even with my ear pressed to the wall. She did ask if she could stay with me again tonight. I, of course, agreed. I’m happy to have her.”

  I was glad to hear Quinn had asked to stay. As long as she was at Ve’s, she was safe. “It might be in our best interest to enlist some tiny ears for a stakeout tonight.”

  “Ooh, yes. Good thinking.”

  “I’ll pay a visit to Pepe and Mrs. P after my run.” I wished I’d thought of the idea last night, then we might have known who Quinn was talking to. “What’s your take on Quinn?”

  “She’s a skittish thing. Which I’d say was justified since someone broke into her home.”

  “True enough.”