To Catch a Witch

by Heather Blake

  Before I could squeak out a protest, she sprinted off. I didn’t bother to chase her. I didn’t have that kind of foot speed, and she’d answered most of my questions. Whether they were honest answers remained to be seen.

  Her over-the-top reaction about the noose made me think I had hit a little close to home with my questioning. But what I really needed was verification Joe’s alibi for the time Abby had died. Madison might be naïve enough to believe that doctoring the books wasn’t a big deal, but Joe was a savvy businessman. If he was hiding money, it had to be because of taxes. And tax fraud was a felony. A felony that carried jail time.

  It was definitely a motive for murder.

  And it was quite a coincidence that he couldn’t be accounted for during the same time Abby had been killed.

  A very big coincidence, indeed.

  Chapter Twenty

  Godfrey was busy with a customer when I strolled into the Bewitching Boutique, which was a good thing as he despised my workout attire. He held a deep loathing for sweatpants and would probably keel flat over if he saw the state of my stained and torn long-sleeved tee beneath my running jacket. I tugged off my hat and gave him a quick wave before making a beeline for the workroom at the back of the shop.

  I’d already called Nick and left a voicemail for him to call me when he had a chance, and stopped at the Gingerbread Shack to chat with Evan about a cake tasting tomorrow morning, letting him in on the secret about Glinda’s upcoming nuptials. While I was there, I picked up a treat for Pepe and Mrs. P. It never hurt to soften them up with cheesecake before asking a big favor.

  I swished aside the heavy curtain separating the boutique’s large work space from the showroom and stepped inside. I took a blissful moment to look around, soaking in the magic of the room. It was one of my favorite places in the village.

  Shelving filled with bolts of fabric lined two walls. Bold colors, muted pastels, bright patterns, subtle prints. Sparkly, matte. Lace, tulle, silk. It was all I could do to not walk around the room to touch and admire.

  “Ma chère!” Pepe said from his spot at a work station in front of the notion wall, which was an organizational masterpiece. His pointy nose sniffed the air, and he took off his glasses to give me a speculative glance. He lowered his voice and asked, “Is that cheesecake I smell?” He dropped the needle and thread he’d been using to fasten sequins to a blouse and bounded over to the edge of the table. “Whatever it is you want, it is done.”

  With his Cloakcrafting abilities, he’d have the blouse finished in minutes, rather than hours. His eye for detail was impeccable, his stitches precise.

  I held up the snack box. “It is. Why are you whispering?”

  “Doll!” Mrs. P poked her head out of the tiny door in the baseboard. “I thought I heard your voice.”

  Pepe groaned. “That was why I was whispering.”

  He held out his hands for the bakery box. “Quickly, ma chère!”

  I laughed. “Is Mrs. P on one of her health kicks again?”

  He shuddered. “Indeed, and it is abysmal. I had a wheat bran muffin for breakfast. Wheat bran. Quelle horror!”

  “What is that smell?” she asked as she scurried up the table leg.

  She wore her usual pink velour dress, and I thought it was high time she added a few more outfits to her wardrobe. I said, “Wheat bran does sound pretty dismal.”

  Mrs. P scampered across the tabletop and sat next to Pepe. The hair between her ears was standing straight up, in its regular style. She’d been a familiar for more than a year now and sometimes it was hard to remember what she had looked like in her human form.

  “My tongue,” Pepe continued, motioning toward his lips. “Hours later, and it is still sticking to the roof of my mouth.”

  To him, she said, “If you’d stop popping the buttons on your vest, you wouldn’t need to lose a few ounces.” She jabbed little fingers into his rotund belly, then looked at me. “He’s had to sew the buttons back on three times last week.” She sniffed loudly. “Is that … cheesecake?” Whiskers twitched, and her dark eyes rounded with interest.

  I held up the cheesecake. “Should I just take this home with me, then? I don’t want to cause a rift between the two of you.”

  “No!” they both said at the same time. Then laughed together.

  “I suppose there’s no harm in a little cheesecake,” Mrs. P said. “Pepe can always sew more buttons.” She smacked her lips. “My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth too. Wheat bran. Blagh.”

  “Or maybe it’s time to sew a slightly bigger vest?” I suggested as I set the cheesecake between them and sat on a rolling stool. Familiars did not have to worry about things like cholesterol or diabetes. They were immortal until they chose to cross over.

  Pepe bowed. “My heartfelt gratitude for your kindness in using the word ‘slightly.’”

  I laughed and kissed his head. A blush swept across his cheeks.

  “Now, don’t go making me jealous, doll face,” Mrs. P said.

  I kissed her head too. “How’s that?”

  “Better. Much better.” She patted my cheek.

  Pepe broke off a chunk the cheesecake and handed it to Mrs. P. She nibbled and sighed happily before saying, “What brings you by, doll?”

  “A top-secret mission, if you’re interested,” I said.

  Her ear wiggled. “Do tell.”

  I told them all about Quinn staying with Ve and her late-night phone call. “If we have eyes and ears in her room, we might be able to learn a little more about what she’s hiding if there’s a similar call tonight. Are you up for it?”

  “Of course!” Mrs. P wiped her lips.

  “And perhaps after you’re done with Quinn, you can eavesdrop on Joe and Madison Bryant as well?” I filled them in about the noose situation and my concerns that Joe might be behind the threat and also Abby’s death.

  Pepe twirled his whisker mustache. “Absolument!”

  Absolutely. “Thank you both. Your reconnaissance is invaluable.”

  “I just love a stakeout!” Mrs. P said enthusiastically. “But hopefully we won’t have the same disastrous results we had at Dorothy Hansel Dewitt’s house last night.”

  This was news to me. “You were spying on Dorothy?”

  Pepe went for seconds on the cheesecake. “Oui. At the request of the Elder.”

  It seemed the war was well underway.

  “My poor tail.” Mrs. P held it up to show me.

  It looked as though the fur had been burned off the tip. “What happened?”

  “We were creeping up to Dorothy’s home, nearing the foundation, and next thing we knew, we were thrown backward!” Mrs. P explained, using expansive hand gestures to demonstrate. “My tail took the worst of the blow. I must have turned my back at the last second.”

  “There must be a protection spell on the home,” Pepe said.

  “But that looks like a burn.” I gestured to Mrs. P’s tail. “Protection spells don’t harm. Oh. Oh, no.”

  “What, doll?” Mrs. P asked.

  “Protections spells don’t harm, but hexes do.”

  Pepe twirled his whiskers. “Indeed, they do. Dorothy must have commissioned a hex from Vince.”

  “A hex to protect her house?” Mrs. P asked. “That doesn’t make sense. Protection is helpful.”

  “It was probably a hex on intruders or something similar,” I said. “Not a hex for the house itself.”

  “Curse her!” Mrs. P cried. “Is that not against Craft law?”

  Pepe said, “Non. Dorothy did not use her magic to harm.”

  “But,” she argued, “Dorothy must have asked Vince to use his dark magic to help her.”

  “There is no law against that,” I said. “Unfortunately.”

  Mrs. P threw her little fists into the air. “Curse them both!”

  “I’ll talk to Vince,” I said. “See what I can find out. Maybe there’s a way around the hex.”

  I really wished Andreus Woodshall was in town. I
f anyone knew how to counteract a hex, it would be him. If worse came to worse, I supposed I could call him.

  Or, better yet, ask Ve to call him.

  I glanced at the wall clock and stood up. “I need to get going. You two be careful tonight, okay?”

  “Will do, doll. You let us know if you need any more help.”

  I was about to ask if they could sneak into Glinda’s house to see what they could see, hear what they could hear. But ultimately decided not to.

  I needed to deal with Glinda myself.

  * * *

  I hustled back home to shower and change before going to the Sorcerer’s Stove to meet with Stef.

  Harper was still asleep when I checked on her. Whatever Dr. Dreadful had done to cure her insomnia had worked like a charm. Sleep, he had explained, was great medicine for her body to heal and strengthen, so the more she slept the better. She’d been surrounded by furry friends when I looked in, including Missy who seemed to be spending a lot more time at home now that Harper was there. It was as though the animals sensed Harper needed their protection.

  When I left, I made sure to double-check all the windows and doors, turn on the alarm, and lock the mudroom door behind me. I had only taken a few steps down the driveway when my phone rang. It was Nick.

  “Do you know that everyone loved Abby?” he asked with a sardonic tinge.

  “I’ve heard that a time or two in the past couple of days.”

  “I shocked Joe with the news of Ben’s elopement plans.”

  “And I shocked Madison with the same information.”

  “You saw Madison?”

  “It’s why I called you earlier.” As I walked along the square, I told him about my literal run-in with her. And how she admitted that she and Joe had used creative accounting.

  “Hold on a sec,” he said. I heard muffled talking in the background before he came back on the line. “Sorry. Just having Joe brought back in. He neglected to tell me anything about that when I asked him about those bookkeeping ledgers. I’ll contact the IRS as well.”

  I wanted to feel bad they’d be facing an investigation, but I didn’t like them very much right now. “Did Joe give you an alibi for the time Abby was killed? Or where he was last night?”

  “As for where he was on Saturday morning, he told me pretty much the same thing he told you. He was using the bushes as his personal bathroom.”

  The same thing Madison had said as well. But it didn’t mean it was true. “And last night?”

  “Said he was home all night and Madison could verify that.”

  I’m sure she would—even if it wasn’t true.

  I kept checking over my shoulder as I walked along. The square was crowded, but I wasn’t taking any chances. That noose had freaked me out, too. I told him about enlisting Pepe and Mrs. P’s help with Quinn. “I can’t help thinking that Quinn knows more than she’s letting on. Who was she talking to in the middle of the night? Why did she react to Duncan Cole’s name like she did?”

  “I should to talk to her again,” Nick said.

  “Get in line,” I teased. I waved to Vivienne Lucas inside The Furry Toadstool as I passed. “I need to talk to her too.”

  “I have more manpower than you do.”

  “I have the Elder on my side.”

  “Quinn’s mortal.”

  “Is she? Or is she a Halfcrafter?” I was still suspicious after her mention of magic.

  “You’d know better than I would.”

  “My mother will know best of all.”

  “You haven’t talked to her yet today?”

  “Not yet. Hopefully soon. Any news on Duncan?”

  “Nothing. He’s vanished. I’m trying to get a warrant to search his apartment and car.”

  It made me wonder if Harper could do the lost and found spell to find him. It seemed unlikely, since we couldn’t get one of his hairs.

  Not to mention that Harper was off the Craft right now.

  “Oh, I got a call from Noelle this morning,” Nick said.

  “About the closing?” It was supposed to be tomorrow afternoon. “Or something to do with Abby’s house?”

  “The closing. Looks like it’s been pushed back to Friday morning. Another problem with the buyer’s loan.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Me, either, but Noelle didn’t seem worried.”

  “Noelle never seems worried about anything.”

  He laughed. “That’s true. Okay, I’ve got to run.”

  We said our goodbyes and hung up just as I was walking up the pathway to the Stove’s front door. Inside the vestibule, I paused to look at the community board. I noticed a flyer for the Crafty Hookers and wondered if this was where Harper had found that particular club.

  The dining room was busy with the late breakfast crowd. The air was heavily scented with bacon and something sweet. Blueberry muffins or pancakes perhaps. I told the hostess I was there to see Stef, and she walked me to the back of the restaurant to one of the offices off the kitchen.

  I had a weird sense of déjà vu as I followed behind her. It wasn’t all that long ago I’d been investigating a crime centering around this restaurant.

  A crime that had involved Glinda’s adopted sister.

  Suddenly Glinda’s words from yesterday rang in my ears.

  And I don’t want to be a mother like mine.

  “Darcy, hi!” Stef said, shaking me from my thoughts. “Sit, sit.”

  I sat and pulled a folio from my tote bag. “Quinn hasn’t told me much about what she’s already set up.”

  “I’m just happy she didn’t have any hard feelings about the chocolate cake.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t know.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you, then.”

  “Accidents happen. It didn’t seem like it had any lasting effects on anyone.”

  I noticed a picture on the desk of her and a man cuddled together on the beach.

  She saw me looking. “My husband.”

  “Your husband? I thought you and Vince?”

  “I’m a widow. And Vince…” She shrugged. “He helps pass the time. We’re not serious. Or exclusive. He didn’t tell you otherwise did he? I don’t want to lead him on.”

  “No, no, he didn’t. I didn’t mean to infer that.” I was happy to hear her say it, after what Vince had said about their relationship … and the fact that he’d been out with Noelle. “I jumped to conclusions, is all. I’m sorry about your husband. I can’t imagine.”

  “Thank you.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, let’s get to work and take a look at this menu.”

  We went over the offerings, came up with a timeline on when to set up at Balefire, and I signed a contract.

  I stood up and shook her hand. “Thanks for being so accommodating. I know this was last minute.”

  “I’m glad you were able to step in with the extra crew so we could make it work. I really wanted to help after what happened to Abby.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “Any developments with the investigation?”

  “Not really. Nick is interviewing lots of people, but the consensus is the same. Everyone loved Abby. But … there is one thing you might be able to help with.”

  “Anything.”

  “There’s a rumor going around that Ben and Abby had a loud fight behind here on Friday night. Ben denies it. Did you hear anything?”

  “I not only heard Abby have an argument but saw it, too.”

  Finally a witness!

  “I was on a break and happened to be outside.”

  “What were she and Ben fighting about?”

  “Oh, no. The fight wasn’t with Ben.”

  “Wait. It wasn’t?”

  “Shoot. I should have let the police know about it, but I didn’t put it together that there might be a connection until just now. I’m sorry.”

  My mind reeled. “If not Ben, then who was she arguing with?”

  “I don’t know who he was. I’d neve
r seen him before. Tall guy, dark hair, big fluffy beard. Thin.”

  Duncan Cole. The description fit him to a T.

  I wanted to shake Stef for not sharing this information before now. Instead, I said, “Did you hear what they were fighting about?”

  “Something about a wedding happening soon. Abby was angry with him and kept saying he shouldn’t be there. He kept saying he was tired of waiting. She just kept telling him to go. I stepped in at that point to ask if she needed any help. She said no, and the man walked away. Abby went back inside with me.”

  Tired of waiting? For what? “Did she seem scared?”

  “Honestly? No. Just upset.”

  “I’ll let Nick know about this. He’s probably going to want to talk to you.”

  “Sure, sure. Anytime.”

  I gathered up my tote bag and practically ran for the door.

  Duncan knew about Abby’s upcoming elopement.

  Had he killed her to stop it from happening?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was close to noon by the time I made it to Lotions and Potions. I’d called Nick and left yet another message. Knowing that it was Duncan and Abby who had fought the night before her death would help him get the search warrants he needed for Duncan’s apartment and car.

  As I pulled open the shop door, I was amazed at how an hour ago I was thinking that Joe might have killed Abby, and now Duncan was at the top of my list.

  Aloe and eucalyptus scented the air inside the shop, undercut with a hint of sage. Vince was dusting bottles and looked up as I came in. His hand, I noticed, was freshly bandaged.

  There were a few people shopping, and a young woman was working the register.

  Vince’s face was somehow pale and flushed at the same time as he said, “Can I interest you in a cranberry-thyme moisturizer, miss?”

  “I’m good thanks. Are you good?”

  “I have moisturizer enough to last me a lifetime.” He gestured to all his merchandise, then set the duster down. “I’m guessing you’re here about the surveillance video?”

  “No, I mean, yes, I’m here about the video. But I didn’t mean moisturizer. Are you feeling okay?”