Where Pigs Fly (Nether Edge Cozy Witch Mystery Book 2)

by Wendy Meadows

  “Did you push yourself out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The wheelchair was out in the hall.”

  “I guess I did. I don’t know. It all happened so fast.”

  “Do you think he was already inside the house and neither of you noticed?”

  “No. I don’t see how.”

  “It’s just that Deputy Jones said that the alarm only registered the door being opened a single time. I don’t know what evidence they found, but it just seemed odd to me. Almost as if the attacker might have been someone you knew.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I don’t know what he wanted, it’s not like there was anything valuable to take. Anyone who knows us would know that.”

  “I saw your boyfriend that night.”

  Bella retreated inside herself like a turtle who spied the outline of a hawk in the sky. She clenched her fists.

  “What is it, Bella?”

  “It wasn’t him.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “It wasn’t him, all right? Leave him alone. He’s so sweet to me, he would never do anything bad.”

  “So why was he there?”

  “I was going to sneak out with him. Not the first time either. When my mother has a bottle of wine to herself she goes to sleep and doesn’t get up till morning so that’s when I go out.”

  “Ahh,” said Cassy, “How did you two meet?

  “We met at this camp my mom shipped me off to one summer a few years back. He was like the son of the guy who ran it and over the course of like the week we got to know each other. I don’t think he wanted to be there and that was the thing we kinda bonded over.”

  “Your mutual hatred of summer camps?”

  “Yeah.” Bella too, laughed and Cassy thought it was the sweetest sound. Despite everything, she was glad there was something that could make Bella happy.

  “After we’ve checked out your place, how about you help out in the store?”

  “The Spicery?” Bella’s face filled with glee. “I’d love that.”

  Cassy hadn’t been expecting such a warm reception to the idea.

  “You can sit at the cash register, drink tea, eat cookies, gossip. Basically, all the things I pay Patty to do.”

  “But for no pay.”

  “Right. Slave labor,” Cassy said. “So, are we going to do this?”

  “I’m ready.”

  Chapter Seven

  After breakfast the two began the short but painfully slow walk to the Bella’s apartment. Even though Cassy helped her walk, Bella still had to hold onto the wall for safety. Cassy reminded herself to get a wheelchair soon.

  The ‘Do Not Cross’ tape had begun to sag but still remained an impassable barrier, unless you had no problem with a two-year sentence.

  Bella unlocked the door with her key then eased her hand through the lattice of tape to push it open. The door swung open only halfway as it was caught on a pile of mail scattered on the floor.

  “Who posts mail to a crime scene?” Cassy asked and picked up the letters. Bella got to it before her however, moving swiftly.

  “Mostly junk,” she said looking through the circulars and leaflets. She tucked them under her arm and peered into space beyond the tape.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Cassy asked, concerned that returning so soon might trigger something in the girl.

  “I’ll be all right,” she whispered back, transfixed. There was nothing unusual about the apartment. Why would there be? It was up to the sheriffs and other investigators to leave the house perfect. Most of the initial evidence would have been gathered by now by the teams. Mrs. Donnington was at the morgue under Dr. Bloom’s watchful eye.

  They waited in silence for a moment as both simply watched the empty home. Cassy had no idea what was going on behind Bella’s eyes. That nagging sensation that she’d missed something the first time round crept back. From her vantage point it was impossible to see the kitchen. How she wanted to just peek a little farther in.

  “I’m going in.” For a second Cassy thought that she’d spoken her private thoughts out loud, but when she saw Bella tear at the tape she was both relieved and suddenly anxious.

  “What are you doing?”

  “They can’t keep me out,” Bella said, her voice breaking. “I want to see where my mother died. I want to see it. This is my house and I can go in if I want to.”

  Cassy took the girl by the shoulders and pivoted her away from the entrance.

  “Listen to me. There’s nothing more you can do. If you want justice or any kind of closure on this, you have to let things play out. In time, you’ll be allowed back in. Just you wait while—”

  A noise somewhere farther up the hall made them both jump. Cassy’s blood ran cold and she was reminded of an occasion when her mother had caught her with her hand literally in the cookie jar. She relaxed her grip on Bella’s shoulders when she found that she’d dug her fingers in too tightly. Bella looked straight at Cassy, eyes wide, unblinking. Petrified.

  “Is that you, Cassandra?”

  There was only one person, save her long-departed mother, who called her by her full name.

  “Mrs. Mayweather!” Cassy asked, relieved. She pulled Bella close and gave her a hug not so much to comfort the girl but as to calm herself down. It hadn’t been the police, as she had feared, but Nether Edge’s oldest resident.

  “I’m glad you’re here, I have something to tell you.”

  It was rare that the small old lady made her way up the stairs. There was no elevator and she lived on the ground floor and spent most of her day in the courtyard tending to the flowers that grew there.

  “How can I help you?” Cassy asked.

  “Casandra, it’s terrible,” said Mrs. Mayweather. “And after all that dreadful business with that wheelchair girl too.” Mrs. Mayweather hadn’t recognized Bella without her chair. “The money from the barbecue, all those donations from all of those kind folks who came.”

  “Yes?” prompted Cassy.

  “You’ll never believe what happened.”

  Cassy had already guessed by that point but needed Mrs. Mayweather to say the words. “Tell me.”

  “It’s all been stolen!”

  The cash collected for Bella’s treatment was put in a securely locked box. Cassy herself had purchased it late last week. It was small but more than adequate for their purposes. What nobody had anticipated was that the box itself would be stolen.

  There was no knowing when it had been taken. Anytime between the day of the barbecue and the present moment. With all the confusion and distraction around the murder investigation, the money had been side lined and forgotten about. Worst of all was that the box had been kept in Mrs. Mayweather’s house, and whoever had taken it would have had to break in to a place she must have thought was safe.

  “Oh Cassandra, it terrible. I don’t know what to say. I feel like such a fool. All that money gone.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for the crimes of other people. It’s not up to you to be paranoid all the time. It’s this thief that should be sorry.”

  “But the girl, Cassandra. What about the girl?”

  Cassy had thought it best that Bella stay at the Spicery for now. This was all too much excitement so early in the morning and that was the last thing she needed. She’d handed her over to Dot and Patty who welcomed her with open arms and showed her the ropes, which inevitably involved making tea first, and store duties second. Cassy got the impression that Bella welcomed the opportunity to have a little freedom, even if it was working a till. Anything to get her mind off her terrible situation.

  “She’s safe. I sent her to the Spicery for now.” Cassy wanted to get back to girl and to her store, so she said, “Mrs. Mayweather, I’m going to the station to report the theft. You’ll be safe here now.”

  Her first stop was the sheriff’s station but Cassy really wanted to take a trip to Knotwood and pay Gwyneth Griffiths a visit. Quite a few people want
ed to get access to the Donnington’s place and the Welshwoman was one . She had to admit that she wanted to have a look around, and Bella was keen too, but in both cases, there were good reasons. Gwyneth’s desire to ‘pop her head in’ wasn’t entirely altruistic, Cassy believed. It had to be the drugs, ones presumably provided by the ex-nurse that were of interest. When Bella had a bad reaction to what the doctors had given her, Cassy immediately concocted an explanation. They all pointed to Knotwood.

  The trek to the station went by in a flash as Cassy’s mind raced. She replayed every detail of what had occurred over the last day. So many things just didn’t add up, and she hoped to get some answers from the sheriff. First there was the lack of motive beyond Dot’s assertion that Minerva Donnington wasn’t that nice. So what, no one is that nice and if anyone had the right to be a little abrasive, it was that woman. Then there was the possibility that the killer was known to the victim. The apartment hadn’t been broken into though in practice that meant nothing. There were many ways to get in somewhere without using force.

  Beyond that Cassy’s swirling thoughts went into overload. She concocted scenarios where Gwyneth knew of the Donningtons and thought she might leverage it against them only to have it back fire on her, forcing her hand and eventually leading to violence. Then there was the troublesome boyfriend. Troublesome where he should by rights be the prime suspect, but as far as Cassy was concerned that was a dead end. The kid seemed too good, too respectable. Too cute. She dismissed him from her options to focus on the latest addition to the web of intermingling threads.

  The money. It was always about money, wasn’t it? But, there was only a few hundred dollars in the lock box- a thousand at most. There was an emptiness at the pit of Cassy’s stomach. How was Bella going to get her treatment now?

  Just as she was thinking of ways to set up her own fund and perhaps divert money from the Spicery (not there was much), somebody called out to her. Cassy found she was already walking to the station, and Deputy Jones was waving to her from the double door that led inside.

  “Deputy, I have more bad news for you,” Cassy said.

  “I’ve come to expect it. Part of my job, I guess.”

  He led her inside, brought her a coffee. It wasn’t her usual drink, but she had strayed from the righteous path of the tea-drinker, occasionally. This coffee was thick, tangy, bitter and the milk was sour. Still, Cassy sipped it politely.

  Sheriff Noyce was just coming out of his office when he saw her.

  “Miss Dean,” he said, smiling. He’d lost a little weight as well as a little hair since the last time she’d seen him, both probably from stress. His smile soon faded, replaced by a curiously unsettled squint. “What is it now, Cassandra? As much as I appreciate your ‘help’ with ongoing cases I’d appreciate it if you let us do our jobs. Heck I’ve spent over thirty years doing this. I know how to handle myself.”

  “Sheriff Noyce, please, I’m not here to interfere- just to help out. There’s been another development.”

  Cassy told them about the missing cash box but limited herself to just that. She didn’t think it wise to volunteer her own thoughts on the case. Inevitably she would be given a smile, told that her theories would considered, and asked to move on. And who could blame them? This was, as Noyce had said, his job. But, it didn’t stop Cassy from being inquisitive.

  “I forgot to ask Dr Bloom about what he found during the autopsy,” she said, knowing Noyce wouldn’t like it.

  “Cassy…”

  “Indulge me.”

  “There’s not a lot you don’t already know. Blunt force trauma to the head, Died almost instantly, just after midnight. Attacker was taller than her. Wore boots.”

  “How can you tell that from an autopsy?”

  “During his investigation, the doc found a partial print on the left foot,” Sheriff Noyce said before stopping suddenly. “Look here. You’ve got me talking about it already. How do you do that, Cassandra? It’s none of your business.”

  A boot print on the left foot. The single discarded shoe. There had been an altercation between Minerva and her killer, up close and personal. This was no opportunistic attack. Minerva had known the assailant.

  After having taken her statement (Cassy was so over giving statements by now. That alone might prevent her from ever getting involved with another case.), Deputy Jones took her aside. He took a little conical cup from the dispenser besides the water cooler and filled it to the brim.

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked between sips.

  “What’s this about?”

  “It’s about your friend, Dorothy.”

  That was the last thing Cassy had expected him to say. She rolled her eyes and braced herself. What could have Dot possibly done this time?

  “Dot’s quite the individual,” said Cassy pre-empting any criticism that might be leveled at her. “I wouldn’t pay attention to anything she says or does.”

  “I could ignore her, true.” He downed the last of the water and crushed the cup in his fist before tossing it in a mesh basket at the base of the cooler. Cassy had always thought those little cups looked like a hat a gnome might wear. They were even the right size. “She’s kinda insistent though, you know what I mean?”

  “I do. Can I have one of those gnome hats?”

  Deputy Jones narrowed his eyes, then laughed as if he too had seen them that way. He filled one with water and passed it to Cassy.

  “Cassy, listen to me,” he said, seriously, but in a forced way “Dot, has been, how can I say it, been very vocal about wanting me to ask you out. I know we’ve done it before—I don’t know what you thought about it. We didn’t seem to talk about it that much after that.”

  “Well, we both have busy lives, right?”

  “True. But what I’m trying to say is that I’d like to give it another go. Not just some night out at the bar, or with friends. But a real date.”

  The thought of seeing the deputy—James as she should probably call him—for a date scared Cassy a little. She’d had on-again off-again relationships before, and God knows how many aborted blind dates with a seemingly endless stream of suitors suggested by Dot, and she realized now that she’d been complicit in never going to the next level with any man . James had just asked her out on a date and her stomach bunched up.

  “I-er…” Of all the times to have a complete brain shutdown this was possibly one of the worst. Deputy Jones turned away.

  “I’m sorry. I thought that if Dorothy had mentioned it that it was because you had mentioned it and… I misread the situation. I’m sorry.”

  He turned toward his desk, but Cassy held him back.

  “No wait,” she implored, her brain finally getting into gear. “I’d love it. I mean I’d like to…go out with you. I mean go out on a date. To a place. Somewhere. That would be nice. Better than nice. It would be great.”

  “So, that’s a yes?”

  “It’s definitely what you would call a ‘yes’. Yes.”

  James returned to his desk and idly sifted through the paperwork scattered on the surface.

  “For a minute there I thought you might say no.”

  “Call me,” said Cassy, still flustered. “We’ll arrange something.”

  “How about I come to your place?”

  “Mine?” Not a chance. No way. No how. Her place. Was he kidding?

  “We’ve done the going out for drinks thing. We could do the bowling alley thing, we could do the—is there an ice rink? I thought I saw an ice rink. But let’s not do that. Let’s do something… I hesitate to use the word intimate but…”

  “Genuine?” That sounded good to Cassy.

  “Genuine. I like that.” He smiled, grinned even, and Cassy felt the knot in her stomach ease away.

  The sun seemed to shine on her and her alone on her walk back through town. There was a lightness to her step and a bounce in her heels. She felt so good that she considered taking the long way home just so she could spend more time alone and preser
ve this moment of giddiness a little longer.

  She went home via the lake. It was a little bit out of her way but she couldn’t think of a better place to be right then. She’d often come to those calm waters to relax but recently hadn’t had the time to indulge in a little peace. Once upon a time Havenholm had been a fishing town and several buildings from back in that heyday stood abandoned at the water’s edge. Some had been taken over by boat rentals and fishing supplies, but most were empty. It was a popular place to come for young lovers probably why she’d gone there. Memories of her misspent youth mingled with her thoughts of a potential relationship with Deputy James Jones.

  She found a place to sit in an empty shack, little more than a husk but good enough to provide shade while she looked across the water to the dense, dark forest. As she let the scenery filter through to her innermost self, she saw a boy and a girl at the water’s edge farther down the shore of gray pebbles. The boy, seventeen perhaps, nineteen at the very most, was attempting to push the girl into the water. Not in a threatening way, just enough to get her feet wet. She was putting up just enough of a fight not to ruin her pumps, but not committing to escaping his grasp. She didn’t want to get away from him. It was all part of the game. A slight miscalculation from the boy saw him stagger past the girl and pivot awkwardly in the slick stones underfoot. He fell back dramatically into the shallows so his backside was submerged. The girl let out a shrill laugh. Cassy recalled almost the very same scenario playing out in her youth. David Holloway had been the boy’s name. Her first kiss. She wondered what had happened to him.

  The girl took the boy’s outstretched hand and heaved him from water, putting her back into it; he reluctantly got to his feet. He deliberately fell into her arms getting her wet with his soaking shirt. Again, she yelped then seeing as they were both wet and there was nothing left to lose the two embraced and kissed, deeply, passionately. With one final cry, he lifted her into the air, spun her around once, then put her down. She dashed away, shouting something over her shoulder, some shared joke perhaps which caused the young man to laugh then shake his fist at her in an exaggerated manner. He stooped to pick up a jacket from the shore. It was as he looked up once more than Cassy saw his face properly for the first time and she let out a gasp and retreated into the shell of the hut.