“I do not like the direction of this conversation.”
“I’m just curious,” I explained as we turned and headed back toward Calliope’s house.
“Curiosity can be dangerous.”
He was trying to sound threatening, but the strange thing was that I didn’t feel threatened. It was, I realized, an act as well. He wasn’t a violent person. Sneaky, yes. Devious, definitely. But not violent.
“Calliope has been taken with the diamonds’ lore since she was a little girl and our mother shared the legend with her. Circe’s diamonds. Tears of the gods. She is as interested as I am, and as my father was before me, in preserving their true history. They need to be safeguarded by Charmcrafters, as we all believe that Circe was the first Charmcrafter.”
“Oh, safeguarding. Right,” I drawled. “That’s your only interest in the diamonds?”
“Your impertinence is immeasurable.”
“I hear that all the time.”
“I am not surprised.”
“And just how are the both of you planning to safeguard this invaluable treasure? Divvy it up?”
His lips tightened. “The power of the diamonds is so immense that division will not devalue them.”
Wonderful. Two people with unlimited powers.
We came off the trail and headed up the street to where Cherise was still waiting. I saw no sign of Glinda or Calliope or Finn.
“It’s too bad you didn’t find them,” I said sarcastically.
“Yes,” he murmured.
“Did you ever try asking Eleta where they were?”
“I was never able to get close enough to her. The spell she put on the house was one of the most powerful I’ve ever encountered. As a Geocrafter, she drew from the earth around the house to maintain the spell’s power. Within the past few years, I sent letters hoping that time had softened her stance and that she would meet with me, but they were returned.”
“I heard she didn’t want anyone to ever find the diamonds because of the heartache they caused her. She didn’t want anyone else to feel that pain.”
Again, he stopped and stared at me. “Do you suppose she considered the Abramsons’ pain when she killed their daughter?”
Put that way, my reasoning did seem out of sorts.
I tipped my head in consideration, recalling Pepe and Mrs. P’s conversation about Eleta. How one thought she’d hidden the diamonds to prevent future heartaches, the other thinking it was to save her own skin. Maybe, as Pepe had said, it had been both.
“Perhaps her decision to never reveal the location of the diamonds stemmed from that incident,” I said. “She saw what happened to your father. She knew what she had done to Jane . . . It was her way of atoning.”
“Not only is your impertinence immeasurable but also your naïveté. Not everyone has redeeming qualities, Ms. Merriweather. Sometimes people are simply evil.”
I thought of what Mimi had asked last night. Can people be both good and bad?
“I think most do have redeeming qualities,” I said, watching him carefully. It was, after all, why I was standing here with him.
“Then I feel sorry for you,” he said.
“And I feel sorry for you.”
We were at a standoff.
Finally, he said, “We shall agree to disagree.”
“Fine with me.” We headed for Cherise. “By the way, do you know who your father’s accomplice was?”
“I do not know.”
So much for that.
“Like most everyone else, I knew nothing of the heist until after the fact. My life was fairly normal for a Crafter until that day,” he said quietly as we headed up the walkway. “Then it wasn’t.”
Cherise stood up, dusted off her pants, and handed me back the folder. She looked expectantly between us.
Andreus bowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies.”
With a sharp pivot, he climbed the stairs and went into the house.
“Well?” Cherise said.
“I’ll tell you all about it on the walk back.”
As we started up the sidewalk, Cherise said, “Is it wrong that I find Andreus sexy, broken nose and all?”
Here we go again. She and Ve would be playing tug-of-war with Andreus before he knew it. “Yes,” I said.
She laughed. “You’re right, but I can’t help it.”
“Ms. Merriweather?” Andreus called out. He’d come back out of the house and stood on the front steps.
I turned back to face him.
“Those photos . . .”
I held the file close to my chest. “What about them?”
“If it’s no trouble, could you make duplicates? I—I have no pictures from back then.”
That look was back. The hollow one.
I nodded.
As we started back on our way, Cherise poked me with her elbow. “You’re a big ol’ sap, Darcy Merriweather.”
She probably wouldn’t be surprised to learn that it wasn’t the first time I’d heard that.
Chapter Twenty-nine
When I arrived back at As You Wish, Ve was sitting at the kitchen counter, a half pitcher of margaritas at her elbow. I’d spent the past hour with Harper, telling her all about my day so far, starting with Andreus and ending with Andreus.
Her reaction to Ve’s new relationship had been the same as my own. Ew.
And we’d debated who killed Raina for a while.
We both kept coming back to Noelle or Calliope.
They were the only ones with no alibi.
Both had very different yet strong motives. And opportunity to commit the crime because both knew Raina’s propensity to be early, the lockbox code, and knew the crime could be framed on a treasure hunter.
Noelle could have easily identified the Myrian charm as a piece possibly made by Andreus, especially if she had learned he and Calliope were siblings. It would have been easy enough to try to pin the crime on him, knowing his father had stolen the diamonds.
I was stumbling a little with trying to come up with a reason why Calliope would frame her brother, unless she was using it as a diversion, knowing he’d be cleared.
I doubted Calliope would be amenable to police questioning, but it was inevitable that she would have to sit down with Nick. I wished him nothing but luck with that. He’d probably have a better chance with loose-lipped Finn.
“Rough afternoon?” I asked Ve, eyeing her glass.
“You don’t even know,” she said, topping off her drink. “My day’s been hell. My morning? Just . . . surreal. Then, do you know where I just came from?”
I shook my head.
Ve gave me a wry look. “From apologizing to Dorothy. I might never recover.”
“Drink up,” I said, wishing Cherise was here in case a calming spell was needed. She’d had errands to run, however, then promised to come back to take a look at the photos.
“Exactly.” She gulped her drink.
“Maybe just a little bit slower than that,” I said, crouching down to pet Missy.
“I ran into Godfrey today,” Ve said. “He told me all about your visit last night. I remember Scott Abramson. Nice kid.”
“Nice guy,” I said. “An FBI agent.”
Ve straightened. “Not a TV show producer?”
“That was a ruse. He has no connections to TV business at all.”
Suddenly, she came to life, sitting up straight, her eyes bright. “Can I tell Dorothy?”
“If it helps speed your recovery have at it,” I said, setting the file on the counter.
“I am feeling better all of a sudden.”
I slowly took the photos out, laying them side by side on the counter.
“What have you there?” Ve asked.
“Hopefully a clue in a haystack.”
; “Either I’m drunk or that made no sense.”
I smiled. “A little of both, I think,” I said, explaining how I hoped to pinpoint who the elusive accomplice was.
“These are like a trip down memory lane,” she said, examining the photos.
“Do you recognize anyone at the funeral?” I asked, handing her the picture.
“Oh, how sad Andreus looks.”
I knew where I got my sappiness from.
“Lots of people,” she said, listing names. “Stacey, Mark, Harold . . .”
Missy went to the back door and scratched to be let out. We tended to keep her dog door closed more often than not. It limited her escapes. I pulled open the door and saw Nick coming through the gate.
It was as if Missy had a sixth sense about him, I swear.
Nick stepped in, gave me a kiss.
“And Carla, Trevor, Matthew, oh, there’s Godfrey!” Her words had started to slur, syllables running together.
He said, “Do I want to know?”
“Alcohol-fueled trip down memory lane,” I said, heading into the kitchen.
“And William, and Phillip, and Marcia.”
Wait. What?
Phillip?
“Ve!” I cried.
Looking startled, she said, “What? What’d I do?”
“You said Phillip. Which one is he?” I asked, leaning over her shoulder.
She shook her head. “I didn’t say Phillip. I don’t know a Phillip. Which is kind of strange when you think about it. I know a lot of people and not one named Phillip? It’s not an unusual name. Isn’t there a Prince Phillip?”
I pushed her margarita glass toward Nick. “What did you say, then?”
“When?” she asked.
Oh dear God. “A minute ago . . . William and Phillip and Marcia?”
She stared at the photo, pointing as she went along. “William, Phillip, Marcia.”
“You said it again,” I cried. The man she tapped as Phillip looked familiar.
Confused, she looked at me, her forehead dipped low. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I glanced at Nick for help.
Smirking, he said, “I’ll have what she’s drinking.”
“Big help.” I pointed at the photo again. “This guy, Ve. Who’s he?”
“Phillip,” she said. “Took me on a date once and tried to go all the way with me.” She giggled. “I let him.”
“I’m going to need a memory cleanse after today,” I muttered.
Nick was trying hard not to laugh. “I don’t think Ve’s saying Phillip. It just sounds that way because of the slurring.”
“Spell his name,” I said.
Looking at me like I was an idiot, she said slowly, “F-L-I-P.”
Flip. I wanted to bang my head against the countertop. “I’ll never get those five minutes of my life back.”
“Did I tell you he took me on a date?” she asked.
“Yes!” I said quickly.
Nick patted my shoulder.
“Flip,” she repeated. “Turned out he was a flop. A big ol’ flop.” She eyed her lap and wiggled her eyebrows.
“You’re going to need to make that two memory cleanses,” Nick said.
I dropped my head against his chest and nodded.
“Felix. Feeeee-lix,” Ve said in a hoity-toity tone.
“Who’s Felix?” I asked, suddenly on high alert. It was Andreus’s middle name. The name that had been nagging me.
“Flip!” she said. “Aren’t you paying attention?”
I wished I wasn’t.
Nick said, “Is Felix Flip’s real name?”
Ve snapped her fingers. “You got it.”
I met Nick’s gaze. “What if Jane Abramson made the same mistake I did? Thinking Sebastian was saying Phillip when he was really on the phone to Flip? If Sebastian’s back was to her, she might not have heard clearly.”
Nick nodded. “I can see it.”
“Was Flip a good friend of Sebastian Woodshall?” I asked Ve.
She held up two entwined fingers and stared at them. “Like this.”
He had to be the accomplice. “What happened to Flip?” I asked my aunt. “Is he still in the village?”
“No,” she said, still staring at her fingers, opening and crossing them. Opening and crossing. “Moved a long time ago. He’s a Lawcrafter. I wonder if he’s single now. And if he’s still a flop.”
A lawyer! That was where I’d seen the name. It had been in a caption on a photo of Eleta and her lawyer shortly after the heist. Felix Blackburn.
I scanned the pictures on the counter, looking for the shot. Aha! I held it up. “Is this Flip?”
“That’s him.” She made a face. “I forgot how big his honker was.”
I studied him, and it took only a second for recognition to hit me hard and fast.
“Darcy?” Nick asked. “What is it?”
I sent more gratitude to Starla for the color pictures.
“I’ve been played a complete fool.” I held up the photo. “Who’s he look like? The hooked nose? The red hair?”
Nick let out a breath. “Finn.”
Chapter Thirty
The following Wednesday evening, it was standing room only in the meeting room at the Enchanted Village Public Library.
Villagers were sandwiched into the small space to witness the first vote under the guidance of the brand-new village council president.
Ve sat dead center at a long table on the dais, banging a gavel and looking like she was loving every second of it. Two council members sat on her left, and two to her right. A brand-new nameplate in front of her read VELMA DEVANY, CHAIRWOMAN.
Sylar thumbed his white mustache as he pouted in the back row, and Dorothy had skipped the meeting altogether. Starla and Vince sat together at the far end of the room, and I was happy to see he wasn’t still wearing the neck collar.
Ve glowed with happiness, but her ebullience belied the fact that she’d barely slept the past few days.
None of us had, really.
The whole village was on edge, because there was a manhunt under way. For Finn Reardon.
“Is it me,” Mimi whispered, “or is she banging that gavel more than necessary?”
We were leaning against the wall at the back of the room. “Definitely more than necessary.” If Ve had followed protocol, there would be only one bang. One single solitary bang. Not seven.
The room quieted, and the meeting began. Fifteen minutes in, and it felt interminable due to the numerous recitations of committee reports. Harper had been dismayed that she couldn’t make the meeting—she didn’t have anyone to cover the shop—but right at this moment, I thought she was the lucky one.
I fought a yawn as my gaze skipped over the faces in the room. Looking, looking, looking for red hair and deceptive blue eyes.
Finn Reardon was the grandson of Lawcrafter Felix “Flip” Blackburn.
He’d been more than willing to speak to Nick when he believed it was just to help clear Calliope’s name.
He’d become fidgety when Nick asked him about his grandfather, but his answers corroborated what we’d learned from searching online databases.
Felix Blackburn had left the village a few months after the heist, taking a job offer from a law firm in the western part of the state. In a matter of years, he was a shell of a man, falling victim to paranoid delusions and alcohol. He committed suicide long before Finn was born. His family fell on hard times, barely making ends meet and having to rely on state assistance.
Mrs. P and Pepe had filled in some blanks as well. Like the fact that Felix had been married to a mortal and hadn’t told her of his powers. It was entirely possible that Finn had no idea he was a Crafter.
“I call for a vote on the motion of the p
roposed neighborhood on the northeast tract of the Enchanted Woods,” one of the council members said, continuing to read particulars from a piece of paper in front of him.
“Seconded,” another chimed in.
Finn had bolted when Nick asked him about his grandfather’s link to the heist. He managed to escape into the Enchanted Woods. Nick recognized Finn’s gait as the intruder he’d chased the night Harper and I had stumbled across a Vaporcrafting Scott Abramson.
It had been four days and the police force had been scouring the woods for any trace of him.
So far, nothing had been found, but none of us believed he’d gone far. He wanted the diamonds. I could only imagine how it had been growing up knowing his grandfather had participated in the biggest diamond heist in the country and had come away with nothing more than mental issues and an alcohol problem.
And Finn had to have known. There was no other explanation for how he’d ended up with Calliope, here in the village. Nick speculated that Finn kept his true identity secret while looking for the diamonds—and so that he could collect the reward for finding them.
“Let’s vote,” Ve said. “Councilwoman Merrell?”
“This is so exciting,” Mimi said, her eyes bright.
“For,” the councilwoman said.
A boo rippled through the crowd, the loudest one coming from next to me.
“Sorry,” Mimi said when I raised my eyebrows at her. “I got carried away.”
It was easy to do.
Ve called on a councilman to her left.
“Against,” he said.
Clapping filled the air, which Ve quieted with more banging from her gavel.
I was beginning to hate that thing.
The door opened, and someone edged into the room, looking for a place to stand. Glinda.
“Councilwoman Crane?” Ve said.
“Against,” she said.
More clapping.
Ve looked to the man on her left. “Councilman Pallotta?”
“For,” he said.
More booing.
“Chairwoman Devany?” Councilwoman Crane asked.
Some Like It Witchy: A Wishcraft Mystery Page 25