A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery

by Heather Blake

  “Do you think the rats are back?” Harper asked. “It might explain why business is so slow.”

  “I haven’t seen any or heard anything about a return,” Angela said. “This place seems so spotless.”

  Colleen rolled a pear between her hands. “The health department is probably here because of the food poisonings.”

  “The food poisonings?” Vince echoed.

  “I’ve heard about three cases just this week,” Colleen said. “All of the people affected had eaten here last Friday night. I work at the library shelving books,” she said to me and Harper in an aside. “I hear a lot of gossip.”

  “Did you hear what caused the problem?” Marcus asked, eyeing his pears suspiciously.

  Colleen shook her head.

  Vince, looking a little green, said, “I ate here last Friday night….”

  I was about to reassure him that he’d probably already feel the effects when Zoey rushed into the room at a fast clip, her color high.

  “It looks like Jonathan isn’t going to make it to this class, after all. We should go ahead and get started on our tartlets.”

  “Is everything okay with Jonathan?” I asked. “Is he feeling all right?” I couldn’t quite shake that image of him by the Dumpster.

  “Fine, fine. Just held up with the some paperwork. Now, we’ll start with our crust. Have any of you made your own crust before?”

  We all shook our heads.

  “I see,” she said, looking at the clock. I had a feeling she was counting the minutes until class was done.

  Twenty minutes later, we had all managed to avoid any mention of rats or food poisoning—no easy feat. As I pulled my bowl of pears toward me, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the bowl was. Burled walnut, hand-carved. The cutting board, too, was beautifully crafted. Even the mixing spoons. They were all stunning and I said so.

  Zoey said, “Thank you.”

  I blinked. “You made them?”

  She nodded shyly. “My mother taught me how when I was little. It’s kind of a family hobby.”

  Harmony nodded appreciatively, yet had a bit of snark in her voice as she said, “You certainly learned from one of the best.”

  Zoey picked up a knife and jabbed it into a pear. She savagely dragged the knife down the pear. “Very true.”

  Okay, then. Apparently she and her mom didn’t have a good relationship.

  Ula came running into the room. “Zoey, come quick.”

  She dropped her knife. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Jonathan. He collapsed.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  An hour later, Harper and I started our stakeout of Vince. After class ended, we decided it was the perfect time to follow him, to see where he went next and to determine if he was up to no good.

  Which turned out to be a lot harder than we thought because he didn’t seem to want to leave the restaurant. He’d spent the ten minutes since class ended standing around staring at passersby, the sky, his shoelaces.

  I couldn’t help but think about Jonathan. By the time we’d all rushed out of the classroom to tend to him, Jonathan had recovered and insisted that he’d merely stumbled and fallen—not collapsed.

  Zoey insisted he go home and rest, and she had gone with him, abandoning our little cooking class to a sous chef who looked like he’d rather be eating glass than teaching us how to make a tartlet.

  Despite all that had happened, I was quite pleased with how my tartlets had come out and was happy to have some leftovers to take to Terry Goodwin, my interesting neighbor and Archie’s caretaker. I was determined to meet the man before the week’s end.

  Harper had burned her tartlets to a crisp, giving Marcus the perfect excuse to share his batch with her. She held her takeout box carefully, like a prized box of chocolates.

  I was getting restless, waiting for Vince to budge from his spot by the Stove’s front door. He looked at his watch, then checked his cell phone. At this rate, we were going to be standing here all night.

  “What’s he waiting for?” Harper asked.

  “Us to leave, I think.” I explained how I suspected he’d been following me lately.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “My best guess? He suspects I’m a Crafter.”

  “If that’s true, why follow just you?” she asked with a pout in her voice. “And not me?”

  Only Harper would get miffed at not having a stalker of her very own. “Probably because you never go anywhere.”

  She looked about to argue, then changed her mind and smiled. “I think we should test the theory. Have a little fun with him.”

  I was all for that. It would be nice to know for certain if he’d been the one following me around lately.

  We started walking, taking the long way around the village green. “I saw you talking with Marcus after the class. Anything new?” I asked, testing the waters.

  I had been talking to Starla at the time and unable to eavesdrop. She was being coy about her date with Lazarus, and I was really worried she liked him. A lot.

  “Nope.” Harper kicked a pebble.

  “Nothing at all?” I pressed.

  “Not a thing. Why are you acting so strange about it?”

  I forced a laugh. “Just curious.”

  “Right,” she said.

  Had he chickened out and not asked her on a date? Or was she toying with me because she suspected she’d been set up?

  With Harper, I couldn’t know for sure. We neared the Third Eye, which was closed for the night. Harper stopped for a moment, lingering in front of the shop. She said, “Is it wrong that I don’t care for Sylar all that much? At first I thought he was this cuddly grandpa kind of guy, but the more I get to know him…” She made a sour face.

  “Is it wrong that I don’t care for him, either?”

  She stopped short. “Really?”

  “I just don’t think he’s right for Ve. Be that as it may, he’s her choice. We have to respect that.”

  “Are you going to tell her about Dorothy?”

  “I think I have to, despite Dorothy’s warning.”

  If you don’t keep that pert little nose of yours out of my business, then there’s not enough protection in the world that will keep you safe. Stay out of my way, little girl. Keep your mouth shut about Sylar; quit the job at the Keaton house so the police can do their jobs; and back off of Nick Sawyer. Do you understand me?

  Harper continued to kick at the pebble. “I can’t believe she threatened you. Who does she think she is, anyway? I think we should investigate her past.” Coyly, she added, “Marcus mentioned something about you getting a PI license.”

  I swallowed hard. “He told you about that?”

  She gave me a sly look. “Was it a secret?”

  “Not at all,” I fibbed.

  “I think it’s the perfect side job for us,” she said.

  I was going to kill Marcus.

  Trying to change the subject, I said, “Is Vince behind us?”

  She tossed a surreptitious look over her shoulder. “About fifty yards. If he’s the Peeper and somehow learns that you’re a Crafter, what then?” she whispered.

  I wasn’t sure. If he had overheard my conversation with Archie this morning, then he had to know something truly magical was going on in the village. Grudgingly, I said, “I’m going to have to talk to the Elder and find out.”

  “The sooner the better,” Harper said.

  “Well, certainly not tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “The woods are creepy in the dark.” Plus, there might be a knife-wielding maniac on the loose. But I didn’t want to remind her of that. “Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  I heard a loud woof and looked up.

  “Well, look who had another break-out,” Harper teased.

  Headed our way, Nick had his Saint Bernard’s leash in one hand, and in the crook of his other arm…a wriggling Missy.

  She had escaped once again.

  Higgins st
rained and pulled in an effort to reach me and Harper. Nick’s demands of “heel!” went completely unheeded.

  I braced myself for impact as Higgins threw his paws on my shoulders and licked my face. Suddenly, his attention shifted to my take-out box, and before I knew it, he’d knocked it out of my hands and was eating every last pear tartlet.

  Harper was laughing herself silly.

  Nick apologized profusely, then cursed as Higgins started eating the Styrofoam. Nick shoved Missy at me and wrestled the box away from Higgins. The enormous dog then lunged for Harper’s box.

  Harper jabbed a finger at Higgins. “Pzzt!”

  Higgins stopped dead in his tracks.

  “How’d you do that?” Nick asked, amazed. “A spell?”

  “A little Dog Whisperer magic,” she said. “You need to show Higgins who’s pack leader. He’s totally taking advantage of you.”

  I tipped my head and smiled. “Totally.”

  Nick’s dark gaze met mine, and a little zap of heat shot through my body. I liked it. Maybe a little too much. Again, Dorothy’s warning went through my head. Would she try to burn my house down if I didn’t stay away from Nick? Away from Patrice’s house?

  Was I going to let her affect the way I lived?

  “And someone needs to figure out how you’re escaping,” Harper was saying to Missy as she rubbed her head.

  “Thanks for bringing her back, Nick. Again.” I looked into Missy’s innocent eyes. “I didn’t even know she had escaped.”

  “I came home to check on Mimi and found them together.” Nick’s gaze fixed on something over my shoulder. “Is there any reason why Vincent Paxton just did a complete one-eighty when he saw me?”

  “Probably because he’s stalking Darcy,” Harper said.

  Nick’s gaze zipped to mine. “He’s what?”

  I patted Missy’s head. “We don’t know that for sure.”

  “We think he’s the Peeper Creeper,” Harper added.

  I rolled my eyes. “We don’t know that, either.”

  Harper glared at me. “You’re going to be a lousy PI.”

  “Do I need to sit down?” Nick asked. “What’s this about a PI? And why do you think Vince is the Peeper?”

  “We don’t need to get into all that right now,” I said.

  “That’s right. We’ve got to follow Vince. Looks like he’s headed back to his store.” Harper strode off.

  “Darcy?” Nick said, holding Higgins tightly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “No.”

  “Should I know?”

  I tipped my head, weighing options. “Not yet.” We started walking, following Harper, who was zigzagging through the Roving Stones tents. “Anything new on the Peeper case?”

  “Nothing good,” he said, sounding weary.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “You know the bag of shavings Officer Hansel collected?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s missing.”

  I stopped short. “What do you mean missing?”

  It was a stupid question. I knew what missing meant. I just didn’t understand how something like that could happen.

  “It disappeared from her vehicle before she could log it into evidence.”

  My mind spun. “Someone stole it out of her car? When? How?”

  “This morning. I’m looking into it.”

  If anyone could find out what happened, it was Nick. Still, I was uneasy. I was about to tell him of Dorothy’s threats when he said, “I have a big favor to ask.”

  “Ask away.”

  “I have to work all night, and ordinarily I wouldn’t mind Mimi staying home alone, especially with the alarm system and Higgins, but…”

  He didn’t even have to finish his sentence. “She can stay with me. Higgins, too. Where is Mimi now?” I shifted a fidgeting Missy to my other arm.

  We’d emerged from the tents and were walking toward Harper, who sat on a bench across the street from Lotions and Potions. Subtlety wasn’t her strong point.

  “At Lotions and Potions, visiting with Mrs. P.” He touched my arm. “Are you sure? About tonight?”

  “Absolutely. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a sleepover. It’ll be fun.”

  Softly, he said, “No sleepovers, huh? Me either.”

  My insides went gooey at the look in his eyes. Slowly, his hand slid down my arm and settled in my palm. He left it there, and I suddenly felt lighter than air.

  Smiling, we walked hand in hand to where Harper sat. She looked up, zeroed in on our hands, and broke into a goofy grin.

  Thankfully, she didn’t say anything other than, “He just went inside.”

  We looked through the plate-glass windows. Mrs. P was sampling one of Vince’s tartlets. Mimi was sitting on a stool at the workstation where Mrs. P concocted a lot of Vince’s stock.

  I set Missy down and she commenced in sniffing Higgins, who didn’t seem to mind the intrusion.

  “Humor me. Why would you suspect Vince as the Peeper?” Nick asked.

  “What if the Peeper was a Seeker looking for evidence of the Craft?” I asked.

  “You can’t just think of mortal motivations in this village,” Harper added.

  Inside the shop, Mrs. P had slipped on a sweater and was headed out the door with Mimi.

  Nick was quiet for a minute, then said, “But nothing was taken.”

  “Probably because most Crafters don’t have much evidence of their Craft. There’s nothing to find. Except…”

  My gaze shot to Mimi’s hand. Her empty hand. Abruptly, she stopped short, spun around, and sprinted back into the shop.

  Not soon enough. As I looked through the window, my heart sank. Vince was sitting on the stool Mimi had just vacated.

  He was flipping through Melina’s journal.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Am I in trouble?” Mimi asked as Higgins dragged me across the village green. We had gone back to her house to pack an overnight bag and were now on our way to As You Wish. “Are you mad at me?”

  The Roving Stones tents looked ominous in the twilight as I dragged Higgins to a stop and searched her face. “Why would I be mad at you?”

  She lifted one of her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “You warned me about the journal.”

  I had, but now wasn’t the right time to say “I told you so.” Sometimes the hardest lessons were the ones you had to learn yourself. We started walking again. “No, I’m not mad.” Concerned was more like it. “I don’t think he saw much, if anything at all.”

  He couldn’t have in the few seconds he’d flipped through the diary. But still. If he had seen any information about the Craft, it was too much. Mimi didn’t need to hear that right now, though.

  Missy trotted along between us. It had turned dark, but the night was clear and the stars were sparkling. Harper and Mrs. P had taken on the challenge of watching Vince. Mrs. P had been more than enthusiastic about the stakeout, even going to the extreme of running (well, speed-walking) to the Pixie Cottage, where she lived, to change from her pink tracksuit to a black one.

  She and Harper were two peas in a pod.

  “But now,” I warned Mimi, “more than ever, you need to keep special track of that diary. Find somewhere to hide it.”

  “But what if the Peeper breaks in and finds it?”

  She had me with that one. If Vince was the Creeper and he’d just peeped at that diary, he wasn’t going to back down until he got his hands on it again. “We need to make sure we find a very good hiding place.”

  “But where?” she asked.

  I pushed open the back gate and saw that Archie wasn’t in his cage. I glanced at Terry’s house and noticed a curtain shifting. Someone—Terry?—was watching. “Let’s sleep on it tonight, and make a decision tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  Missy and Higgins bounded into the house, and I heard a squawk from the family room. “Oh, the indignity! Get him off me. Get. Him. Off. Me!�
��

  Mimi’s curls bounced as she chased after Higgins. I rushed into the fray. In the family room, I found Survivor on the TV, Tilda atop a bookshelf, Ve giggling, Mimi tugging Higgins’s collar, Missy doing circles, and red feathers sticking out from beneath Higgins’s fur.

  “Tell me that’s not drool!” Archie squawked in a high-pitched voice from beneath the dog.

  I yanked Higgins backward, gave him a stern look and a “pzzt!” He abandoned his new feathered squeak toy and went over to Ve. He climbed up on the couch next to her and plopped his head in her lap.

  Maybe Harper was onto something with the pzzt-ing stuff.

  Ve was simultaneously wiping her eyes and blowing her nose.

  “This is not amusing, Velma,” Archie chastised.

  “From my vantage point it is,” she countered, sounding completely congested. Her nose, the area around her eyes, and her cheeks were various shades of red. All of which contrasted badly with her coppery hair.

  Despite her obvious good humor, she looked, as Harper would say, “unfortunate.” Not at all her normal pulled-together self. I wished I could make her better—I hated seeing her suffer like this.

  If only I could grant my own wishes. Or if only I’d found that Anicula…

  Archie looked up at me dolefully as he lay on his back, his wings spread out, his little feet up in the air. “Tell me,” he said dramatically.

  “It’s drool,” I said, watching it ooze off his feathers and onto the floor.

  He whimpered. “Put me out of my misery.”

  “Mimi,” I said, “grab me some paper towels from the kitchen, please.”

  “Just let me die,” Archie said. “I feel so violated.”

  Mimi was back in a flash. I used the paper towels to wipe down Archie’s feathers.

  He chuckled. “Not there; it tickles.”

  I rolled my eyes. “All done.”

  Very ungracefully, he picked himself off the floor and surveyed the damage to his plumage. “I must bathe. Immediately. I am going home.” He stooped into a bow. “Farewell, ladies.” He flew to the mudroom, perched on a coat hook, and waited for me to catch up.

  I made sure to keep the back door closed so that if anyone was lurking outside they couldn’t see us talking. “Thanks for keeping an eye on Ve.”