Love Witch

by Tess Lake

  At that thought I remembered the papers that Ollie had been stacking that had been driving him slightly mad. The ones showing a building had been constructed out on Truer Island that apparently didn’t exist. The article showing Grandma, Aunt Cass and Hattie all the same age together. In the rush of everything I’d forgotten to take a copy of the article. Even as I realized that, it occurred to me it was very strange that I’d forgotten to take such an obvious thing. I heard that small voice in the back of my mind again.

  It’s the spell.

  I dropped my current task which was sorting school records for two different schools sixty years ago and went to find the piles Ollie had been working on. After a few fruitless minutes of searching I had to conclude that they were no longer there. I quickly rang Ollie.

  “Ollie, it’s Harlow. Where are all those papers you were working on, the one with that article showing my Grandma, Hattie Stern and Aunt Cass in the ocean swimming? Where is the pile of pay slips for that building out on Truer Island?”

  “Oh, they’re not there? I didn’t move them. Can’t you find them?” Ollie said.

  The underground room was messy I admit but there was no way Ollie’s piles were sitting somewhere that I just happened to glance over and miss.

  “Nope, they’re not here,” I said with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  “I’ll have a look tomorrow. They probably were moved, although I don’t know who would have done that,” Ollie said. I said goodbye and then spent the next ten minutes or so walking around, checking every pile I could find but my first instincts had been right. The papers were gone and I’m sure we wouldn’t be seeing them again. I sat back down on the ground and had a drink of water, feeling a sensation that was becoming most unwelcome. It felt like a cold hand on the back of my neck or a fog across my mind. Something was opposing me, something was pushing me and I didn’t know what.

  I checked my watch and saw that somehow I still had half an hour to go, but I made a slightly sneaky executive decision: I was done for the night. I dusted myself off somewhat, locked up the library and then went out to my car, which took a few tries to get started. I was sitting there waiting for it to warm up when I saw a tall lanky familiar figure rushing across the end of the street carrying a large black garbage bag. It was Marcus Fyfe, the music director. He vanished around the corner.

  “It’s nothing. I mean, yes, he is walking around late at night with a black garbage bag in the middle of town. So that’s nothing, right?” I said out loud, hearing how stupid I sounded. I made a split second decision, turned my car off, locked my things inside, and took off running down the street. I skidded around the corner just in time to see Marcus vanish around another corner about three blocks away. There was simply no doubt about it: he was heading in the direction of the theater. I jogged my way down the street, feeling my legs starting to burn and hearing the loud sound of my breath. I think I’d entered that beautiful period for about half an hour where when you exercise you get fitter, but since I’d been forced to cut back training sessions with Kaylee I’d seen my fitness decline to the level of someone who spent all their time lounging on the sofa. By the time I reached the corner I was out of breath. I stopped there and looked around. There were two guards standing out the front of the theater. Since the snake had been released, more guards had been hired and they were on twenty-four-hour watch so no one could go in or out when they weren’t meant to. I stood there watching and then noticed a patch of black was moving along. It was Marcus creeping in the shadows, coming up to the abandoned building that adjoined the theater. On both sides of the theater were abandoned buildings, a sad judgment on the economic state of Harlot Bay. I saw Marcus look around and then leap over a small fence, vanishing behind it.

  My urge to follow, to chase, was high but I did the sensible thing instead, or at least I tried to. My idiotic phone wasn’t cooperating yet again. I couldn’t call Jack. I couldn’t call Sheriff Hardy. I couldn’t call anyone. I banged it in my palm in frustration.

  What should I do? I could tell the guards I guess…

  I had a few moments of indecision, battling out in my mind between get involved, find out what’s going on, and don’t be crazy be safe. Eventually I took a deep breath and crossed the road heading in the same direction as Marcus. I crept up to the low fence and then peered over. The building he’d entered had been a haberdasher’s at some point in the distant past according to the aged signage above the door. Chances where it had been abandoned for the last twenty years. A window at the front was open.

  I climbed over the fence and crept up to the window, listening intently. I could hear footsteps inside, Marcus walking around. Then I did something that I guess was fairly stupid. I took another deep breath and climbed in the window.

  I wasn’t entirely crazy though; I cast a concealment spell over me. It was heavy and in my tired state took quite a lot of energy but at least Marcus wouldn’t be able to spot me even if he looked directly at me.

  The inside of the building wasn’t completely dark. There were glass skylights in the ceiling still intact, which was incredible for a building of this age. Beams of moonlight came in. Where I’d entered was a small office area, but then the building opened up into a large cavernous factory floor. I crept out of the office area and over near a pillar, hiding in the darkness. It wasn’t long before Marcus came walking out of the black no longer carrying the enormous garbage bag.

  I pressed myself up against the pillar and watched him go. He was humming to himself as though he was happy about something. It wasn’t long before I heard him walk back through the offices and go out the window, closing it behind him. Then I was alone.

  I checked my phone again but still no signal. Calling myself a fool about a thousand times I walked further into the building, finding that on the far side there were more offices, a maze of small rooms and corridors much like dressing rooms at the theater. Thinking I was going to come upon a bag of snakes or something like that, I crept around with every muscle tensed. But I didn’t find anything. It was too dark to search every room properly, so wherever he put the bag, it was well hidden.

  My internal timer of well, that’s enough crazy Harlow hit its limit and so I decided to get out of there. I went back the way I came, across the large empty floor as quietly as I could, opened the window and climbed back out before closing it behind me. I took a quick look over the fence before jumping it and rushing back the way I came to my car. It was only once I got back there that my phone decided to start working again. I decided after doing something so ridiculously foolish that I would do something sensible and called Sheriff Hardy on his private number.

  “Harlow, what is it?” Sheriff Hardy said, sleep blurring his voice.

  I checked the time, it was only just nine o’clock. Was he in bed already?

  “Oh, sorry to wake you.”

  “I’ve been working too many hours so I had to go to bed early. What can I help you with?” I heard a voice in the background say something to him. It was Aunt Ro. I guess they were both staying at his house. And in that moment, as absurd as it might sound, I realized that after they’d marry she’d probably be moving out to live with him. Hot on the heels of that realization was another: Luce would be moving out too. It was like a timer had begun between a ring and then a wedding and then eventually I would no longer be living with my cousins. Would we all scatter to the four winds, leaving Torrent mansion empty?

  “Harlow, what was it? I need to sleep,” Sheriff Hardy said.

  “Oh, sorry, um, I just saw Marcus Fyfe, the music director, break into an empty building that was next to the theater. I don’t know why,” I told Sheriff Hardy.

  That certainly got his attention. He asked me to repeat my story and although I wanted to hide parts of it and just say that I’d stayed across the street, I told the Sheriff that I’d followed him inside and crept around, but I hadn’t seen where he’d placed the bag. At this Sheriff Hardy made a few judgmental noises but didn’t say any
thing else. In the end he thanked me and told me he would send some of his men over before wishing me a good night.

  As I drove over to Jack’s I certainly hoped that it was a good night although there was sadness as well. Was Marcus possibly the culprit? He seemed so happy and carefree. He was always making jokes with the teenagers and he could play any song apparently ever written. He would keep them entertained by playing their favorite TV theme songs, and I think he practically had a theme for every single one of them if he saw them walking by. He was one of those people that in the midst of panic would be able to calm everyone down just by playing something on his piano, charming teenagers the way he might charm a wild animal. So over to Jack I drove with a mixture of sadness and partially relief. Hopefully the police would find something and then they would question Marcus and I guess it might all be over. Then all I had to contend with was helping Aunt Cass find the salamander, Aunt Ro getting married, and everything else that was going on in my life.

  I arrived at Jack’s and saw the warm glow of the light in the front window. Feeling my spirits lift with every step towards his front door, I soon forgot about Marcus and went inside to see my lovely boyfriend and spend some time with a delicious hot cup of cocoa.

  Chapter 13

  I was almost late to rehearsal the next day after having a difficult time dragging myself out of Jack’s incredibly warm bed.

  I was surprised to find Marcus sitting behind the piano playing one of the opening songs as a warm up.

  Why was he here? Surely Sheriff Hardy hadn’t had his men investigate the building next door and clear him already? I immediately rang Sheriff Hardy, but he didn’t answer. Before I could worry about exactly what was going on, I was called into the rehearsal by the director.

  “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, everyone,” Emilion yelled out.

  Aunt Cass was there, although not in her complete makeup. Like some others, she’d only show up for the first rehearsal, perform her lines and then leave to go to work.

  I was immediately pressed into service helping out with costumes. I whispered a quick hello to Peta and Henry G and we got started. I didn’t have time to worry about what exactly was going on with Marcus and the police once the rehearsals began. My job was essentially a roving dogsbody to help out wherever help was needed. At the beginning that was the costumes as there were some quick changes. Later on it quieted down and I even had some free time backstage which you’d think is a relief but was quite anxiety inducing. I often felt that I was standing around, useless, not helping at all, and so most of the time I would head out to the dressing rooms to bust any teenagers up to anything and make sure they were all aware of their times and when they were to go back on stage. There had been more than once that an entrance had been missed because the teenager in question was making out in a dressing room.

  We hit that ten minutes and so I walked down to the dressing rooms, opening doors as I went and rushing teenagers out wherever I saw them. I came to Emilion’s dressing room (he was using the room Hans was poisoned in) and on impulse opened the door. Normally no one was stupid enough to hide out in here when Hans was the director, but Emilion was much more cheerful, so maybe some teenagers thought he was much more lenient.

  I stepped inside the dressing room and closed the door behind me, looking around. Emilion hadn’t done much to change the dressing room in his time here. It still looked pretty much the way Hans had left it. The only real difference was there was an enormous vase of flowers sitting on the main desk. I walked over to the main desk vaguely aware that I was no longer searching for teenagers, but perhaps snooping? I saw on the desk there was a copy of Hans’s autobiography. It was open to the middle, an egotistical story of how Hans single-handedly saved some production of Macbeth ten years ago. The way it was told you would think that he was the director, the cast, the lighting assistants, the musicians, and everyone all in one.

  I looked across the desk and saw an envelope that was torn open addressed to Emilion. I picked it up and saw the return address on the back was the Harlot Bay Hospital. Without really thinking about it I opened the envelope and took out the note inside:

  Don’t get too comfortable. I’ll be back soon – Hans.

  That was all it said. I slipped the note back into the envelope and put it on the desk.

  Was Hans coming back? Oh goddess, please, no.

  I realized that I was standing in quite a bad position if someone were to open the dressing room door. This was no longer merely looking for teenagers, but actively snooping through the director’s things. I turned about-face and went outside, closing the door behind me. I then rushed back to the stage to continue helping out. I had rehearsed so many of these costume changes that felt like I was working on automatic, which gave my mind time to free roam. The information that Hans would be returning was certainly unwelcome. But was he really? I’d heard he had woken up and that he knew he’d been poisoned, but perhaps it was just the type of egotistical note that Hans would send someone to keep them on edge, to make them know that they weren’t really in charge, that he was.

  We finished the rehearsal almost on time. We were still running a little long, the teenagers not quite up to speed with their lines, the costume changes not going smoothly, but you could feel we were getting closer. Esmeralda called for a ten-minute break before we’d go again. I took myself to the kitchen to get a glass of water and realized I had completely forgotten about last night until Marcus appeared with a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “How goes it, Harlow? Still reading that autobiography?” he asked.

  “I gave up. It’s mostly egotistical stuff,” I said. I took a hasty sip of my water and looked around, glad that there were other people in the kitchen so that I wasn’t alone. Even as I thought that I felt guilty. There was just no way that Marcus could have been the one to release a snake or poison Hans. He was too kind!

  “Hey did I see your car last night outside the library?” Marcus asked.

  “I have a part-time job working there. I’m sorting papers that are getting digitized,” I said. I didn’t want to be in this conversation. I half expected him to say oh, so was that what you were meant to be doing when you were following me instead?

  “I think about getting a stable job sometimes. It would be a lot better than working for Hans,” Marcus said. He finished his coffee, rinsed his cup and walked back to his piano after giving me a smile.

  I was still watching him go when Kira appeared next to me.

  “I know he’s tall and lanky, but you do have Jack you know,” she said punching me in the arm.

  I punched her in the arm in return.

  “It may surprise you but adults can talk to other adults without getting a crush on them, unlike certain teenagers.”

  “Ouch hit me right where it hurts,” Kira said miming a pain over her heart.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” I said to her in an undertone.

  “Oooh more mysterious shenanigans, I guess,” Kira said and winked back at me. Then her demeanor changed. She went from the Kira I knew, a witty and sometimes sarcastic teenager, to blushing pink and fumbling with the glass in her hand. I looked up and saw that Fox, the teenager who I’d caught crying in the dressing room a few days ago, had come into the kitchen. I could feel Kira’s whole body tense up as he came over near the sink and filled up a glass of water. Fox glanced at me and pointedly did not glance at Kira, seeming too embarrassed to look at her.

  “Hi Harlow,” he mumbled. Then, in a quieter voice, he said “Hi Kira.”

  Kira’s face turned bright pink again and she mumbled something back that probably was a greeting. I don’t know, I think I was losing my ability to speak teenager. Fox gulped down his glass of water in record time and then bolted out of there. It was only once he was gone that Kira let out a breath that she seemed to be holding.

  Despite everything that was going on I was not one to let such an opportunity pass.

  “Kira’s got a boyfriend,”
I teased.

  “Shut up, I do not,” Kira said and punched me in the arm again.

  “You want to marry him. You want to have his little Fox babies,” I said.

  “I do not. I just want to, I don’t know, talk to him or something,” Kira said. She bit her lip when she said “something” and I understood, of course, that the something that she wanted to be doing with him did not involve talking.

  “I saw you at a party, Kira Stern, yelling out to some guy and talking to him. Why can’t you just talk to Fox?”

  “I don’t know, it’s just he’s so cute and my whole body freezes and I don’t know what’s going on,” Kira said. We didn’t get to talk anymore because Esmeralda called that the ten-minute break was over and we were to get back to rehearsals. We went again another full rehearsal rushing through, although this time there was a standin for Aunt Cass, who had gone off to work. We reached the end of that one and there was a groan from the cast as Esmeralda called out we’d be taking a short break before going once more. In the break I checked my phone and saw that Sheriff Hardy had rung me back. I called him and surprisingly he picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey, Harlow, I thought I’d call you to tell you some information we’ve uncovered,” he began.

  “Did you talk to Marcus?” I whispered into the phone, unable to stop myself.

  “We’re looking into it. I can’t tell you any more. Okay?”

  “Okay, fine,” I said.

  “They’re looking into the poison that Hans was poisoned with. It’s not any of the standard ones. It’s something exotic so sent it off to a toxicologist in the city. My bet is given that we found a venomous snake it was probably going to be something like that,” he said.

  “Right, so do we need to look for someone who owns snakes?” I asked.

  “Yes, we’re going to be investigating that. I thought I’d let you know in case that was useful information for you,” Sheriff Hardy said.