Potions and Puzzles

by Agnes Lester Brown

  Lori drew her breath in and concentrated hard. The letters on the paper began to swim in front of her eyes, as if they’d become alphabet soup. After a few seconds, they settled, and she wrote the new word they formed down in a small notebook she’d kept ready.

  KENELM

  “What does that mean?” Hazel said, looking at the word Lori had written down. “I don’t know any such word.”

  “Granny, can I try again? Maybe there’s another word,” Lori asked, but Fae shook her head.

  “The word the potion shows you is the one you need to know. There are no other solutions.”

  “It could be a name,” Rosie said. “I’ll fetch my laptop and we can do a search for it.”

  Lori felt deflated. She was expecting something more obvious. But that was the way of magic. It was a little more subtle than most would want it to be.

  She stared at the word. Whoever had tattooed it had been out to take some sort of final act of revenge, and this word was their calling card.

  Rosie flew back into the room, her laptop already open.

  “No, that won’t help,” Fae said. “Lori has to figure this out for herself. The meaning will reveal itself soon.”

  “No sooner than Google,” Rosie said, sitting down. “Listen to this. And she started reading off the screen.

  Kenelm was the name of a mythical king in the ancient kingdom of Lordinum. As a baby, he was hidden away by his evil uncle Clath (or Klaeth) who wanted the throne for himself. For three years, no one saw the boy, and the people of Lordinum forgot about him as they struggled to survive the brutal reign of Clath.

  Then rumors began to circulate about Kenelm, that he was imprisoned in the giant castle Clath had constructed for himself high up a cliffside above the town of Brone. Fearing that the child might escape or be rescued, Clath had him guillotined, but the child’s head grew miraculously grew back on. He cut off the boy’s head another three times, and the third time, he threw the head the head over the cliff wall.

  A witch who was walking along a footpath gathering herbs discovered the head as it rolled down the hill. Using spells and potions, she kept the head alive, showing it to the townsfolk, who rose up in anger and conquered the castle, where they discovered the boy’s body. As soon as they brought the body and the head together, the boy healed and came to life again.

  To this day, the miracle of Brone is celebrated in the town every year during the annual Kenelm Festival.

  “Ooh, how gory,” Jasmine said, making a face.

  “What a fantastic tale,” Rosie said dreamily, unable to take her eyes off the screen. “I think I can hear the clattering of horses’ hooves on cobblestones.”

  “See?” said Fae. “I told you all it wouldn’t help much.” She looked at Lori, who was frantically writing down notes but looked more and more baffled the more she wrote. “Your own insight will tell you more than that box of tricks.” She cast a sour look at Rosie’s computer.

  “At least the potion gave us a clue,” Lori said, still looking at the notes she’d written down.

  “I’m off to bed. All this medieval mumbo-jumbo is too much for me.” Hazel yawned. “I’m glad the tournament is coming to an end so I can relax.” She, Fae and Jasmine said goodnight and left.

  Rosie was about to go off to bed too when Lori remembered something.

  “Oh, Rosie, can you help me with this quickly?” She took out Alvin’s phone. “Alvin’s cell died after I last answered it, and for the life of me I can’t get it to work. Can you blow some life into it, please?”

  Rosie took the phone and briefly looked at it. “Shouldn’t be a problem,” she said nonchalantly as she held down three buttons on the phone simultaneously. “It probably only needs a hard reset.”

  A few seconds ticked by before the phone’s screen flashed and then went dark again.

  “Hmmm… looks like it could be something else.” Rosie took the phone battery out and examined it. Then she put it back into the phone and tried to start it up again.

  Nothing happened.

  “Oh well,” Lori said, picking up the phone. “Hopefully there was nothing important on it.”

  “Sorry I can’t help,” Rosie said, a bit self-conscious that her geek skills had let her down. “I’m off to bed too. See you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight, Rosie. Sleep well. And thanks for trying,” Lori called after her.

  Lori still sat with the phone in her hand, wondering what to do with it next when Rosie’s head popped in the door again.

  There’s one last thing you can try,” she said and pointed to a nearby cupboard drawer. “There should be a charger for that type of phone in there. Perhaps the battery’s just flat.” With that she disappeared again.

  “Idiot!” Lori chastised herself for not thinking of that in the first place. She searched through drawer where the family kept a crow’s nest of cell chargers and connectors. She found a charger that would fit Alvin’s phone near the back of the drawer and plugged the phone in. It came on instantly, and the video Lori had seen before the phone went dead again appeared on the screen. The video shook violently, then steadied and then showed a grainy figure sitting on a couch.

  “Isn’t that Brenda?” Lori said to herself, screwing up her eyes. “Now why would Alvin…?” She jacked up the volume so she could hear the conversation better.

  BRENDA: “You can rest assured your secret’s safe with me, Alvin. Not a word from me.”

  ALVIN: “I appreciate it, Brenda. You know how the media would react to this. My career would be over.”

  BRENDA: “Does Kermit know?”

  ALVIN: “No, and he shouldn’t. He’ll crucify me.”

  BRENDA: “You know I have your back, don’t you?”

  ALVIN: “Thanks.”

  BRENDA: “Do you have mine too?”

  ALVIN: “Absolutely. We’re in this game together. [Laughs] What’s up?”

  BRENDA: “I’m in trouble. We just got back from Vegas, and—”

  ALVIN: “Not again. How much did you lose this time?”

  BRENDA: “I don’t know. A lot. Like, a hundred thousand.”

  ALVIN: “[Whistles] Yikes!”

  BRENDA: “Yeah, I can’t even afford to pay my staff this month. You think you can help me out?”

  ALVIN: “I don’t know, Brenda, it’s kinda tough… I helped you out last time already. Don’t you think you should—”

  BRENDA: “I’m keeping your secret safe, remember?”

  [Silence]

  ALVIN: One hundred thousand? Really?”

  BRENDA: “I’m afraid so.”

  ALVIN: “I’ll see what I can do.”

  BRENDA: “I kinda need it urgently. Like, by the start of the competition. [Raises voice] Really, Alvin. I need it.”

  ALVIN: “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll have it ready for you.”

  BRENDA: “That’s sweet of you. I knew I could…”

  At that point, Brenda’s voice became garbled, and the video turned upside down before stopping abruptly.

  With clammy hands, Lori put the phone down. Why was Alvin’s death starting to look like a giant conspiracy conducted by ruthless people? She shuddered when she realized how close she was to all of them. She probably knew far more than was good for her. Having seen them in action, she knew that Brenda and Kermit were both ruthless and would stop at nothing to have things their way. On top of that, Camelia was out on bail, and who knew where she fit into the picture? And here was Lori Whitewood, health store owner, innocent bystander, vulnerable and in the middle of it all. How long before they realized what she knew and decided to do something about it? Who would protect her, and how?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chief Bob Winters tiptoed out of his bedroom, careful not to alarm Mildred, his wife, who still lay sleeping. He’d hardly slept a wink himself, tossing and turning, occasionally getting up to have a glass of milk or make himself a sandwich. At four o’clock, he’d made himself coffee and gone to his study, where the Alvin Parkinson mu
rder file still lay open from the previous evening. For the hundredth time, he’d gone over the forensic tests, cross-referenced alibis and searched fingerprint databases, once again without finding anything new.

  At five o’clock, he’d lain down again. But fifteen minutes later, he couldn’t lie still anymore and returned to his study. He sat down and looked at Camelia’s mugshot. Her face was puffy and her eyes almost swollen shut, so much had she cried during and after her arrest. He reread her first interview. All she’d been doing since her arrest was deny, deny, deny. Ray had found no previous convictions when he’d researched her. She was from Wisconsin, had average grades, and had been heading for a cookie-cutter life until she’d won a local modeling competition. Acting in detergent ads followed, and from there her rise to stardom had been meteoric. She had quickly become a celebrity known for her sometimes violent altercations with the press. Her reputation had grown even faster after she’d met the superstar crossworder Alvin Parkinson, with whom, by everyone’s admission, she’d had a torrid and tumultuous relationship, culminating in a threatening letter that put her under suspicion.

  Chief Winters closed the file and tossed it to one side. This was all old news. He looked at his coffee mug. It was a huge white ceramic cup with the words “Policemen see through it all” written on it. Sure, it had been a frivolous birthday gift from the office guys, but he’d always been proud of his detective skills. However, right now he was feeling blind as a bat.

  It didn’t help that he was feeling stonewalled by the tournament people. They all had good alibis. Camelia had no enemies among them. But they’d all looked away when he’d asked them about Alvin. His policeman hunch told him they were hiding a secret. Or maybe even a whole stack of them.

  There was one person he hadn’t interviewed—Lori Whitewood. There was no need to. After all, she was the whistle blower who had brought Camelia to his attention. He’d never admit it, but his policeman ego had been dented by her, which might be why he’d been avoiding her. But he was going to have to swallow his pride and call her, he thought as he gathered his car keys and headed for the police station.

  “Speak of the devil,” Chief Winters said to himself as he pulled into the parking lot next to the police station and saw Lori walking towards the door. He caught himself reluctantly hoping she had come to shed new light on the case. If only some of his staff were as bright as this girl.

  Lori was already seated in Chief Winters’s office when he came in the door.

  “Well, well, if it ain’t the voodoo doctor!”

  Lori winced visibly, surprised by the chief’s loud-mouthed entry.

  “Sorry I startled you, Lori. What brings you here? You haven’t discovered another murder, I hope?”

  “Hi, Chief,” Lori greeted him. “How’s the investigation into Alvin’s murder going?”

  “Don’t you worry, we’re still investigating,” Chief Winters said breezily. “Of course, if you happen to come across any additional evidence, it’s your responsibility to let us know so we can investigate further.”

  Lori couldn’t help being amused at the chief’s double talk.

  “You don’t really have enough evidence to lock Camelia up, do you?”

  The chief shrugged. “We’re looking at it from all angles, you know.”

  Lori looked at Chief Winters with disdain as she took out Alvin’s phone.

  “This is Alvin’s phone. I’ve kept it with me since we cleared the cottage out for his mother. That was before it was confirmed he was murdered, in case you think I’ve been hiding evidence. Last night, I came across a video on it where Brenda is essentially blackmailing Alvin. There’s little doubt that by now she’s put two and two together and suspects I have his phone and have seen the video.”

  Chief Winters took the phone and played the video. “So the person who broke into the cottage was probably looking for the blackmail money.” He looked at Lori. “Do you know where it could be?”

  “Your forensics guy didn’t find anything after the break-in,” Lori said, carefully looking Chief Winters in the eye.

  But the chief’s mind had already moved on.

  “Ray, saddle up!” he shouted to his deputy in the next room. “We have to go take someone in for questioning.” He checked the weapon in the holster on his hip. “We better not take any chances. This lady could be dangerous. After all, looks like she might have already offed Alvin.”

  Lori got up and started following the chief out the door. “Bob, don’t you think—”

  Chief Winters waved for Lori to quiet down again. “Oh no, Lori, you’re not coming with me. This is police business. You stay right here until I return. I’m gonna need a statement from you.”

  Lori started protesting but then saw it was futile. Chief Winters was already heading down the stairs, with Ray following in his wake.

  She paced around the police station, frustrated. In all probability, Brenda would simply deny that it was blackmail caught on the video. She’d claim it was merely Alvin helping her out of a tight corner, and the “secret” she had spoken of was some sort of inside joke. Lori laughed to herself as she imagined the glamorous Brenda creeping around a darkened room like Catwoman in stilettos. She’d bet good money that no fingerprints of Brenda’s had been found at the cottage break-in scene. She was more probably in cahoots with someone else, who had done the dirty work. In short, without more evidence, Chief Winters was now firmly out on a wild goose chase.

  Two hours later, there was still no sign of the chief and Ray, with or without Brenda. During that time, Lori had paged through all the fishing magazines lying in Bob Winters’s office, bantered with the station’s flirtatious policemen, and eagerly excepted a share when they’d had food delivered. Tired and frustrated at not hearing anything from either the chief or Ray, she was about to go home when she heard the door downstairs slam and an excited Ray talking. Relieved, she opened the door, expecting to see the two policeman and Brenda. Instead she saw the redheaded handcuffed figure of Clay, with Ray following, steering him up the stairs.

  Instead of being surprised to see Clay, a light went on in Lori’s head. Of course. Brenda had sent Clay to break into the cottage and find the money. She looked at Clay’s forlorn face as he and Ray passed her. She must’ve really made it worth his while by promising him a cut of whatever money he found. Clay hardly looked like a hardened burglar.

  Last in the door was Sophie, talking on her cell phone. She spoke in hushed tones and made no eye contact with Lori. She was wearing a yellow tank top that showed both her arms, which were covered with intriguing abstract tattooed patterns. An ornate K on her inner wrist was the only part of the tattoo Lori recognized.

  “Where’s Brenda?” Lori asked when Ray returned from locking Clay into a cell.

  Ray gave her a puzzled look.

  “Aren’t you guys bringing her in for questioning?” Lori followed up.

  “Didn’t the chief call you?” Ray said, still looking puzzled.

  Unsurprised, Lori shook her head.

  “He said he was going to call you. Brenda’s dead.”

  For a moment, Lori was speechless.

  “We found Clay with her in the room, trying to make his getaway through the bathroom window. Looks like it was the same killer.” Ray pointed to the side of his neck. “She has a needle prick mark about here.”

  “Did you find another needle?” Lori asked.

  “No, but it’s just a matter of time. We just need to get the suspect talking. Right now he’s in a state of shock.” His radio buzzed. It was Chief Winters, telling him that the coroner had arrived and Brenda’s body was about to be taken away.

  “Ask Lori to come over here,” Lori heard the chief say over the radio.

  “Tell him I’m on my way,” Lori said, looking over at the holding cell. She felt sorry for Clay, who was slouched in a corner of the cell with his head in his hands. She’d hoped to stay here a while to hear from him what had happened. With the chief present, that would b
e impossible.

  The Misty Hills Inn was a beehive of activity when Lori arrived. Contestants were milling around in the foyer, worried looks on their faces. “Can you find out for us whether the tournament is still on?” a lady in ice-blue jeans and a top hat asked her. “If so, the world champion title is now wide open!” she yelled above the hullabaloo and wobbled off. Through the window of one of the small conference rooms, Lori could see a tense, grim-looking Kermit being questioned by two police officers, with a menacing Chief Winters hovering over the scene. White-coated men and women streamed in and out of the elevator. In another room, she saw a stony-faced Camelia sitting by herself, a police guard at the door. Clearly the chief had dumped his lukewarm approach to what had been happening in Fennelmoore during Alvin’s murder. This time he was digging deep.

  Lori hung around in the lounge for a few minutes before deciding the chief was clearly too busy to speak to her. She wandered off outside, deciding to have coffee at The Brew while she waited for the pandemonium to die down.

  As Lori crossed Main Street, someone called her name. Still dazed from the noise and chaos inside the inn, she looked around but saw no one familiar. Then she saw someone waving at her, and she looked again. This time she recognized who it was.

  It was Miriam, smiling as she walked toward Lori.

  “Hi, Lori, I was just thinking about you. So nice to see you!”

  Lori suddenly regretted having stopped. She should have just ignored Miriam and walked on. She was part of a painful history Lori would rather forget. But Miriam looked genuinely pleased to see her, and she smiled back.

  “What brings you to Fennelmoore?” Lori asked. “I thought your work here was done.”

  “I was just dropping off a few documents for Chief Winters to sign,” Miriam said. Suddenly, her expression changed as she looked at the street behind Lori. “Do you know who that girl is over there?”