She spotted me and motioned for me to keep on moving. I’d just decided to go in and give her a good teasing when a raised voice turned my attention. Missy started yapping and tugging on her leash, wanting to see what all the excitement was about.
Down the street a bit, I spotted a man in front of Lotions and Potions, beating on its door. I moved a little closer. It was a man I didn’t recognize at all. Tall, fit, and completely bald.
A good-sized crowd had gathered round. I looked for any familiar faces to see if they knew the man, but I didn’t recognize anyone. Sirens screamed as a police cruiser pulled to the curb. The man wasn’t the least bit fazed by the approaching patrolmen.
“Come out of there, you witch!” he shouted. The glass door panes rattled under his fists. “You’re nothing but a phony! You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me! Mark my words! I’ll make you pay!”
Apparently, Alexandra had made many more enemies than friends in this village.
Then I remembered a mournful Mrs. Pennywhistle sitting on the bench. I turned to see if she was still there, but she was gone.
Chapter Seven
“His name is Griffin Huntley,” Harper said as she stirred sugar into a glass of iced tea. “He’s a local car salesman. You’ve probably seen his commercials. They certainly run often enough.”
It had been a few hours since I’d seen Griffin beating on the door to Lotions and Potions. I’d stuck around just long enough for the village police to stuff him into the cruiser. Elbow-deep in flour, glue, and newspaper strips, I tried to recall if I knew the name. “Wait. The used-car dealer with the bad dye job and cut?” His hair was an unnatural ebony and always slicked back in a pompadour.
“That’s him. The Elvis wannabe.” Harper dropped a straw into her glass. Her first day on the job at the bookstore had gone well, and she’d come home all smiles with stories to tell. “Vince told me Griffin was a client of Alex’s. He wanted to be handsomer, richer, and desperately wanted his hair to stop falling out. He thought Alex’s potions could work miracles. He was wrong. The crème she gave him made all his hair fall out.”
My papier-mâché skills were lacking. I was having a hard time keeping strips of newspaper from sliding off the balloons I’d rigged together to look like a wombat. “Did Griffin really think Alex was a witch? That she had powers?”
Harper nodded. “He’s not the only one. Vince thought so, too. She had a lot of people convinced.”
Tilda hopped up on the counter, sniffed at the wombat, and hopped down again, her tail in the air as she sashayed away. Missy rose from her doggy bed, yawned, stretched, and headed toward the doggy door. The tiny fenced-in backyard was perfect for her to roam on her own, though she’d managed to escape a time or three over the last couple of weeks.
“How much did she charge for her potions?”
“Not much. According to Vince, she really just wanted to help people.”
“Like Evan and Griffin? That’s help I think I’d pass on.”
Harper rummaged through the cabinets. She pulled out a sleeve of crackers and grabbed a tub of garlic-and-herb cheese from the fridge. “If you ask me, Griffin was plenty handsome before. You know, if you didn’t count his hair. At least now he doesn’t have to worry about that. He should be grateful to Alex.”
I pasted on two tiny wombat ears and tried to figure out how I was going to rig a marsupial pouch on its back. Would birthday boy Jake notice if it was missing? “No wonder I didn’t recognize him. His pompadour was gone. Completely gone.”
Smiling, Harper nodded. “Every last strand fell out after he used the phony potion.”
Her face glowed with happiness—it had been a long time since I’d seen her this way. She obviously liked her new job—and all the information she could get from Vince about Alex. If she was on a quest to clear Sylar’s name, she’d be eager to fill in the blanks about Alex’s life. I also suspected she liked Vince. She had that falling-for-someone look about her.
She reached into a quilted tote bag and pulled out a reporter’s notebook. “I ran into Ramona Todd from the Magic Wand Salon on the way home, and she said Griffin—”
“You know Ramona?”
“I met her last night at the meeting. She’s nice. Suggested you get some hip and chic blue highlights and a more flattering cut. Your hair is too blah and too long.”
“She did not.”
“You’re right. That was me.”
I stuck out my tongue. Harper had been on me to get a mini makeover since my divorce. I happened to like the way I looked just fine, with the exception of that flaccidness. “I’m not one of your pet projects.”
“Don’t get cranky with me. You’re the one who taught me that first impressions count, and to always look well put together and respectable.”
“Hey, I look respectable!”
“For an old maid. You’ve let yourself go. A lot.”
“I’m not old.”
“Thirty. Soon it will be thirty-one. Then thirt—”
“I can count.”
“Old.”
“What did Ramona say?” A change of topic was desperately needed or Harper would, well, harp. What was the point of getting my hair and nails done? I had no one to impress—most of all there was no one I wanted to impress. I pushed the sudden flash of Nick Sawyer’s face straight out of my mind. Men were heartbreakers, every last one of them.
Harper grinned like the little mischief-maker she was. “She said Griffin bought the potion Wednesday afternoon.”
“Ramona knows Griffin?”
“He’s one of her clients at the salon,” she said at a snail’s pace, as if I were slow on the uptake. “Anyway, Ramona tried to talk him into seeing a dermatologist about his hair loss, but he trusted Alex.” She made a notation in her notebook.
“What is that?” I asked, laying the last strip of papier-mâché onto the balloons. My version of a wombat wasn’t too bad, if I said so myself. A little paint and it would be perfect. I just hoped the piñata dried in time. I had to deliver it to Jake Carey’s birthday party tomorrow at four. Not a lot of time, but what’s a witch to do?
“What’s what?”
“That notebook.”
“I’m keeping track of suspects.”
I rolled my eyes as I picked up the wombat. It was bound to dry faster outside in the sunshine. “Can you open the back door for me, please?”
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” She headed for the door.
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea if you get involved in a murder investigation.” I set the wombat on the back porch. Inside, I washed my hands.
“Too late. There are a lot of suspects, Darcy. The police have hardly looked at them.”
“A lot like who?”
“Well, the unknown pickpocket for one. Griffin is another. Evan Sullivan.”
“Evan?”
“Have you seen his face?”
“They were friends, Evan and Alex.”
“Still, have you seen his face?”
She had a point. I didn’t like it much, though.
“Also, there’s the whole secret-boyfriend angle. He’s a suspect. And if he’s married, his wife is a suspect, too. We have to find out who they are.”
“You’ve been talking to Starla.”
“She stopped in the bookshop.” Her voice cracked into a giggle. “I hear you’re taking up running.”
“Why are you laughing?”
“You, running?”
“How hard can it be? It’s essentially fast walking, right? I can walk fast. Really fast.”
“You can also twist an ankle walking down the hallway,” Harper pointed out.
I can. And had. “Your point?”
“How is As You Wish’s medical plan?”
I tossed a cracker at her. She picked it up and lathered it with cheese. “Although the more I think about it, we can probably rule out Griffin as Alex’s killer.”
“Why?” I wiped down the kitchen counter and left th
e bowl of papier-mâché mixture in the sink to soak.
“Darcy, if he was banging on Alex’s door this morning demanding she come out, he obviously didn’t know she was already dead.”
I carried leftover newspapers to the recycling bin in the mudroom. “Or did he just want everyone to think he didn’t know she was dead?”
Harper’s brows dipped like they always did when she was in deep concentration, and then she frowned. She hated when she hadn’t thought things all the way through. “Good point. It would explain the huge scene this morning, too. The more people who think he had no clue Alex was dead, the more people might actually believe it. Okay, then. He goes back on the list. We need to find out if he had an alibi for last night.”
“We?”
“Of course ‘we.’ Ve’s too busy to do any snooping. Someone has to clear Sylar before they lock him away forever. I, for one, can’t let an innocent man go to jail.”
I agreed, but I didn’t think those people should be us. And said so.
“If not us, then who?” Harper asked. “Don’t say the police, either, because we know what side they’re on. That Chief Leighton is virtually useless. So is the whole village police department at that. Vince said that Sylar’s been trying to get Leighton fired ever since he became chairman of the village council, but no one likes the idea of change.”
Probably Chief Leighton most of all, especially if he was getting paid to improve his golf swing. This tidbit might explain why he hadn’t gone out of his way to find other suspects in Alex’s murder: Leighton wanted Sylar gone.
“Okay,” I said, remembering how devastated Ve was. Truthfully, I didn’t know Sylar well enough to judge if he was guilty or innocent, but I loved Ve, and I’d do anything for her. Even if it meant sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. If Sylar was cleared, Ve would be happy. It was good enough motivation for me to get involved. “But only a little snooping. Nothing dangerous or anything. Promise.”
“Cross my heart.” She crossed with a cracker in hand. “I’ll see what I can find out about Griffin, and you need to check and see if Evan has an alibi. And we both need to keep an ear to the ground for news about Alex’s secret boyfriend, and more about her life in general, because one thing became clear today—no one really knows who she is or where she came from. Gossip is flying right now, but some of it is bound to be true.”
My stomach fell. I didn’t much like the idea of snooping into Evan’s life but realized it was necessary. “I have to run over to the Spinning Wheel to pick up the tooth pillow for tonight. I can stop by the bakery and see if Evan’s there on my way.” I grabbed the leash from the hook by the back door. But when I whistled for Missy, she didn’t bound up the steps like she normally did.
And after a quick search of the backyard, I realized she was nowhere to be found.
I couldn’t figure out how she escaped. The gate was closed and there were no escape tunnels I could see. After much debate, Harper agreed to pick up Laurel Grace’s pillow and deliver it while I searched for Missy. How far could she have gone? I didn’t have much time to search, and honestly, I wasn’t too worried about her. She always managed to find her way home.
I walked the perimeter of the square, whistling and calling her name. When I passed the Gingerbread Shack, I doubled back. Going inside to see if Evan had heard about someone finding a lost dog might be the perfect chance to talk to him and discover his alibi.
A bell on the door jangled as I pulled it open. The sweet scent of bakery made my mouth water. Vanilla, buttercream, a hint of cinnamon. I didn’t know how Evan wasn’t three hundred pounds.
As if drawn by an invisible force, I walked directly over to the display case. One side held regular-sized cakes, cupcakes, cookies, cream puffs…and the other held miniature versions.
“May I help you? Miss?”
I realized the clerk behind the counter was talking to me. “Sorry.” I laughed. “I was a little distracted.”
“Happens all the time.” He was a good-looking guy, maybe late twenties, with bright blue eyes and a wide smile. His name tag read MICHAEL.
“I actually came in to see Evan. Is he here?”
The bakery was small, light, and bright. There was just enough room for a couple of pub-style tables, the display case, and a beverage bar. I adored the white bead-board walls, the dark bamboo floors, and the oversized photos of cake close-ups. Starla’s work, I was sure.
Michael shook his head. “Called in sick today.”
“Oh.” I was oddly relieved that I wouldn’t have to pry, but I was worried about his rash. Had it spread? Or had he called in because he was heartbroken over the loss of his friend? Either way, I felt the need to check on him. One problem, though. I didn’t know where he lived.
I eyed Michael. He’d probably think I was a nut job if I asked for Evan’s address. Besides, it didn’t much matter—I had a better source.
“Thanks anyway. You, uh, didn’t happen to see a lost dog, did you? Or hear of anyone who found one?”
Michael shook his head. “Sorry.”
Five minutes later, I left the shop with a bagful of treats. I had no willpower whatsoever when it came to chocolate. I had bought several of the mini devil’s food cupcakes and also a couple of chocolate-filled cream puffs.
I found Starla on the green and headed her way. She smiled when she spotted the bag. “Good thing you’re going to start running tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to keep reminding me.”
“I think I do. I’m afraid you’re going to back out.”
Truth was, I’d been thinking about doing just that. But I wasn’t about to confess. “I noticed Evan wasn’t at the bakery. Is he okay?”
Her eyes grew wide and her voice dropped. “His rash is covering his whole face now. He’s afraid it’s going to scare away customers.”
“How’s he handling Alex’s death?”
“Sad, but I think he’d be more so if he wasn’t so worried about himself.”
“It’s too bad he didn’t get the antidote cream from Alex before…” There was just no way to properly end that sentence.
“I know. He was devastated last night when I came in. He’d been calling and calling her. He didn’t hear the news about her death until this morning.”
It was strange he hadn’t heard the sirens. It seemed like most of the village had been on the green last night, trying to see what was going on. Had he gone straight home after the village meeting?
If Evan had killed Alex, he would have had to have done it at the meeting sometime. Maybe when he’d gone back to rinse his platters? But no, Mrs. P had emerged from the hallway after Evan—surely, she would have seen something amiss.
Shaking my head, I couldn’t believe I was thinking such things. This was what hanging around with Harper did to me. If I could get Evan’s alibi, maybe it would put my mind at ease. “Did he say if he saw anything last night? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Nothing. He feels terrible about what happened to Alexandra. He thinks he should have somehow prevented it. How, I have no idea.”
I felt awful prying this way, and I didn’t want Starla to get suspicious of my questions, so I let the rest go. For now. I was going to have to learn some sleuthing skills fast. “I’d love to stop by and see him. Maybe bring him a bowl of soup or something.”
“He’d love that! Maybe tomorrow, though? I don’t think he’s up for company today.” She took a pad of paper out of her apron and jotted down an address. “We share a brownstone on Fairy Hollow, just around the corner.”
I tucked the address into my pocket. “You haven’t seen Missy anywhere, have you?”
“She’s missing again?”
“A regular escape artist.”
“I’ll help you look.”
We split up. Half an hour later, I was just about ready to give up and wait for her to come home on her own when I heard a familiar bark. I looked ahead and my breath caught when I saw whom she was with.
Chapte
r Eight
“We were just at your place,” Nick said, “but no one was home, so we decided to wait here until someone came back.”
I glanced at As You Wish, just across the street. I could still see the BE RIGHT BACK sign in the window, which meant that Harper was still making her delivery of the tooth pillow for me.
As the As You Wish sign swayed in the soft breeze, a sense of pride came over me. The house was picture-perfect, elaborately painted with various purples and a soft green trim. Clapboard siding, detailed millwork, a high hip roof with several smaller roofs slanting downward and stunning corner tower. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, which was how it had been intended when it was designed. It was home, and oddly, it felt like it always had been.
Nick was sitting next to Mrs. Pennywhistle on the log bench while Mimi and Missy played in the grass.
“Thank you. I’ve been looking all over for her.”
“At the Gingerbread Shack?” Nick asked drily, eyeing the bag I was holding.
I smiled. “I dare you to walk past that shop without going in. Anyone want a mini cupcake?”
Mimi’s hand shot up. As she relieved the cupcake from its wrapper, she nodded to Missy. “We found her at our house. She was barking at the gate. At first I didn’t know who she belonged to, but then Dad saw her and knew right away that she was your dog.”
“She should wear a collar,” Nick said.
“She does.” I bent down to attach her leash, but realized quickly her collar was missing. Heat filled my cheeks. “Well, normally she does. I don’t know where she lost it.” Somewhere between As You Wish and Nick’s place.
Missy looked up at me and wagged her tail. I knew she’d taken a liking to Nick that morning, but to have tracked him to his house? That was taking her adoration a little too far. “I’m not sure how she got out. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”
Nick said, “None at all. And it’s been nice visiting with Mrs. Pennywhistle, too. Do you two know each other?”
Nodding, I said, “Are you feeling well, Mrs. P?” Sure enough, she wore the same tracksuit as last night, and her usually sky-high teased hair was flat on one side. Day-old eyeliner smudged the wrinkles under her eyes, and mascara flaked on her cheeks, looking like dark freckles, and one of her painted eyebrows had worn off. My guess was that she hadn’t slept a wink last night.
It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery Page 7