“What do you mean, personal issues?”
He looked away, over my shoulder, not really focusing on anything. Again his eyebrows dipped. “I, ah…”
He had my full attention now. “What?”
Finally, he looked me in the eye. My stomach did that weird little gushy thing again.
“You know some about my wife.…”
I nodded.
“Melina was an amazing mother,” he said, “but we had problems. She hated my job, the long hours, the danger. She was alone a lot and resented me for it. She’d given up a lot to be with me, and felt I should have done the same. But I loved my job and at that point, I didn’t know how to be anything else.”
I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, so I let him continue.
“We fought. All the time. And it got to the point where we didn’t even like each other very much. I left after she had her first affair. She wanted to find someone who’d give her everything she needed, and I wasn’t that person—not anymore. Not by a long shot. We’d grown too far apart over the years. We wanted different things. She wanted the socialite lifestyle, whereas I wanted a nice, quiet suburban life. She wanted parties and champagne, and I wanted family movie night and popcorn.”
The mushy feeling in my stomach threatened to overtake my heart.
“The divorce proceedings were filled with animosity, though we tried to shelter Mimi as much as possible. Then Melina got sick.”
“And you went back to her?”
“I had to. There was no one else. Besides, I wanted to.” He shrugged. “She needed me. Mimi needed me.”
He was definitely the honorable sort.
“We at least became friends again before she died, but the emotional scars…they’re still there.”
Oh, I knew all about emotional scars. I tipped my head to the side. “Why are you telling me all this?”
He took a deep breath. “It’s been over two years since Mel died. Three since we’d separated.” His eyes locked on mine. “You’re the first woman I’ve had any interest in for years and years.”
My eyes widened. My heart hammered.
“And I guess, I’m just trying to explain, I overreacted this morning because of that.”
“Because you like me?” Oh Lordy, Lordy. He liked me. I felt giddy. And nauseated. And like a teenager all of a sudden.
“I guess I didn’t expect you to have a past. Or secrets. You just seem so normal. And nice. It caught me by surprise is all, and I took it out on you. And I shouldn’t have. We all keep secrets.”
Normal. Ha! If he only knew what secrets I was lugging around.
“So, I’m sorry. Still friends?” he asked.
I was sorry, too. Because I’d never be able to tell him I was a Wishcrafter. And not telling him would feel like a betrayal after everything he’d just revealed. Which meant only one thing.
There could never be anything between us—nothing too deep, anyway. No matter how much we liked each other. I put my hand out to shake. “Friends.” And that was all it could ever be.
“So,” he said casually. “Your dog, Missy. Is that the one Harper stole?”
“Her real name is Miss Demeanor. You’ve been doing your research.”
“Sometimes I can be very thorough.”
And just like that, the gushy feeling was back. I ignored it for the sake of my mental health.
“Can I ask you a question?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Why do you keep looking over at the bookshop like the bogeyman is in there?”
I didn’t know what to say. Or how to say it. I couldn’t exactly explain my theory, but I could use his help. And he did help me cover up the break-in at Alex’s place. Though his wish about the gloves hadn’t come true, so maybe he was covering something up, too.…
“Darcy, stop.”
I blinked. “Stop what?”
“Thinking so hard.”
“It shows, huh?”
“You’d never make a good poker player. Your emotions don’t hide.”
Well, that was good to know.
“What are you so worried about?”
I had to make a split decision. Trust him or not. I looked into his eyes and said, “I think I know who killed Alex.”
“Ramona had this vision,” I explained as we walked toward Spellbound Books. “That the watch was in Vince’s office.” I’d already told him about Ramona and Alex’s catfight, both of their relationships with Vince, and my theory that Vince had been the one who tried to steal the recipe box from Lotions and Potions.
“A vision?” he repeated, a trace of skepticism in his voice.
“I know it sounds strange, but she’s convinced.”
He put his hand on my arm. “Darcy, did you stop to think that anyone could have planted that watch in Vince’s office?”
“Anyone meaning Ramona?”
“She is a woman scorned.”
“But Vince lied. About his relationship with Alex. Why would he cover that up?”
“Why would Ramona suddenly have a ‘vision’?” he said, using air quotes.
I couldn’t explain about the wish being granted, so I said, “It’s possible. Anything’s possible in this village, right?”
Heck, just a few nights ago, we saw someone vanish before our eyes. He must have been thinking the same thing, because he said, “Do you think she’s psychic?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that she said she saw a vision clear as day as to where the watch was.”
He shook his head. “I just don’t buy it. I’d lay odds she put it there. She has more of a motive than anyone at this point. Vince may have lied, but he doesn’t have a motive.”
“If he thought Alex was a real witch, then found out she wasn’t, he might be upset enough to kill her. He’s obsessed with the Craft.”
He studied me. “The Craft?”
Me and my big mouth. No one around here referred to witchcraft as the Craft except Crafters. “Witchcraft,” I said as though he were the dense one for not picking up on that.
“Do you believe in witches?” His tone, his body language, his intent eyes, all told me he wanted a serious answer.
“Since moving here,” I said in all honesty, “I’ve come to believe anything is possible.”
“That’s not really an answer,” he pointed out.
Why was he pushing so hard?
It was then that we heard the shouting coming from inside the bookshop, then a loud crash…and, oh my God, was that a gunshot?
He yanked open the door, and we rushed inside.
The bookshop was empty and still with an eerie silence; then suddenly the shouting started once again. It was coming from the back office
“Don’t make me fire again,” Gayle was shouting from the doorway. She raised the gun in the air. “Next time will not be a warning.”
Nick stepped up behind her. He plucked the gun out of her hand. “I’ll take that.”
She said, “Fine by me! It was the only way to get them to stop.”
The screaming started again.
“Go, go!” She motioned him inside. “Before they kill each other.”
He looked at the chaos, handed me the gun, and dove into the fracas.
I stared at the weapon, holding it with two fingers. “Maybe we should call the police?” I asked loudly, to be heard over the shouting.
Gayle yelled, “I already did.”
Ramona was on Vince’s back, pulling his hair, and screaming at the top of her lungs. Vince was grunting and moaning and cursing and trying to heave her off. Harper was trying to separate the two, a tiny little tennis ball in between two mighty rackets.
Nick yanked Ramona off Vince’s back and put her on the ground.
Vince spun on her, his eyes blazing with fury. He lurched forward. Nick stepped in his way, held him back.
Ramona let out a cry and rushed forward, hands flailing. Harper stuck out her foot and tripped her. She fell on the floor.
“T
hat’s enough!” Nick boomed.
Everyone quieted.
I surveyed the damage. A big bookcase had toppled over; several frames had been knocked off the wall. Vince’s face was scratched up, and he rubbed his scalp. Ramona rose and looked none the worse for wear.
“You,” Nick said sternly to Ramona, “tell me what’s going on.”
“He killed Alex!” she cried, pointing at Vince.
“I did not!” Vince exclaimed. “You did!”
My head was starting to hurt.
Nick turned to Harper.
“It’s all about this,” she said, handing him Alex’s diamond watch. “Ramona found it in Vince’s desk.”
“I didn’t put it there!” Vince said in a panic. “Ramona had to have planted it!”
“Oh, you!” Ramona rushed forward again.
Nick lifted her off her feet and she struck out at empty air. After a second, she stopped wiggling and he set her back down—and made sure she stayed back an arm’s length.
“How else would you have known where it was?” Vince asked.
“I had a vision,” she said, then colored, as if only now realizing how lame that sounded. “You’re the one who was having an affair with Alex!”
Harper gasped, her big eyes wounded.
“I can explain,” Vince said to her.
Ramona said sarcastically, “Please do. I’m sure she’d love to hear all about how you were sleeping with Alex on Wednesday, then had asked Harper out by Sunday. Nice mourning period. Never mind that you were two-timing me with Alex!”
Harper stepped toward Vince and kicked him in the shin. He hopped around, crying out in pain.
“You go, girl!” Ramona said.
Gayle and I stood back, taking it all in and staying far out of the way.
Sirens grew louder and louder, and I spotted a village cruiser screech to a halt in front of the shop, lights flashing.
“You should probably put that gun down, Darcy,” Nick said, “before they come in.”
I quickly set it on the floor.
“Who called the cops?” Vince asked in a high, scared voice.
“I did,” Gayle said. Her eyes blazed, and her lips had thinned. “And in case the gunshot warning wasn’t enough of a hint, you’re fired.”
His eyes hardened. “I don’t need this place anyway.”
“Why’s that?” Nick asked.
“I have something else lined up.” He puffed with bravado. “Something bigger. Better.”
Ramona snorted. “The only thing you have lined up is prison. Where you’ll be staying for the rest of your life.”
His fists clenched. “There’s no proof I did anything to Alex. You’re the one with the motive!”
What a jerk. I can’t believe I’d been fooled by his puppy-dog eyes.
More shouting erupted; then it abruptly stopped as the police burst into the shop.
Nick looked between Ramona and Vince. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re both going to jail.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Later that night, I lay in Ve’s bed, Missy between us, as we watched the nightly news. I sipped my tea and watched as the Very Serious news anchor reported the new developments in Alex’s murder and seemed to take great satisfaction that there were now two more viable suspects.
Harper came in and sat on the edge of the bed just as the news anchor was saying, “Marcus Debrowski, lawyer for the currently incarcerated Sylar Dewitt, maintains his client’s innocence and feels his client will now be fully exonerated. The lawyer plans to approach the court tomorrow to reconsider bail.”
Ve said, “He’ll get it, won’t he? Bail?”
“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t,” I said. “Between Ramona and Vince, there is plenty of reasonable doubt. The judge will take that into consideration. He has to.”
The pair were still being held for questioning. The state police were trying to sort out stories, alibis, and motives. Vince and Ramona were still accusing the other. The watch had been labeled evidence. Their houses were being searched, their names tarnished along with Sylar’s.
Not surprising, Vince hadn’t confessed to breaking and entering into Lotions and Potions. For which I was actually grateful—he may not have seen me in the apartment that afternoon, but he’d definitely seen Evan. Vince could have easily incriminated Evan but hadn’t. I knew it wasn’t out of the goodness of his own heart—pointing the finger at Evan would also cause Vince to incriminate himself—but still…I was grateful for his silence.
Ve took hold of her locket and swung it back and forth along its gold chain. “Which of the two do you think did it?”
Harper stared dully at the TV.
“Vince,” I said, “though I doubt the police are going to get a confession. The only reason Ramona knew where that watch was is because of me. If I hadn’t granted her wish, she never would have had the vision. It’s hard to explain that.” I wanted to believe that the police would thoroughly investigate. That justice would be served. But I also knew Sylar had been locked up for a few days on circumstantial evidence at best.
“He incriminated himself by not telling the police he was having a relationship with Alex,” Ve said. “He should have owned up to that right off.”
“I wonder why he didn’t,” I said.
Harper said, “He probably wanted to keep his job at Spellbound.”
“What do you mean?” Ve asked.
“Ever since her husband died, Gayle won’t tolerate any talk of witchcraft in the store, so Vince only talks about it when she’s not around. He even told me that, about six months ago, she went so far as to have all the witchcraft books removed from the shelves and thrown out. He took them home.”
“Isn’t Gayle a Spellcrafter?” I asked Ve.
She nodded. “A Halfcrafter. Her husband was a Spellcrafter, may he rest in peace.”
I bit my lip. “Is there any chance he’s not resting in peace?”
Ve’s eyebrows dipped. “Whatever do you mean?”
I smiled at the censure in her voice. “I was only wondering if Russ came back as a familiar. Is Higgins really Russ? Godfrey told me how Crafters can come back as familiars.” He had also told me he didn’t think Russ had come back, but I wanted Ve’s take on it.
Ve started laughing. “Higgins? That big hulking dog? No, no.” She giggled. “Russ would have been more a greyhound. Higgins. That’s so funny.”
“While we’re on the subject,” Harper said, “is there a familiar in this house?”
I glanced down at Missy. She lifted a sleepy eye. Tilda was in hiding.
Ve said, “Not for me to say.”
Harper and I groaned in unison. We weren’t going to get any answers from Ve, but Harper tried.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Darling girl, you must trust that what you need to know will be revealed in due time.”
Harper huffed.
Ve started laughing again. “I’m still picturing Russ as a Saint Bernard.”
I didn’t think it was that funny.
I remembered the pain in Gayle’s voice when she spoke about him. She was still grieving. Then I thought about Isaiah Clemson. How he’d reacted after leaving Mrs. P. He’d banished the Craft from his life—and their daughter’s. “Is Gayle very religious?”
Harper shrugged. “Not to speak of. We don’t talk about religion much, or the Craft, and I don’t dare bring it up. I like my job. But Gayle’s probably why Vince hadn’t owned up to having a relationship with Alex. I don’t think she would have stood for it.”
It didn’t matter now that he’d been fired. And was under suspicion for Alex’s murder.
“I’m going to do a little reading and then go to bed,” she said, bidding us good night.
She probably wasn’t reading her forensics manual, not tonight. Instead she’d turn to Jane Eyre, the classic that always provided her comfort when she needed it. And tonight, she needed it. This mess with Vince had hit her hard.
A few minu
tes after she left, Ve said, “I feel for Mrs. P, but Alexandra Shively brought nothing to this village but discontent.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said.
She looked sharply at me. “You disagree?”
I smiled at her tone. “I do. She was a good friend to Evan, and Mimi Sawyer really cared for her. There was some good there. I think, as you said last week, she was complex. Part of that may have stemmed from the fact that she knew she was a Crafter, but had no proof and didn’t know which kind. Think of how that made her feel. She was an outcast in the only place she truly belonged.”
Ve frowned. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“She also brought something else to the village,” I said, watching as the meteorologist pointed to a large green mass off to the west. Rain would be here for the weekend. “And I didn’t realize it until I spoke with Ramona.”
“What’s that?” Ve asked.
“Hope.”
Missy lifted her head, looked around, and set it back down. I scratched her ears.
“How do you mean?” Ve asked.
“Look at the people who sought her help. They all wanted, needed, something from her. They needed hope that their lives would become fuller, richer, better. Hope that they’d find the one they loved, that they’d get rich, that they’d be happy. That they’d lose weight, get healthy, have great skin. Little hopes, big hopes. She fed those hopes, and even though sometimes she went about it the wrong way”—I thought about Evan’s face—“or made grievous errors, she was trying to make people’s lives better.”
“Complex,” Ve said again, swinging her locket. “But I still didn’t like her.”
“That wouldn’t have anything to do with her being Sylar’s ex, would it?” Ve had confirmed with Sylar that he’d been the one to uncover Mrs. P’s marriage license. To some, it might not seem a fair trade. A fifty-thousand-dollar watch for a piece of paper, but to Alex that paper—and the knowledge that came with it—was priceless.
“Maybe,” she said coyly.
I glanced at the screen. “Oh, brother.”
“In related news,” the anchor said, “local businessman Griffin Huntley is now claiming Alexandra Shively, the victim in a local murder case, poisoned him.”
It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery Page 24