No one was home. I ran into my room, grabbed my purse, and dumped it onto the bed, looking for my cell phone. With shaking hands, I dialed Ve’s cell. Her voice mailbox was full. I called Harper at work. It went to voice mail.
Missy was still barking. Tilda came to investigate the sound. Missy took her presence as an opportunity to play and pounced.
Tilda shot off the floor like she’d just been launched from a cannon and landed on the bed next to me. Missy came after her. Everything that had been in my purse went flying in all directions as paws searched for footing.
Tilda streaked from the room, Missy following behind, yapping. For all her maturity lately, I had a feeling that she would never learn her limits when it came to Tilda.
I sat on the edge of the bed and started picking up the mess. I didn’t know what to do about what I’d learned. Mimi was a Wishcrafter. But Nick wasn’t—he photographed just fine.
Then I remembered something he’d said to me. About how his wife had given up so much for him. She had been the Wishcrafter—it’s the only thing that made sense. Which also explained why his wishes hadn’t come true! He was a Halfcrafter. He knew about the Craft. How much, I didn’t know, but he cared enough to bring his Crafter daughter back here to the village.…
Did Ve know? Had Nick told anyone? Did Mimi know? Or was she growing up just like Harper and I had?
As I paced, I gathered up my wallet, my comb, and two receipts from the floor.
I had to find out. And I knew of only one person who could tell me for certain.
The Elder.
I needed to meet with her.
Quickly, I gathered up the rest of my stuff and shoved it back into my purse. The last thing I picked up was Alex’s pocket calendar. It had fallen open to a page from last December, and a name jumped out at me. Alex had a series of appointments with one person for a week straight.
I blinked, bits falling into place.
My stomach knotted and filled with dread.
Suddenly, I had a feeling I knew who had really killed Alex.
And hoped I wasn’t right, but grief really did make people do crazy things.
Chapter Thirty
I’d commissioned Archie to deliver my note to the Elder’s tree. In return I had to promise to play a game of Trivial Pursuit, the Lord of the Rings version, with him.
He didn’t stand a chance at that one.
He promised me that he’d deliver the message and get back to me as soon as possible with an arranged time to meet with the Elder.
I walked across the green to the bookshop. My stomach hurt.
Pulling open the door, I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure why I was here. Why I hadn’t simply called the police to deal with it.
I supposed I wanted to be sure. Before I turned someone’s life upside down on a hunch.
Harper frowned when she saw me. “Someone steal your magic wand?”
I smiled at what was becoming a familiar greeting from her. “Long day. Illuminating, as Starla would say.”
“Are you talking in riddles on purpose?”
I didn’t want to get into it with her about Mimi. Not yet. Not before I talked to the Elder.
Glancing around, I noticed that there was only one other person in the shop. A man browsing the mystery section.
I motioned her closer. She leaned in. “I think I know who killed Alex.”
Gayle rose from behind the counter. “Oh?” she asked.
My cheeks heated. “I, ah, didn’t see you there.”
She held up a tiny screwdriver. “Just fixing the printer.”
“Who?” Harper said, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the counter. Her eyes were rounded with curiosity. “I keep going over it in my head. And though Vince is a front-runner, I really can’t see him killing his golden goose. And Ramona? She’s just too nice.”
“Sometimes niceness has nothing to do with it. Does it, Gayle?” I asked.
“Of course it does,” Harper said. “Nice people just don’t go around killing other people.”
The man from the mystery section had moved closer to us. Clearly eavesdropping.
“Well,” I said, trying to choose my words carefully. “Let me present this scenario to you.”
Harper nodded eagerly. Gayle had gone pale.
“Imagine you’re living your dream life, happy as a clam. You and your husband just opened your own shop, and business is good. Life is good.”
“Okay,” Harper said quietly, stealing glances at Gayle.
“Imagine your husband, who has heart problems to begin with, gets sick. The flu. It was bad last year, remember?”
“How could I forget? I was sick as a dog for a week.”
I remembered, too—I’d been the one to take care of her.
“Well, your husband’s been sick for a while. He’s just not getting better as quick as he would like, but he hates doctors and refuses to see one. But he’s heard of a woman in the village who sells medicinal offerings, homeopathic treatments. All-natural. Completely safe and proven to work. He thinks maybe she might be able to help him.” I was filling in blanks with conjecture, but by the look on Gayle’s face, I knew I wasn’t far from the truth. “So he goes to see her every day for a week, swallows whatever she tells him to. But instead of getting better, he dies suddenly. A heart attack, the medical examiner says—from heart disease. But you blame her. Wait months for your revenge…”
Harper’s head turned side to side, looking between me and Gayle. “This is all hypothetical, right?”
Softly, Gayle said, “I went and confronted her after he died. She told me all she did was give him herbal tea and wasn’t responsible. When I asked what kind, she told me. She gave him licorice tea. Licorice! Any numskull herbalist knows you shouldn’t give licorice root to someone who has high blood pressure. That tea killed him. It caused his heart attack sure as I’m standing here. I figured out what a fraud she was too late to help Russ, but I could sure as hell stop her from hurting someone else. I just needed time to figure out how.”
Harper looked stunned. Her mouth had fallen open, and her eyes were shiny with tears. “Were you just going to let Sylar take the blame? Vince? Ramona?”
Gayle set the tiny screwdriver on the counter. “I believed the police would eventually clear Sylar—I mean, come on. Sylar wouldn’t hurt anyone. Ramona, too. My plan was that Vince would be arrested. That he’d get locked up and stay there. All his talk about witchcraft. He’s just as bad as Alex was and maybe more dangerous because he doesn’t know how deadly it can be.”
“You planted the watch on his desk?” I asked.
“Of course I did,” she said. “I thought the police would search the shop.” She shook her head. “They didn’t search thoroughly enough.” In one quick motion, she reached under the counter and pulled out a handgun. The same one that had fired the warning shots a few days ago.
“Whoa!” Harper said, backing up.
“I did everyone a favor,” Gayle said, waving the gun.
I’m not sure Mrs. P, Evan, or Mimi would agree. Never mind Sylar, Vince, and Ramona.
“Put the gun down, Gayle,” I said. My heart hammered, my palms dampening.
I wanted to jump the counter, protect Harper. But I was scared to death that any sudden move might make Gayle fire.
“No.” She raised the gun, but didn’t take aim at me, or Harper, either. She raised it to her temple. “It’s time for me to go, to be with Russ.”
The man from the mystery section stepped forward, a gun drawn. “Police. Lower your weapon.”
Harper slid around the counter, toward me.
Gayle shook her head, closed her eyes.
I picked up the closest thing I could find—a Spanish-English pocket dictionary—and threw it at her hand just as the gun went off. The bullet barely grazed the side of her head. She screamed. Harper screamed. I screamed.
The undercover state policeman jumped the counter and tried to wrestle the gun from her hand, but she wa
s holding on tight. Determined.
Suddenly, the gun went off again. I felt a searing pain in my arm. I looked down. Blood seeped through the sleeve of my white T-shirt and dripped down my arm.
Blood. So much blood. I hated the sight of blood. My knees went weak. My vision swam. The last thing I remembered was Harper screaming.
Her screams were much better than mine.
“You really don’t have to do that,” I said two days later. I was sitting on my bed, propped up, my arm kept close to my body so as not to pop any stitches.
“I want to.”
I persisted. “It’s not necessary.”
“I beg to differ, ma chère. My glorious creation could not, and shall not, be debased by such, such…mediocrity.” Pepe twitched his nose at me as he fingered my hospital-issued sling with a shudder.
He was busy bedazzling my new sling, and would probably have a stroke if he knew I was calling it bedazzling. He’d spent the last two hours hand-beading an intricate design on a sling he’d custom-made to match my dress.
“Well, I appreciate it. And the house call.” I was trying to save my energy (doctor’s orders) for the dance tonight and was limiting trips outside my bedroom. The bullet that struck me had passed cleanly through my upper right arm. Lots of stitches, pain medicine, antibiotics, and an overnight stay at the hospital later, and I was well on the road to a full recovery.
I really didn’t need the bed rest, but Aunt Ve had insisted, and I had little willpower where she was concerned.
Pepe gave a little nod. “And I am grateful you have locked that furry beast out of the room.”
Tilda had been trying her best to get inside since she sniffed his arrival. Every few minutes her paw would slip under the door and swipe empty air. I admired her persistence.
Missy, on the other hand, stared at Pepe with adoration, not making a single move to eat him for lunch. He even allowed her a few kisses. Nick might have some serious competition for Missy’s affection.
I unfolded the note that Archie had delivered to me after I got home from the hospital yesterday. I reread it for the hundredth time, still wondering what I should do about Mimi.
You have the answers, Darcy. Trust yourself. Trust your knowledge. This is your biggest test so far. Do not fail.
I bit my fingernail. I didn’t know why the Elder denied me the answers I needed. Or why she thought I already possessed them. I didn’t know what to do about Nick and Mimi, and the harder I pressed Aunt Ve for help, the more mum she became. She had been given the order not to help me with this assignment. Though I did get the admission from her that she knew all along Mimi was a Wishcrafter.
I sighed.
“Are you in pain, ma chère?”
Not that kind. “No, the pain medication works wonders.” Pepe finished sewing his last bead. The sling was a work of art. I admired it. “It’s beautiful.”
He tucked his tiny needle into a pouch. “Fitting for one such as yourself.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Pepe.”
He bowed again. “I must go now. Appointments all afternoon.”
I bent down and kissed the top of his head. His cheeks reddened.
“You’ll get back safely?” I asked.
“Not to worry. I have a ride.” He gave a sharp whistle and Archie appeared at my open window. Pepe lifted a corner of the screen, climbed on Archie’s neck, and waved good-bye. Missy barked as Archie said, “I want a rematch!”
Tilda’s paw swept under the door.
Just another day in the Enchanted Village.
Where magic lived.
I dropped my head back against my pillows and scratched Missy’s ears with my good hand. My room was filled with balloon arrangements and vases of flowers. I’d already had several visitors today. Starla and Evan. Ramona. Godfrey. Sylar.
After being taken to the hospital, Gayle had been arrested for the murder of Alexandra Shively. Her wound had been treated and she’d been taken to jail, where she was currently under a suicide watch. She’d been completely desolate that she’d injured me.
Complex. Ve had used the word to describe Alex, but it fit Gayle, too. On one hand, she was a grief-stricken widow, a nice person, one who cared deeply that she’d hurt me. On the other, she had no remorse for killing Alex. Or for trying to frame Vince.
It created a chasm within me, because on one hand, I could understand why she did what she did. Yet on the other, there’s no excuse for her behavior. The courts would sort it out, but personally I hoped they would be lenient. She needed counseling more than prison time.
My gaze dropped to the note on my bed.
Trust yourself.
Trust myself.
I looked at Missy. “Do you want to go see Nick and Mimi?”
She bounced up, her tail wagging.
“You’re shameless,” I said.
She barked.
I quickly slipped my arm into my sling of mediocrity.
“Don’t get too excited,” I told her. “He’s not going to be happy with what I have to say, especially not that his daughter is technically a criminal.”
Chapter Thirty-one
I had a vague idea of where Nick and Mimi lived, but I didn’t need directions when I had Missy. She led the whole way there. We walked slowly, and took the long way around the green to avoid seeing anyone I knew. There would be time enough later for questions, comments, and sympathies.
Right now, I really just wanted to see Nick, talk to him about Mimi, and get back for a nap before the dance tonight.
Gray clouds hovered overhead, and I felt a raindrop as Missy guided me toward Old Forest Lane. It was sprinkling now, but the forecast promised heavier showers for tonight. Starla was beside herself with worry that the dance would be ruined, so she’d ordered more tents. The green was covered with them. But instead of it looking like a tent city from the aftermath of a natural disaster, she’d gone to great lengths to make them pretty.
Colorful swags of tulle (acceptable in this case), fairy lights, and beautiful lanterns hung from the tent eaves, making them look like something out of a fairy-tale wedding reception. A catering truck rumbled by as Missy and I crossed the street. The treelined Old Forest Lane was paved in cobblestones and its serpentine sidewalk had a flower border. Houses were modest, with decent lots. Kids were playing kickball in the street and their laughter echoed. Farther down the street, houses spread out. Driveways were longer, houses bigger, lots larger. By the time we reached the last house, it felt as though it were the only home on the street.
The front yard was contained by a picket fence, and the driveway was gravel, not paved. The yellow farmhouse was charming with its white shutters, big front porch, and window boxes crammed full with pink petunias and cascading ivy. Behind the house, there was a large detached garage that had been designed to look like a carriage house. Its wide doors were open, and I heard the whir of a power saw.
I dragged Missy away from the hole under the fence and headed toward the noise. She had her nose to the ground and sniffed like crazy, taking in all the new scents. Gravel crunched under my feet as I approached the doorway, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light inside. To the right, Nick’s truck sat in a garage bay, and the rest of the space had been converted into a woodwork shop.
The smell of freshly cut wood hung in the air, and I breathed it in, loving it. Nick’s back was to me as he sliced a piece of wood on a fierce-looking saw table. The saw went through the piece of wood like butter. Nick examined the edges of the board, then pushed a button on the saw, silencing it.
Suddenly, there was a booming woof, woof, and a coppery and white blur hurtled toward us. I was envisioning another trip to the emergency room when Nick spun around.
“Higgins, heel!” he commanded.
The Saint Bernard slowed to a stop, but kept sniffing in my direction.
I went over to pat the big dog. “Hello there, Higgins.” He slobbered on my hand. Missy sniffed to her heart’s content.
I bent do
wn. “Russ, is that you?”
A little bit of drool fell from Higgins’s lips.
Okay, maybe Godfrey and Ve were right about this dog not being a familiar.
Nick’s look of surprise dissolved into a smile. “Look what the dog dragged in,” he said, taking off his safety glasses and setting the wood aside. He wiped his hands on his jeans as he came toward me.
My chest squeezed. I looked at Nick and motioned to the dog. “How did you get Higgins?”
“Animal control brought him to the shelter when Mimi and I were there revisiting potential dogs. She recognized him right away, and he didn’t want to leave her side. We couldn’t come home without him.”
“No,” I said, my chest so tight it ached, “you couldn’t.”
Missy barked and danced, and Nick crouched down to give her love and attention before standing and looking at me. There was such tenderness in his eyes when he said, “Are you okay?”
I lifted the sling. “It’s but a mere flesh wound.” Archie would appreciate the quote.
He smiled. “No gunshot is a mere flesh wound. Trust me, I know.”
“I’ll be good as new in no time.” I reached out and touched his cheek. His eyes flashed with the heat I’d seen the other day, and it made me want to melt. A fleck balanced on my fingertip. “Sawdust.”
“Not as pretty as glitter.”
I smiled.
He said, “Mimi’s been dying to come see you, but I thought you might want to rest.” Higgins nudged his hand, and Nick patted his head.
“A visit would have been nice. Is she home?”
He shook his head. “She’s with Mrs. P and Starla, helping out with preparations for tonight.”
Maybe it was just as well she wasn’t here.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sounds serious,” he said.
“It is.”
He folded his arms across his chest. They were covered in more sawdust. I kept my hands to myself.
“What?” he asked.
“I know who your pickpocket is.”
It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery Page 26