Witches and Wedding Cake

by Bailey Cates

  Dayleen, the manager of the Spotlight Motel, was sitting in the reading area sipping from an oversized cup and nibbling on a scone while turning the pages of a fashion magazine that was open on the sofa beside her.

  I backtracked to where Ben was back behind the coffee counter. “Did you see who’s in the library?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Sure. I took her order. You did invite her to come see us, after all. I even remembered to give her the Parmesan rosemary scone on the house.”

  “Oh. Right. I’d forgotten about that.”

  “You have a lot on your mind, darlin’. Don’t give it a thought. Are you going to go say hey?”

  I checked my watch, even though I knew what it said. I needed to get going. “I’ll have to pass if I’m going to get over to the police precinct.” I gave him a half smile. “But if you feel like plying her with your social skills, you might see if she’s found out anything else about what happened the other night.”

  “Hmm. We’ll see, but I think she’s meeting someone.” He lifted his chin toward her.

  A woman had entered, and Dayleen was waving to her.

  “Oh. Wow,” I said.

  Ben looked the question at me.

  “That’s not just someone. That’s Effie Glass.” For some reason, I stepped back behind the counter. “Tucker’s ex-girlfriend. The one Dayleen said she didn’t know.”

  I needn’t have worried about Effie recognizing me. She walked right by, gave me a smile, and joined Dayleen on the sofa.

  My uncle let out a little whistle. “Is that so? Well, she’s bound to want something to eat and drink, so you can bet I’ll do my best to find out what’s going on there. You head on over to see Quinn and leave it to me.”

  Chapter 19

  I waited patiently while the officer behind the windowed reception desk called the detective and gave him my name. Moments later, the door buzzed, and I was allowed in. Quinn came to meet me, his face an impenetrable mask. Mungo kept his head tucked down in the tote bag as I obediently followed Quinn through the sparsely populated desks, past his own surprisingly messy space in the corner, and into a spare gray room. The door shut behind me with a clang, and I realized we were in an interview room.

  Good for privacy. Terrible for atmosphere.

  “I don’t have much time, Katie. Whatever it is, make it quick.”

  “Well, hello to you, too.” I sank into a folding chair and set my bag on my lap. Mungo popped his head up and grinned at Detective Quinn.

  Sighing, Quinn sank into the chair across the table from me. “Hello, Katie. Hello, Mungo. Better?”

  “Yes! More of Declan’s family just got into town, and I’m on my way over there, so I don’t have much time anyway.” I held up my finger. “First off, I want to apologize.”

  He frowned. “Why? What did you do now?”

  “What? No, no. I’m apologizing for being so mean to you the other night. At the Spotlight.”

  He gave a slow blink, and his lips twitched though they were still curved down. “Ah. I must admit, I’d forgotten how much you’d hurt my feelings. So, gosh. Thank you for coming by for that, Katie. Are we done?”

  I wagged my finger. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, you know.”

  “Hmm.”

  Frustrated, I let my hands drop to Mungo’s back. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Quinn, I don’t understand. I said in my text yesterday that Tucker’s signet ring might have a magical connection to this case. Maybe not in so many words, but still, you knew what I meant. And now, after asking for my help with the Bosworth murder, you don’t seem to want to have anything to do with me. Are you that close to solving the case? Have you rethought the wisdom of working with a witch?” I held my palms up. “What gives?”

  He watched me as if assessing something.

  I barreled on, seemingly unable to stop myself. “Tucker was a con man. And you know what con men are? Charismatic. And sometimes people who are charismatic get a little magical boost, you know? It’s called a glamour. From what I’ve learned, that ring might have helped him in the glamour department.” I took a breath, and more words tumbled out. “Rori and I went to see the Gibsons this morning. Gibson Estate Sales? Tucker worked for them, at least until he got fired a few weeks ago. Tucker told his ex-girlfriend, Effie—you met her, right?—that he got the ring at an estate sale, but Jake Gibson thinks Tucker stole it. He stole something else, too, it looks like. A little music box that he gave to Rori. She was going to give it back at the Spotlight that night.” I shifted in my chair. “The thing is, we don’t know why he would have stolen the music box. It’s not worth anything. We checked with an antique dealer. Hudson Prater. Rori said he was a friend of Tucker’s.”

  Quinn’s eyebrows raised a fraction.

  “I know, I know. But we needed to know if the music box was valuable. I checked to see if the music box had any magical signatures, but it doesn’t. Still, it has some kind of value to the family. Family, by the way, that visited Hudson Prater’s store looking for a music box like the one Tucker gave Rori. I went to talk to them, too, this morning. Zane and Waverly Wiggins. They’re in pretty desperate straits, what with having to pay for their father’s medical bills and having three kids in college between the two of them. Still, Waverly seems to think that silly little music box would somehow help. Of course, Rori would be perfectly willing to give it back, I should think. I didn’t tell them she has it. See, it’s downright strange that Tucker would take it in the first place—and if the Wigginses wanted it back that badly, who knows what they might have done to get it? I don’t really see Waverly as a killer, but you never can tell. I didn’t get a feeling for her brother. Not a very talkative sort. I really think you need to look into them and—”

  Quinn raised his hand like a traffic cop. “Stop.”

  “But—”

  “Katie.”

  I fell silent.

  He took a slow, deep breath, never taking his eyes from my face. “Okay. I get what you’re saying. We looked for the ring again but didn’t find it in the motel room. It’s entirely possible the killer took it.” He paused, then seemed to make a decision. “At this point I’m not looking at the ring as the motive for Abbott’s murder, though. And I’m not seeing a worthless music box as a great motive, either.”

  Something in the way he said it gave me a bad feeling. “Don’t tell me you’re still looking at Rori McCarthy as a suspect.”

  “Let me ask you this, Katie. Did you happen to hear Ms. McCarthy threaten her ex-husband the afternoon before he was murdered?”

  “Um . . .”

  “Because the gardener heard her threaten him, and so did a postal delivery worker who was walking by. The gardener was very helpful, in fact. He describes the two McCarthy sisters and their mother to a T. He also described a young woman with short auburn hair who drives a new-generation Volkswagen.”

  “Okay, so Rori and Tucker had words,” I said. “Rori said she never wanted to see him again, as a matter of fact.”

  “And yet she sought him out that very evening.”

  “Yeah . . .” I trailed off. “But he asked her to bring him the music box.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  “There’s something else?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “I’m sorry, Katie. There were security cameras.”

  I stared at him. “I thought they weren’t working.”

  He suddenly snorted a laugh. “I should have known you’d ask the motel manager about that.”

  “Actually, it was Uncle Ben,” I muttered.

  “Either way, you’re right. The cameras at the Spotlight weren’t working. But the ones at the storage facility across the street were working just fine. They caught footage of a woman who parked down the block from the Spotlight earlier in the afternoon. It was around three o’clock.”


  My forehead squinched. “Okay. So what?”

  “It was Declan’s sister.”

  I wagged my head back and forth. “I don’t understand. Rori was shopping with her mother.”

  At least until she took off by herself to drive around Savannah.

  Quinn pressed his lips together, then said, “Not that sister.”

  It took me a moment. “Eliza went to see Tucker?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry, Katie. There are still other suspects, but along with Aurora McCarthy, Eliza McCarthy is now on the list. And that,” he said, “is why I haven’t been asking for your help. Let’s just call your connection to the family a conflict of interest.”

  I stood. The sudden movement caused Mungo to unceremoniously thump down on his behind in my bag. I sensed him glaring up at me and gave his head a pat.

  “It’s not a conflict of interest if I’m only looking for the truth. I did it when you tried to railroad Uncle Ben, and I was right. Plus, like it or not, I understand an element of the situation you don’t. Come on, Quinn. You know darn well I’m not going to stop trying to find out what really happened.” I hitched the tote farther up on my shoulder. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything you can use.” I took a few steps toward the door, then paused to say over my shoulder, “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you otherwise.”

  Quinn sighed. “Katie.”

  I yanked the door open and marched through to the front door, then yanked that door open and went out to my car.

  Yip?

  I was tucking Mungo into the passenger seat and paused at his questioning tone. I perched on the edge of the seat and ruffled his ears.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not really mad. I’m just worried.” I rubbed my eyes with the fingers of my other hand. “Lordy, why couldn’t all this have happened after the wedding?”

  * * *

  * * *

  It only took a few minutes to get to Wisteria House, but I managed to fit in a few expletives. I parked across the street in what I was starting to think of as my customary spot and sat for a moment to gather my thoughts. Mungo watched me with concern. The holy basil and lemon balm were looking faded and sad by now, and I made a mental note to replace them with something more vibrant the first chance I got.

  “Well,” I said in a forcefully bright voice. “Get ready to say hello to everyone, Mungo. They’ve come a long way for this wedding!”

  Lauren; her husband, Evan; and their twelve-year-old son lived in California, and Camille and John lived in Colorado. My familiar bounced on his front feet, excited to meet new people. I did my best to shove thoughts of Tucker Abbott—and Rory and Eliza’s seeming obsession with the guy—out of my mind for the time being.

  As I turned off the engine, Declan’s truck pulled up, and he double-parked in front of his family’s rental. Aggie had parked her rental by the curb a few spots down. All four doors of the king cab flew open, and half of the McCarthy clan piled out of the vehicle as if it were a giant clown car.

  Declan was laughing as he got out. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. My heart gave a little jump, under which there was a little ache as I thought again about how stressed he’d been lately. Seeing him laughing with such abandon made me happy, though, and I knew we just had to get through the rest of the week, and everything would settle down.

  Well, get through the week, pull off the perfect wedding, find a murderer, and bring Connell back.

  One thing at a time.

  Aggie waved to me from the sidewalk in front of Wisteria House. I opened the door in time to hear her announce, “Katie’s here, everyone!”

  Declan greeted me with a smile that made my heart zing even from across the street. His older sister, Lauren, whirled toward me with a grin. “There’s our bride!” She strode across the street without a glance in either direction.

  I got out of the Bug, and she enveloped me in an enthusiastic bear hug.

  “Good to see you. How was your flight?” I asked when she’d let go and I could breathe again.

  Mungo nudged the back of my leg, and I moved aside to let him jump to the ground. Unlike Declan’s sister, he looked both ways before trotting across to join the rest of the family. Declan reached down and gave him a scratch behind the ears.

  Linking her arm in mine, Lauren filled me in on her family’s travels in great detail. Declan had always said she could make a story out of eating a bag of potato chips, and now I saw what he meant. Her husband, Evan, greeted me as he hauled a huge suitcase out of the back of the truck and directed their son to get it onto the sidewalk.

  Camille waited until her sister had exhausted her tale, then greeted me in a quiet voice. Her husband, John, came over and put his arm across my shoulders for a quick squeeze before moving to help his brothers-in-law with the luggage. The sisters born on either side of Declan both had brown eyes and dark hair, though Camille’s was long and straight and parted in the middle, while Lauren’s was cut in an angled bob that was shorter in the back and curved around her narrow chin. John was a wiry guy, high energy, and a jokester. He was the one who’d made Declan laugh with such abandon. Evan was serious, with prematurely gray hair and obvious affection for his wife. His and Lauren’s twelve-year-old son, Joel, quickly retreated to the sidewalk and took his phone out, leaving the adults to their chatter. Aggie stood to one side and watched her family with an indulgent smile.

  I spied Eliza and Rori talking in the front garden. Rori nodded to her sister, then came out to talk to her mother. I heard her say something about setting out refreshments as I sidestepped her and made my way to where Eliza still stood. No time like the present to find out why the heck she’d been at the Spotlight the afternoon before Tucker had been killed.

  She smiled as I approached. “The gang’s all here.”

  “Looks like.” I lowered my voice. “Eliza, before coming over, I stopped by the local precinct to talk to Detective Quinn.”

  She tipped her head to one side. “You’re investigating Tucker’s murder, aren’t you? Rori won’t talk about it, but she’s dragged you into this. I can tell.”

  I lifted my chin. “I’m looking into a few things surrounding the situation.”

  “Why? Is it just in your nature, or is there something else?”

  One shoulder rose, then dropped. “I guess you could say it’s in my nature. Rori also asked me to help.”

  Eliza’s nostrils twitched.

  “She thinks knowing what happened will help her move on with her life. But it’s not just that. Eliza, Rori’s a suspect. She found the body, and now the police know she threatened Tucker right out here.” I pointed toward the entry. “The gardener and the postal delivery person heard, and the police have talked to both of them.”

  Her lips pressed together.

  I went on. “Now it turns out that’s not all. Quinn told me you were seen at the Spotlight Motel the afternoon before Tucker was killed.”

  Her eyes widened, then she looked away. “I parked down the street.”

  “That was your mistake,” I said. “The cameras at the motel didn’t work, but the ones outside the storage facility where you parked did. That’s where the police got the footage.”

  Her swallow was audible.

  “What were you thinking?” I hissed, more harshly than I’d intended.

  She flinched. “I was . . .” Her jaw set. “I was trying to help my little sister. I went to talk to Tucker, to tell him to leave her alone. You saw him motion that he planned to call her. The last thing I wanted was for him to get her alone. See, Aurora is a bit . . . she can be easy to influence. That’s how that horrible man got her to marry him in the first place.” Her eyes narrowed. “You saw him. You saw how charismatic he could be. It was like some kind of spell.”

  I bit my lip.

  “He’d always been like that. You know—smarmy. Slick. But when he ca
me by on Monday, it was worse. I could tell there was something off about the man, you know?”

  I nodded. “Yes. There was.”

  She looked relieved. “You saw it, too, then. So you can see why I had to try to get him to leave Aurora alone, can’t you?”

  “I guess I can.” My fingers worked at the bridge of my nose as I thought. I let my hand drop and said, “The problem is that Detective Quinn has added you to his suspect list, along with Rori. And that’s another reason I’m going to keep trying to find out what really happened.”

  “How can I help?” she asked.

  “It sounds like trying to help me might have gotten you in trouble already,” Rori said from behind me. She must have heard everything.

  I glanced toward the street. Everyone except Declan was still involved with gathering their things to bring inside. He watched us for a few moments, then shrugged and got in his truck to move it to a proper parking space down the street.

  “What did Tucker say when you told him to leave me alone?” Rori asked.

  Eliza sighed. “Exactly what you’d expect. I tried to argue with him, but he was so good at deflecting anything he didn’t agree with.”

  “Did you raise your voice?” I asked.

  Her lips twisted. “Oh, yes. I committed the age-old mistake of trying to convince someone by using more volume when all else fails.”

  That accounts for one of the fights Tucker had with women in the parking lot that Dayleen told us about. But who was he arguing with a few days before?

  I already had a feeling the argument with the big blond guy Dayleen had spoken of had been Jake Gibson. It could have been Zane Wiggins, but Gibson simply struck me as more violent. Yet Gibson had seemed genuinely surprised to learn Tucker was dead—and not very happy about it, either. It could have been some kind of an accident, however, if Gibson had gone to try and recover what Tucker had taken from the Wiggins estate. After all, the whole room had been torn apart. Had that happened before or after Tucker had hit his head on the dresser?