Starla faced me. “What was that about?”
I hadn’t told her that Will said Kyle had disappeared, and I didn’t think now was the right time to do it. I shrugged. “Not sure.”
I pondered why Kyle’s family seemed so concerned that he had disappeared. It seemed to me that they should want him to go. After all, being caught by the police at this time would mean a very long prison sentence. Something felt so off-kilter about this family and their relationship with their fugitive.
Mimi said, “Seriously, you have to tell me what’s going on. I’m not some dumb little kid, you know.”
“That’s the last thing we’d think,” I said, tossing items onto the conveyer belt. “And I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“Are you okay, Starla?” Harper asked.
“I’m fine,” she said steadily. “I just want to go home.”
Mimi tossed me another look, her eyes full of curiosity.
“Later,” I mouthed.
I mentally urged the cashier to hurry up. The sooner we left, the better.
Harper helped bag the groceries, and as soon as we were outside, Mimi headed left toward her house while the three of us turned right toward Starla’s. My trip to see Pepe was going to have to wait a little bit. I wanted to get Starla settled in with a nice cup of tea. And I also wanted to check in with Nick to see if he had any news.
We were almost at Starla’s when she said, “I should probably pop into Hocus-Pocus and check messages and pick up the mail, and go see Vince at Lotions and Potions to let him know I’m okay. I won’t be but a minute. You two go on ahead, and I’ll meet you there.”
“We can come with you.” I hated the thought of her being alone.
Starla smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s okay. Ve and Mrs. P will be at my house soon, and I don’t want to keep them waiting outside. It’s cold out here.”
Harper said, “How about I go with Starla and you go ahead, Darcy?”
“Perfect,” I said before Starla could object.
“Fine, fine,” she said, shaking her head. Giving me her house keys, she added, “And don’t eat all the ice cream before we get back.”
“I’m making no promises,” I said as I walked off.
A mourning dove swooped by my head startling me as I walked up the steps to Starla and Evan’s brownstone. It landed in a tree in front of the big picture window and tipped its head at me, blinking repeatedly, its gray feathers shimmering.
I tipped my head back and said, “Thanks for the heart attack.”
It cooed, a peaceful yet sad sound.
Slipping the key into the lock, I hesitated, thinking maybe I’d wait for the others. I wondered why suddenly, after dozens of times of letting myself in and out of Starla’s house, that I’d be filled with trepidation now. Because the bird had spooked me? Or was there another reason?
Feeling utterly paranoid, I turned the lock and opened the door. Sunshine spilled across the foyer, and I let out a breath thinking I’d been acting all kinds of a fool.
But then I turned around and saw the man lying on the couch, his eyes closed, a strip of duct tape over his mouth.
Despite never having met him before, I recognized him instantly.
Kyle Chadwick.
I dropped the grocery bags and was instantly torn—get the hell out of there or check to see if he was breathing. I dialed 9-1-1 on my cell phone as the mother hen in me won out. I had to see if he was okay. Because other than the duct tape, he looked like he was sleeping. Sure, he was a little pale, but other than that . . . he was fully clothed, had no visible injuries, and his arms rested on his chest as though he’d simply lain down for a nap.
If Snow White had been a man, it would have been Kyle, with his good looks, dark hair, pale skin. But I was certainly no Prince Charming and there were no cute little dwarves tending to him.
As I explained what was going on to the police dispatcher, I crept closer to him and noticed that there was writing on the silver duct tape over his lips. Spelled out in black block letters was FOUL IS FAIR.
I knew the quote—it was from Shakespeare’s Macbeth: Fair is foul and foul is fair. However, I didn’t have time to dissect why that was important right now. Swallowing hard, I reached toward his neck to feel for a pulse and suddenly jerked my hand back, afraid to touch him.
The mourning dove cooed.
I shuddered and forced myself to check for a pulse.
His skin was cool to the touch, and no life beat beneath it.
Kyle Chadwick was dead.
Chapter Eleven
“He was just lying there,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time.
I sat with Harper, Aunt Ve, Mrs. P, and Mimi in Harper’s bookstore. Harper had turned the sign on the door to CLOSED.
“He didn’t, you know, attach to you,” Harper said, shivering like she had a bad case of the willies. “Did he?”
The last time I’d found a dead body, the spirit of that Crafter had imprinted on me. This time I was lucky—Kyle’s spirit had stayed far away. “No.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Ve said.
The store had undergone a drastic renovation since Harper took it over last summer. Gone were the plain neutral walls, replaced with a bold mural based on the Starry Night painting by van Gogh. Iron bookshelves in the shapes of trees and branches lined the walls and limbs climbed the ceiling as though reaching into the night sky. It was dramatic yet peaceful. Completely casual yet special. It was magical, and one of my favorite places to retreat.
Harper had added more seating to the floor plan for customers to linger over a cup of coffee or visit with friends. Mrs. P and Aunt Ve sat across from Harper, Mimi, and me.
Rubbing my temples, I kept going over it in my head. Kyle’s peaceful face, the police cars, the chaos, Starla’s reaction as she approached the house and was told what had happened . . .
Starla. My heart hurt for her, the pain in my chest tight and unyielding.
Aunt Ve whispered, “Have mercy.”
“Was there any sign of forced entry?” Harper asked.
“Not that I saw,” I said.
Sniffing contentedly, Missy and Twink wandered around the bookshop. Pie, Harper’s cat, looked down on them disdainfully.
Mimi said, “If Kyle was invisible, could he walk through walls? Maybe he didn’t need a key to get in.”
Swimming with tears, Mrs. P’s eyes were bright and shiny. “When I vaporize, I can slip under doors or through cracks. But Kyle wasn’t a Vaporcrafter.”
I glanced at Ve. “We need to figure out the spell he was using.”
“It hardly matters now, Darcy,” Ve said. “The focus now will be on his death. You said there were no visible wounds?”
Maybe she was right about the spell, but I couldn’t help but feel that it was important. “Not that I saw. He looked peaceful . . . for a dead guy.”
“Do you think he killed himself?” Mimi asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know how he could have. He wouldn’t have suffocated from that duct tape—it only covered his mouth.”
“Maybe he had a big knife sticking out of his back and you just couldn’t see it, Darcy,” Harper speculated. “It would serve him right.”
We all looked at her.
“What?” she said. “He did deserve it.”
“Be that as it may,” Ve said, “Starla is going to need a good lawyer.”
She’d been immediately taken in for questioning; Evan had gone with her, but Nick wouldn’t let anyone else accompany them.
“I’ve already called Marcus,” Harper said. “He was going to meet Starla at the police station.”
My head throbbed as I thought about the turn of events this afternoon. This was supposed to be a happy lighthearted day. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of how it had truly ended up. I was beyond grateful that Starla hadn’t been the one to find Kyle’s body, though. I feared that might have been too much to handle, seeing h
im lying there in his jammies as though he was camped out to watch Sunday afternoon football.
Wait a sec. In his jammies?
Something Starla had said suddenly struck me as important. Very important. “You know what I just realized? That Kyle was dressed in pajamas. A white T-shirt and blue flannel pajama bottoms. Exactly like the ones Starla described him as wearing last night when he paid her a visit at our house.”
“So he died not long after?” Harper surmised.
“I guess the autopsy will tell us for certain, but I’d say so,” I said.
“Or maybe he died before he visited Starla,” Mimi said excitedly, bouncing in her seat. “Maybe he’s an imprinter! And he’s stuck to Starla.”
As the only one here who had firsthand experience with imprinters, I said, “Imprinters are invisible—to everyone. Starla wouldn’t have been able to see him at all.”
Mimi frowned. “Oh.”
Harper went back to conjecturing. “So he saw Starla, then met his demise soon after.”
“It’s so strange,” I said. “Where’s all his stuff?”
“What stuff, dear?” Ve asked.
“From his tree house.” I winced at the growing ache behind my eyes. “He cleared out of there in a hurry. Where are his clothes? His toothbrush?”
“With his family?” Harper said. “His brothers certainly knew where he was.”
I bit my lip. “But his family didn’t know where he went.” I explained how they all seemed worried by his disappearance.
“Is that why Cora asked if Starla had seen him today?” Mimi asked.
I nodded. “They’re all extremely concerned. Overly concerned if you ask me.” And now that Kyle was dead, I had to wonder if that was the source of their anxiety. “It’s like they knew he was in danger.”
“Or perhaps, doll face,” Mrs. P said, “they were worried he’d attack Starla again.”
Perhaps. They hadn’t seemed concerned about Starla. Only Kyle. I hoped Nick was questioning the family. And that they actually told him everything they knew.
“She doesn’t have to worry about an attack now,” Ve said. “Plus, because she was knocked out after Cherise’s sleeping spell, there’s no way the police can say she had anything to do with his death.”
Mrs. P said, “It’s an ironclad alibi. She was at your place the whole night long.”
“It’s ridiculous that they’re even questioning her,” Harper grumped.
“She did threaten to kill him,” I said, really wishing Nick hadn’t overheard her say it. Everyone whipped their gazes to me. I held up my hands in surrender. “I don’t think she did! But I think they have reason to question her. I’m sure she’ll be let out in no time.”
“I really want to know what happened to him,” Mimi said. “What a strange way to be found. And stranger that he was going around town in his pajamas. Who does that, even invisibly?”
It was a good question, but one I didn’t have an answer to.
“And what was with the words on the duct tape?” Aunt Ve asked, scooping up Twink and settling the tiny fluff ball on her lap.
“‘Foul is fair,’” I said.
“From Macbeth,” Harper added. “That’s what I don’t get. It should have been the other way around.”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. P asked. “And tell me slowly, doll face. I’m old and don’t follow along at quite your pace.”
Harper rolled her eyes and explained. “The full phrase is ‘Fair is foul, and foul is fair.’”
Missy trotted over and hopped up next to me on the couch. She bypassed my lap and settled into Mimi’s.
“It’s said by the witches near the beginning of the story and essentially means that what can appear as fair on the surface can be foul underneath,” Harper explained, “and what appears foul on the surface could be fair underneath.”
“Like how the witches are ugly, but actually give fair advice?” Mimi asked.
I nodded. “And how Macbeth was supposedly good but turned evil.”
“I need to read more,” Mrs. P said, laughing.
It was impossible not to share her humor. Her cackle was that infectious.
“So,” Ve said, her eyebrows furrowed, “the duct tape on Kyle should have been ‘fair is foul’ because he was handsome and well liked, but he ended up rotten to the core.”
“Right,” Harper said. “Not this ‘foul is fair’ business because there was nothing fair about him.”
“Who wrote the message?” Mimi asked. “Kyle himself?”
“Maybe,” I said. “There was a Shakespeare book on the nightstand at the tree house. But no one knows yet. Hopefully your dad will have some answers for us soon. The autopsy should tell us a lot.”
“Yes,” Mrs. P said, “like exactly how Kyle died.”
That would be nice to know.
“If he committed suicide, could the ‘foul is fair’ reference be some sort of message to Starla?” Aunt Ve absently rubbed Twink’s ears. “Like he was still pleading his innocence?”
“If he did commit suicide,” I echoed, “then he was obviously trying to send some sort of message. Why else would he be found in Starla’s house?”
“But what if he didn’t commit suicide?” Mimi asked.
“Murder,” Harper mumbled, shaking her head.
I shuddered. “Who else besides Starla would have wanted him dead?”
Aunt Ve shook her head. “Kyle was much beloved around here, Darcy. Unless he’s made some enemies while he was away, then no one.”
Maybe it was suicide then. I was holding out hope.
Mrs. P said, “We need to look at the bigger picture. Though we may not like it, there are people who’d want him gone solely to protect someone they loved, namely Starla. Those people need to be considered as well.”
“But that’s everyone in this room, plus Evan, plus Vince,” Harper said. “And I don’t believe any of us are killers.”
“There is nothing more dangerous than love, Harper,” Mrs. P said, wagging a red-tipped finger. “Do not underestimate the lengths one would go to protect someone they care about. Kyle’s death could have been a preemptive action taken on Starla’s behalf.”
Evan had been asleep at As You Wish the whole night long . . . but where had Vince been? Did he have an alibi?
“If that’s the case,” Mimi said, her eyebrows drawn together in concentration, “why would any of us leave the body at Starla’s house? That just makes her look more guilty, doesn’t it? Someone who loves Starla wouldn’t do that. We’d dig a big hole in the Enchanted Forest, dump the body in there, and cast a Mirage Spell over it and no one would ever know. Ever.”
Harper tipped her head, considering. “Mimi makes a good point.”
Mrs. P smiled. “Yes, she certainly does. A vivid one, too.”
“But, alas,” Ve said, “it could eventually be uncovered. Mirage Spells last only seventy-two hours.”
“Bummer,” Mimi said.
“Wait, wait. A Mirage Spell? What’s that?” I asked.
“I saw it in my mom’s diary,” Mimi said. “It’s a spell that casts a mirage over something. Like, for example, if my room is a mess and my dad tells me to clean it up, then I can cast the spell on the room to make it appear clean—even though it’s really not. It does have its downfalls, though. Like Dad could come in and trip over a shoe. Then he’d know something was up.”
Missy made a funny noise, almost a gurgle. I rubbed her back and hoped she wasn’t coming down with something.
Ve smiled. “Indeed. I’ve used it a time or two myself in the bedroom to, ah”—she glanced at Mimi and coughed—“keep a secret.”
Undoubtedly to hide a dalliance . . . or two.
“Does the Mirage Spell work on people?” Harper asked. “Make someone ugly appear pretty?”
She was endlessly fascinated with spells and had accumulated dozens of spell books from the storage facility she’d inherited when she bought Spellbound and also bought some from other Crafters aroun
d the village.
Mrs. P cackled. “I believe that’s called alcohol, Harper, sweetie.”
I laughed as Harper said, “Ah, right, so silly of me.” Then she whipped her gaze to Mimi. “But seriously, can it?”
“I don’t know,” Mimi said. “I’ve never tried it—on anything. I’ve only read about it.”
“Oh, it works on people,” Ve said. “I used it to cover pimples when I was a teenager.”
“Cool!” Mimi said.
Ve smiled. “It’d probably work on these old wrinkles of mine, too.”
“You’re lovely the way you are,” I said. I didn’t like the idea of a spell messing with appearances.
Again, I thought about the vanishing spell and wondered if Kyle had somehow altered it to include people and not just inanimate objects. If that was even possible. When the Elder responded to my request for a meeting I’d ask her.
“With that in mind we’re back to if Kyle was murdered, then it had to be by someone who wanted Starla to take the blame,” Harper said.
The ache in my head was getting worse. “We should probably just wait to see what the autopsy determines,” I said. “This speculation isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“How soon do autopsy reports usually come back?” Mimi asked.
“A few days,” I said, rubbing my temples and wishing for some aspirin. “Sometimes longer.”
It was going to feel like torture waiting for the results.
Mrs. P studied me. “Headache, doll?”
I nodded.
“You should take something,” Harper said as though I were dense.
“Yes, I should. I wonder why I didn’t think of that. Oh, that’s right, I don’t have anything on me to take. And neither do you. I already checked your break room when I got here.”
“Cranky,” Harper replied. “I have some upstairs in my apartment.”
“I might have something in my purse,” Ve said, digging into her enormous handbag. “Tissues, Tic Tacs, a notepad, a bottle of water, matches, pepper spray, a granola bar, some almonds, lipstick—”
“The Holy Grail,” Harper intoned.
Mimi giggled and I smiled.
Mrs. P cackled, and said, “Save yourself the trouble, Velma. I wish that Darcy had some aspirin.”
The Goodbye Witch Page 10