The Witch and the Dead

by Heather Blake

  With all the big happenings taking place in the village today, I should have known Pepe and Mrs. P wouldn’t have remained at the Bewitching Boutique, twiddling their thumbs. They weren’t ones to often let the village gossip come to them. They went to it. Clearly, they’d been putting their stellar snooping skills to use at the police station.

  They sat on the arm of the sofa, close to Harper’s elbow, as I asked, “Was Dorothy at the police station to confess her affair with Miles Babbage?”

  A bit of cupcake fell from Harper’s mouth as it gaped open. “Her what?”

  Marcus scribbled like crazy as I told them what I knew of Dorothy’s affair with Miles—and how she’d run out of Third Eye earlier.

  “Well, I’ll be. That hussy!” Mrs. P exclaimed as her tail curved behind her.

  “You didn’t know?” I questioned. It seemed to me she and Pepe knew everything that happened in this village.

  “No. This happened before I moved back to the village. Hot dog!” she exclaimed, rubbing her tiny paws together. “I love a good scandal.”

  Mrs. P had spent a good chunk of her life living away from the village, after her first husband disavowed his powers and moved his family out of town. They had eventually divorced, and an unfortunate set of circumstances led to an estrangement from her daughter. And, as a consequence, her granddaughter. It had been a troubling family situation, and unfortunately it was one that did not have a happy ending.

  “I fully expected Dorothy to confess the acquaintance,” Pepe said, picking up the thread of the conversation, “but non, it was not to be. She said nothing of the affair at all.”

  With his little feet crossed at the ankles, he sat close to Mrs. P, their arms touching. They weren’t technically married, but that label mattered to no one. For all intents and purposes they considered themselves husband and wife.

  I shifted sideways to better face the mouse duo. “You knew of the affair, Pepe?”

  “Of course,” he replied. “It was the talk of the village at the time. Of how Dorothy abandoned the honorable Joel Hansel and ran off with the village scoundrel. Quelle horreur!”

  Honorable? It wasn’t a word I associated with Dorothy in any way, shape, or form, so I was having trouble imagining she’d married a good, decent man. Or rather, that he’d married her.

  “Joel was a lovely man,” Mrs. P added. “Such a talented furniture maker. He brought out the best in Dorothy, which was a marvel, considering her acidic personality.”

  “Where is Joel Hansel now?” Harper asked.

  Marcus jotted more notes. I assumed he had just added the man to his suspect list. As had I. I wanted to know the answer to the question as well. I knew nothing of Dorothy’s first husband, the man who was Glinda’s father.

  Mrs. P’s cheeks were a rosy red, thanks to a generous application of rouge. Her love of cosmetics hadn’t wavered, even after she’d become a mouse. She said, “Long dead. Fifteen, twenty years now?” She glanced at Pepe for confirmation.

  Pepe smoothed his Dalí mustache, which had been created by twirling his whiskers. “Twenty. Marriage to Dorothy tends to shorten a man’s life span considerably.”

  I suddenly had an aching compassion for Glinda’s loss. She’d been only nine or ten years old when her father passed. I knew she and her mother had a contentious relationship and wondered if her father’s early death had contributed to that dynamic.

  Marcus set down his pen and asked, “What happened to him?” Pie had nestled contentedly next to him but kept a diligent eye on Mrs. P and Pepe.

  “Heart attack,” Pepe answered.

  Mrs. P added, “Dorothy’s second husband died of a heart attack as well, if I recall correctly, not too long after they divorced.”

  I never knew that man, either, but I did know he’d been a mortal and that Dorothy and he had adopted a daughter together. Now in her twenties, Zoey Wilkins was currently in prison on kidnapping and attempted murder charges. Technically, she should have faced an additional charge of murder, but her own husband had fallen on the sword for her. . . .

  Honestly, the whole family was a mess. No wonder Glinda was as troubled as she was.

  “Two heart attacks? Sounds suspicious to me,” Harper pointed out. “Someone should probably warn Sylar.”

  Pepe’s mustache twitched. “It was suspicious to everyone in the village as well. Alas, completed autopsies proved the men died of natural causes.”

  I was also suddenly worried about Sylar. He’d gained a lot of weight since marrying Dorothy. That couldn’t be good for his heart. I looked at Pepe. “Were Dorothy’s first two husbands overweight?”

  “Not until they married Dorothy,” he said with a chuckle. Pepe twirled his mustache. “After their yearlong second honeymoon, Joel returned a good fifty pounds heavier. He was nearly unrecognizable.”

  “A year?” Harper said, her eyes wide.

  “Oui. It was a trip around the world. They left no corner of the earth unexplored.”

  “Still,” Harper pressed. “A year?”

  Pepe said, “It was believed they anticipated the distance from the village and the length of time would continue to heal the wounds to the marriage incurred by Dorothy’s affair.” He gave a curt nod. “As they returned a couple obviously in love, it proved to be a therapeutic journey.”

  “How long were they back in the village before Miles returned?” I asked.

  Scratching his chin, he pursed his lips. “It was springtime when Dorothy and Joel returned from their extended honeymoon, so they’d been back to the village five or six months by the time Miles surfaced from his sabbatical the following October.”

  “Do you know why he’d been gone for nearly a year?” I asked.

  He pushed his glasses up his nose and shook his head. “Non.”

  Mrs. P tsked. “I imagine his return tested the Hansels’ marriage a second time.”

  I nodded. “From everything I’ve heard today, Dorothy was fully committed to Joel when Miles came back. But we all know Dorothy’s a good actress.”

  I did some mental math. Between her second honeymoon and Miles’ yearlong absence, it would have been around eighteen months since Dorothy had last seen Miles. Eighteen months in which she supposedly fell in love with her husband all over again.

  But I wasn’t sure I bought that. After all, this was Dorothy we were talking about.

  I went on. “She could have seen Miles when he came back to the village. They could have reconciled. She could have killed him. Dorothy’s a smart witch. If she wanted to have another affair . . . or get away with murder, she could.”

  Marcus tapped his chin with the pen. “Do you think Dorothy is truly capable of murder?”

  “Absolutely!” Mrs. P said.

  The rest of us nodded. Great, big, overexaggerated nods.

  Marcus went back to writing.

  “So why, then, was Dorothy at the police station?” Harper asked our little friends.

  “She was in a snit about Nick,” Mrs. P said. “A great, big snit.”

  I straightened, suddenly defensive. “Nick? Why?”

  It was Pepe who answered first. “Dorothy demanded Nick’s removal from the case. She claims he’s too personally involved in the matter and cannot possibly remain impartial since Ve is involved, and she is his girlfriend’s aunt.”

  Both looked at my ring finger and sighed loudly. I was grateful neither pointed out that Nick still hadn’t popped the question. Maybe Evan was right. . . . Perhaps the pressure was getting to Nick. It was starting to get to me, and I wasn’t even the one doing the asking.

  Mrs. P laughed. “But ha! The joke is on Dorothy. At least for the time being.”

  “How so?” Marcus asked.

  Pepe said, “As Nick is chief of police, in order to remove him from the case Dorothy needs approval from the village council chairwoman.”
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  Harper smiled broadly. “That’s Ve!”

  “Oui.” Pepe nodded with a grin of his own. “Dorothy was in quite the fury when informed. She must now request a special convocation with the council as a whole for approval. It will take weeks to schedule a meeting as such.”

  “Dorothy ranted and raved like a lunatic,” Mrs. P said, gesturing far and wide with her tiny paws. “Well, an even greater lunatic than normal. I’ve never seen her in such a state. It was highly entertaining.”

  Harper drew her legs beneath her. “But why? If she had nothing to do with Miles’ death, why is she so invested in this case? Why would she care if Nick investigates? For that matter”—she looked at Marcus—“why do your parents care if you represent Ve? I keep feeling like there’s something bigger going on.”

  Because there was. Exactly how much wasn’t yet clear, and with its being a cold case, I wondered if we’d ever know the whole truth of what had happened to Miles Babbage.

  “Penelope and Oliver? They want you off the case?” Mrs. P questioned Marcus. “Why?”

  Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m not going to leave Ve high and dry, no matter what their argument. And I’m quite frankly relieved to have Dorothy as a possible suspect. The more, the merrier, as far as I’m concerned. It can only help Ve’s case.”

  My palms had dampened. “Actually, from my investigations this morning I can shed some light on the situation. . . .”

  As I glanced around, I caught Pepe’s watchful, supportive gaze. I had the feeling he knew all about Penelope’s involvement with Miles and guessed what I was about to say.

  “About?” Harper asked.

  My stomach ached. “Penelope and Oliver.”

  Marcus, who had been writing, set his pen down. “My parents? Did they tell you something while you were downstairs with them?”

  I clenched my hands, unclenched them. “No, not them so much as Sylar . . . and then Steve Winstead.”

  Marcus took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. “Sylar? Steve? You lost me.”

  I glanced at Harper, then back at Marcus, then back at her again. I took a deep breath. “Maybe you should call your parents. It might be best if you heard this from them. It’s why they want you off the case.”

  “Oh no,” Harper said, sitting up straight. She poked a finger my way. “You need to tell us right now. Right. Now.”

  “Just say it, Darcy,” Marcus said stonily. He put his glasses back on and stared at me.

  I just had to spit it out, because there was really no other way. In one big breath I said, “A month before your mother married your father, she had a whirlwind relationship with Miles. They were supposed to run off and elope the same weekend he ended up marrying Ve.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence before Marcus blurted, “My mother? With Miles Babbage? You’re joking.”

  “Not joking,” I said, wishing I were.

  “Miles . . . Babbage?” he repeated.

  I nodded.

  He said, “No. No way.”

  “Oui,” Pepe confirmed solemnly. “It’s true.”

  Harper’s and Mrs. P’s mouths dropped open.

  Marcus just kept shaking his head. Pie tapped his arm with a paw as though sensing something was seriously wrong.

  “I don’t understand it, either,” I said, wishing more than anything that I did. “But Ve mentioned that women tended to flock to him. I’m sure she told you the same thing.”

  “She did,” Marcus confirmed. “But I never dreamed one of those women would be my mother. My intelligent, well-educated, elegant mother hooking up with a homeless gigolo? It’s baffling.”

  “What about Ve?” Harper said to him, her words sharp. Scooting to the edge of the couch, she added, “She somehow ended up married to the man!”

  Her body language made it clear that he best not be implying anything untoward about our aunt’s intelligence, education, and elegance.

  Marcus opened his mouth, then snapped his lips together. If he’d been contemplating mentioning Ve’s colorful and varied dating history, he’d been wise to keep his mouth shut.

  I intervened before they started bickering. “Ve has made it clear she didn’t even know Miles Babbage other than by reputation and wouldn’t have married him under normal circumstances. That’s what’s important here and now.”

  Harper shot me a dismayed look, and I realized she was itching for a fight. I blamed Penelope and Oliver’s influence on her current state of mind.

  After a moment, Marcus said, “It’s just a ludicrous notion. I can’t comprehend it.”

  Harper relaxed out of fight mode and settled back against the couch and nodded.

  Pepe cleared his throat. “I dare not presume to know what possessed the women in this village to collectively lose their minds when Miles was near. After much thought on the matter following Ve’s marriage to the man, I will venture the theory that it was not a natural attraction per se.”

  Rain pelted the windows as we let his words sink in.

  “A supernatural one, then,” Harper speculated after a moment. “The Craft, somehow?”

  “Non,” he said. “Impossible. Miles was a mortal.”

  We knew all this. I tried to think of other variations of magic. Like sorcery. It had been on my mind since Starla brought it up. “What about sorcery?”

  Mrs. P gasped. “Heaven forbid!”

  “I think not,” Pepe said with a shake of his head. “Miles was not so intelligent as such. Sorcery requires a great deal of learning.”

  “But what else—” I cut myself off. I already knew the answer. “An amulet.”

  “Oui.” He nodded. “One must consider the company Miles kept.”

  I said, “The Roving Stones.”

  Pepe nodded again.

  Of course. The rock and mineral group was infamous for its dealings with charms and amulets. Both of which were in a magical category of their own with few to no rules or regulations to follow, especially if used by a mortal.

  I recalled the photo Ve had shown us that morning. “Miles was wearing a pendant of some sort in his and Ve’s wedding picture. It hung from what looked like a leather cord.”

  One could buy any amulet under the sun at one of the Roving Stones fairs, most harmless and not charmed in the least. The amulet Miles used had to have been extremely powerful to produce the effect it had among village women. There were only a few who could create those kinds of amulets. All were Charmcrafters.

  At that moment, I couldn’t have been more grateful that Andreus Woodshall was returning to the village this weekend. As a Charmcrafter and the director of the Roving Stones, he could be the only one who’d know exactly what kind of magic that amulet had possessed.

  Harper asked Pepe, “Do you think it was a seduction amulet of some sort?”

  “Without any doubt,” he replied.

  Marcus groaned as though he was in pain.

  I asked Pepe, “Did you ever mention your amulet theory to Ve?”

  “Non. It came to me long after the accursed marriage took place; therefore, it seemed a moot point. Miles had already disappeared, and Ve didn’t care to speak of what had happened. She’d told only a trusted few the true story of not being able to recall the wedding at all. I certainly didn’t want to upset her any further. What was done was done.”

  What was done was done.

  Yet it wasn’t quite done, was it? Not anymore.

  “An amulet at least makes sense,” Marcus said, shuddering. “My mother wouldn’t have . . . I don’t even like thinking about it. But what is this about Sylar and Steve? What do they have to do with anything?”

  I fidgeted as I blurted out the whole story. By the time I was done (out of mercy, I left out his father’s nickname during the retelling), Marcus had dropped his head against the back of the couch and stared, wit
hout blinking, at the ceiling.

  The rest of us shared furtive glances, not sure what to say to console him.

  Finally, he said, “This certainly mucks things up, doesn’t it?”

  “The muckiest,” Mrs. P said.

  Harper went and sat next to him. She held out the Gingerbread Shack box. “Cupcake?”

  That was a display of true love if I ever saw one.

  Marcus shook his head and smiled at her. “No, you keep them. But I should go talk to my parents. Hear their side.”

  Harper kept her gaze steady on his. “I’m sure they’re not involved at all with what happened.”

  It was a bigger display of love than the cupcakes, considering how she felt about his parents.

  “Me, too,” he said. “But it’ll be good to clear the air.”

  A quick kiss and rushed good-byes later, and he was out the door.

  Harper stared at the door for a moment before she went to the window.

  Mrs. P looked at Pepe, who looked at me.

  “It’ll all be fine,” Mrs. P said brightly. “This will all pass over in a blink, and we’ll move on to happier things. Like Darcy getting married! You know, if she ever gets engaged.”

  So much for not bringing it up. I threw her a quelling look.

  “Perhaps, my love, it is time to bid our adieu,” Pepe said quickly.

  Mrs. P nodded, then blew kisses before she and Pepe made a mad dash for the baseboard portal.

  After they were gone, I went to the window and put my arm around Harper. She rested her head on my shoulder as she watched Marcus trot across the village green.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “You’re not yourself.”

  “There’s something in the air, something dark and dangerous.”

  The juju. I wasn’t surprised she felt it, too. She was often the first to notice its presence. “It’ll pass. It always does.”

  She looked at me, her eyes full of turmoil. “But what damage will it do in the meantime?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that, but as beads of rain slid down the windowpane like teardrops, I feared the worst was yet to come.