Witches, Recipes, and Murder

by Zoe Arden

  "Worried?" I asked skeptically. "Are you sure you don't mean to say that you're having a hard time trusting her?"

  He laughed again, louder this time. "I knew you were sharp." He shook his head and began rubbing his temples. "Look, I do trust Natalie, it's just that... well, she and Mack didn't just date all those years ago. Everyone thought they would get married. Their friends were all shocked when they broke up. And now..."

  "Now you find out she was having secret meetings with him that she never told you about," I said.

  He nodded. I didn't admit it him, but I could actually sort of understand his point of view. If Colt had been holding clandestine meetings with an ex-girlfriend, I'm not sure how happy I'd be about it.

  "I can't just spy on her," I told him.

  "I didn't mean spy. Not really." He licked his lips nervously. "You were with Natalie both times someone tried to kill her, and then you showed up at the sheriff's station yesterday. You're clearly better friends with her than I'd realized. I was hoping you could just sort of... keep an eye on her for me. Tell me if anything unusual happens."

  I shook my head. "It was just coincidence that I was there both times someone tried to kill Natalie."

  "I don't believe in coincidence," he said.

  "Look, Natalie and I aren't friends. I mean, we are, but... we're not that good of friends. We don't have much in common."

  I decided to leave out the part where Natalie was a gossipmonger who'd never had any problem spreading rumors about me in the past. We were like two separate high school cliques, the gossip girls and the girls getting gossiped on.

  "You don't need to do anything," he said. His voice was shaky, as were his hands. I realized then that he was desperate.

  "Why don't you ask Lottie? She'd be a lot better at keeping tabs on Natalie than I would."

  "I already did. She turned me down flat. I think she's gonna tell Natalie what I asked her to do. Natalie's gonna be livid with me." He looked so sullen that I actually felt bad for him.

  "I'm sorry..."

  "Please," he said. "I don't know who else to ask."

  I sighed. "All right." He broke into a wide grin, and I held up one hand. "Not so fast. I won't spy on Natalie, but I will promise to keep an eye out for anything unusual going on around her. And maybe I can check out a few things. Talk to some other people who knew her and Mack and see if they have any ideas about what it was he wanted her to hide."

  It occurred to me that Natalie wasn't the only one Mack had asked for help. What had made him come to me that night at the bakery, anyway? We barely knew each other.

  What if whoever had gone after Natalie suddenly decided that she was telling the truth and didn't have that box? What if they decided I had it instead? Finding out more about what was going on with Mac and Natalie might help me later down the road.

  "Thank you, Ava. I'm grateful to you."

  "Don't mention it," I said. He nodded. "No, really. Don't mention it. To anyone."

  "I won't."

  I opened the door for him, and he stepped back outside.

  "By the way," he said, blushing slightly, "I was hoping that maybe you could ask Colt whether or not he knows if Natalie and Mack only met up that one time just before his death, or if they were meeting more often. Not that I don't trust her. I just thought... If they had been meeting more often, she might just be too scared to tell me. Afraid I'd be mad or something, you know? But I wouldn't be. I just want to know, that's all." His words ran together, jumbling up on each other so that I almost couldn't understand what he was saying.

  "Why would Colt know how often Natalie and Mack were meeting?" I asked him, confused.

  "I just thought Mack might have said something about it to him," Bill said, shrugging. "But it's no big deal." He tried to play this last part out like it had been an afterthought, but I knew that wasn't true. The look in his eyes was even more desperate than it had been a few minutes ago.

  "Wait," I said, my head starting to hurt, "are you saying that... that Mack and Colt knew each other?"

  "Sure," Bill said, looking surprised. "They were friends." He paused. "I thought you knew that."

  I shook my head. It was throbbing now. "I'll talk to him," I said and shut the door before Mack could lay any more bombshells on me.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

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  I finally made it down to Coffee Cove. Lucy was swamped with customers when I walked in.

  Darn.

  I needed to talk to her. I tried to get her attention, but the line was almost to the door and people were shouting over each other trying to get their order in.

  "Three vanilla lattes."

  "I was first, wait your turn. Two white chocolate macchiatos."

  "No, I was first. You wait your turn. Three vanilla lattes."

  I stared transfixed as a fistfight almost broke out over who got their coffee first. It wasn't even that early in the day. The afternoon was well underway.

  Lucy looked up, exasperated, and saw me. She gave a slight wave, and I indicated that I would go and get a seat. I'd talk to her once things died down. I turned around and searched for an open table. My eyes stopped on Natalie.

  She was seated at a table alone, drinking a coffee and munching on a pastry. All of the pastries Coffee Cove sold came from us. The Mystic Cupcake was the largest supplier of baked goods to restaurants, delis, and coffee shops in Sweetland Cove.

  "Hi," I said, taking the seat opposite hers.

  She looked up from her bear claw, which she'd only just started nibbling on. "What are you doing here?" she asked as if I'd sat down only to annoy her.

  "I came for coffee, but that line is crazy right now. I thought I'd wait it out. You don't mind if I join you, do you? The rest of the tables are all taken."

  "Actually—"

  "Great, thanks." I smiled at her and Natalie sighed.

  "Fine," she mumbled.

  We sat in silence for a bit as she sipped her coffee and pretended to look through a magazine that had been sitting on a nearby table. Coffee Cove kept old magazines and books lying around for anyone who wanted to look at them while they were here.

  "So," I finally said. "What's new?"

  She looked at me with scalding eyes. I could swear I felt my skin start to burn.

  "What's new?" she asked, her tone taking on a decidedly unfriendly one. "What's new?" She closed the magazine and straightened in her chair. "Let's see, half the town thinks I'm a murderer, my husband asked my best friend to spy on me because he thinks I was cheating on him with my old boyfriend, and someone's been watching me."

  "Watching you?" I asked her, ignoring the rest of her statement.

  "That's right. Everywhere I go."

  "How do you know that? Have you seen them?"

  She shook her head. "No, but I feel them." She looked around and leaned in closer, licking her lips. "You know how it feels when you're in a room and you know that someone's looking at you?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, that's how I feel all the time now."

  "Even now?" I asked her.

  "Even now," she said.

  I bit my bottom lip and looked around the room. "Do you have any idea who it is?"

  "No. I keep looking to see if I can spot them watching me, but I can't." She heaved a sigh. "And to make matters worse, Bill actually asked Lottie to spy on me. Can you believe that? What I can't understand is how he could think she wouldn't tell me?" She shook her head furiously. "For all I know, whoever's watching me now was hired by him. It might have nothing to do with the person who tried to kill me."

  "Men are warthogs," I said, and she burst out laughing, which was what I'd been hoping for.

  "Thanks for that," she said. "I haven't been able to laugh much lately."

  "Listen," I said, wondering suddenly if Natalie might be able to tell me more about Mack and Colt. I knew that Colt was aw
are of Mack because he'd mentioned the bar to me before. Mack's Bar was a hotspot for COMHA agents and paranormal business travelers, so it made sense that they knew each other. But the way Bill had talked about it made it sound as if Mack and Colt were actually friends, not just acquaintances.

  Natalie picked up her bear claw and took a bite.

  "Do you know if Mack and Colt were—"

  I stopped talking when Natalie's eyes began to bulge out of her head. Her face turned red in less than a second, and she pointed to her throat.

  "Oh, my roses," I shouted. "You're choking." I looked around for help. "She's choking," I shouted. "She's choking." I remembered too late the silencing charms around each table. No one could hear me shouting.

  I got out of my seat and pulled Natalie out of hers. "Help!" I screamed and started performing the Heimlich maneuver on her. Now that we were out of our seats, we were drawing attention. Melbourne was standing behind the counter near the milk frother. He looked up suddenly and ran toward us, leaping over the counter.

  He was almost to us when I pulled at Natalie's ribs in just the right place and the bear claw she was choking on came flying out of her mouth. She took in huge gasps of air, bending over at the waist. Everyone was watching us now.

  "It's okay," I told her. "You're all right."

  Melbourne had one hand on her back and was trying to get her to sit down. He looked around and caught sight of Lucy, who looked slightly pale.

  "Lucy, could you bring us some water, please?" Melbourne called out to her.

  Lucy hurried for the water and in less than a minute, presented a glass to Natalie. She drank it quickly.

  "Not too fast," Melbourne cautioned her, but Natalie didn't listen. She drank the water down then rose from her seat, her eyes crazed.

  "They tried it again," she said.

  "Tried what?" Melbourne asked.

  "To kill me," Natalie said.

  "Natalie," I said, stepping closer to her, "this was just an accident. You were choking."

  "This was no accident," she said, looking around the room. She went up to an elderly couple seated at the table to our left. "Was it you? Did you try to kill me?"

  "Natalie," I snapped, "stop it. It wasn't them."

  "Then who?" she asked, turning to a man seated alone at the table opposite us. He had dark hair and a goatee and was looking at Natalie like she was an escaped mental patient. "Was it you?" she yelled, banging her fist on his table.

  The guy jumped out of his chair.

  "I-I-I," he stuttered taking a step back.

  "Natalie!" I yelled, grabbing hold of her. "Stop it. This was just an accident. A terrible accident." But she was ignoring me.

  "I don't have it!" she yelled to the entire coffee shop. Now everyone was looking at her, frightened. "Whatever it is you're after, I don't have it. Do you hear me? Mack didn't give me the package. He tried to, okay? He tried to, and I said no. I told him I didn't want it. So there!" She was crying, and her face was glowing a bright red. "Go after someone else, why don't you?"

  "Natalie," I said softly, putting one hand on her shoulder. I tried to make her sit, but she wouldn't go back to the table. "No one here is trying to kill you. I know they tried before, and you have a right to be scared, but you're safe here."

  I paused and looked at Lucy, who had gone to get some more water. She held the glass tentatively out to Natalie, who took it and sipped it slowly.

  "I think whoever was trying to kill you is gone now," I told Natalie.

  "Wh-What makes you say that?"

  "Because no one's tried to kill me, and I met with Mack, too."

  "Y-You did?" she asked.

  I lowered my voice and looked around. I didn't want anyone to hear; we were too far away from the table for the silencing charms to take effect. "Yeah," I said just above a whisper, "he came by the bakery one night before he died. He asked me for help, and I turned him away just like you did." I let out a breath. "So, you can stop feeling guilty about it now, because there's plenty of guilt to go around."

  Natalie handed the glass back to Lucy.

  Slowly, she lifted her eyes to mine. "I don't care what you say, I know the truth. Someone's out to get me, and they're not going to stop until they do."

  She ran out of the bakery before I could stop her.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

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  I waited for Lucy to finish her shift. After what had happened with Natalie, the place had thinned out considerably. Seeing Natalie freak out like that made for good gossip, but it wasn't great when you were trying to relax with your afternoon cup of joe.

  "You think Natalie's okay?" Lucy asked as we headed toward Mack's Bar. It had only taken a few minutes for me to fill her in on what I'd learned from Bill Vargas, and she wasn't nearly as concerned about it as I was.

  "I'm sure she's fine. She's probably at home right now eating a dozen chocolate fudge happiness brownies."

  Lucy giggled. There was a sudden noise behind us, like someone's foot dragging on the ground. I turned to look and saw nothing but empty air.

  "Everything okay?" Lucy asked.

  "Did you hear that?" I asked her.

  "Hear what?"

  I looked again and saw nothing. "Never mind."

  We continued walking. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being followed, but every time I turned around, there was no one there. I'm getting paranoid. Natalie's made me paranoid.

  "So, do you believe Bill?" Lucy asked.

  "You mean about Mack and Colt being friends?"

  "Yeah."

  I shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, why would he lie?"

  "Good question." She paused. "Do you know who's looking after the bar now that Mack's... you know."

  "Dead?"

  "Yeah, that."

  "No idea," I told her.

  "Did he have any close friends?"

  "No idea."

  "What about family?"

  "No idea." I blew out a sigh. "Why do you keep asking me this stuff?"

  "Why don't you know more?"

  "I didn't know Mack," I told her, exasperated.

  "You just told me like ten minutes ago that he came to the bakery and asked for your help."

  "So?"

  "So, why would he do that unless he felt like he knew you well enough to ask?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know, Lucy. I'm telling you I barely knew the guy. I met him once before that night, at least once that I remember. That's it."

  Lucy eyes suddenly lit up. "Maybe it was Colt," she said.

  "What?"

  "Maybe Mack and Colt really were friends, so when Mack went to you for help, it was because he knew that you were Colt's fiancée and thought he could trust you."

  "Maybe..." I said. "But why wouldn't he just go to Colt then?"

  She scrunched her face up. "Maybe Colt wasn't on the island that night. He could've been down at COMHA headquarters."

  "It's possible," I said. That made more sense than any other theories so far.

  We finally reached the bar and went in. There was a new bartender. He was bald with a small gold earring and reminded me of Mr. Clean. He glanced up when we came in.

  "What are you drinking?" he asked when we went over to him.

  Lucy and I exchanged looks. "Do you have a good Merlot?" I asked.

  He chuckled and poured us each a glass.

  "Thanks," I said. "Um, did you know Mack Heathrow?"

  The bartender glared at me. "What kind of question is that? Of course, I knew him. I work here, don't I?"

  "Do you know if anyone wanted to hurt him?" Lucy asked.

  The bartender looked at us suspiciously. "Do you work for the police?"

  "No," I said.

  "Then I don't have to answer anything you ask."

  Lucy's face turned pink. "But what harm could there be in answering our questions unles
s you had something to do with his murder?"

  "You just answered your own question," he said. "Mack was murdered, right? And no one knows why. If I talk to you, I might get murdered, too." He walked away from us before we could ask anything else.

  "Well, that was a bust," Lucy said.

  "Tell me about it."

  There was a group of men seated in the corner, all of them wearing business suits. COMHA agents. I headed over to their table.

  They looked up when I came over. "Hi," I said. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Lucy still standing by the bar. She was looking at me like I was covered in green goo.

  She mouthed the words, What are you doing? Clearly, she did not think the direct approach was a good idea.

  "Um," I said. "Do you guys work at COMHA?"

  They all looked at each other.

  "What's it to you?" one of them asked.

  "My fiancé works there. You might know him. Detective Colt Hudson."

  They exchanged glances with each other.

  "Ava Fortune?" one of them finally said. He had bright blond hair and blue eyes.

  "That's right," I told him.

  "What are you doing here?" the blond asked. "Does Colt know you're here? This isn't exactly the safest bar in town. If you want someplace to drink with your friends, I've got a few places I could suggest."

  "I'm not here to drink," I told them. "Do you know if Colt knew Mack Heathrow?"

  The blond suddenly clammed up. He stopped talking, and his gaze turned away from me.

  "Why not ask him yourself?" said a middle-aged redhead with a light beard.

  "Yeah," said a guy with dark hair. "We don't answer questions about other agents, even if it's their fiancée who's asking."

  Their stares had suddenly turned dark and cold.

  "It's not important," I said quickly. "I was only wondering. Colt's talked about this place so much, I just thought..."