“As far as we know, Alex took the book with him,” Trixie said.
I felt my stomach drop. Instinctively, my hand went up to the deadbolt, and I undid it the rest of the way. I felt a pull that told me something was on the other side of that door.
“What are you doing?” Trixie asked.
“I think there’s something out there,” I said. “I need to see what it is.”
“Get away from the door, Allegra,” Trixie said.
“I need to see,” I said.
“I will look. You get your butt away from that door.”
I started to reach for the knob again, but I felt Trixie’s hand on my shoulder. That snapped me out of the fog I was in, and I took a step back from the door.
Trixie turned the knob and opened the front door. My breath caught in my throat. I’d been right. There was something on the porch, and the black grimoire had made its way back to me.
“Don’t let her touch it,” Voodoo said from the top of the stairs. “Put it in the safe.”
“If you put it in the safe, I’ll just feel compelled to get it out,” I said.
“Not the safe in the office. The one in the basement,” Voodoo said as he trotted down the steps.
“The basement?” I was confused for a moment. “Oh, right. I forgot this house even had a basement.”
“Exactly,” Voodoo said.
“Oh, I see,” I said.
“Yes, the basement in this house is like an oubliette. You can put things that you want to or should forget down there,” Voodoo said.
“I don’t know that we should forget the book,” I said. “We need to solve the mystery around it.”
“You won’t forget the grimoire, but you’ll probably forget where it is. That’s the best thing right now,” Trixie said. “You won’t forget Alex.”
And with that, I let Trixie and Voodoo take the book to the basement while I got ready for work.
There was a line halfway down the block when I went to open the doors of the ice cream shop the next day. It was an unusually large crowd for so early in the morning, and I had to wonder what was going on.
“There are a lot of people waiting,” I said to Lyn before I unlocked the door. “I guess a lot of people have a craving for ice cream early today.”
“Oh, I don’t think they’re just here for the ice cream, Allegra. I bet a lot of them are here for the gossip.”
“What?” I asked.
“You must not have stopped anywhere on your way to work this morning,” Lyn said. “It’s all over town. Rosaline Lewis was found dead outside The Chop Shop this morning.”
“What?”
“Yeah. People are saying she must have gotten in a fight with her man, but I don’t think anyone has been arrested yet.”
“You’re going to have to tell me more about that, but first we’ve got to open up and clear out some of this line,” I said.
Everyone was talking about the murder when they came in. Most of them were saying that it must have been Gareth Torres, Rosaline’s fiancé. A few of them did actually ask Lyn if the fight with Rosaline the day before was worse than they’d heard.
The implication was that perhaps Lyn had killed Rosaline. I was impressed at how well Lyn kept her cool about the whole thing. A few times, I wanted to tell people how unkind they were being to Lyn, but she just shook her head and kept a smile on her face.
Once things had slowed down and people had their fill of trying to get information we didn’t have out of us, Lyn and I were left to finally discuss the murder.
“So do you think it was Gareth?” I asked.
We’d stepped into the back of the shop since there weren’t any customers waiting in line. Voodoo perked up at the mention of the murder. He’d probably been back there listening all morning.
"I mean, it usually is the spouse or significant other, right?" Lyn mentioned.
"Yeah, statistically. But did he seem like the kind of guy who would kill his fiancée?" I asked.
"I think he looked like the kind of guy people would expect was capable of violence, but I don't think he was. At least not now," Lyn said.
"Sometimes it is the ones you least expect,” I said. "But what do you mean not now?"
“He was rough-looking,” Lyn began. “He had a beard and lots of tattoos. Gareth worked a lot, so he was usually dressed in dirty clothes from fixing cars. People didn’t seem to understand what Rosaline saw in him, but I know she admired how hard he’d worked to turn his life around.”
“Turn his life around?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’d been in some trouble as a teenager. The story around town was that he was busted for minor drug offenses a couple of times as a kid. He also hung around an outlaw motorcycle club for a while. As far as I know, he never actually joined. Instead he moved here and used what he knew about working on cars and motorcycles to get a job at the garage.”
“That’s interesting,” I said. “So, not everyone in town thinks he really turned his life around?”
“A lot of people think Gareth was in the relationship for the money. Rosaline and her family weren’t super rich, but they were quite comfortable. Rosaline made a pretty penny with her side business too.”
“What was her side business? I’ve never heard anything about this,” I said.
“She was like an online psychic. She did psychic readings over the internet. I think she would either email or message with people, and if they wanted to pay extra, she’d do video chat readings with them.”
“Wait, was she really psychic?” I asked.
“Probably not. Or else she would have seen her death, right?” Lyn asked.
“I’m not sure if that’s how it works or not,” I said and made a mental note to ask Trixie.
“But if she wasn’t real, then perhaps she made someone mad at some point?” I suggested.
“That’s a good point,” Lyn said. “If someone spent a bunch of money on her fancy consultations, and she didn’t help them, they could get really mad. But mad enough to kill her?”
“What if it was more than just her not helping? What if she gave someone advice and they got hurt somehow?” I asked.
“Whoa, yeah. I mean, if someone lost a bunch of money or lost their job over her advice, they might have been mad enough to kill.”
“The problem is figuring out who that might have been. If she was online, they could be anywhere,” I said.
“That’s true, but she had clients in Knox Hills,” Lyn said.
“Okay, we have to have ears to the ground. If you hear anything about someone being mad at her over her psychic readings, tell me, okay?”
“Wow, I’d heard that you liked to get involved in investigations,” Lyn said with a chuckle. “But you really do, don’t you?”
“Sorry,” I said and blushed. “I forgot that you might not be as interested in this as I am.”
“Oh, no. I’m interested. Especially with all of these folks coming in here and insinuating that the little tiff we had with the girls yesterday was enough for me to kill over. I mean, Rosaline wasn’t even involved really,” Lyn said. “She was just sort of quiet and embarrassed over the whole thing.”
“That’s the read I got too,” I said. “Okay, well, if you hear anything about one of Rosaline’s clients being murderously angry, please let me know.”
“Will do,” Lyn said.
The discussion was over at that point because the bell over the door rang. Lyn and I went out to the front of the shop, and Bethany had come in.
“What can I get for you, Bethany?” Lyn asked cheerfully.
“Oh, uh… I wasn’t coming in for ice cream,” Bethany said.
“Well, you’re here. Perhaps you should have some,” Lyn said.
“Okay.” Bethany warmed to the idea quickly. “I’ll have a scoop of the Pumpkin Spice is Nice in a cup.”
“Just one?” Lyn asked.
“Yep, just one. I don’t want to overdo it with the sweets.”
I had a br
ief flashback of when I worried about things like that. It sent a shiver down my spine to recall how crazy I was over every little thing I ate. It was in the past, though. At least Bethany was having a scoop of ice cream. That was something I never would have done.
While I got the ice cream, Bethany asked Lyn what she’d really come into the shop to discuss. “So, I’ve heard that there was a disturbance here yesterday involving Rosaline Lewis. I’m sure you ladies have heard that she was the unfortunate victim of a murder.”
“We heard,” I said. “But there wasn’t really a disturbance, and it was more her friend Scarlet that was upset about us running out of something. Rosaline wasn’t involved other than that she was here.”
“So, there was no altercation between the victim and you, Lyn?” Bethany asked her.
“Not at all,” Lyn said. “Scarlet was just upset about us running out of sprinkles. Perhaps a little disproportionally given the circumstances, but she’s having some family troubles. A sick relative, so I just let it go. Everyone left as friends.”
“What about you?” Bethany asked me. “I know you’re probably up to your nose in this already.”
I wondered if I should tell her our theory about the killer possibly being one of Rosaline’s clients. I didn’t want to send her in the wrong direction, but I figured maybe she would think it was worth looking into.
“I don’t really know who might have done it, but I did have an idea of where you could look,” I said.
"I figured you'd have something to say,” Bethany said, but one side of her mouth was cocked into a grin.
"Well, Lyn was telling me that Rosaline was an internet psychic. I was thinking that perhaps it was one of her clients that might have killed her. Maybe someone she gave very bad advice to,” I said.
"That's interesting. I'll look into it,” Bethany said. "But I'm sure it goes without saying at this point, you need to stay out of it."
"You said it, though," I joked.
"Only because I know you're tempted to stay involved,” Bethany said. "I've got enough to deal with right now. This case couldn't have come at a worse time."
"How do you mean?" I asked curiously.
"There are new people in town. Holly and Faust Wilson took over the bakery. Well, I should say they bought it. Jim Baker's family sold it since he probably won't be getting out of prison anytime soon. His wife had no interest in running the place. Especially since their divorce is going to be anything less than amicable. She decided to cash out."
"Wow,” I said. "But you don't think they had anything to do with it?"
"Not at all,” Bethany said. "But you know how it goes in a small town by now. Tongues are wagging that it could have been them. People around here do not trust outsiders."
"I do know how that goes,” I said. "Maybe I should go over there and say hello. I wonder how many people have welcomed them to Knox Hills."
"I doubt very many have been too welcoming, but they are at least patronizing the shop,” Bethany said.
"Yeah, people around here weren't going to go too long without their coffee and pastries. Even if they do have to buy them from outsiders,” I said.
"Well, I'm going to go look into to this psychic business. I imagine I'm going to need a warrant to get into her computer,” Bethany said with a sigh. "I will talk to you both later."
When she was gone, I told Lyn I was leaving for the day for sure. I collected Voodoo from the back, and we headed out.
"We're going to the bakery,” I said as we walked in that direction. "I don't know if you overheard my conversation with Bethany or not, but there are new owners. I'd like to go welcome them and see what baked goods they have to offer."
Voodoo let out a little happy bark. He couldn't say anything because there were other people around, but I got the message that he was up for a trip to the bakery. Sometimes I wondered if other people around Knox Hills thought I was crazy because I was always talking to my dog, but no one had ever said anything. At least, not to my face.
The new owners had changed the name of the bakery to Mad Batters. I thought it was funny and clever. Probably even funnier than Hot Bunns. Especially once I knew what a jerk Jim Baker was.
The heavenly aroma of coffee hit me before we got to the shop. Holly and Faust Wilson must have bought the secret to Jim's incredible coffee with the shop.
Voodoo sat down outside the door without having to be told. He was welcome in a lot of places, but I didn't want to assume the new bakery owners were okay with him coming inside. He liked to sit outside in the fresh air and watch people walk by anyway. Plus, he knew when I returned, I'd have some sort of delicious treat for him. It wasn't a good idea to feed regular dogs entire pastries, but familiars, like witches, could eat whatever they wanted.
As soon as I walked into the shop, I could immediately tell a huge difference from when Jim owned the bakery. The decor had been dark previously, but the new owners had painted the walls white and added country blue trim. The formerly dark wood tables had been replaced with new lighter tables with white legs and matching chairs. The place had an entirely different feel. Even Jim's old counter and bakery cases had been replaced and updated.
"Hello. Welcome," a woman said from behind the counter.
She was wearing a genuine smile on her round cheeks. Her ash blonde hair was pulled up in a bun on the top of her head, and she wore a white apron over her blue turtleneck.
"Hello,” I said.
"I'm Holly Wilson," she replied. "What can I get for you today?"
"Oh, I'm not sure. Can I take a look around?"
"Take all the time you need. Let me know if you have any questions,” Holly said. "Specials are behind me."
She pointed over her shoulder at a chalkboard sign. There was a very crudely drawn picture of a croissant, but it still had charm.
"What's in the chicken salad?" I asked, noticing that chicken salad on a croissant was the cold sandwich special for the day.
"Oh, I'm so glad you asked,” she said and rubbed her hands together. From anyone else, it would have seemed cheesy and over the top, but Holly seemed genuine. She was a breath of fresh air compared to the grumpy Jim Baker. "The chicken salad is my absolute favorite. Faust says I should only do it as a special once a week, but I do it twice. I'd do it every day if I thought I could get away with it. Anywho, it's pecan chicken salad. So, it's got fresh pulled chicken, pecans, celery, grapes, and my homemade mayo. I would never use anything from a jar."
"That sounds amazing. I'll take two,” I said and looked down at the case in front of me. My eyes met with a tray of shortbread cookies and pecan sandies. "I'll take a dozen of the pecan sandies too."
"Ooh, do you love pecans as much as I do?" Holly asked.
"I don't know, but I do love them,” I said. "Could I also get a large cup of the blueberry coffee to go?"
"Sure thing,” Holly said, and she started filling my order.
In addition to the regular coffee, it looked like Mad Batters offered a daily flavored coffee special as well.
Holly brought me two white paper bags, one with my sandwiches and one with the cookies. She got my coffee and then rang me up at the register. The white paper coffee cup had a blue cardboard ring around it to keep it from burning your hand. There was a picture of a mad hatter smiling back at me on the paper ring.
"I'm a little obsessed with Alice in Wonderland,” Holly said.
"I think it's great," I replied. "Welcome to Knox Hills. I'm Allegra Darling, by the way. I own Nuttie's Sundae Shop a couple of blocks away."
"Oh, I've been wanting to come in there and get a sundae. Maybe I'll see you,” she said.
"That would be nice."
With pleasantries out of the way, I left the bakery. Holly Wilson seemed very nice. I hadn't met her husband that time, but I figured I'd probably get the chance soon enough.
Chapter Three
I thought about going home, but what I really wanted to do was go over to the garage where Gareth worked, a
nd where they had found Rosaline, and see if there was any information to be gathered.
"Let's go eat our sandwiches,” I said. "And then I think we're going to go wander by the garage."
Voodoo and I walked over to the town square and found a bench to sit on. No one really paid us much mind while Voodoo ate his chicken salad sandwich from the wax paper it was wrapped in. I ate mine and sipped my coffee as well. It was completely delicious with just the right hint of sweetness to counteract the savory roasted chicken, pecans, and mayonnaise. When we were done with our sandwiches, Voodoo and I each had a cookie. I finished my coffee and threw all of the trash away. There was a water fountain in the square that had one of those little doggy fountains at the bottom. Before we left, Voodoo got a big drink.
The walk over to the garage was uneventful, but it took longer than I expected. I'd forgotten how close it was to the edge of town. If I had remembered that, I would have driven my car a little closer and cut down on the walk. Still it was a nice day, and it wasn't like I had anything better to do.
When we finally got there, I saw that all of the garage bay doors were open. There were three total, and there was a car in each one. One of them was on a lift, and the other two were on the ground. There was a man in a gray sleeveless shirt with tattoos and a beard under the one on the lift.
I wasn't sure what to do at first, so I just stood there awkwardly watching him work. Eventually he noticed me standing there and put down his wrench.
"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked.
He picked up a rag and started to wipe his hands off on it. As he did that, he made his way over to me.
It was true that he looked intimidating with the full sleeves of tattoos on his arms and dark beard. There were oil stains all over his gray shirt, and holes in his dirty jeans. Still, if you took the time to look closely, there was a softness to his eyes and expression that I hadn't expected from my first impression.
"Is your car somewhere? Do you need a tow?" he asked when I didn't say anything,
Sprinkles, Spelled, and Slayed Page 2