by Zoe Arden
I began shuffling out with them but stopped when something near the body caught my attention. There was something sticking out from just beneath the man's right leg. I could see the edge of it; it looked sort of like wet paper. Whatever it was could be a clue as to the killer... but what if the clue led back to Sadie? I knelt and pretended to tie my shoe, and when no one was looking, I grabbed it then hurried outside with the others.
"That was close," Sheriff Knoxx said to Eleanor a few minutes later when he'd joined us outside. "For a second, I thought we were dealing with dark magic for sure. Turns out the missing ring has nothing to do with this. It's just plain old murder."
"That's nice," Eleanor said.
Colt turned to me. "What were you gonna tell me before?"
"Oh," I said. "Nothing. Just that... I love you, too."
* * *
CHAPTER
SEVEN
.
.
.
* * *
* * *
.
We made it back to the bakery and found my father had returned from dropping Natalie off at home.
"There you all are," he said as he handed a customer a box of a half-dozen cupcakes. "About time."
There was another customer in line behind that one and several more wandering around the shop looking at the display cases. I wondered how long my dad had been back. Guilt pricked at my heart. We had a rule at Mystic Cupcake about not leaving anyone alone to run the store except in an emergency. You just never knew when a rush might hit. If that happened, it would be impossible to run the ovens and handle the customers at the same time. You would either fall behind or lose your mind or both.
I could tell from the guilty looks on Eleanor's and Trixie's faces that they were thinking the same thing but my dad didn't seem too put out by it.
"Natalie said she'd be back tomorrow for some chocolate bear claws," he told us.
"We don't have any chocolate bear claws right now," Trixie said.
"I think that's why she was telling me," my dad replied.
Trixie sighed. "I guess I can get some started," she said, reaching for an apron.
"Where'd you all go anyway? I came back and found everyone playing hooky."
"A tourist was murdered down at Knobs and Broomsticks," Eleanor said. He would hear about it soon enough anyway. It was impossible to keep things secret in a town this size.
"Murdered?" he asked, his eyes widening.
The customers all looked at Eleanor, including Lottie Mudget. Their ears instinctively perked up at this new bit of juicy gossip.
"Yes, Zane and Detective Hudson are down there now sorting it all out," Eleanor said.
"Do they know who did it?" asked Lottie, looking at them hopefully.
Lottie was Natalie Vargas' best friend and was almost as big a gossip as she was. It was a lucky break that Natalie herself was already at home. If she'd been here when this news broke, she'd never have left until she'd gotten every last bit of information out of Eleanor and the rest of us.
Lottie pushed aside another witch to get to Eleanor. "It's okay if you tell me what happened," she whispered. "You know I won't say anything." She mimicked zipping up her lips and threw a wink Eleanor's way.
Eleanor smiled at her. How she managed to stop her eyes from rolling I don't know. Everyone knew Lottie was one of the biggest gossips in Sweetland. Ever since Eleanor had married Sheriff Knoxx, Lottie—and most other people, for that matter—assumed that Eleanor knew everything about every case that happened in Sweetland Cove. As if Sheriff Knoxx went home at night and gave her detailed reports on every crime committed and every parking ticket issued.
One time, a wizard approached Eleanor and asked if she could speak to the sheriff about getting him out of a drunk and disorderly ticket. As if she had full control in such matters. The man had been offended when she'd informed him she didn't interfere in her husband's business.
"I have no idea what happened, Lottie," Eleanor said. "But if I find out, you'll be the first person I tell." I could tell that Lottie was having trouble deciding whether Eleanor had meant that sincerely or not but Eleanor was saved from answering any more questions by a slew of customers who came rushing in.
Suddenly, we were in the throes of a full-on rush and had no time to talk. I barely had time to think about the soggy piece of paper sitting in my pocket. I wanted to pull it out and look at it but I didn't dare do that in front of anyone. I wasn't even sure I should mention it to Eleanor and Trixie just yet. For all I knew, it was nothing but a piece of trash the tourist had fallen on when he'd died. It might not have been a clue at all.
The rush lasted a good hour as word spread about the murder and people made their way past our shop coming from or going to the crime scene. It was hard to resist looking in our windows and spying the chocolate and hazelnut frosted cupcakes along with dark chocolate and orange cookies we had set out on display this morning. There was something for everyone in our shop, and if the sight of our baked goods didn't draw you in, the smells would.
When things finally calmed down, I found an excuse to go in the back room.
"I'm gonna grab some more Fluffernutter root," I told them.
My dad looked at me. "I thought we were out of that." He looked questioningly at Eleanor. "Isn't that why you called her back during her lunch date with Colt?"
"Oh..." Eleanor muttered. "Yes but, um... Ava was right. We had some all along. How silly of me." She turned away from him and began wiping down the counters. My dad narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her for a moment but must have decided she was just being her normal, silly self and went around to the front of the display cases to clean fingerprints off the glass.
In the back, finally alone, I pulled out the paper from my pocket. My jaw dropped open. It wasn't a paper at all, at least not like I'd thought. It was a cupcake wrapper. I looked at it more closely, trying to examine it for clues. It wasn't one of our cupcake wrappers. Even though it had been all balled up and ready for the trash, I could still see black sparkles embedded within the white liner. There was something else, too. I couldn't quite make it out. It looked like an ink blot. I carefully unrolled the paper, afraid that it might rip if I moved too fast, and saw a dark mark on the bottom of the wrapper. It looked like a black rose.
"What the...?" I muttered.
The door swung open just then and Eleanor stepped into the room.
"We need some more whipped cream along with the Fluffer—" She stopped talking when she saw me, carefully reading my expression. Her eyes shifted from my face to the wrapper in my hands. "What is that?" she asked.
I held it out to her. "I was going to tell you once I knew myself. I picked it up at the crime scene."
"Ava!" she shouted, then looked behind her at the door she'd just come through and lowered her voice. "You shouldn't go picking up things from crime scenes. What if it's a clue?"
"That was sort of the point," I told her. "I think it is a clue, and I only grabbed it because I was afraid it might implicate Sadie somehow."
Eleanor's brow furled. "What is it?" she asked, stepping closer and holding out her hand.
I gave it to her.
"It's not one of ours, that's for sure."
She turned the wrapper over in her hands. "It looks vaguely familiar." She scratched the tip of her nose with her index finger, squinting at it as if that would somehow give her a different perspective. "I don't know," she finally said after a minute, throwing her hands up. She went to the door and stuck her head out.
"Trixie," she called. "Could you come back here for a moment and give me a hand with something?"
A moment later, Trixie appeared. Eleanor handed her the wrapper.
"I don't want your trash," Trixie said and handed it back.
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "It's not mine, you goof," she said and forced it back into Trixie's hands. "It's a clue. Ava swiped it from Knobs and Broomsticks."
Now Trixie was looking at it much more closely. She spun
it around in her hands, scrutinizing it.
"See the black rose on the bottom? And the black sparkles?" I asked. She nodded. "Do you recognize it?"
She flipped it over and around several times before finally looking up. "No."
My hope deflated.
"Are you sure it's a clue?" Trixie asked. "I mean, it could just be someone's garbage, right?"
"It was directly under the tourist's body," I told them. "Either he dropped it or someone standing very close to him did."
"So? It could be his friend's," Trixie said.
I shook my head.
"No. Remember? His friend said he was looking at a broom on the other side of the room when it happened. It couldn't be his."
"Another customer, then."
"Or it could be the killer's," I said. "I smelled something strange in the shop. Like burnt ashes."
Trixie pursed her lips. "I smelled it, too."
We both looked at Eleanor.
"I'm not sure. So much was happening, I don't think I noticed a smell. Zane did mention rotten eggs, though."
"Is there any chance it's all a coincidence?" I asked them.
Slowly, Eleanor shook her head. "No, I don't think so."
"So, the dark spirit is still on the loose."
"Yes, or it's already inhabiting someone's body. They can come and go as they please, inhabiting whoever they want," Trixie said.
"That's not exactly true," Eleanor said. "Dark spirits can't inhabit just anybody. If you're very strong-willed or very smart, it's much harder for them. They prefer to inhabit the bodies of people who are sick or weak."
"You mean people like Sadie?" I asked, thinking of her cold.
Eleanor nodded.
"I didn't see her anywhere near Knobs and Broomsticks, though," Trixie said.
"She could have gotten out without us seeing," Eleanor said. "Dark spirits can move very fast."
"You're saying it could have possessed her?" I screeched. "That she might have killed the tourist?"
"Possibly."
"Why does it have to inhabit someone to kill?" I asked.
"It doesn't necessarily. It depends on how strong it is or what it's after. Sometimes, it's easier for a spirit to kill when it's inhabiting a body; it can feed off the body's energy as well as its victim's."
This was all too much for me. "So, we should go to Sadie's and what? Just ask her if she's possessed?"
"No," Eleanor said. "I think what we need to do is figure out what this cupcake wrapper has to do with the murder, if anything."
"I suppose I can go check out Sweets n' Treats but what about Sadie? If she really is possessed, we can't just leave her alone."
"You go to Sweets n' Treats," Eleanor said, "I'll handle Sadie."
* * *
CHAPTER
EIGHT
.
.
.
* * *
* * *
.
Sweets n' Treats was the only other bakery in Sweetland Cove. They'd only been open a year or so and already had a checkered history. Their business had gone from thriving to diving to thriving once more. The two women who ran it—Wilma Trueheart and her niece Polly Peacock—had a somewhat sordid history. At least, Polly did.
Wilma herself was all right but Polly had a history of violence and dark magic that had scared off a lot of customers. At least initially. By now, many people had adjusted to seeing Polly back on the streets and living in Sweetland after her stint in Swords and Bones, a maximum-security prison. I just wasn't one of those people.
I peeked in through the window before going in, trying to finish sorting out in my head what I was going to say once inside. If I went in and asked to see their cupcake liners, they'd know something was wrong immediately. I'd have to be much cleverer about it. Maybe I should have brought Lucy; she always had a trick or two up her sleeve.
I was still peeking in through the window when Polly's head turned, and she saw me. Her long blond hair, a few shades darker than my own, bobbed around her shoulders.
"Shoot!" I muttered as she said something to Wilma. Wilma turned to look. The same dark blond hair bobbing around her shoulders. She was tall, and the more she looked my way, the smaller I felt. Her brows drew tightly together. I took a breath and waved at them, planting a big, friendly smile on my face. Then I went and opened the door.
"Hi," I said, stepping inside. They shot each other a look.
"Hi..." Wilma tilted her head to the side, watching me from behind the counter with Polly, who was looking at me with an expression that reminded me vaguely of the expression Eleanor had made earlier when it looked as though she was trying to lay an egg.
"What's up?" I asked.
Now Wilma's head tilted even further to the side so that her left ear was almost touching her shoulder.
"What's up?" Polly screeched. "What are you in third grade?"
"Polly," Wilma snipped, setting her head straight again. She gave her niece a warning look and Polly backed off. I knew that Wilma had worked hard to restore the image of her bakery after several unfortunate events had tarnished their reputation. I even felt some sympathy for her. After all, it wasn't her fault that Polly had grown into a mindless, murdering thug.
Careful... my inner voice warned me. I told it to shush but heeded its warning. There was no need to get off to a bad start with Polly. Especially when I had a few questions for her. If anyone in Sweetland was going to play host to a dark spirit, Polly fit the bill perfectly. She was dark magic all the way.
But she can't practice dark magic anymore, my voice reminded me, breaking its short-lived silence. Her powers were stripped.
"Whatever," I muttered under my breath.
"I'm sorry about that," Wilma said, her own smile now on her face. "We're good. What's up with you?"
Polly rolled her eyes and turned to grab a tray of cupcakes that she was decorating.
Perfect!
"Oh, I was just out running a few errands and I had a craving," I said as I moved closer to where Polly stood, stretching my neck to get a better look at the cupcakes and the wrappers that contained them. They were all the same wrapper—standard white.
"Something wrong?" Polly asked when she caught me staring.
"No, just looking. Those look delicious." I licked my lips, hoping to emphasize the point. "Um... what sort of cupcake wrappers do you use?" The question hadn't sounded quite so strange in my head but hearing it come out of my mouth, I realized how dumb it sounded.
Polly and Wilma looked at me. "What do you mean?" Wilma asked. "We use regular cupcake wrappers, just like you do."
"I know, but I mean, those look so pretty."
Wilma looked at one of the cupcakes Polly was holding. "These liners? They're plain white. What's so pretty about them?"
"Well, the last batch of white liners we ordered came out looking more gray than white. Where do you order yours from? Do you have any more? Any other colors?"
Wilma scratched her head. "Let me see. We have several colors, I suppose. Most of them are out in our cases now; you can see for yourself."
I looked at the display cases she pointed to and saw cupcakes wrapped in red, blue, yellow, gold, silver, and a whole host of colors but none of them matched the one I'd found at Knobs and Broomsticks.
"Do you have any others? Something with sparkles, maybe?"
"A few. Do you need some for Mystic?" Wilma asked. "I'm happy to give you what we have. Just make sure your customers know where they came from when they buy your cupcakes. You can never have too much word of mouth."
"That'd be great! Thank you so much!"
Wilma disappeared into the back, leaving me alone with Polly.
"What's really going on?" Polly asked me.
"What do you mean?"
"You're not here for cupcake liners."
"No. I told you, I had a craving."
"A craving for what?"
My mind went blank. I knew their products quite well—it paid to know your
competition's product—but I couldn't for the life of me think of a single pastry to ask for besides cupcakes, and she'd never buy that's what I came in for. I could get cupcakes from my own bakery.
"Some of that honey crisp waffle cake I've been hearing so much about," I finally said.
Her eyes narrowed but didn't stay that way. "That is one of our most popular sellers. Who told you about it?"
"Lottie Mudget," I said. I knew that Lottie, despite being loyal to the Mystic Cupcake, sometimes snuck down here for a different sort of treat.
"I'll have to thank her," Polly said and cut me a slice of cake.
I had to admit, it looked delicious. I couldn't actually remember where I'd heard about this cake; for all I knew it really had been Lottie who'd told me about it.
I paid for the cake and Wilma resurfaced from the back room, a small shopping bag in her hand. She gave it to me with a smile. "I put some of each color in there for you, along with the business card for our supplier."
"Thanks, I appreciate it. And I'll make sure to tell anyone who asks where the liners came from."
"Don't wait until they ask," Wilma said. "Just tell them. I'm sure they'll want to know something like that. After all, decorations are half of what turns a customer into a customer-for-life."
"Uh, sure, I'll remember that."
I thanked them again and headed out, anxious to get out from under their scrutinizing stares so that I could get a look at those wrappers. Polly had put glittery gold tissue paper in the top of the bag like it was a birthday gift. I tossed it into a trashcan and reached inside. I pulled out a few dozen wrappers in assorted colors. Pink... blue... green... they all had glitter but none of them had black glitter. And none of them had a black rose on the bottom.