A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (4 page)

The sad irony of that situation didn’t escape me. Not long after he retired from the state police, the two separated
and divorced. Then she fell terminally ill with cancer and eventually passed away.

Missy suddenly growled low in her throat, nipped at his ankle, and then backed away from Nick. His eyebrows drew downward as he watched her saunter over to sniff at the front bushes. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t like her to be aggressive toward—or to walk away from—Nick. “We saw a cat earlier—maybe it’s hiding in the shrubs. Or she didn’t like your decision to join the police force.” I wasn’t too sure how I was feeling about it, either. “Mimi’s not scared?” I asked. Because suddenly, as I looked at the gun at his hip and imagined it being used against him, I was terrified.

“I suspect she is. A little. But she said she knew how much I wanted to do it. She did give me a stern lecture on being careful, and then admitted it was hard to be too afraid when I was driving a tiny bright yellow car.”

She had a point. The cars had also been part of the village police force overhaul. Nick was driving a yellow and black MINI Cooper emblazoned with the Enchanted Village logo (complete with the silhouette of a witch on a broomstick) that had been retrofit into a police car, complete with internal computer system and safety partition between the front and back seats. Sylar had deemed the new cars “tourist friendly.” He believed the old, traditional police cruisers hurt the village’s image by imbuing fear among visitors. The new cars proclaimed that there was no need for tourists to think any big bad wolves lived in the village. Though, as I had found out the hard way, sometimes they did.

But Sylar was right about the MINI Coopers being tourist friendly. No one was going to be fearful when they saw one monitoring the streets. And it was also his idea to buy four MINI Coopers in varying cuddly colors—
yellow, light blue, purple, pink. But the thought of hunky Nick behind the wheel of one made me smile. Big.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

I rocked on my heels and tried to tame my smile. “Nothing.”

Sylar, as the grand hoo-ha, also believed starchy police uniforms were off-putting. Instead, the village police dress code consisted of khakis and either a short-sleeved polo shirt or a traditional button-down. Nick wore the former, and a shiny badge was clipped to his belt. I approved of Sylar’s decision, though I wouldn’t have minded seeing Nick in a real uniform.

There had been some talk in the village about the new changes and people taking them seriously. After all, a colorful MINI Cooper and casual-Friday clothing didn’t exactly garner respect. But I wasn’t worried about that. One look at Nick and people would know who was in charge. Especially when he wasn’t pleased. Like right now.

A scowl deepened the lines around his mouth—and I had the feeling he knew what I was thinking about him and that car, which made me want to smile wider.

Nick was only thirty-five, but he had a weathered, lived-a-hard-life look about him. Maybe because when he was a state trooper, he’d been wounded in the line of duty. Maybe because when Melina got sick with pancreatic cancer he’d moved back in with her to help with her care. Maybe because he’d had to watch her die.

He’d become a single dad, the sole caretaker of his daughter, and the keeper of her biggest secret. Mimi was a Crafter, a Wishcrafter (her mom had been one), but Nick hadn’t known which Craft until a couple of months ago.

I’d been working with Mimi since then—giving her Wishcraft lessons. I wasn’t the most knowledgeable teacher (I was still learning the Craft myself), but we were doing pretty well.

“You aren’t going to give up your woodworking, are
you?” He made beautiful handcrafted pieces for the village’s souvenir shops and also for some of the finer furniture stores. It wasn’t just a hobby of his, but something he was truly passionate about. It was his craft, his magic, even though he had no magical powers—just immense talent. He was once a mortal, but when he married Melina and she decided to tell him about the Craft (and by doing so, lost her magical abilities), by Craft law they both became Halfcrafters. Half mortal, half Crafter. A Halfcrafter had no powers, but was privy to all Craft history, laws, and bylaws in order to help parent any Craft children, because kids born to a Crafter and a mortal would have full Craft powers.

However, it’s up to the child’s parents whether to share the Craft secret with their kids. In my case, my mother and father had kept my and Harper’s abilities a secret, and it wasn’t until after my father died and Aunt Ve paid us a visit that we learned of our heritage. In Mimi’s case, Nick and Melina had told her of the Craft, but she hadn’t truly learned the extent of her gift until a few months ago.

“I can do both.”

“Good.” My gaze lingered on his strong hands, and I resisted the urge to reach out and hold one.

A beat passed. Two. Finally, I said, “What are you doing here, anyway?” Patrice Keaton lived on a cul-de-sac, so I knew he wasn’t just passing by on patrol.

His brown eyes crinkled at the corners and the breeze ruffled his dark hair. “There was a report of suspicious activity at this address. I should have known you’d be involved. Ever since you moved here, where you go, trouble follows.”

“Hardly,” I protested. Though he had a point. I’d only lived in the Enchanted Village for a few months and had already been involved in a murder case and several break-ins, and identified a pickpocket. It had been fairly quiet
in my world the last few weeks, however, and I wanted nothing more than to keep it that way.

He asked, “So what are you doing here? Besides acting suspiciously?”

I watched as Missy toddled over to a tall arborvitae and started sniffing for all she was worth. I wasn’t worried about her wandering off. With Nick near, she wouldn’t go far. “As You Wish was hired by Elodie Keaton to clean up her mom’s house.” I glanced over my shoulder at the house, then checked my watch. “I was supposed to meet Elodie here more than fifteen minutes ago, but it looks as though I may have been stood up.”

His eyes glinted in the sun as he said, “I can’t imagine anyone would stand you up.”

My heartbeat kicked up a notch. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

My flirting skills were seriously rusty. Luckily, I was saved from another of his flirtatious comments when a car pulled up in front of the house. I’d seen the man who came toward us around the village but hadn’t met him and didn’t know who he was.

He held out a hand to Nick and said, “Good to see you, Nick.” He then glanced at me and said, “You must be Darcy. Elodie was caught up at the shop and sent me over. I’m Connor Merrick. Elodie’s fiancé.” He glanced at the Bumblebeemobile. “Is there a problem?”

Nick folded his arms across his chest. “Someone called in suspicious activity.”

Connor rolled his eyes. He was a big, beefy, teddy bear kind of guy. The type that probably played linebacker on the football team but really longed to do theater instead. Light curly brown hair, wide smile, long-lashed MoonPie eyes. “My mom?”

Nick smiled. “Might have been.”

Missy came and sat at my feet. “Your mom was the one who called?”

Connor’s chubby cheeks reddened as he pointed at a charming two-story house across the street. “She lives right there and always has an eye on what’s happening in the neighborhood. I bet she’s around here somewhere—she’s never one to watch what’s going on from afar. Mom, come out wherever you are!” he singsonged.

Not just theater but
musical
theater. He had a nice, soothing voice, baritone bordering on tenor. The village theater needed to sign him up.

Glancing around, I felt as though I was six years old, playing hide-and-seek. I held in the urge to shout, “Olly olly oxen free,” and bit my lip instead.

A woman stepped out from behind the arborvitae, brushing her hands over her arms as if dusting them off. “Hello. Hello there!” She smiled and acted as though she were greeting guests.

Well. That certainly explained Missy’s fascination with that shrub. I looked down at her. She looked up innocently at me and quirked an ear.

Some watchdog she was. Someone hiding in the bushes and not so much as a warning bark. Not so much as a whine.

Lassie would be ashamed.

I looked at the woman and saw a leaf in her hair. How long had she been watching us? It was creepy, to say the least, but the woman herself wasn’t the least bit frightening. Maybe late-forties, she was a tiny thing with big, brown buglike eyes, a blunt-cut blond bob, and eyeglasses that dangled from a chain around her neck. She wore Bermuda shorts, loafers, and a pink twinset. Just your average lurking-in-the-bushes schoolmarm.

“I’m sorry for the fuss,” she was saying, “but I saw the young lady casing the joint.”

Casing the joint?

“Mom,” Connor said, “you have to stop watching
Law & Order
.”

“It’s a highly informative show,” she said, coming up to us. She gave Connor’s cheek a pat, tucked some of his hair behind his ear, and
tsk
ed as she said, “You’re overdue for a haircut.”

“Mom.” Connor sighed.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” she asked, ignoring his embarrassment.

I had a feeling she did that a lot.

“I’m meeting Darcy. Mom, this is Darcy Merriweather. She works at As You Wish, and Elodie hired her to clean out Mrs. Keaton’s house. Darcy, this is my mother, Yvonne Merrick.”

As we shook hands, I had the feeling she was still sizing me up as a potential burglar. Little did she know the experience I already had with breaking and entering. No need to bring that up now—or explain that it had been done to help a friend.

“You must be Ve’s niece,” Yvonne said. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and it’s nice to finally meet you.” She pivoted to face Connor. “What’s this about cleaning up Patrice’s house? Why hadn’t I heard about this before now?”

Connor dodged the question by saying to me, “Do you want to see inside the house?”

I was trying to keep up with what was going on. Connor was acting as though his mother popped out of shrubbery all the time.

I eyed her. Did she?

“Darcy?” Connor asked.

“Yes,” I said. It was, after all, why I was there. “I’d like to see it.”

Yvonne grabbed on to Connor’s forearm. “This isn’t a good idea. Patrice wouldn’t want anyone in her house.”

“Patrice isn’t here, Mom,” Connor said.

Yvonne blanched and took a step back. “I don’t like this. Does your father know about this?”

Again, he dodged. “It’s Elodie’s decision.” Connor headed up the front steps with Missy at his heels. He pulled a key out of his pocket, poised to stick it in the lock; then he turned to face us, a frown on his face. “The lock is broken.”

Nick came alert. “Newly broken?”

“It was fine last night when I came by to water the flowers,” Connor said.

“Not again,” Yvonne muttered.

“Does this happen a lot?” I asked her. “Someone breaking in?”

“Every few months,” she said.

Missy barked as Nick stepped forward, going from easygoing to on-the-job in the blink of an eye. “Stay here,” he said to us.

He pushed open the door and went inside. From where I stood, I could see only beyond the front door. What I saw had my dread rising. It was a messier version of the shed. I hadn’t thought that was possible.

A long minute later, Nick emerged. He ran a hand down his face. “No one’s in there now.”

“Did they ransack the place? Steal anything?” Yvonne asked, clutching the chain that held her glasses. She swung it back and forth like a pendulum.

Nick looked at her blankly. “Honestly, I can’t tell. There’s so much stuff….”

“I’ll look around,” Connor said, heading in. “I know the inventory pretty well.”

“I’m coming, too,” Yvonne said, hot on his heels.

Nick made his way to the Bumblebee. “I have to make some calls.”

I was left standing there on the lawn alone. It took me a second to realize that Missy had gone into the house. What else to do but follow?

A blast of cool air greeted me as I tentatively stepped over the threshold. It had to be around sixty degrees
inside the house. Yvonne and Missy stood just inside the doorway, in what I assumed was the living room. It was hard to tell. Boxes and bags and clothes and trash and
stuff
were piled at various heights all around us, looking a lot like a mountainous garbage range. A snaking shoulder-width path had been raked through the clutter and led to the dining room. I was suddenly claustrophobic.

A stale smell permeated the air—the scent of an unused space. Of must, of dust. Almost like an attic that hadn’t been aired out in decades. I gaped in wonder.

Yvonne and I stood sideways, hip to hip, on the narrow path. She patted my arm. “It takes some getting used to.”

Some? That was the understatement of the century.

Connor came back into the room, raking a hand through his shaggy hair. “Same as always. Nothing’s missing.”

I didn’t know how he was so certain. “With the burglaries before, nothing was taken?”

“Nothing obvious, anyway,” Connor said.

Again, I was reminded of big bad wolves.

The room felt like it was closing in on me. To keep from hyperventilating, I focused on a wall covered in shadowboxes. A diploma and tassel in one. A 5K race bib and ribbon in another. A baby-themed box held a card with baby footprints on it, a silver rattle, and a tiny knit hat. Another had a Girl Scout sash with dozens of badges.

I recognized the wall for what it was—a Wishcrafter’s “photo” gallery. Wishcrafters were visible on film only as white starbursts—so there could never be any photos of us. Even though Elodie was only part Wishcrafter, she would have the same problem. This wall represented Elodie’s childhood, from birth to high school graduation. It was a sweet way to keep the memories alive, and I hated seeing the thick layer of dust on each box.

I glanced around and was having trouble taking in the
amount of
stuff
. It would take days just to clear this room alone—maybe longer, since I had to go through each individual box and bag looking for treasures. The kitchen space didn’t look much better. Had Elodie grown up like this? To what degree had her father been able to keep the hoarding in check while he was alive?