It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery (7 page)

BOOK: It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery
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She wasn’t fooling me. Getting to the shop early
meant she’d have more time to snoop in the back alley. Was crossing crime-scene tape punishable by law? I wondered. I could already imagine the phone call from the local police station to come bail her out.

I had a very good imagination.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?” I said as I headed for the stairs.

“You worry too much, Darcy,” she called after me.

That was true. I was an excellent worrier, a trait that had kicked in right about the time my mother died.

As sunlight filtered through the picture window in the kitchen, there was no sign of a ticked-off Tilda. I filled her food bowl and gave her fresh water. When I reached for the coffee carafe to fill it, I found a note from Ve taped to the pot.

Darling girls,

I didn’t want to wake you when I came in for a change of clothes. Please cover for me today at As You Wish. My Day-Timer is on my desk with today’s appointments. I am not sure when I’ll be back, but I will check in as soon as I can. So far Sylar has not been charged; however, he is not being released. With hope we will both be home soon.

Love, love, love,
Auntie Ve

She must have been in and out early this morning. I was surprised I hadn’t heard her—usually I’m a light sleeper. After setting the coffee to perk, I slipped on a pair of sneakers and grabbed Missy’s leash. We headed for the village green.

It was still too early in the day for tourists, but locals were already out and about. Several people were jogging, others walking their dogs, and there was a steady
stream of customers headed into the Witch’s Brew for their morning paper, coffee, and gossip.

There would be a lot of the last this morning, what with the murder and all. If Sylar had been concerned last night that the petty thefts were going to hurt tourism, I could only imagine what was going to happen now.

As Missy and I walked a lap around the green, I found myself drawn toward Alex’s shop, Lotions and Potions. A village police cruiser and the police chief’s unmarked vehicle were parked at the curb and people were moving around inside the shop and in Alexandra’s second-floor apartment. I watched as a man in a tan suit came out carrying a bulging trash bag. I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d found.

“What do you think they’re looking for?” a voice asked from behind me.

I turned and found an out-of-breath Starla Sullivan holding a wriggling Twink. She set him down and Missy commenced in sniffing the littler dog.

“A signed confession from the murderer?” I joked.

Starla smiled, and it practically stretched from ear to ear. It lit her whole face, brightening her eyes and making her glow. Her name fit her perfectly. “That would be convenient,” she puffed out.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just made a run for it when I saw you over here. Guess I’m a little out of shape. I need to add more cardio to my workouts.” A runner jogged past us and gave a friendly nod. “Jogging,” Starla said, lighting up again. “I should start jogging. No,
we
should start jogging. It’s always more fun to run with a partner. What do you think?”

“Besides that you’re crazy?”

Starla wasn’t movie-star thin, but she wasn’t heavy, either. I was naturally average bordering on the thin side (good genetics)—thank goodness, because I didn’t have an athletic bone in my body.

She laughed. “Come on. Everyone can use a little toning.”

“Why are you eyeing my triceps?”

“Well, now that you mention it”—she jiggled the loose skin on my upper arm—“it is kind of…”

“Be nice.”

“Flaccid.”

Flaccid. No one wanted to be
flaccid
, least of all me. “That’s not nice.”

“But honest. I’m always honest. I bet it jiggles when you wave. Go ahead, wave.”

“I really don’t think—”

“Just try it.”

I figured it was easier to do what she asked than protest. I waved. Sure enough, my skin jiggled like Santa’s belly.

An approaching jogger mistook my jiggle test as friendliness, waved back, and altered his course to head toward us.

As he neared, recognition hit fast and fierce and my heart started beating a crazy rhythm.

“Good morning,” Nick Sawyer said as he slowed to a stop, his lean calves and upper arms glistening with an oddly appealing sheen of sweat.

“Good morning,” Starla and I said in unison.

I fought the urge to hide my flaccid arms, and instead focused on keeping Missy from jumping all over him. I could completely understand why she wanted to, but it just wasn’t polite. “Down, Missy!”

“She’s all right,” Nick said, squatting so Missy could have free access.

Lucky dog.

No. I gave myself a hard mental shake. No, no, no. He was just eye candy, and if my father, a dentist, had instilled in me one lesson, it was that sugar was bad for me. Very, very bad.

“Here comes the computer,” Starla said, motioning
toward Alexandra’s shop again. Her blond ponytail swung as her head turned.

Sure enough, a detective was carrying out a hard drive and a laptop.

“I can’t believe I missed all the excitement last night,” Starla added. “Alexandra wasn’t the friendliest sort, but she was always nice to me, and Evan really adored her. I heard you found the body, Darcy. Do the police really think Sylar’s guilty? How’s Ve holding up?”

Her questions spun in my head, twisting and twining, making me a little dizzy. I noticed Nick looking up at me—he was still squatting, lavishing Missy with scratching and belly rubs. “I haven’t seen her since last night. I found a note this morning that there haven’t been any big changes. No news is good news?”

“What about Alexandra’s watch?” Starla loosened Twink’s lead and the dog bunny-hopped over to Nick to get his share of attention. “I’d say that’s pretty big news.”

Nick’s brow furrowed and a bead of sweat slid down the side of his stubbled jaw. “What about her watch?”

I thought back to the night before, to the rain falling, to Sylar bending over Alex’s body. I could see the puckering of her silk dress, the water beading on her legs, her arms. Her bare arms. Her fancy watch was gone.

“Whoever killed her stole it. It’s all the talk over at the Witch’s Brew,” Starla said. “Speculation is running high that the local thief stepped up his game and killed Alexandra for her watch. According to Shea Carling at All That Glitters, that watch was worth almost fifty thousand dollars.”

I gaped. “Fifty thousand?”

Starla tightened the band of her ponytail as she said, “She would know, too, since she sells Harry Winston pieces in her store.” She dropped her voice. “Shea let it slip that Alexandra had come to her a few weeks ago to get an appraisal. She said Alexandra hinted that the watch had been a gift from a boyfriend, someone local,
though Shea doesn’t know who. There was an inscription on the watch, though. ‘A Madness Most Discreet.’ Sounds like a loving relationship, eh?”

“Shakespeare,” Nick said. “Part of one of his more famous love quotations.”

“Well, well,” Starla teased. “Don’t tell me you’re a romantic at heart.”

He didn’t so much as blush. “I think I read it on a mug at the gift shop.”

“Suuure,” Starla said, drawing the word out.

I could tell she had a brother—I’d have a hard time joking with Nick like that without sounding like I was flirting outrageously. Somehow, Starla pulled it off.

Nick was probably right, though, about the quote being Shakespeare. Sounded like something he’d write.

Standing, Nick left Missy and Twink staring up adoringly at him. “Pickpocketing to murder is a big leap.”

“It makes more sense than Sylar Dewitt killing her. He couldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Sometimes people are very good at hiding who they truly are.” Nick reached out a hand, and I nearly jumped clear out of my flaccid skin when he brushed my cheek with his finger. At the tip, something sparkled. “Glitter,” he said with a faint smile. “I need to get home. Good day, ladies.” He bent and patted the dogs’ heads before he broke into a sprint.

Starla stared at me.

“What?”

She laughed. “Oh, Darcy, you’re going to be the envy of this village.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nick Sawyer is the village’s most eligible bachelor. And it looks like he has his sights set on you.”

I adjusted my glasses. “Have I told you that you’re crazy?”

“Only once so far today.”

“Is that watch really worth fifty thousand?”

Starla accepted the change of subject. “Yes, but what’s got my curiosity up is who gave it to her in the first place. No one in the village knows of Alex having any kind of boyfriend.”

It made me wonder what other secrets Alexandra Shively was keeping.

And if those secrets were why she was killed.

Chapter Six

A
s You Wish’s phone was ringing when I pushed open the kitchen door. I dropped Missy’s leash and made a run for the handset in our private office off the first-floor hallway. The room was tight with two desks, overflowing bookshelves, filing cabinets, and enough clutter to make me feel claustrophobic. I had yet to convince Ve to let me tidy the place and create some form of order. Thank goodness the clients never saw this space, or they might question our organizational skills.

Sunlight splashed off pretty light green walls as I grabbed the phone. “As You Wish, this is Darcy. What is the wish you wish today?”

There was no chance of any wish being spoken over the phone being granted. Another of the Wishcraft Laws was that the wisher had to be present for the wish to be fulfilled.

“Darcy, I’m so glad you’re there. This is Cherise Goodwin, and I need your help.”

I sank into the upholstered desk chair and looked around for a pad of paper. A pile of invoices toppled before I finally found some sticky notes. “What can I do for you? Laurel Grace didn’t have nightmares about sparkly pink strangers, did she?” My glasses slid down my nose as I searched for a pen. I finally found one under Ve’s day planner.

Missy had followed me in, and I unhooked her leash and rubbed under her chin. She trotted out of the room, probably on a Tilda hunt.

Cherise laughed, then cleared her throat. “No, no, nothing like that. Apparently you made quite an impression on Laurel Grace after she had time to think about it—a good impression. So much so that suddenly she’s lost another tooth this morning. One that was wiggly but probably not quite ready to come out.”

I winced.

“She wants to see you again. Tonight. Please tell me it’s possible. Whatever the cost, I will cover it.”

I heard Missy let out two excited barks, but then she quieted right down. I thought she’d probably found Tilda, until I heard footsteps. I craned my head to see who it was—had Harper come back?—and, off-balance, nearly fell off the chair. “Are you sure?” I said absently to Cherise.

I jumped when a head poked into the office. Ve looked drawn and tired, but I was glad to see her. I covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “Are you okay?”

Ve nodded. “You finish up—I’ll be in the kitchen.”

I tuned back in to what Cherise was saying, all the while worrying about Ve. I had a feeling things were going to get much worse for her before they got better.

“Trust me.” Cherise sounded worn down. “It will be worth it if Laurel Grace gets what she wants. Otherwise we’ll never hear the end of it. And I mean never.”

I tapped the end of the pencil on the sticky notes, leaving a pattern of polka dots. “Does she have any other loose teeth?”

“Dear Lord, I hadn’t thought of that. This can go on and on until all her permanent teeth come in.”

“I was thinking more about how far Laurel Grace would go to forcefully remove her teeth just to get a tooth fairy visit.”

There was silence on the line for a second while
Cherise contemplated what I’d said and its ramifications. Cherise was a Curecrafter, but I didn’t know if that covered dental work.

Finally, she said, “We have to come up with something to tell her, Darcy. She can’t keep yanking out teeth just to see you. Can you think of anything?”

I had a few ideas. “I’ll take care of it. What time would you like me to be there?” I was already dreading putting on the tulle again. This time, however, I’d go easy on the glitter.

“Same time as last night?”

“I’ll be there.”

I hung up and put a call in to Laurissa Hale at the Spinning Wheel and left a message on her machine (the shop didn’t open till nine) that I needed another embroidered tooth fairy pillow for Laurel Grace, to be picked up this afternoon.

As I jotted the appointment into Ve’s day planner, I noticed a notation for this afternoon. **
Find wombat.
**

Why would someone want a wombat? A wombat of all things. I racked my brain trying to come up with any wombat facts I had stashed in the cobwebby corners. Australia popped right up along with a fuzzy image of an oversized groundhog-type critter. I could only imagine how Ve had planned to find one. I took the day planner with me into the kitchen. It was empty.

I heard hushed voices coming from upstairs. I stood at the bottom of the back staircase and listened. Sure enough, Ve was in the midst of a heated conversation with another woman whose voice I didn’t recognize. I noted that Ve’s cell phone was on the counter next to her purse and keys. The house phone didn’t have a speakerphone option. Had she brought someone home with her?

I could hear only bits of the conversation. Something about someone being naive, and something about it being dangerous, foolish, and familiar. I had no idea what
“it” was. When I heard the unknown woman tell Ve she was making a “foolhardy decision,” I debated whether to check on Ve and finally decided to give her some privacy. I looked in Tilda’s food bowls (the food hadn’t been touched) and filled Missy’s bowl. I washed my hands and finally—finally!—poured a cup of coffee.

I’d just added creamer when Ve came down the stairs with Missy following behind her.

“Please pour me some also. I’m going to need all the caffeine I can get.” Color was high in her cheeks as she pulled herself up onto a counter stool and whisked imaginary crumbs from the quartz countertop. “Who was on the phone, dear? A client?”

BOOK: It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery
12.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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