Chapter 15 #2
Arthur nodded and gave her an encouraging smile. He remembered what Lore had said about Stephanie’s emotional state after her arrest and guessed she would respond better to a slow and gradual prodding rather than an outright interrogation. “We just adore the soaps you made.”
“Oh? I’m so glad!” Her expression brightened.
“Indeed. I’d love to discuss stocking the inn with them. Do you have wholesale pricing?”
Stephanie faltered. “Um…Yeah, can I maybe send you some figures later? I’d have to check my pricing sheet.”
“Of course. That’s no problem. I have to crunch the numbers anyway.
” Arthur heaved a sigh, only halfway performance.
He did his best to channel Sal as he summoned manufactured fatigue for a subject he actually quite enjoyed.
“Running a business is all well and good, but the finances of it all are quite the bummer.”
“Ugh, yeah. I’m with you on that.” Stephanie adjusted the child on her hip. “I put the rest of my savings into supplies for soapmaking. After my last venture turned out to be a bust, I really need this one to work out.”
“The last one? What did you do before?”
Stephanie turned her gaze down and mumbled, “I was a potion reseller.”
Arthur’s mouth fell open, then he schooled his features into a bland expression. It was a good thing she wasn’t looking at him. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard that can be feast or famine. Were you working for the Celestine Coven?”
Stephanie shook her head. “No. My contract was with the Willamette Witches. They went under about six months ago, though, and now I’m stuck with all this extra product. And no one wants to buy it with the Celestine Coven in town.”
Arthur’s mind whirred with this new information.
Stephanie wasn’t a witch, it seemed, but she knew some.
If they were the reason she was in financial straits, could she have taken out her frustration on Lola?
Cilantro wasn’t the murder weapon, but perhaps that had all been performative to get her cleared early.
If she was proven not guilty of the crime she’d all but admitted to, no one would suspect her once more details came to light.
“I’ll take some,” Arthur heard himself say.
He removed a few bills from his wallet and handed them to Stephanie.
He tried to discern if there was any fear in her expression.
If the potions she had matched the one that had killed Lola, she would certainly have reason for panic.
But Stephanie just shrugged and gestured to the house behind her.
“I’ll just be a minute. I can grab you that price sheet while I’m at it. ”
Arthur glanced around her garden, taking mental note of the herbs he saw growing in the raised beds: oregano, basil, sage, rosemary, chamomile, chives, thyme, and plenty of cilantro, of course. He didn’t spot any telltale pink blooms of oleander, though.
Through the window, Arthur saw Stephanie set the child in a high chair in the kitchen before she returned with a sheaf of paper and a couple bottles.
The Willamette Witches–branded potions were in a square-shaped bottle with a wax seal on top.
The insides were much murkier than the Celestine Coven potions, likely on account of having no edible glitter inside.
Stephanie told Arthur what each one did—not that it mattered since they wouldn’t work on him—and thanked him for his purchase.
Arthur pocketed them and the price sheet before bidding Stephanie farewell.
“There you are!” Sal exclaimed as he came round the corner. He was sprawled in the grass beside the bike, a sleepy look in his eyes. “I thought you’d been abducted!”
“And you just…took a nap about it?”
“Well, naturally. I was too depressed to search for you.”
Arthur sighed and removed his notebook to record his interaction with Stephanie.
There were some oddities to her connection with witchcraft, and her money trouble made for a compelling motive, but he couldn’t connect the dots.
Without the oleander or a clearer line between Stephanie’s woes and Lola, he had nothing.
“I need to drop off a few more samples with Lore,” Arthur said. At least she could test Stephanie’s potions to see if they were a match for the one that killed Lola. “And then to city hall?” He wasn’t even sure Sal had bothered to text Quinn yet, so it would be good to remind him now.
“No. Quinnie texted back already.” Sal paused dramatically. “She wants us to meet at the library!” He wiggled his fingers as if decorating the words with a little choreography would make it more exciting.
Arthur swung his leg over the bike with haste. A visit to the library would be most thrilling indeed.
Unfortunately, Lore confirmed what Arthur had already guessed. Stephanie’s potions weren’t a match for Lola’s stomach contents.
“The lack of glitter’s a dead giveaway,” Lore said, shaking her head. “Wordplay not intended.”
“Coward!” Sal shouted. “Always intend your wordplay!”
They both ignored him. Lore held up a test swatch for Stephanie’s potions. “These are actually magical, though they’re pretty weak. Where did you get them, anyway?”
Arthur didn’t think it was wise to alert Lore to his suspicions about her friend, so he glanced at his watch and said, “Look at the time! Sorry, Lore, we’re supposed to meet Quinn. Thanks for your help. Let us know if you learn anything else!”
And with that, they were off, speeding on their bike toward the library just a few blocks away.
Though Arthur and Sal had lived in Trident Falls for about eight months now, Arthur hadn’t yet gotten around to going to the local library.
Things like renovations, running the inn, and a couple murders had all gotten in the way.
What a delight for Quinn to suggest the Trident Falls Public Library as a meeting place.
He could ask for her help and procure a library card at the same time.
Someday soon, Arthur would avail himself of the tomes inside and spend a cozy afternoon reading a book.
The library was a little outside downtown, in a two-story pale brick building surrounded on three sides by trees. Quinn waited for them outside, in the shade of towering camellia bushes in desperate need of pruning. She wore her Solstice Festival T-shirt and her usual no-nonsense expression.
“Aren’t you looking spiffing today, Quinn!” Sal practically shouted as they approached. Arthur hoped his husband would get all of his dramatic loudness out of his system before they went inside.
“You, too,” Quinn said, lowering her sunglasses to take in Sal’s outfit. Her words were so deadpan that Arthur couldn’t be sure if she was serious or not.
“We don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Arthur said. “I’m sure you’ve got lots to get back to.”
“Things are going smoothly at the festival, all things considered,” Quinn said as they approached the front door. “No one’s been murdered today, at least.”
“Not yet!” Sal said in an encouraging voice, like he thought Quinn was disappointed by the lack of excitement.
Quinn gave him an appraising look, but didn’t reply.
Arthur held the door open for his companions, then entered after them, grateful that public buildings like this didn’t require an invitation.
Stepping out of the bright sun into the hush of the library was an almost magical experience.
The building was too old for air-conditioning, but lovingly maintained—much like himself, he liked to think.
The scent of books floated on the air. Neat rows of shelves stood evenly spaced on gleaming wood floors.
The only sound was the hum of a box fan somewhere inside.
Quinn headed straight for the circulation desk in the middle of the first floor.
A chubby librarian sat behind it. They wore a simple they/them pronoun pin on their mauve cardigan.
They looked to be in their fifties, by Arthur’s estimation, with hair pulled into a bun that was almost exactly half gray on top and half dark brown on the bottom, and smile lines creasing golden-brown skin.
Opposite their pronouns pin was a name tag that read Paige Turner with Regular Human Librarian beneath in smaller letters.
“Hello, Quinn,” Paige said, looking up from the book they were reading to reveal iridescent purple eyes. “I see you’ve brought friends. How lovely!”
Quinn jabbed a thumb at Arthur and Sal. “These are the vampires who run the Dead & Breakfast.”
“Arthur Miller, no relation.” Arthur shook Paige’s hand.
“And I’m Salvatore Conte.” When Paige held out their hand, Sal lightly took their fingers and asked, “May I?” With their nod, he kissed their knuckles with a dramatic flourish. “Utterly charmed—figuratively, of course.”
“They’re here to do some research,” Quinn explained.
“We’re looking for some information about a former resident of the town—two, as a matter of fact.” Arthur didn’t think now was a good time to get into the grisly details of the murder, especially not with someone he’d just met. “Perhaps you can point us in the direction of your catalog system?”
“And before you ask,” Sal added, “one of them has absolutely no online presence, making her impossible to cyberstalk. Can you believe it? In this day and age, one would practically have to be dead not to be on social media.” He looked directly at Arthur as he said that last bit.
“Intriguing,” Paige said, leaning forward on their elbows. “I suppose this goes beyond the usual question of marriages and births?”
“Indeed,” Arthur said. “Any advice you have is welcome.”
“You’ve come to the right place.” Paige hopped off their chair and came around the desk, revealing themself to be no taller than five feet. “This library has more than books and periodicals. We’ve got a whole room devoted to local history. And a rather large collection of DVDs.”
“Oh, really?” Sal perked up. “Do you have old seasons of Love Is Dead—”
“We’re here for research today, but I’m sure we’ll be back,” Arthur said, before Sal could get them too far off track.