Chapter 15 #3
“You’re on a quest. I understand.” Paige wore reading glasses attached to a chain, which appeared to be studded with real rubies. They pushed their spectacles up their nose, then nodded once, decisively. “Follow me.”
“Have fun storming the archive,” Quinn said with a wave. “I’ve got festivities to oversee or something.”
Paige led Arthur and Sal through the stacks to a section labeled LOCAL HISTORY. “Now, what can you tell me about the people you’re looking into?”
“We believe both are witches,” Arthur said.
“Let’s start with the coven rosters, then.”
“There are rosters?” Arthur was surprised to hear it.
He assumed covens would be more secretive about their members.
There had been several efforts to register paranormals through the years, but they had always been in service of discrimination.
It was odd to think witches might have volunteered for such a list.
“Of course,” Paige said, heading for a particular shelf full of binders.
“Not all witches are part of a coven, but there are benefits to joining. Covens are like some other social clubs. There are tax breaks to be had if you make it official. As a human myself, I am intimately familiar with things like breaking taxes.”
It was a feat of self-control that Arthur kept a straight face. He wondered what Martha would have to say about breaking taxes.
With a thump, Paige heaved a stack of binders onto a table.
They straightened up, dusting off their hands.
“I’ll be at the desk if you need more help.
Feel free to look at anything in this room.
Leave it all on the table and I’ll shelve it later.
Unfortunately, none of it is available for circulation, though.
It stays here.” Their delivery of the last sentence went beyond stern and well into vaguely threatening territory.
“Of course,” Arthur said hurriedly. After Paige left, he gave Sal a long look. “You heard the librarian. No library heisting.”
“But—”
“I don’t care if you have the perfect song. We will follow the rules under this roof. The last thing we need is to make an enemy out of a regular human librarian.”
Sal began to hum the Charlie’s Angels theme song as he wandered over to another shelf.
Searching through the coven rosters didn’t take as long as Arthur worried it would, even without Sal’s help. The records went back over a hundred years, but the Celestine Coven was much newer, leaving only a decade to search.
Page after page, Arthur came up empty, until at last he’d checked each roster. Celestine Coven had a local chapter listed, but neither Lola’s nor Wilhelmina’s name was on it.
Arthur sat back and rubbed his eyes. Sal, who’d been reading old newspapers and chuckling about the out-of-date slang he’d half forgotten, wandered over.
“Nothing?” he asked sympathetically.
“If Wilhelmina was in a coven here, she never made it official.”
“She could’ve joined the Celestine Coven in another state after she left Trident Falls.”
Arthur nodded. “Perhaps she did…” Arthur didn’t relish the idea of calling libraries across the country, asking them to dig up old coven records. He parted his mouth to ask Sal to borrow his phone to do just that, then paused. “Perhaps we can find another connection between them in the newspapers.”
“Or you could check those,” Sal said, pointing to a corner of the room where Trident Falls High yearbooks filled the shelves. “I noticed them while browsing for entertainment.”
Arthur approached the shelf. “It’s worth a shot.”
Arms full of the range of years Wilhelmina would’ve attended school, Arthur returned to his search. Sal even chipped in, though his help was mostly in the form of mocking the outrageous haircuts and fashions on display.
“Oh, I do love senior quotes!” Sal settled in, reading the most outlandish ones out loud.
A scant fifteen minutes later, Arthur spotted Wilhelmina. He could see the resemblance to Brody in her face, though her last name had been Houtkooper then.
“No wonder she took her husband’s name,” Arthur muttered.
Sal’s eyes lit up. “What are you talking about? Houtkooper is sublime!”
Arthur scanned the other names of the class, but didn’t recognize any of them.
However, as he flipped through the pictures of club activities, he saw a photo of a group of students standing outside by a greenhouse.
Gardening club. Wilhelmina’s young, smiling face stared up at him and he felt an immediate kinship.
Beside her was a mousy-looking girl with a brown bob and a blond girl with bright eyes.
“We know Wilhelmina grew up here, but what if Ambrosia did as well?” Arthur asked, the cogs beginning to turn in his mind.
“That seems a stretch.”
“Is it? Martha does their taxes, doesn’t she?
” Arthur retrieved the Celestine Coven records and flipped to the beginning.
It claimed the coven was founded in the state of Oregon ten years ago.
Arthur pointed to it. “It doesn’t list the city, but they did agree to come here for the Solstice Festival. ”
“If Ambrosia was from here, why not mention it?” Sal asked. “You’d think that would be an excellent marketing highlight if it were true.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want anyone to know.” Arthur stood up and began to pace.
Sal gasped. “Are you suggesting she might be ashamed of her hometown? When it has amenities such as these to offer?” He pointed to the fan in the corner that circulated the overwarm air to no avail.
Arthur sighed. Sal hadn’t poked fun at their town in weeks, but perhaps it was too much to hope he’d broken the habit entirely. Arthur would agree that Trident Falls had its quirks, not all of which were ideal, but he couldn’t help loving this town all the same.
Sliding the yearbook toward Sal, Arthur pointed to the picture. “Recognize anyone?”
“I stand corrected!”
Arthur flipped back to the page with Wilhelmina’s class listed and looked closer. There she was: Amanda Griegson. Of course Ambrosia Celestine hadn’t always been her name. Arthur wasn’t sure why he hadn’t suspected it before. Any old record would probably list her as Amanda, not Ambrosia.
“We’ve got her,” Arthur murmured in triumph, turning back to the page with the gardening club photo. “She can’t deny this.”
Sal leaned over and took a picture of the page with his phone.
“It’s proof Ambrosia knew Wilhelmina. Perhaps she killed her and Lola.”
“How juicy! What do you suppose it all means?”
Arthur bit his lip. A theory, only half formed, rose in his mind. “I’ve been wondering…have you seen Ambrosia do any real magic?”
“I’ve seen what you’ve seen, my dear.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange? She’s the head of a coven, practically worshipped by her followers. But she doesn’t actually perform spells. She doesn’t even enchant her own potions.”
Sal gasped. “You think she isn’t a real witch?”
“It’s a pretty compelling reason to kill someone, isn’t it? If Wilhelmina knew her when she was younger, maybe she knows her secret.” Arthur snapped the book shut and stood. “We’re going back to the festival.”
Sal bounded to his feet. “For more snacks, I hope?”
“Yes.” Arthur nearly salivated at the thought. “But then we’re going to see what that lying witch has to say for herself.”