Chapter 8
Aconduit? Whatever did she mean? I decided to ask Cosmo, the almost all-knowing.
He’d woken up from his nap when I set foot in our apartment and peered at me.
“She’s coming.” I rummaged through my wardrobe.
My stretchy pants and old sweatshirt were fine for stacking books and dusting shelves, but when confronted with the younger generation in the form of my ex’s bride-to-be, murder suspect or not, I intended to add some oomph to my habitual meh.
I’d read that phrase somewhere and it had stuck with me.
I grimaced. These days, I preferred to reserve my headspace for important things like spells and where I put my new reading glasses. Pithy remarks were all well and good, but not if they cluttered up my mind.
Cosmo sashayed over to me. “The burgundy shirt and black slacks look good on you. They bring out the blue hair.”
I changed without so much as checking my appearance in front of the mirror. Maybe it was the French aristocrat in him, or the fact that he’d lived through more fashion eras than a Hollywood costume designer, but his taste was impeccable if he made an effort.
“What’s a conduit?” I asked.
“Am I now doubling as a dictionary?”
“I know the traditional stuff, like a pipe as a conduit for water. It’s what Ms. Vine said she is. You told me yourself that I should ask her.”
Cosmo froze. His silence filled the room, uncomfortably so, until he shook himself, jumped onto the bed and kneaded Aunt Violet’s old scarf that I had put there as a comforter for Cosmo.
“Are you upset? Is it because I’ve failed a lesson?”
He stopped mistreating the scarf. “I have failed. I should’ve known.”
“There must be a reason why you didn’t. I didn’t sense anything. Maybe she can shield whatever it is that she does? I don’t think anyone but my aunt knew.”
“Exactly. Violet must have known that Ms. Vine is a sort of magical booster. She’s evidently the one who strengthened the original protection spell surrounding Willowmere.”
“That’s why negative news still fade from memory in the outside world, even though my aunt is dead?”
“Yes. And all these years, she kept that secret from me.”
My heart broke a little as I watched his eyes fill with pain. To discover that the person you’d shared your life with – and he had, at least the best part of two of his lives – had lied to you, was soul crushing.
I was still at a loss for words when Ange turned up, with her dogs in the back of the car. I’d expected Cosmo to swipe his harness off its hook and race with it to his stroller. Instead, he burrowed his head into the old scarf. His fur rippled.
“I’ll soon be back,” I whispered. Everyone had their own way to work through heartbreak.
“The café’s dog-friendly, and I’ve left my fur babies alone long enough,” Ange said when I climbed in and we set off. “Is Candice a dog person?”
“No idea. If not, we’ll have to sit at separate tables.”
“I always think of pets as a character test.”
“Although there have been serial killers who adored their dogs.” I watched through the window as we passed by the lake that gave Willowmere its name. Only a few days ago the crazy coven had passed here on our way to a weekend to remember. Well, that part had proven to be true.
“Statistically, they don’t count.” Ange took a hand off the steering wheel to wave aside the very idea of pet-loving murderers. “And I thought that we’re working on the assumption that Candice had nothing whatsoever to do with Tim’s ending up in the chest.”
“We do. I haven’t even mentioned the argument between them that we both observed to the detective. Not until we’ve talked to her.”
She nodded with approval. “Good. The police jump to conclusions too easily, when they should take baby steps. Although Trey Stone is learning to listen to you.”
“It’s not his case anymore. I wish – oh, I don’t know what I wish.”
“Of all the antiques’ fairs in all the towns in all the world, she walked straight into yours,” Ange misquoted.
“At least you can’t say that we lead boring lives.
I remember my aunt complaining that her life was practically over when she hit the menopause, and here we are, gathering steam under pressure. Like a speed train.”
“As long as we don’t get derailed.”
Again, she took one hand off the steering wheel to give my leg a quick pat. “We won’t. I won’t let you. And once you have that girl sorted out, you’ll be able to draw a line under the past. Just tell the love birds to stop popping up in your inbox like a Jack in the box.”
“The voice of wisdom.”
Behind me, Mrs. Miniver and Mr. Chips gave a soft bark.
“My fur babies agree with you.”
We arrived at Tea and Tarts with ten minutes to spare. That gave me a chance to collect my thoughts.
Ange asked the waitress for a secluded table inside.
The café had a nostalgic air and a décor rooted in the 1970s, and the name obviously alluded to the baked goods and not anything a bit more risqué.
Ange filled two water bowls that she’d carried in her purse, and the dogs settled at our feet.
Candice ran a few minutes late. “I’m so sorry.” She gulped to catch her breath.
“That’s fine.” Ange offered her a seat.
Candice’s gaze flickered to me.
“You can talk freely. Ange is trustworthy.”
“I’m also a doctor’s wife, and I can see when a woman needs something stronger than tea or coffee.
” Ange, who’d ordered a pot of decaf filter coffee as well as a pot of chamomile tea for the three of us, took a silver flask out of her purse and added a shot to a cup with coffee. She put it in front of Candice.
Candice watched it with trepidation. “I don’t think I should.”
“Nonsense. You’ve had a shock. Or are you pregnant?”
“No.” Candice blushed under the thick layer of make-up she’d put on, in a stark change from her customary fresh-faced look. But then she normally didn’t need to cover up the aftereffects of being connected to a murder case.
“Do you want me to order something else?” I asked, as gently as I could.
“I’m silly.” She took a sip, and then another, longer one, before she burst into tears. “You’re so nice to me.”
“I thought we’d established that when I agreed to help you and Rick.” I gave her a reassuring pat on the hand. Any moment now, and I’d morph into a mature Mary Poppins.
Candice emptied her cup, which Ange promptly refilled, with a slightly smaller dose of alcohol added to the coffee. “You should hate me,” she whispered.
Ange opened her mouth.
I softly kicked her. If Candice needed to get a few things off her chest before we could get to the point, so be it. Unless she needed me to clutch her to my slightly more ample and droopy bosom. That’s where I drew the line.
“I don’t hate you. Granted, you and Rick are not topping my Christmas card list, but we’re all grownups,” I said.
Ange bent to her dogs and petted them, allowing Candice the illusion of privacy.
“We didn’t mean to fall in love. I thought it was simply a fling we needed to get out of our system and then move on, but …”
“I really don’t need the details,” I said. Forgiving was all very well, but intimate confessions were taking it too far. I blamed the clearly fast-acting brandy.
“Anyway, Rick was so different from the others. He’s kind and considerate, and …” She broke off and stared into the distance.
“Right. Back to the present. You think the police are convinced you had something to do with the murder. Why would they suspect you?”
“Because Tim and I had a fight at the fair.”
“A fight? What about?” I feigned ignorance.
Candice hesitated. “It’s so stupid.”
“Honey.” With a side glance to me, to see that I was okay with her butting in, Ange covered Candice’s hand with hers.
“If we started to list all the stupid things we’ve said or done over the years or the awkward situations, we’d be here for a week.
We can only help you if we know what’s going on. And we’re not judging, right, Bex?”
“Yes.” This was neither the time nor the place for a caveat, as much as it was needed. Of course I was judging. The witch in me might be too enlightened for that kind of thing, but little ol’ Bex Merriweather sure as heck wasn’t.
Candice held out her cup for more brandy.
Ange hesitated. “Talk, and then you can have a bit more.”
“We used to date, Tim and I. I went to community college in Cannon Hill, after a few years working as a secretary and being treated either like a flunky or like a bimbo. He seemed like a dream, charming, with money and style. But then - anyway, I broke it off two years ago, moved far away, and started to work for -” She reddened.
“For Rick and me.” I’d been impressed with her honesty. I’d seen too many padded or exaggerated resumés that made you wonder why the applicants weren’t working for a big auction house or a set designer. Having a young woman admit to a humble degree from a humble institution had been refreshing.
She clammed up, obviously embarrassed again at the whole situation. Maybe the brandy hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“Candice. I was mad with you, but mostly because I felt betrayed by Rick. You weren’t the one married to me.
If you’d have been my best friend, like Ange, or Reina, or Harper, that would have crushed me.
We weren’t, so it’s okay. I’m not trying to pretend we’ll ever be bosom buddies, but I honestly just want to help you. What happened at the fair?”
“Tim saw me, and he spotted this.” She lifted her finger with her engagement ring. Rick had splurged on a baguette cut pink diamond in a platinum setting.
“It’s lab grown,” she said when she noticed my stare. I’d made my opinion of blood diamonds and the financial and human cost very clear when the occasion came up during a discussion about celebrities on the red carpet.
“He saw the ring,” Ange prompted her.
“He’d heard that I got engaged and then he said that we had unfinished business and that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and that Cannon Hill could also be Vegas.”
“He was hitting on you?” I asked.
“He said there were a few things I probably wanted to keep secret, from anyone, including my fiancé, and that we could just have fun, like we used to, and nobody’d be the wiser.” Tears welled up. She wiped them away.
“What a creep,” Ange said.
“Right? It came totally out of the blue. I mean, he hated losing or not getting his own way, but this was a new side, like he’d become so powerful that nobody’d think of saying no to him.”
“Which explains why someone buried a dagger in his heart. A man like that tends to collect enemies.” My voice rose, and so did my body temperature, as my witchy powers confirmed that I was on the right track.
“There can’t have been too many, or I’d have heard rumors,” Ange said with a regretful grimace. “He’s been living in Willowmere for over six months, and I haven’t heard a peep.”
“I don’t think the police are looking at anybody else.
I’m not allowed to leave town. I think they believe he was in Cannon Hill to meet me, but I swear that’s not true.
He probably went there for business.” Candice resembled a frightened child, with her faltering voice and shrinking into her seat.
“You’re so smart, Bex. What am I supposed to do? ”
“Exactly what the police say. They’ll soon enough acknowledge that an argument with a loathsome ex-boyfriend is not a motive for murder.”
“You think so?” She sat a little taller.
“Of course,” Ange chimed in. “Otherwise, half the male population would be dead, and half the women would be in prison.”
“And even with a motive, you’d still need means and opportunity.” There was only one more reason for the police to suspect Candice – the chest. “When did you last see your purchases? Did you supervise the packaging?” I’d always made sure I was present, preferably doing the job myself.
“I was only around for a few minutes after the fair had finished, to arrange for the delivery and pay the company. I had to stand in line until it was my turn.”
Too bad that didn’t move the needle in any direction.
Candice’s lip wobbled. “I’m scared.”
“It’ll be fine,” I soothed her. “You’re innocent and we’ll prove that, if the police haven’t done so already.”
“Thank you.”
The wobble increased.
I concentrated on a spell to calm her fears.
She relaxed a little.
I took a metal tin with a special tea blend from my bag and put it on the table.
“This is going to help you recover your peace of mind a little. You use one teaspoon of tea for a large mug or two cups of this size.” I pointed at her coffee cup.
“Let it brew for five minutes and drink while hot. It’s herbal but you should drink it no more than once a day. ”
She turned the tin in her hands and admired the green and gold pattern, and the matching label. “Celestial Calm. That’s a pretty name.”
“My aunt was a woman of many talents, and she passed on a lot of things and knowledge to me.”
“Is there anything more that you remember?” Ange asked, while I settled the bill. “Maybe another person who had a beef with Tim? Had he beaten someone to an important item? Maybe he’d discovered a real treasure and had to die for it.”
“Something valuable like on Antiques Roadshow or Buried Treasure on tv? That’s possible, I guess.
” A small frown appeared on Candice‘s forehead. “Only, how would he have noticed? He wasn’t into old stuff at all when we were together, and he was laughing about me gushing over vintage posters and taking classes to learn more.”
“That could have changed,” I suggested. “Otherwise, what was he doing at an antiques' fair? Unless he’d spotted you and followed you there.” I regretted my words the moment I’d said them aloud, because they led straight back to the connection between Candice and the murdered man.
I almost hugged her when we rose. All that was left of the anger, pain, and humiliation Rick and she had caused me when my marriage imploded, was pity, and something akin to worry about her. I really had moved on. “Would you mind telling me where you’re staying?”
She gave me the address of her friends.
“It’s best if you don’t go out, or you might be pestered by people who’ve got nothing better to do,” I said. I didn’t think she was in danger, at least if I took the absence of the witchfire in connection with the idea as proof, but keeping a low profile was in her best interest.
She was almost out of the door, when I remembered to take everything a suspect said with a grain of salt. I concentrated on my witchy intuition to ask myself if she truly was innocent.
I didn’t much like the answer. My instinct told me that Candice hadn’t killed Tim. It also told me that she was hiding a secret from me, something to do with the case. Despite begging me for help.