Chapter 28
Harper and Reina ushered us into their apartment. “If we’re needed downstairs, Pilar will call us,” Harper said.
Reina lit sage scented candles as we sat in a circle.
“What’s the verdict, oh wise witch of Willowmere?” Ange asked me.
“Here’s what we know. The killer picked Candice on purpose to serve as a scapegoat, and he piled up a lot of evidence against her.
To do that, he had to be aware of her relationship to the victim, the ‘candid’ photos, and also of the facts that she’d bought the chest Tim was found in and that she’d handled the letter opener. ”
“Not necessarily,” Ange pointed out. “The chest would have come in handy anyway, to hide the body in, no matter who bought it or where it was delivered. The same goes for the letter opener.”
“I agree with Bex. It all fits together too well,” Reina said. She shuddered. “No wonder the police haven’t looked elsewhere.”
“I think the killer will find that he was overdoing it a little bit.” I showed the picture of the murder weapon around. “It’s likely that his prints are still on it.”
“But you said there were smudges from gloves,” Ange said.
“He wore gloves when he murdered Tim, but I think it’s more likely that he didn’t wear them when he stole the letter opener.”
“Why not wipe them all?” Harper asked.
I smiled grimly. “That’s what I was wondering until I realized he left them on purpose, because they pointed so clearly at Candice. If he’d have wiped off his prints, he’d have destroyed hers too.”
“What about if he wore gloves for the theft?” Reina wondered.
“He might have, but most of the customers at the fair didn’t. It would have been more conspicuous, even if he’d planned to steal a possible weapon. I believe he noticed Candice holding the letter opener and used his chance to add one more thing to frame her.”
Ange nodded. “That makes sense. You say ‘he’. Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty certain. What’s more likely, that Tim would show private images of his girlfriends to other women or that he’d use them to brag to men?”
“Heck, yes.” Harper snorted.
“That means we’re looking for a man who met with Tim at the motel, who was at the fair at the same time as Candice, and who was in a position to be blackmailed,” Reina concluded.
“That’s the gist of it. Sam has confirmed that the soil sample he tested contained enough nasty stuff to make people sick after prolonged exposure.
He suspects an old dumping site that’s been dug up.
Apparently, lots of things are harmless enough when they’re buried in the soil and remain untouched, but move them around and get them airborne, and hey presto, you’re looking at a real health hazard.
” I silently thanked Sam for his concise, unscientific explanation.
“What I don’t understand is how Tim could know if a site is contaminated. It’s not as if you can see micro particles, and if people were already getting sick, it would have been in the news,” Reina said.
“That struck me too until I remembered what Skye had said about Tim’s dad who used to do clean-ups on such sites.
I think it’s likely that Tim knew exactly where the metaphorical skeletons were buried and he used that to put the thumb screws on his victim.
Only he chose the wrong guy. Instead of becoming rich he ended up dead. ”
“Very clever.” Harper smiled. “How about we all write down who we suspect and then we’ll see if we’ve been able to follow your deductions.”
Reina rose to fetch a notepad and three pens. She folded and tore a sheet of paper into three equal pieces and handed them out.
She, Harper, and Ange shielded their writing from each other, folded the paper strips and put them down.
I opened them one by one and read them out. They all contained the same name. Charles Martin Pratt, aka Champ.
“He’s our man,” I confirmed.
“Hooray. That is, if you’re willing to hand the case over to the police,” Harper said.
I nodded. “I can’t wait to dump all the evidence in Trey Stone’s lap.”
“You’re not going to the Cannon Hill police?” Ange asked.
“No. The detective deserves the credit, after all he’s been supplying us with insider information, and he knows me well enough to trust me.
Although all he has to do is connect the dots.
I’m sure once he knows where to concentrate his search, he’ll dig up enough proof to arrest Champ and clear Candice. ”
“Let’s drink a toast to that, but downstairs, with a mocktail from our new zero alcohol drinks menu,” Harper said.
Reina held the strips of paper to a flame. While they burnt, I spoke the first words that came to my mind.
“Innocence shall prosper, evil deeds shall flee, let no harm here linger, so mote it be, so mote it be, so mote it be.”
“So mote it be,” my friends repeated.
Ange asked, “What exactly does this spell do?”
I blew out the candles. “No idea, but we’ll probably find out soon enough.”
***
The next day, the detective received me early in the morning.
He listened to me with more skepticism than I’d counted on. “That’s all very circumstantial,” he said when I’d finished.
“Isn’t that what police work is? You follow leads and gather evidence.”
“We do, but we can’t build a case on your hunches.”
I bit my tongue. My hunches, as he called it, had so far solved every case Cosmo and I had encountered since my return to Willowmere.
He relented. “I’m not saying your theory isn’t worth keeping in mind.”
“But you’re not going to actively pursue it, even though the soil analysis is definitely a lot more solid than the case against Candice.”
“It’s still very thin what you’ve brought me. And it is the case of the Cannon Hill police.”
“The victim lived in your jurisdiction and the body ended up here. Will you at least look at a connection between the two men and the new retirement village?”
“I’ll think about it.”
By now I felt my blood pressure rise. Silently, I counted to ten. And then I did it again. Trey Stone was only following procedure. At least he hadn’t laughed me out of his office.
“Thank you for your time and effort,” I said stiffly. “I’d like to make it up to you and invite you to a drink at the Blue Moon tonight? Unless that counts as a bribe.”
“I’ll be there anyway. Louisa and I are celebrating our one-month anniversary.”
His expression softened. He went a notch up in my estimation. A man in his early fifties who showed openly that he was smitten with his girlfriend was a rare thing in my experience. Even more so when the woman in question was successful, accomplished, and probably made a lot more money than he did.
My fleeting irritation with him evaporized. He was a reasonable man. All I had to do was give him a convincing reason why Champ was the main suspect.
I thought it all over while I took care of my library duties. Mornings tended to be quieter than afternoons, although even those hardly counted as peak customer traffic.
It suited me. My aunt’s lending library had been a haven for the town as long as I could remember, and that’s how I intended to keep it.
No rush, no stress, and the chance to catch up with a sympathetic soul over a hot beverage and a cookie.
I’d always felt the magic of the place. I still did, even though I couldn’t tell if it was because of the special nature of all libraries or because of the specific magic Cosmo, my aunt, and now I contributed.
Today, I relished the dearth of customers while I flicked the duster over the shelves. A few dust motes danced in the air.
Cosmo sneezed.
“Sorry,” I said, without interrupting my cleaning routine.
“You haven’t heard a word I said,” he complained.
“I’m a little distracted,” I admitted.
“I noticed.” Cosmo shook himself, and now the dust motes tickled my nostrils.
“I told you how charming it is to see you so content. You’ve put that pesky ex of yours in his place, made peace with his new female, stood your ground with Linda and her rich husband, investing money all over the place … ” He stopped and licked his toe pads.
A little bell in my head went off. I smiled at my clever familiar. “You’re right, I should always listen to whatever you have to say to me.”
“Apology accepted.”
I dropped a kiss on his head and rushed to set a plan in motion that Cosmo had planted in my mind. It seemed my cat had been one step ahead of me today.