Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
"Be careful, Bex," Cosmo said as I prepared to get out into the mean streets. "You never know who's lurking out there."
"Yeah, right," I muttered. "What's the point of being a witch—or a witch cat, or whatever you are—if you can't even figure out who the evil person in our midst is?"
I swallowed. For one pin, I'd have grabbed my suitcase and gotten the hell out of Dodge.
Except that would also mean leaving my friends at the mercy of whoever was out there killing people.
"I understand your frustration," Cosmo said. "And believe me, I'd like nothing better than to wave a magic wand around and tell you the answers. All I can do is support you and help you get in the right direction."
"Unless we get killed first," I said.
"There’s that," he admitted.
"I was joking."
"I wasn't."
I sighed. "Do you have any kind of protective spell that I can practice before I leave the house?"
He shook his head.
"Great."
"There is an amulet, though. It won't really help you fight off anyone, but it will give you resolve."
"Where is it?"
"In Violet's bedroom."
It was a pretty pendant showing the phases of the moon. I'd never seen her wear it, but then, Cosmo told me to slide it underneath my shirt, so it touched my skin, before I headed out.
The Blue Moon also did a brisk business on days without an open mic or live music. They offered an extensive menu—from burgers to pasta to sushi.
Only when there was live entertainment did Harper and Reina insist that the day—or rather, the night—belonged to the artists and not to the noise of chewing people.
I might be overly sensitive, but for a second, I thought there was a lull in the conversation as I entered the main room. Harper was busy talking to the siblings behind the bar. She signaled to me to go upstairs as I walked past.
Nope, I hadn't imagined it. There were a few people watching me in a less than friendly manner. One of them muttered a few bad words about my aunt. Whoever was smearing her reputation had done a successful job.
I squared my shoulders and moved on through—through the games room, where Jimmy watched two of his pals battle it out. He gave me a warm grin.
"Hiya, Bex," he said.
"Hi, Jimmy."
I didn't stop to chat any further. Instead, I headed upstairs to the living quarters.
Reina pulled me inside. Ange was already there.
"How are you holding up?" she said.
"So, you've already heard."
"Yeah, news is traveling fast. And I do have news for you."
Why did my heart beat so fast? "I hope it's good news."
"I hope so too," she said. "Except… it might not be."
“What is it?” I asked. “And please don’t try to spare me. I’d much rather get the facts straight instead of going through what-ifs and maybes and have whatever possibilities and—” I stopped babbling.
“Why don’t you sit down first?” Reina offered me the most comfortable seat, with a view straight through the picture window.
I sat down, and she lit a candle that she put right in front of me on the low table.
“It’s official,” Ange said. “The police are going to look at your aunt in connection with Jake.”
“That was fast,” I said. “I mean, Louisa and I only discovered the missing foxgloves a couple of hours ago.”
Ange and Reina exchanged a bewildered glance.
“I haven’t heard about that,” Ange said.
“Then how do you know?” I asked. I thought that was a perfectly valid question.
“Louisa’s acquaintance”—she mimed air quotes—“drops into the Sweet Surprise once in a while for couple of takeaway coffees or a few pastries.”
“And he told you?” I asked.
“No. I overheard him talking on the phone.”
“But wait a second,” I said. “When did that rumor start? No one mentioned it when we were trying to figure out who might have had a motive a few days ago.”
They both shook their heads.
“Today. Possibly,” Ange said.
“So, several days after Jake died. And my aunt. Let’s not forget that. First, everybody thinks it’s a natural death. Then, once it seems clear that it wasn’t, the one person who conveniently can’t defend herself is the main suspect.”
For the first time since we started, I felt positive. The killer wouldn’t have needed to find a scapegoat unless we were close. “Who did you hear from about a fight between my aunt and Jake?” I asked Reina. “And try to remember every single thing.”
Reina frowned. “I think it was at the grocery store. Or the bakery. Two of the older ladies were mentioning something.”
“I heard it from a member of the bowling team. The Badger Belles.” Ange scratched her head.
“That means Louisa,” I said. “Who also took me to the garden. She was going to tell the police about the plants.”
Ange stopped. “The timeline is wrong. Because I’m positive I heard a few whispers before I saw —”
“The acquaintance,” I interrupted her. “He must have a name. Simply tell me the name.”
“It’s Trey, Detective Trey Stone.”
I made a mental note. “Before Trey received the phone call.”
My head began to ache. I rubbed my temples.
“Let me get you an aspirin,” Reina said. “It’s all a bit much to take in.”
I swallowed the pill before I reached for the notepad that was still sitting there from the night before. I tore out three pages and handed one to Reina and one to Ange.
“OK. Please try to remember and write down exactly what you heard and when you heard it. And then we will compare our notes.”
I scribbled my notes as fast as I could while at the same time working on an explanation of why I knew about the masked person in Jake's house.
As much as I loved sticking to the truth—especially when it came to my friends—stating bluntly that the cat had told me would probably not go down well. Even if they did believe in witchcraft.
I paused. My fingers cramped—I’d held on so tightly to the pen that they had gone white.
"Bex, you're looking peaky," Ange said. "There's a greenish tinge to your face, which actually goes quite well with your blue hair. Except it's not Halloween. Yet."
I rubbed my stomach. "I think my body is reacting to all that stress."
"You need tea," Ange declared. "I have an awesome mix in my purse that clears up stomach aches, menopause symptoms, stress—the whole modern-world shebang." She produced a metal tin.
"Yes, please," I said. "We could all do with a cup of that. Can I help with anything?"
"No, that's fine." Reina put down her sheet of paper. "I'm finished anyway."
"So am I,” I said.
All three of us put our papers in the middle of the table.
"Does anyone here know how to do a proper spreadsheet?" Ange asked. "It would be easiest to compare notes."
"I’ll do it," Harper said.
I hadn't even heard her come up. Reina greeted her with a kiss.
"I can’t stay long. It's getting busy downstairs, and we could do with the business." Harper twinkled at me. "And the gossip." She pounced on our notes and read through them while we all took a break to sip our tea.
Reina had put a teeny spoonful of honey in it.
"It's your aunt’s mix," she said. "I think if you would sell it, you could make a fortune."
"If people would still trust her," I said glumly.
Harper scoffed. "It'll blow over. Believe me, there's already quite a few people saying that all this is nonsense."
"Including Jake being murdered?"
"Well, including that, probably."
She took a ruler and a pencil and made a couple of neat lines. "Leave this baby to me," she said.
"Ok."
Reina peered over her shoulder. "A mystery person?" she asked.
"Yeah." I nodded. "I thought that interesting when I overheard someone talk about it."
"Who was it?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't spent enough time here to meet everyone, and the place has grown since our youth."
"That is very true," Harper chuckled. "And yet, somehow, it feels like nothing has changed. It's the same old busybodies who stick their noses into anybody else's business."
"Yeah. I can assume I can count myself lucky that I haven't been suspected yet?" I faked a smile.
"Oh, you were," Ange said. "After all, you're the heiress. Except then you would have done in your aunt and not her neighbor."
"Unless he knew something," Harper said.
"No. Then Bex would have bumped off her aunt first and then Jake."
"Very funny," I said. "This isn't a murder mystery game, and it wasn’t Professor Plumb with the candlestick in the sitting room."
"It makes it easier to think of it as one," Harper admitted. "Because the alternative is really freaking me out."
She reached for Reina's hand.
We peered at the list she'd made.
"I think we need to start with motive. We have no idea when the poison came into Jake's possession or how he was poisoned."
I stopped to glance at Ange.
"Nick's best guess is that somebody put it into his pill bottle," she said. "Only that would mean the person knew exactly what it would have to look like.”
“How can you fiddle with that?" I wondered.
"It's quite simple," she said. "Most capsules are filled with a kind of powder or a gel, so it's easy to inject something else inside or empty the powder and replace it."
"Because those capsules are not filled to the brim?" I asked.
"Yes."
"OK." Harper made a note. "That would give us the means. Now back to the motive."
"I wonder..." I stopped. What had Cosmo said? I'd feel... something when?
We inched closer.
"Do you still have a stress ball?" I asked Reina.
"Only one?"
She whisked out a carved box and opened it. Inside were five crocheted stress balls in different colors.
I closed my eyes and picked one. It was purple, like Violet's hair. I started to throw it into the air and catch it again. "So, what do we have as motives?"
"Revenge," Ange said.
I dropped the ball and picked it up again.
"To stop him from saying something?" Harper said.
I caught the ball.
"Money," I said. Again, another catch.
"What about love or hate?" Reina asked.
A searing pain shot through my head as I dropped the ball.
I swayed a little.
"Sorry, I think I need to lie down," I whispered.