Gone With the Witch (12 page)

Darcy, you already know who I am.

When I'd sought the Elder's help about Melina's diary, she didn't give it to me. Instead her words of wisdom made me realize I had the power to safely hide the journal all along.

The power, because I was a Crafter—and I'd been trying to tackle the problem like a mortal.

Was I subconsciously doing it again? Thinking like a mortal?

Perhaps. I was going to have to look at all I did know about the Elder through the eyes of a witch.

In doing so, I had to keep in mind that things were not always as they appeared.

And how that, in the Enchanted Village, impossible things were entirely possible.

People could vanish in a blink. Animals could talk. Wishes could come true.

Because this place was magical.

My heart full, I looked at weeping tree once again and smiled.

I knew I'd figure out the Elder's identity soon . . .

Because
I
was magical.

I
'd slept fitfully and slipped on my running shoes just after sunrise. Sunday mornings were often the most peaceful in the village, and as I jogged around the green, it seemed that the trees were yawning in the breeze, waking up as well.

The flowers around the square—the ones that hadn't been decimated by Cookie—sparkled with dew.

It was obvious Harmony and Angela had not caught up with the tiny goat, and that she had been very busy during the night. It was easy to see where she'd visited, as there was a trail of chewed vegetation left behind. She'd even hit the roses and daisies in front of As You Wish, eating every bloom within her reach.

Normally, on such a beautiful morning I'd jog along the Enchanted Trail, a pathway that looped around the village and darted in and out of the Enchanted Woods. However, there were some isolated stretches along that
route I wanted to avoid until I knew why Baz Lucas had followed me to the Elder's meadow the night before.

At six in the morning all the shops along the green were closed up tight, and villagers were scarce. I'd come across more than a few unfamiliar faces out walking their dogs, and I assumed they were Extravaganza exiles waiting for the okay to gather their belongings from the Wisp.

With any luck that news would come today. People had to get back to their homes, their lives, their jobs. In the wake of another possible delay, I feared any compassion and humanity for what had happened to Natasha would go out the window and hostilities would rise.

The windows in the apartment above the bookshop were still dark, and I hoped Harper had slept better than I had, though I doubted it. When I returned last night to As You Wish after my trip to see the Elder, Harper had become obsessed with the idea that we knew the Elder's identity already. She had started a list of every female witch we knew right then and there.

The scent of vanilla hung heavily in the air, and I glanced over at the Gingerbread Shack. A dim light glowed from the back of the shop, and I easily imagined Evan working his magic on his miniature confections.

I debated whether to pop in to say hi, but decided against it. The whole point of this early run was to get out here to clear my thoughts. I'd tossed and turned thinking about Natasha, Chip, and the Elder.

My ponytail thumped against my shoulders as I jogged. The stripe hadn't changed at all overnight, and when I'd taken another picture of myself to see if the spell had worn off, I only added more silver to my hair. The spell was still very much in effect.

“Darcy! Grab him!”

A shout startled me out of my reverie, and as I turned
toward the sound of the voice, I let out a shriek. A big bundle of golden fur barreled toward me at what seemed like warp speed.

Clarence.

There was absolutely no need for me to grab him, because once he'd spotted me, he altered his course for a direct collision. With his gangly long legs, he leaped at me, and I caught him but tumbled backward, landing on the soft grass. He commenced to lick my face, and I couldn't help laughing at his exuberance.

Glinda finally caught up to us and clipped a leash onto his collar.

He kept slurping, bathing my ear, and I laughed so hard that I could barely breathe.

By the time Glinda pulled him away and got him to sit, she was laughing, too.

“Sorry about that,” she said, offering me a hand up.

Glancing at her hand, I wondered if she was planning to yank it away from me at the last minute, à la Lucy and Charlie and that football in the Peanuts cartoon.

Taking a deep breath, I decided that trust had to start somewhere.

Internally bracing myself, I slipped my hand in hers, and she pulled me up.

If she had any clue of the corner we'd just turned in our relationship, she didn't show it.

“I opened the front door to get the Sunday paper, and Clarence was out like a shot,” she said, patting his head.

Her story explained her outfit. A short terry cloth robe and sneakers. Her blond hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore no makeup, which revealed pale blond lashes and dark circles beneath her eyes.

Another person who hadn't slept well. “Sorry he jumped at you that way,” she added. “He starts obedience classes next week.”

Clarence's bushy tail thumped the ground as if he was proud of his brief blast of freedom. He was just shy of a year old.

“It's okay.” I noticed Clarence's nails had left scratch marks on my arms. They stung a bit, but not too bad. “I'm used to it with Higgins. And heaven help me, I think I'm becoming desensitized to dog saliva, too,” I added, wiping my damp forearm on my shirt.

“Well, you'd have to adapt or go insane with all his drool. I'm surprised you don't tie a bib on him.”

“Or on me.”

She smiled again, and it made her eyes sparkle.

We'd come a long, long way in our relationship.

“Did Ve tell you I ran into her last night?” she asked.

“She did, but we have a problem with the pen.”

Her eyebrows snapped downward, and the sparkle burst into flames. “What problem?”

“The pen is inside the Wisp, left behind in the evacuation. I don't know when we'll be able to get it, since the police have the place on lockdown.”

She tipped her head back and groaned. “Nick hasn't given any hint of when the Wisp will reopen?”

“I haven't had the chance to ask him.”

In fact, I hadn't seen him at all except for those brief few minutes outside Chip Goldman's apartment yesterday. He'd called last night to tell me that he was about to bring Baz in for questioning and asked if Mimi and Higgins could spend the night with me.

He'd been radio silent since.

“He's been a little busy,” I added unnecessarily.

She tightened the sash on her robe. “I heard about Chip Goldman. Is he going to be okay?”

“Last I heard he was in a coma, but I know Cherise paid him a visit.”

We both knew what that meant. He'd be either dead soon or completely cured. If he was too far gone, nothing
Cherise could do would bring him back. However, if he was still fighting, she was the perfect tag-team partner.

“Time will tell, I guess,” Glinda said.

“How much do you know about Baz?” I asked, reaching out to rub Clarence's silky-soft ears.

“More than I want to know since I started working for Vivienne. Why?”

“Ivy hired me to prove Natasha's death had nothing to do with the Extravaganza. If you take out Natasha's ties to the event, she ran in a very small circle. We saw with our own eyes that she was close to Baz. Do you think he was capable of murder?”

Her right eyebrow went up. “You're thinking he . . .”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

“Why?”

“Love gone wrong? Love can make you do crazy things,” I said, paraphrasing Ivy's comments to me yesterday. “Revenge?”

Clarence sniffed my sneakers. “Revenge for what?”

“There's a chance that Natasha might have been behind Baz getting food poisoning last year at the Extravaganza. If he found out . . .”

“There's a chance? Or she did it?”

“Right now? Leaning toward she did it.”

“Whoa. Wait . . . was Marigold Coe's accident the year before that truly an accident?”

Glinda was many things, but dumb wasn't one of them. “Ivy said she heard Natasha was on the steps at the same time as Marigold's fall.”

“Wow. That's why Ivy hired you this year, isn't it? To keep an eye on Natasha.”

“Lot of good it did her. Ivy, not Natasha,” I clarified. And before she could say something snarky about my job skills, I added, “Speaking with Marigold is on my to-do list. But until then, Baz seems a likelier suspect, considering his relationship with Natasha.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “But it seems a stretch, doesn't it? That Baz would bide his time for eleven months, then woo Natasha just to kill her as payback for something that happened a year ago?”

“Well, when you put it that way . . .”

“Baz just isn't that patient,” Glinda said. “Whoever killed Natasha had to have a long-term plan. Her death was calculated to the last detail. That's not Baz. He can barely match his clothes.”

I recalled his outfits. It was true. “Then who? Vivienne? She is the scorned wife, after all.”

“Not Vivienne,” she said adamantly. “Don't even waste your time looking at her.”

Which, of course, made me want to run a full background check as soon as I returned to As You Wish. “I'm not sure where that leaves me.”

“It leaves you right where Ivy doesn't want you.”

“At the Extravaganza,” I supplied.

“Ivy's going to pop a vein if her event is somehow involved.”

“Yeah,” I said, because it was true.

Glinda hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Look, I should get going before Liam wakes up and wonders where we are. You'll let me know about the pen?”

“I'll call.”

She eyed me as though debating whether to believe me. After a moment, she nodded.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one with trust issues.

“Before I go, just one more thing,” she said.

“What's that?”

“What happened to your hair?”

I groaned. “Spell gone wrong.”

She laughed. “Been there, done that.”

“Can I ask you something?” I asked.

“Sure, I guess.”

“Do you know who the Elder is?”

Her eyes flared in surprise, but she shook her head. “No. Do you?”

“Not yet. Do you know anything about the Eldership? How the Elder is chosen? That kind of thing?”

Wrinkling her nose, she appeared as though debating what to tell me. Finally she said, “Not much. One thing I know for certain is that the Elder can embody all the Crafts and can change from one to another at will. She's Wishcrafter, Broomcrafter, Curecrafter, et cetera, at whim. She knows every Craft inside and out.”

I tried to recall if I knew that, as it sounded familiar. If I had learned it in the past year, it had crawled off to a dusty corner of my brain. “Do you think she lives among us? That we see and speak to her regularly and just don't know her secret identity?”

“Why don't you ask her? She likes you.”

“She won't tell me.”

Glinda laughed. “Then that's all you should need to know. See ya, Darcy. Come on, Clarence.”

Yes, it should have been all I needed to know, but it wasn't. There was something deep inside me telling me not to let this go. That her identity was important to me on a level I didn't quite understand. Whether I was acting on instincts or out of stupidity, I wasn't sure, but I was going to keep questioning until I had answers.

I watched Clarence and Glinda walk away, then decided it was time to head home to get a jump start on the day. As I pivoted and jogged across the green, I noticed a shadowy figure of a man sitting on a bench, openly staring at me, and I wondered how long he'd been there without me noticing.

Some detective I was turning out to be.

I picked up my pace, headed his way.

As I neared, he smiled and said, “I thought Glinda would never leave.”

“H
ow long have you been sitting here?” I asked.

“Just a couple of minutes.” Nick stood up and pulled me into his arms in one smooth move.

I pushed back. “Save yourself. I'm sweaty and covered in Clarence's dog slobber.”

“You're still you.”

When he gently tugged me close to his chest once again, I nestled my head in the curve of his neck above the collar of his work shirt. He was in his uniform, khakis and a Polo shirt. His gun was in a holster at his hip along with his badge.

He pressed a tender kiss to my temple. “And I've missed you.”

Even though it hadn't even been a full day since I'd last seen him, it had been too long. I'd missed our lively banter over dinner, sharing the colorful vignettes that made up our everyday lives. Missed feeling his heart
beat under my cheek as we snuggled together to watch a movie. Missed our good-night kiss.

Missed him. “Same here.”

I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight, enjoying the feel of his body next to mine. Enjoying simply being near him.

“Mimi doing okay?” he asked.

Noisy birdsong filled the air. Robins, blue jays, crows.

No mourning doves.

“She's great. Last time I saw her, she and Higgins were sound asleep. I'm pretty sure both of them were drooling on the pillows.”

He laughed. “Thanks for keeping her.”

“You don't have to thank me. She's . . .” I struggled to find a word that adequately explained how I felt about her. Finally, I settled on “ . . . family.”

He caught my gaze and held it, and the loving look in his dark brown eyes nearly did me in.

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked, noting how bloodshot those eyes were.

“A few minutes at my desk.”

We started walking toward As You Wish. “Any word from the medical examiner about Natasha?”

“A preliminary test indicated she died from cyanide poisoning, but it'll take two days to get results with full concentration levels. It'll be weeks before the official report will be ready.”

Crossing the street, we were directly in front of my new place. I paused at the fence. “I imagine those concentrations had to be high to kill her so quickly.”

The bungalow was a disaster area. A once-enormous load of lumber that had taken up most of the driveway was now only knee-high as the two-story addition off the back of the house had been framed last week. I glanced up and smiled at the way the roof replacement had come out. It had once looked like faded patchwork,
but it was now solidly covered with brand-spanking-new Shaker-style shingles. I almost danced a little jig at the thought of no more leaks.

I'd been lucky with my renovation. The construction company owned by Cherise Goodwin's nephew, Hank Leduc, had a job that canceled at the last minute, so Hank and was able to start my reno right away. Commissions for structural plans had been fast-tracked and approved quickly by the county because Aunt Ve pulled a few strings for me.

It was as though the stars had aligned to make this renovation happen, or perhaps a little magic had been used.

Either way, I couldn't be happier with how fast construction was moving along. At this rate, I'd be able to move in much sooner than the estimated four months.

“Yeah, it was potent stuff. Her coffee cup tested positive for cyanide as well.” Nick nodded to the house. “This place is really flying along.”

“If you can afford it, it's handy to hire a magical construction company.” Hank was a Crosser: half Manicrafter, half Numbercrafter. His fees, for which he earned every penny, were astronomical, but thanks to that trust fund left to me by my mother, the expenses were covered. “Cuts way back on typical delays.”

“I'd say so.” Nick fought a yawn. “If this was a mortal job site, you'd still be in the planning phase.”

It was true. Sometimes being a witch had its benefits.

All right. Most of the time.

Except, perhaps, when one's hair turned silver.

“You want to go inside?” Nick asked.

“Maybe later. The key's at As You Wish.” The weekend construction crew would be arriving soon, and I made a mental note to have some pastries and coffee sent over, which made me refocus on my conversation with Nick.

“Did Natasha's coffee cup, the one that had the poison in it, come from Baz and Vivienne's booth? It looked like one of theirs.”

“It did.”

“Did either one admit to giving the coffee to her?” It would have been so easy to tamper with the liquid at that point.

“No. Baz wasn't even there when Natasha picked up the coffee. Vivienne was, and though I haven't talked with her yet to verify, I ran into Evan, who had the booth next to the Lucases'. Evan saw Natasha fill the cup herself when she returned from her trip to the restroom, a destination that we know from you she never visited. It was only a ruse to meet up with Baz. She was making small talk with Vivienne the whole time, about the Extravaganza being such a wonderful place to spend time with old friends. Kind of tells you what kind of person Natasha was, doesn't it? That she'd go straight to Baz's wife, silently flaunting what she'd done.”

I agreed. “It tells you everything.”

“When we tested the carafe from the Lucases' table, it showed no signs of cyanide.”

So the cyanide had made its way into Natasha's cup between the time she poured the coffee to when she drank it while watching Missy being judged. It was a small time frame. Perhaps fifteen minutes. “Could Vivienne have slipped something into the cup before Natasha left the booth?”

“Evan said no. Vivienne had kept her distance the whole time.”

Couldn't say I blamed her.

Nick added, “There is the chance that she could have somehow slipped it in after that, however. According to Ivy, while the judges looked at Titania, Natasha's cup was left unattended for a few minutes while she held the cat.”

“Does the Wisp have video surveillance?” It would make it so much easier to see who'd been near Natasha's booth during that time frame.

“Not inside the venue. Only outside.”

A dead end.

We passed in front of Terry's house. The shades on all the windows were still pulled. Archie's cage was empty. He rarely slept outside, but after his near birdnapping, he was probably being extra careful by staying inside.

“Did you learn anything from your interview with Baz?” I asked, opening the side gate.

Nick paused in the front yard. “What happened to the flowers?”

“I'm assuming it was Cookie.”

“Cookie?”

“Harmony and Angela's goat? She's on the lam and loving every minute of it.”

“I feel so out of the loop.” He closed the gate behind him and followed me to the porch swing.

“Did you hear about what happened to Archie?” I asked.

“That, I know about. How's he doing?”

“No harm done and he has a new dramatic story to tell, which probably makes his ordeal worth it. Any leads?”

“Nothing so far. It's odd that no one saw anything.”

Nick was right. It was strange—the area had been jam-packed with Extravaganzers.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“No one saw anything.”

“I know . . . Oh.”

“It has to be considered that witchcraft was involved. Magic.” I bit my lip. If it were true, why would a Crafter try to steal Archie?

“Or,” he said, “people are just unobservant.”

That could be it, too.

“I'll have an officer get copies of the surveillance videos outside the Wisp, but I have to admit Archie's case hasn't been a top priority.”

No. That belonged to Natasha, then Chip.

“Did Baz admit to you to having an affair with Natasha?” I asked, giving the swing a push with my toe.

“He said only that they had a close friendship.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Slimeball.”

“He sure comes across that way.” Nick dragged a hand down his face.

“How was he involved with Chip? Why was he hiding in Chip's bedroom?”

“According to Baz, while at the Extravaganza after Natasha collapsed, Chip asked Baz to stop by his apartment later that day to talk about something important.”

“Baz arrived at the apartment just after Chip got out of the shower. Then you apparently showed up, and Chip asked Baz to hide in the ‘mouse-infested' bedroom while you were there. One of the mice bit him and he's convinced he needs rabies shots. He's rather melodramatic.”

Pepe and Mrs. P were bound to enjoy the shoe-tossing Baz undergoing rabies shots because of them. “He's big into movies and theater.”

“He mentioned that's how he met Natasha. At some Audrey Hepburn movie marathon at the playhouse.”

Poor Vivienne. “What did Chip want with Baz?”

“He wanted to blackmail him.”

“What?”

“After you left the apartment, Chip told Baz that he was going to reveal Baz's affair with Natasha to the world and intimate to the press that Baz had something to do with her death if he didn't pay up.”

I recalled the conversation Chip and I had.

I had asked,
“How well does being in commercials
pay?”
He'd given a laugh but there was no humor in it.
“Not enough.”

“Planning to rob a bank, then?”

With a small smile, he'd said,
“You could say that.”

“The bank in question had to have been Baz,” I said to Nick after telling him about the exchange.

“Baz told me he was willing to write a check then and there. He just wanted to be done with it all, but Chip suddenly took ill. Started having trouble breathing, then had a seizure.”

“Just like Natasha.”

“Exactly.”

“Why didn't Baz call for help?”

“He says he panicked and hightailed it down the fire escape because he didn't want to be tied to the situation. He didn't think Chip stood a chance for surviving and Baz didn't want his name linked with Natasha's, even in death.”

“Well, of course not,” I said. “Because of the prenup.”

“The what?”

I quickly explained that situation, including Glinda's involvement. “However, Vivienne already knows about the affair. Glinda told her yesterday at the Extravaganza.”

Nick closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath. “I wish
I'd
known. I'd have brought Vivienne in for questioning as well.”

I ignored the wish. As a Wish-Halfcrafter, he couldn't be granted any wishes. “There's always today.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at his watch, frowned.

“It's interesting to me that Baz doesn't know Vivienne knows.”

Nick nodded. “Maybe she's toying with him, letting him think he's off scot-free.”

“Or she's waiting for the hard evidence, which is
locked inside the Wisp. Any chance the Wisp will reopen today?”

“What evidence?”

I told him about the spy pen.

His face brightened. “I need a copy of that footage. How about this? I'll call you when I have a free minute today, and you can meet me at the Wisp. Bring your laptop. You can burn a disk for Glinda, then give the pen to me for evidence.”

“Sounds like a plan. So, what about Baz? Do you believe his story?”

“Not yet.” He glanced at his watch. “I'm waiting for approval of the search warrant of his property, which should come in any minute now. Had to wait until the fingerprint report came back and confirmed Baz had been in Chip's apartment.”

“Did Baz happen to mention why he was following me last night?”

Nick's face hardened, his eyes going cold, his jaw clenching. “He did what?”

I told him about my trip to see the Elder—and how Baz had followed me into the woods.

“No, he didn't mention that. Looks like I need to have another chat with him. So Chip is a Crafter? That explains why he took a sudden turn for the better after a visit in the ICU from his ‘grandmother' in the middle of the night.”

“Cherise,” I said, smiling at her conning the hospital staff.

“He's doing well enough that his breathing tube has been removed. The doctors said he'll probably be discharged early. Maybe even today.”

“Cherise
can
work miracles.”

“I'm a believer.” He stretched his legs.

“I plan to explore the Extravaganza side of the case
today,” I told him. “Try to see if Marigold Coe is willing to talk to me. If she was a victim of Natasha's, she might have sought revenge.”

“That's true, but what would Marigold have against Chip? Why was he poisoned?”

“I haven't quite figured that part out yet.” I faced him. “Oh, at some point, do you think you can get me Natasha's sister's phone number? I need to talk to her about Titania.”

“The cat? Why?”

“Because she's currently upstairs curled on my bed with Missy. I took custody of her at the Extravaganza yesterday, and I need to find her a new home. Chip couldn't take her, because he's allergic. And as far as I've learned, Natasha's sister is her only close relative, so she's next on my list to ask.”

Nick studied my face. “I see,” he said, humor in his undertones.

“You see what? Is it my hair?” I touched my head. “Silly stripe.”

“No, it's not the hair, though I'll come back to that in a minute. You want to keep her. Titania.”

I didn't even bother to deny it. Not with Nick. “Am I that obvious?”

“Probably only with someone who knows you as well as I do.”

He did know me well. “Despite what I want, I have to do what's right. Titania doesn't belong to me. She belongs to whoever is Natasha's beneficiary.”

As much as I might not like it.

“I'll get you the number,” he said. “I'm sure it's in one of my files.”