Meows, Magic & Murder (6 page)

When she knocked on Lucy’s door, it took a very long time for Lucy to answer and with a few more raps, Lucy eased open the door. “You need to give an old gal like me more time to get to the door before you keep knocking like a woodpecker on an oak.”

Petunia eased the strap of her purse off her shoulder. “Sorry, but I brought you something.” She pulled out a small tin can, which was filled with her latest healing salve that she was scared to death might not help at all, but after seeing Lucy having a time of walking at the meat market, she just couldn’t not let her try it out.

Lucy snatched up the can, and smiled. “Why you standing out here? Come inside.”

Petunia walked inside and it was obvious that Lucy was hurting very badly as her house was very unkempt with clothing and newspapers piled on the sofa and chairs—so out of character for Lucy.

She had to turn her head quick as Lucy dropped her trousers as she rubbed the salve on her legs. “Please, take it easy with that stuff. You should only need a small amount.”

“I know, but my legs really ache,” she said, globbing out quite a bit more than Petunia would recommend. Gee, now she was really worried something might go wrong since the salve was quite strong.

“That’s all I have made up,” Petunia informed Lucy.

Lucy glanced up and dropped the lid of the tin can, and Petunia bent over to grab it. Since it was so loaded with salve, it slipped from her fingers and rolled across the room. When she went over there to retrieve it, Petunia’s eyes widened at the headline that jumped out at her,
Knitting Needle Killer Claims Third Victim
.

Petunia held the newspaper. “Is this newspaper today’s edition?”

Lucy stopped applying the salve, her fingers glistening. “Sure is. Today, they found the body of Helen Patterson in the yard of your new neighbor, I hear.” She blinked her eyes rapidly.

“And how, per se, did you get that tidbit of information, exactly?”

“Oh, you know, the usual way,” she said, not elaborating.

“And here I brought you my latest healing salve and you can’t even—”

“Fine. Cora stopped by and told me, even went so far to suggest that you were involved, Petunia.”

What a little backstabber. “Oh, really. Cora Gilbert is the biggest busy body in all of Lake Forest. Why, she was just over my house this morning, fishing for information.”

“Well, did you give her any?”

“Any what?”

“Information, girl. She’s the last person in town you should tell.”

Petunia stretched her neck up a tad. “Let’s get this straight, Lucy. I didn’t do anything to Helen, even though she was dating the same man as me.” She cleared her throat, and added, “and furthermore, you know as well as I do that Helen wasn’t the nicest woman in town. We don’t even know where she lived before Lake Forest.”

“You don’t have to convince me of your innocence, but you know how some folks in town can be. Ever since you were implicated in Jeremy’s disappearance, many in town believe you were somehow responsible.”

Petunia clammed up. She wanted to say that she didn’t have any reason to harm Jeremy, and that she inadvertently changed him into a cat with a love potion gone bad, but she couldn’t say any of that. She also couldn’t tell the sheriff or anyone else about how it had all been a mistake, one she wished she could take back—if only that were possible. What she was concerned about the most were the other victims of the killer. “They say three victims were killed by the Knitting Needle Killer, but not who they are?”

“It’s on page two. Kaye Horton, she lives on—”

“Elms Street,” Petunia said, aghast. She whipped open the paper to the second page and read the third victim’s name, Charlene Catlin. She had to sit down ... she had to think.

After she plopped down on the sofa atop a pile of newspapers, Lucy asked, “Whatever is the problem?”

“Just that I knew all of the victims.”

“We all did, dear. Both of them are quite odd and still lived with their mothers.”

“But that’s hardly a reason they should have been murdered,” Petunia said with a shake of her head. What she didn’t want to tell Lucy was that she didn’t get along with any of the victims.

“Of course not, but well, I was just saying, is all.” Lucy set the tin down. “You know, I feel almost limber already.”

Petunia smiled sadly. “And why is that I never heard about the murder of Kaye and Charlene?”

“I’ve heard the sheriff has kept it hush-hush, and now we know why. But it wasn’t until today that the news released their names and cause of death. Murder via knitting needles,” she shuddered. “I can’t even imagine.”

“Why would the sheriff squash a story that big?”

“Because it’s a serial, dear, and right here in Lake Forest, Michigan. A real serial killer.”

Petunia stood up, feeling the need to leave and get a breath of fresh air. “I’d better get going now. Let me know if that salve works for you, would you?” She headed for the door, saying, “If there’s a real serial killer right here in Lake Forest, I don’t want to be caught unawares since I walked here.”

“Smart move, Petunia. Call me when you get home, will you? I’d hate to think something bad happening to my favorite potion-maker in town.”

“I better not tell Aunt Maxine you said that,” Petunia laughed as she went out the door. Once the door slammed closed behind her, Petunia vowed that she would get to the bottom of the killings before the sheriff really began to dig and found out that she didn’t exactly care for any of the victims.

CHAPTER SIX

Petunia raced over to Mystical Remedies and found her Aunt Maxine in the shop, enjoying tea with Wanda and Hazel. Luckily, Pansy had stayed at home—or so she thought until she felt movement in her big, black purse. She snatched it open, glaring down at the cat.
“What are you doing in there?”

“Hijacking a ride. It’s either that or one of those other cats try to play footsie with me.”

“Who on earth are you talking to?” Hazel asked, lifting a teacup to her lips.

“It’s probably Pansy,” Aunt Maxine said. “You really should learn to leave that cat at home.”

“It’s not like I didn’t try, and I’m expected at Mario’s at six o’clock for dinner.”

“Oh, really?” Wanda asked. “Who with?”

“Her new neighbor Noah, I suspect,” Aunt Maxine said. “And I wholeheartedly approve. It doesn’t hurt that he looks like Clark Gable.”

“Really? I never noticed,” Petunia said, not really caring to let her aunt play matchmaker with a future candidate that would be running for sheriff. Petunia wrinkled her nose and couldn’t hold back the sneeze or the bubbles that floated all around her. “Oh, bother. I need your help, Aunt Maxine. It seems that tea I made earlier here has me now sneezing bubbles.”

“I did notice that a bottle of liquid bubbles had tipped over.”

“It must have gotten into your tea,” Hazel said as she batted away a few bubbles that hovered close by. “Not sure if Maxine has a remedy for that.”

Aunt Maxine made way over to the counter and moved a shelf aside, working the combination to a safe where she kept the spell book that she used most times for potions, pulling it out. “Don’t bother now. I’m late for dinner already.”

“And that you are,” a male voice behind her said.

Petunia whirled and stared, dumbfounded, at Noah. “What are you doing here? I thought we’d planned to meet at the restaurant?”

“To tell you the truth, for some reason I expected you to duck out on me.”

“I don’t stand anyone up, if that’s what you mean.”

Hazel began, “That’s for sure. Especially since Petunia here hasn’t had a date in—”

Aunt Maxine put the book back in the safe with one hand, her body half twisted as she warily watched Noah, and interjected, “Now, Hazel. That’s none of our business. We should let Petunia and Noah be on their way. If you’re late for a reservation at Mario’s, you’ll never get a table.”

Noah scratched his head. “Why are you putting a book in a safe?” Noah asked.

“It’s a spell book,” Hazel blurted out, her eyes widening a tad when everyone started at her.

“It’s a secret potion book,” Wanda corrected her.

“She means a recipe book,” Petunia further clarified.

Noah laughed. “Alrighty, then. But you’re not into witchcraft, right? Or, are you?”

Aunt Maxine shut the door to the safe, her hands now on her generous hips. “Now, see here, young man. I’ve been called a witch ever since I inherited a house on the hill overlooking Lake Forest, left to me by Anastasia Cuza, who most folks considered a witch. But I’m here to correct you before this gets any more out of hand. I’m not a witch and neither are any of these ladies, my niece included. We sell and sometimes make herbal remedies or potions. I have a whole shop filled with herbs for folks to buy and do with them what they may, but I’m not the only one in town who makes potions on occasion. That book does have recipes, but none of them would do anyone any harm, I assure you.”

“I meant no disrespect,” Noah said, frowning.

Petunia was shocked at her aunt’s tone, but she did need to nip this in the bud, so to speak, because if Noah repeated to one person the notion that Aunt Maxine dabbled in the occult, Mystical Remedies would be closed up quick-like, since Florence McHenry was on the city council and had the ear of Mayor Hopkins. She wasn’t sure what exactly Florence had against Aunt Maxine, but she had been trying to shut down her shop for years.

Pansy was squirming inside her bag now, and he said,
“Never harmed anyone my a—”

“Watch your mouth, Pansy. There’s no call for cussing. My aunt’s recipe didn’t turn you into a cat, I did.”

Noah grimaced now and Petunia said, “No harm done, but shouldn’t we get going now?”

“Certainly.” Noah offered his arm for Petunia to take and she laughed. “Really, Noah?”

“Fine, then, go on ahead.”

Petunia allowed the door to be opened for her, though, and they made their way to a motorcycle with two helmets, sitting over the handle bars.

“You can’t be serious here? I can’t ride a motorcycle wearing a skirt,” indicating the black skirt she wore.

“You’ll be fine, just tuck the material between you legs.”

Petunia fumed with anger now. She wondered if having dinner with this man was such a great idea. He was dreadfully handsome, but he would also be running for office soon in the next sheriff’s race. She’d just have to be on her guard.

Noah hopped on and Petunia straddled the bike, tucking her skirt between her legs as he’d told her. She put on her helmet and adjusted the chin strap since she wanted to play it safe even though Michigan had no helmet law. The last thing she needed was to be splattered all along Main Street. Right before they left, Petunia had had the foresight to leave her purse behind with Pansy still inside. Her aunt might not be all that happy about that one, but there was just no way that she’d be able to conceal the cat inside Mario’s, which was yet another place she’d been caught with the cat even though he had been out of sight in her big, black purse.

She didn’t have any other choice than to hold onto Noah’s waist as he rocked the bike to stabilize it, kicking up the kickstand. When the bike roared to life, Petunia felt her whole body tingle. There was nothing better than being on the back of a bike. She recalled her wild teenage years when she’d dated Bobby Hines, much to her aunt’s disapproval, and she spent hours roaring up the back roads of Michigan. That didn’t go on too much longer than one summer. When it was time to go back to her senior year, Bobby was long gone. Petunia half suspected that Aunt Petunia might have been responsible for Bobby’s disappearance, but she couldn’t prove it, and her aunt always dodged the question.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Noah parallel-parked his motorcycle and Petunia adjusted her clothing when she got off, taking the helmet off. She then ran her fingers through her auburn hair. She stared at the long line that was formed at the door. “You made a reservation, right?”

“Reservation? I didn’t know you had to do that in a small town such as Lake Forest.”

Petunia shot him one of her fiery looks. “Mario’s happens to have the best Italian food in Lake Forest and for fifty miles.”

“Sorry, do you want to go somewhere else?”

“Not really. I’m starving. Leave it to me.” Petunia marched to the front of the line and said, “We have reservations,” elbowing her way through the crowd. She sucked in a breath when she spotted Olivia Brownmeyer and her now husband, Henry, Petunia’s ex- fiancé. Her heart just sunk, but she moved past them.

“Reservation for Petunia Patterson, or did you put the reservation under your name, Noah?”

“You know I can’t seem to remember, but the lady on the phone said there was always a table for Petunia Patterson.”

The hostess pulled a pencil from her up-do, and stared at the list, running the writing instrument down the list. “Sorry, Petunia. Don’t have you on the list.”

“How perfect,” Olivia sneered, stroking Henry’s arm lovingly.

“Stop it, Olivia,” Henry said. “I’m sorry, Petunia. Olivia doesn’t mean that in a bad way. I’m sure of it.”

“That’s just the thing, I do mean it. Get lost, Petunia, and run along to McDonald’s where your type usually eats.”

The crowd gasped and Petunia made a move toward Olivia, but Noah said, “Please, Petunia. Don’t do anything rash.”

“Not to worry. She’s not worth it.”

The hostess whirled Petunia around and whispered, “Go around the back. I’m sure Vinnie will get you in.”

Petunia moved past the people waiting in line, who gave her plenty of space to pass like they were worried that she was actually capable of casting a spell on them, as most folks in town thought.

“Wait up, Petunia. We can just go somewhere else even if it’s more of a drive,” Noah said.

Without slowing her pace to the back door, she said, “Don’t be silly.” She climbed the few steps to the door and opened it, entering with Noah trying to keep up with her.

The smell of tomato sauce wafted over to them and knives were striking cutting boards as they diced onions, garlic, and parsley, since Mario’s was known to only use the freshest of ingredients. When the chef stopped spouting off orders to the others who worked in the kitchen, Petunia smiled, and was whisked away by Mathew, the busboy. “Let me guess, you forgot to make reservations, again?”