Some Like It Witchy (5 page)

I'd clean.

She'd muss.

I'd computerized our billing system.

She still used a ledger.

It was maddening.

However, over the past few weeks, the office was slowly giving way to my methods. I'd gloat, but the only reason Ve hadn't wreaked havoc on my organizing was because she hadn't been around. It was only a matter of time before the space returned to her special kind of anarchy.

Or was it?

If she won the election how much time would she be able to devote to the company? It was a thought that I didn't want to think about too much. If she closed the business, I'd be out of a job. A paying job, at least. I still had the snoop business to keep me busy.

“But still,” Harper said, undeterred. “I mean, Calliope used to work with Sylar and Dorothy as an assistant at Sylar's optical shop. She has to have a high queasy tolerance.”

Harper made a good point, not that I'd admit it. “What are you getting at, Harper?”

She let out a loud huff. “Maybe you should talk to the Elder? Get her to hire
me
as the Craft snoop? Because if you
can't figure out what I'm getting at, then you might be in the wrong line of work.”

“You're cranky. When was the last time you ate? You know how you get when your blood sugar drops.”

“Darcy!”

I laughed. “What possible motive would Calliope have for murdering Raina?”

“Again, isn't this
your
job?”

“So you have nothing,” I challenged, finding this conversation ridiculous.

“Okay, let's see . . .” She trailed off.

Missy lifted a sleepy eyebrow as I tapped my foot, waiting.

“All right, all right,” Harper finally said. “Maybe she wants Raina's job. How about that?”

“I doubt it. She's been sending résumés to museums all over the city. It's only a matter of time before she's hired as an archivist.”

“Fine. Well, maybe she's having an affair with Kent. How about that?”

“Ew.”

“I know, right? Don't think about it too hard.”

“Calliope's newly engaged to Finn,” I said, trying to shake the image of canoodling Kent and Calliope from my head. “Remember?”

“Well,” Harper huffed, “maybe she's just plain old mentally unstable.”

Smiling, I teased, “I'm not sure she's the one who's mentally unstable.”

“What are you getting at?” Harper asked, full of faux outrage.

“If the straitjacket fits . . .”

“You're lucky a customer just came in. I'll talk to you later. You still owe me details.” She hung up.

I glanced at Missy. “She's certifiable.”

Missy yawned.

But . . . maybe Harper had a point about Calliope. I shouldn't rule anyone out quite yet. Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, I eyed Calliope's phone. Before I could overthink it, I grabbed it and swiped the screen, bringing it to life.

A password box popped up.

I groaned. Served me right for trying to violate her privacy like that.

But . . . I was able to see she had text messages waiting for her from Kent. Eight of them, in fact. And five missed calls from him, too. I imagined they came in after he heard what happened to Raina.

I quickly finished cleaning up the desk, and decided I'd put off the inevitable long enough. It was time to get this investigation going. First, I'd look for Starla to see if she had any additional information about Raina's state of mind lately. Then I needed to drop off Calliope's phone and binder. Then go see Pepe. And then . . . well, it would be time to face my demons.

I had to find Andreus.

I
left Missy at home as I headed out to search the green for Starla. I didn't know how long I'd be gone, and it wasn't fair to the little dog to drag her all about the village for hours on end, though she'd probably argue that if she could. She loved being out and about—obviously, since she escaped every chance she got.

A large crowd still watched the goings-on at the Tavistock house as village police officers scoured the yard. Joining the rubbernecking, I stood on my tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of Nick, but he was nowhere to be seen.

I was itching to talk with him. To find out what he'd learned so far—if anything. Technically, he could get in big trouble if his mortal coworkers discovered he was sharing information with me, but we were careful. And the lone Crafter who'd rat us out—Glinda Hansel—had been neutralized by the Elder when she appointed me Craft snoop.

As always when I thought about Glinda, my initial anger slowly dissipated into pity. I felt for her and her unhappy misguided life, though she certainly didn't deserve my sympathy. And wouldn't want it, for that matter.

Pressing on, I skirted the crowd, searching for Starla. Unfortunately, if she was still here, she was so in the thick of things that I couldn't see her. Or she'd already gone off to the newspaper office. Or she'd called it a morning and was meeting Vince for an afternoon driving lesson.

Heaven help us all.

Shading my eyes, I gave one last futile look around and finally decided to move on.

Plan B.

I'd postpone seeing Starla and head to the Gingerbread Shack, the bakery owned by Starla's twin brother, Evan. It was a win-win decision. Since he had accompanied Starla during her house-hunt he would have spent as much time with Raina as she had.

Plus, if I was going to track down Andreus, fortification in the form of chocolate and coffee could only help.

I threw one last look around for Starla to no avail, then turned to be on my way, when I bumped into someone.

“Sorr—
Eeee
!” I stumbled backward.

Strong hands settled on my shoulders, steadying me. “My deepest apologies if I startled you, Ms. Merriweather.”

Andreus Woodshall's face was cast in shadows by the canopy of leaves above his head. His dark eyes had sunk deep into their sockets, and the bones of his face pushed against his skin, giving him a skeletal appearance. His lips twisted into an evil smirk, and his fingers felt like bony knives on my arms.

Suddenly thoughts of death and evil flooded my brain, and I tried to get a grip on myself.

“I—” Nope. When he looked like this, he was absolutely terrifying, and I couldn't seem to form a coherent thought.

“Ms. Merriweather? Are you unwell?”

I wondered—but didn't know for certain—if he was aware of the way he changed between the dark and light. I suspected he did—and used it to his advantage.

Steeling my nerves, I quickly spun around, tugging him out of the shadows and into the sunshine.

In an instant, his features morphed into a pleasing countenance. He went from being the Crypt Keeper to a handsome Clark Gable.

Have mercy,
as my aunt Ve would say.

“I'm—” I cleared my throat. “I'm fine. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that.”

“Was I sneaking?” A corner of his lips lifted in amusement. “I wasn't aware.” He motioned to Mrs. P's bench. “Care to sit down a moment?”

What I really wanted was to run far, far away from him, but hightailing it out of here wasn't really an action befitting the Craft snoop. I had planned to track him down anyway, so why not just get it over with now? Right here. Where there were lots of witnesses.

Besides, I was rather curious as to why he wanted to speak with me.

“Sure,” I said. Half the bench was in shadow, and I quickly parked myself on the shady side. I wasn't taking any risks.

Arching an eyebrow, he sat next to me. Sunbeams fell across his face as he ran a hand along the bench's well-worn armrest. “I heard about Mrs. P's death and her subsequent return. She's doing well?”

It was still odd to not see Mrs. P sitting on the bench in her velour jogging suit, her hair sky high, her laughter punctuating the air. Her death the previous January had been shocking, and her passing had taken a twist I hadn't expected. Mrs. P was the newest familiar on the block. A chubby white mouse with spiky fur between her ears and the same boisterous laugh. “She's good. Happy.”

“I'm pleased to hear it.”

I searched for a way to segue from speaking about Mrs. P to asking if he was a cold-blooded killer. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to blurt out my suspicions. “How long have you been back in the village?” I asked instead, studying him.

I'd known him to be kind.

He had the ability to see black and white auras around others, and he'd warned me when he'd seen dark energy
around me. He'd cast a protection spell for me when I needed it most.

I'd also known him to be wicked.

Breaking and entering. Lying. Cheating.

It suddenly struck me that his dual faces matched his dual personalities. He was good. And he was evil.

Mixed together, they made for one heck of a complex man.

“A few days now,” he said slowly, eyeing me carefully.

Sizing me up.

I tried not to let it bother me. Which was infinitely easier when he looked like a movie star and not the keeper of the dead.

He didn't seem to have aged much in the past year, and again I was reminded of Dracula and his ability to de-age when drinking blood. Nearly fifty, he should have a lot more fine lines and wrinkles, but there were only a few that appeared in his cheeks and the corners of his downturned eyes when he smiled. The silver strands sparkling in his hair were the only giveaway that he might be older than he looked.

“Do you have a house in the village?” I asked. I had never considered where he stayed when he was in town. Some of the Roving Stones vendors had rooms at the Pixie Cottage. Others at hotels on the outskirts of the village, in Salem proper. Where he stayed was a mystery.
He
was a mystery.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “While in town, I stay with friends.”

He had friends? “Who?”

“People.”

“What kind?”

He full-out smiled. A hundred watts of charm. “The usual variety.”

“Is there a reason you're being evasive?”

“Is there a reason you're being so nosy?”

I dropped my voice. “You might have heard I'm working in an official capacity for the Elder. Your name came up this morning in regard to Raina.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did it?”

Interesting that he didn't deny knowing I was the Craft snoop, and I wondered who supplied him with village gossip. He had a twenty-something-year-old son—Lazarus—but he traveled with the Roving Stones as well and wouldn't have been privy to a lot of what was going on since the last time the Stones had been in town. I didn't know of any other Woodshalls in the village.

His father had been killed after the Circe Heist, but what had happened to his mother? Where was she? So many questions, but I had to focus on the most important first.

“Did you know her well?” I asked. “Raina?”

“What makes you think I knew her at all?” he countered calmly.

“Just a feeling.” A bad feeling at that.

“Feelings can be manipulated,” he said, leaning into the shadows as though proving a point.

It was clear he was well aware of his metamorphic abilities. It was good to know.

I gently pushed him backward into the light and said, “Initial instincts are rarely wrong. You know Raina. How? Is it the house? Are you one of the potential buyers?”

He tensed. “What do you know of the property?”

“Enough to know that it may be worth much more than its listing price,” I said. “Especially to you.”

“Indeed,” he said. His gaze narrowed. “I heard Raina interrupted a burglary. Do you know if the burglar found what he was looking for?”

This was why he wanted to talk to me. He wanted to know if the diamonds had been found. So, he was either truly curious or trying to make me believe he hadn't been the burglar.

Complex.

I didn't know which idea to believe, so I stayed neutral. “I don't know.”

“I see.” Apparently he was done with me, as he abruptly stood. “I should be going. There is much to do in preparation for the Roving Stones.” He bowed. “It's been enlightening, Ms. Merriweather.”

I stood, too, but resisted reaching out to grab his arm. As much as I didn't want to let him go without getting a single answer out of him, I absolutely didn't want to touch him. “Where were you this morning? Do you have an alibi?”

True humor crinkled his eyes. “I had a . . . meeting.”

“With whom?”

“A friend.”

“What's the friend's name?” I pressed.

Before he could answer, a voice from behind me said, “I'd like to know as well.”

I turned and found an imposing-looking Nick. Wide stance, hard eyes, grim set to his lips, his strong chin jutted. It was what I called his police chief face.

Which, in all honesty, wasn't all that different from his regular everyday face. He didn't allow himself to fully let go and just
be
very often. He was a protector by nature. Always on guard. I treasured the times the hard edges softened and his eyes would fill with happiness. It did my heart good.

And him being here right now? I felt myself relax a little. Safety in numbers.

“Ah, good to see you again, Chief,” Andreus said, offering a hand shake.

Nick reluctantly shook. “If you have an alibi for this morning, Andreus, I'd like to hear it.”

“I'm sure you would,” he responded. “I cannot give it, however.”

“Why not?” I asked him.

“It's the nature of secrets, Ms. Merriweather. They're meant to be kept.”

“Not always,” I said. Not in matters of life and death.

Andreus tapped his chin. “Perhaps you are right, and I am, alas, wrong. Or perhaps, if you're so curious about secrets, you should discuss the matter with the Elder. She and secrets go hand in hand, no?”

Uncomfortable, I shifted my weight. “What's that supposed to mean?”

From my many encounters with Andreus, I'd learned he rarely said anything flat out. His sentences were laced with undercurrents that could drown someone if she had the misfortune of getting caught up in them.

I was caught.

He'd baited me with a riddle about the Elder, obviously knowing that learning her secrets was one of my weaknesses.

Nick stepped a bit closer to me, offering his silent support. He knew how my curiosity burned for more information of the Craft's leader.

With dark eyes growing wide and his eyebrows inching upward, Andreus feigned innocence. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“Do you know who she is?” I asked point-blank.
Glug, glug.
Drowning was as painful as I'd always imagined.

For the briefest of seconds, I thought I saw his eyes soften. But it must have been a trick of the light, because he suddenly grinned mischievously. “Of course I know who the Elder is, as I was at her appointment many moons ago. Most of us in the village know who she is. Except you don't know, do you?
Poor thing. Left in the dark. One has to wonder why.” He
tsk
ed.

I could feel my cheeks flushing, and I hated that he could see that he was getting under my skin.

“But the Elder's business is not of my concern,” he continued. “Just as my business should not be of concern to her”—he arched an eyebrow—“or her puppet.”

That was it. I'd had it with him. I stepped forward, ready to jab him in the chest with an accusatory finger, which was saying something, because it meant touching him. But fortunately Nick suddenly sidestepped in front of me.

“Enough,” he said sternly to the both of us.

I huffed as Andreus winked at me.

Winked!

The gall of the man.

Nick pulled a clear plastic evidence bag from his pocket and held it up. Inside the bag was the amulet that had been in Raina's palm this morning when I found her. The charm was a stunning work of art. A thick golden rope chain held the amulet, which was rimmed in colorful gemstones and crystals.

“Do you recognize this?” Nick asked him.

Andreus's eyebrows dropped into a deep furrow as he pretended to contemplate the amulet. He finally said, “My memory isn't so good these days.”

Nick's forehead wrinkled as he threw Andreus a dubious look. “Perhaps a trip to the station will give it a jog.”

Andreus's smirk was full of menace. “Is that a threat, Chief?”

“Merely a suggestion. However, I do need to ask you some questions regarding the murder of Raina Gallagher, so it wouldn't be a wasted trip.”

“Now is not such a good time for me.” Andreus glanced at his watch. He looked up, staring at Nick dead-on. He tipped an imaginary hat. “Good day to you both.”

We watched as he strode away. Movement in my
peripheral vision caught my attention, and I shifted my gaze to see a young gangly golden retriever galloping toward Andreus, his leash dragging behind him.

Clarence.

Drawing in a deep breath, I looked around for his owner and found her near a lamppost giving me a death stare.

Glinda Hansel.

Andreus knelt on one knee and let the dog slobber his face with kisses. Glinda finally tore her gaze from mine and went after her dog.

When Andreus stood, he gave Glinda a kiss on her cheek, linked arms with her, and headed off in the direction of her house.

My mouth had fallen open in shock.

Nick used the tip of his finger to nudge my chin upward. I snapped my mouth closed.

Cocking my head, I said, “What's Glinda have to do with Andreus?”