A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (15 page)

“Have you come to confess?” Roger shouted.

Nick jumped in front of him just before he reached Jonathan, sandwiching himself in between the two men.

Jonathan tucked Zoey behind him. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

Yvonne and I inched closer as Glinda ran over, her hand on her gun, and motioned for Zoey to come to her. She went to Glinda’s side, and they looked almost identical from behind except for the clothing. Same height,
same hair color. I’d take them for sisters, except from the front they looked absolutely nothing alike. Glinda was angelically pretty, while Zoey was what some would call a plain Jane. With her unusual looks, if she was about a foot taller, she would be on runways in Paris where couture models weren’t necessarily the prettiest but rather striking and memorable. But here in the Enchanted Village, she blended in. Especially next to the striking Glinda.

“You’re demented,” Jonathan said. He hadn’t shouted it, which seemed to make Roger more angry.

Roger strained against Nick’s outstretched arms. “You deny your role in her death?”

“Her death,” Jonathan said calmly, “was not at my hands.”

“That’s not what I said,” Roger growled.

Nick seemed inclined to let them keep talking—as long as it didn’t become physical.

“Perhaps, Roger, you doth protest too much.” Jonathan took a step closer to the furry beast. He no longer seemed like an ill man, but one who had the strength of ten men. “A reflection of your own guilt in this situation?”

Yvonne’s hand flew to her mouth to cover her gasp. I was trying my best to keep up with everything going on.

Roger roared, his eyes wide and wild. He drew in a deep breath as he prepared for his attack. Nick threw a look at Glinda.

She calmly stepped over and Tased Roger.

He immediately fell to the ground with a whine.

My jaw dropped.

Nick let out a breath and shook out his arms. To Zoey, he said, “Take Jonathan home.”

She nodded and pulled on his arm. He didn’t budge. His gaze was fixed on the doorway of Patrice’s house.

I followed it, and found Elodie staring at Jonathan, her gaze just as strained as his.

“Jonathan,” Zoey said softly, tugging. “Let’s go.”

“Oh my God!” Yvonne cried, rushing to Roger’s side. “What just happened?”

I heard Glinda say, “He’ll be fine. It was a very low voltage.”

Finally, Jonathan turned away.

And when I looked back at the doorway, I saw that Elodie was gone, too.

A
n hour had passed.

Roger had recovered and lumbered like a giant grizzly, walking in circles around the yard with Yvonne by his side.

Glinda remained, kind of floating around. Her blond hair had been tied back in a stylish ponytail, and her light blue eyes looked saintly in the late-morning light.

I’d busied myself by organizing the mess on the lawn.

Nick had just finished interviewing everyone and had come over to me. He had barely been by my side for a few seconds when Glinda approached.

“Chief?” she said. “We all done here?”

Nodding, he said, “You can head on out.”

“What?” Roger said, having overheard. “You’re not charging her with anything?”

I wasn’t sure if he was referring to Glinda, for Tasing him, or Elodie, for causing the ruckus in the first place. “The girl’s gone crazy.”

Ah, had to be Elodie, since Glinda had only been doing her job.

Technically, I supposed Nick could have charged Elodie with disturbing the peace, and I was thankful he hadn’t. She had enough to deal with.

Roger shook his head. “Girl’s gone plum crazy.”

Yvonne elbowed him in his gut. “Stop that. She’s grieving, is all.”

He didn’t look convinced. A bristly eyebrow rose, and he scratched his beard. He didn’t look any worse for wear after being zapped. Being big was obviously a perk in that situation. “I say it’s a good thing Connor hasn’t married the girl yet. He needs to get out while he can.”

Yvonne glared at him,
tsk
ed disgustedly, and stomped into Patrice’s house.

I wanted to follow her. Roger gave me the heebies. Instead, I took a step closer to Nick, who didn’t seem to mind in the least. I saw his lip twitch as he suppressed a smile, and I would have sworn that he moved closer to me as well. Our elbows bumped, then settled against each other.

I resisted the urge to snuggle right up next to him. It was harder than it seemed.

“What did I say?” Roger asked, perplexed, as he watched his wife go.

Nick ignored the question and asked one of his own. “Has Elodie acted out before?”

Roger folded his arms across his massive chest and shrugged.

Interesting. Roger had apparently adored Patrice—but not her daughter?

Nick jotted in his notebook. “Did she ever show aggression toward her mother?”

“She’d get mad about the clutter, sure.”

What normal person wouldn’t? I wondered.

“Did they fight?” Nick asked.

Roger grumbled. “Once they had a big fight. Didn’t talk for months.”

“What did they fight about?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know. I should go check on Yvonne,” he said and lumbered off.

Nick glanced around. “Hansel? You still here? I thought you left.”

Glinda hurried over. “I was waiting for you?”

I couldn’t help but notice the way she looked at him. I had a feeling it mirrored the way
I
looked at him.

She liked him.

I glanced his way. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Why?” he asked.

“I—” She blinked long lashes. “I thought we were done?”

He gave an abrupt nod. “We are. I’ll meet you at the station.”

She still stood there.

“You can go now,” he said softly.

“Oh. Okay.” She turned and hurriedly walked away.

I waited for him to say something about her obvious adoration, but he didn’t.

And if he wasn’t going to mention it, neither was I.

Looking for something to talk about other than my growing jealousy, I said, “Do you already know what Elodie and her mom had a fight about?”

Nick smiled. “I can’t discuss the case with you, either, Darcy.”

There was one case he could talk about with me—since I was somewhat involved. “Any leads with the Peeper Creeper?”

“Not yet.”

Lots of good news today
, I thought sarcastically.

The screen door slammed, and Connor came down the steps toward us.

“How’s Elodie?” I asked.

“Embarrassed,” he said. “I’m going to take her home so she can lie down. She spent the morning working on funeral arrangements, and I think it all got to her.”

Understandable.

He said, “Darcy, is there any way you can stay and bring this stuff back into the house?”

“I have a couple of quick errands to run. I can do it after that. Give me fifteen minutes?”

“Take your time,” he said, throwing a look at the pile on the lawn. “I don’t think this stuff is going anywhere.”

As I headed off to Sylar’s office, I couldn’t help but think about those opals glistening in the sun. And I couldn’t help but wonder what else might be hiding in all that clutter. Were there more treasures? Secrets? Or perhaps the answer to who had killed Patrice.

M
uch to my dismay, Third Eye Optometry had a
CLOSED
sign on the door. I shaded my eyes and peeked in, but everything inside was dark and closed up tight.

Weird. I checked my watch. It was close to eleven thirty. I had only a half hour to track down Sylar and get his approval on the wedding menu.

Sitting on a bench in front of his shop, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Ve. She answered on the third ring, her voice sounding tired.

I got right to the point. “Sylar’s not at work.”

“Don’t be silly,” Ve said. “Of course he is.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the shop. Still dark. “Nope. He’s not.”

“Oh dear,” Ve murmured. “Give me a minute. I’m going to call his cell and then give you a call back.”

I hung up and glanced at the village green. The Roving Stones had a good crowd browsing the booths. I stared at the Upala tent and watched as customers stopped, chatted, and bought. I couldn’t tell from here if it was Lazarus or his father doing the selling, however. And I didn’t particularly want to find out.

Chicken of me, I knew. Especially since Mr. Macabre was probably the only one, other than Elodie, who knew
what the Anicula looked like. If the amulet was mixed in with Patrice’s treasures, it would be nice to know what I was looking for.

My cell phone rang. Ve. “Did you find him?” I asked.

“He’s not answering any of his phones. I’m worried, Darcy. What if he caught what I have and has fallen ill? What if he’s collapsed somewhere, waiting for someone to find him?”

Sylar was too stubborn to get sick. “I’m sure that’s not what happened.”

“But we must be certain.”

I had a sinking feeling about where this conversation was headed. “How?”

“Can you look for him?”

I drew in a deep breath. “Where?”

“First check the store, then his house. After that, I guess we’ll have to get Nick involved.”

I hated the worry in her voice. “Do you have keys to his office? And his house?”

“I do, but he has spares hidden. It will save time if you just use those. Are you at the shop still?”

“Sitting out front.”

“Go around to the back entrance. There’s a security light next to the door. It has a faux panel. Simply push downward on the top of the lamp and you’ll hear a click. A little compartment will pop out that has a key in it. It will unlock the back door. Give me a call if you have any trouble or to let me know what you find.”

Seemed vaguely like a wild-goose chase to me, but I couldn’t say no to Ve, especially when she was so worried. But I was also feeling torn. By now I should have been back at Patrice’s house, helping to clean up Elodie’s mess.

So I did my best at being in two places at once. I called for backup.

My first call was to Mrs. Pennywhistle and I had to
laugh when I found out she was with Ve, dropping off soup. Sometimes the village felt like a small, small world.

Mrs. P was more than happy to head over to Elodie’s, and since Elodie trusted Mrs. P, I knew she wouldn’t mind me asking her for help. I also called Starla to see if she could lend a hand, but she didn’t answer her phone. As I left a quick message, I couldn’t help but wonder if her coffee date had turned into a lunch date.

I really hoped not.

After I hung up, I walked around the side of the building, following a stony path to the back of Sylar’s shop, a stand-alone business not too far from the Sorcerer’s Stove. The store was a cute little cottage with a faux thatched roof. At the rear of the building were a couple of trash cans tucked behind a picket fence, a narrow driveway, and another wooded dirt path leading to the Enchanted Trail.

After I set my bags down by the picket fence, I started looking for the spare. I felt a little strange inspecting Sylar’s back door and security light, like I was some sort of criminal. That feeling was made even worse when I realized I wasn’t tall enough to reach the top of the light. I glanced furtively around for something to stand on, but didn’t see a thing. Not so much as a wooden crate or cardboard box in sight.

I was debating whether to run home for a step stool when my gaze fell upon the trash cans. They were the metal kind, which would be strong enough to hold my weight yet small enough for me to drag over to the door.

One of them would have to do.

Looking left, then right, then left again, I moseyed over to the cans like I had every right to be removing them from their picket pen.

One of them was heavier than it looked, so I left it in place and grabbed the other one. It banged against my shins as I carried it over to the back door. As I set it
down, the lid popped and clanged like a cymbal. Guiltily, I checked to make sure no one had spotted me and was calling the police. All clear.

Climbing atop the can took some doing. I had to balance one foot on the ground, hold on to the doorknob for leverage, then haul myself up. As I pulled, the doorknob turned. The door swung open, and I screamed as it pulled me off-balance. I fluttered and flailed and jumped before I toppled over. I landed with a wince as pain once again shot through my ankle. The trash can teetered, and I reached for it just a second too late. It fell with a crash.

For the love
, as Harper would say.

I glanced at the now-open door. The door that had been unlocked.
Huh
. I probably should have checked that before the whole trash can thing. Live and learn.

I took a quick peek around the building to make sure no one had heard the cacophony. Apparently, as the police were not descending, no one had. I quickly went about setting things back to rights in case anyone happened along.

Trash had spilled out of the can. Mostly shredded paper products, thank goodness. As I went about scooping everything back into the containers, a flash of bright purple on the ground caught my eye. I picked up the sliver of paper and realized I recognized it.

It was part of Ve’s wedding invitation—the RSVP card. Crouching, I found many more purple strips. Not just from the RSVP cards but parts of the entire invitation. Sitting back, I wondered why on earth Sylar had shredded wedding invitations in his trash. Were these extra invitations? Or was this the reason why Ve hadn’t heard back from so many of the people she invited?

It was puzzling, but I didn’t have the time at the moment to stress over it. I finished cleaning up the mess and dragged the can back to its pen. I’d just wrestled it in
when I heard voices. People were coming down the dirt path from the Enchanted Trail.

I dropped to the ground and duck-walked behind the trash can corral, out of sight. My gaze shot to the back door of Sylar’s shop. It was still open. Not terribly wide but certainly noticeable.

I gulped and wished with all my might the door would swing closed.

Nothing, nada, zilch.

Where was that Anicula when I needed it?