A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery (16 page)

A couple emerged from the tree cover, their arms linked.

I frowned, feeling the skin on my forehead dip into an angry vee.

I didn’t recognize the woman, a short sexy-secretary type with plump cheeks and a sharp chin. Her white-blond hair was swept into a claw clip, and she wore hardly any makeup at all—and didn’t need any with her fair, flawless skin. Her wrap dress accented a curvaceous figure. She was Betty Boop cute.

What wasn’t so cute was the way she gripped the man’s arm so possessively.

Sylar’s arm.

And to think Ve had been worried about him.

This was when I realized the importance of the Craft’s “do no harm” motto. Because if I’d known a spell for putting a pox on a man, I’d have cast it. The swine.

Sylar patted her hand and removed it (somewhat forcibly) from his arm. “Dorothy, I’m glad we had this chat, but we should be getting back to work.”

Aha, so this was Dorothy. I should have known—I could see Glinda looking just like her in thirty years.

“Sy, you don’t understand,” she said.

Sy? I wanted to gag at her cotton-candy tone.

Sylar looked truly perplexed. His bushy white eyebrows dipped. “Understand what?”

She heaved a sigh, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. At first it was just a peck, but Sylar seemed to melt into her and it became a steamy embrace.

My jaw dropped.

Sylar, thank goodness, finally came to his senses and extricated himself. He took a step back, looking slightly stunned. He was shaking his head.

Dorothy-the-hussy said, “If you go through with marrying Velma, Sylar, I’ll be forced to quit.” She dragged a hand down his chest, taking hold of his tie. “You don’t want that, do you?” She cuddled up closer to him.

Yes. Yes, he did. I was getting a clearer picture now. This woman was after Ve’s man. And by the looks of it, he was weak. As Dorothy leaned in for another smooch, he didn’t back away.

Something had to be done. Fast. I felt around for a rock and found a small stone. I tossed it at the door.

Sylar’s head snapped up—the trance he was under finally broken.

Dorothy pouted.

Sylar, his tie askew, marched toward the back door. “Call the police, Dorothy. It looks like we’ve had a break-in.”

As they cautiously entered the shop, I snuck away, wondering just how I was going to break this development to Ve.

I
was halfway to Patrice Keaton’s house when I remembered the menu.

Sighing, I spun around and headed back to Sylar’s shop. I heard the sirens just as I approached the front door.

Trying to look innocent, I turned and found the Bumblebee pulling up to the curb.

Nick got out and gave me a searching look. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiled a smile that melted me from the inside out.

Sylar came hurrying out the front door and stopped short when he spotted me. “Darcy! What are you doing here?”

I fussed around in my tote bag and came up with the wedding menu. “Ve sent me over for your approval of the wedding menu.” I glanced at Nick. “Is there something wrong?”

“Someone broke into the store.” Sylar was short of breath, his cheeks pink, his tie still askew from when Dorothy had tugged on it.

My jaw locked, then loosened, and I tried for my best bashful voice. “The back door?”

Sylar blinked. “Why, yes. How’d you—”

Looking between the two men, I said, “I think I’m at fault.”

“Maybe you should explain, Darcy.” Nick’s lip was twitching with amusement again. I tried not to stare at it. Or wish that it was touching mine.

“Well, Ve sent me over with the wedding menu”—I flashed it for them to prove I was legit—“and when the store was closed, Ve was worried because Sylar was supposed to be working. She became very concerned for his well-being.” I gave him the hairy eyeball for worrying Ve while he was out traipsing around with that baby-booming bimbo, Dorothy. “She asked me to go inside and make sure Sylar hadn’t passed out or anything.”

“So you broke in?” Nick asked, eyes wide.

“Nooo,” I explained patiently. “I used the key that’s hidden in the security light by the back door.” Okay, so I fudged the truth a wee bit. What they don’t know about me falling off a trash can wouldn’t hurt them. “Ve told me where it was. I must not have closed the door tightly on my way out. Sorry,” I said to Sylar.

He coughed and tugged at his collar. “Quite all right. It was nice of you to check on my welfare.”

I rocked on my heels. “If you don’t mind me asking, where were you? Ve was beside herself trying to get in touch.”

His already-pink cheeks flamed crimson. “I, ah—a doctor’s appointment. Yes, the doctor. To make sure I’m fit as a fiddle for the upcoming wedding!”

“And all is well, I take it?” I asked, twisting the knife.

“Fine. Dandy! Fit as a—”

“Fiddle. Right, got that. And no one was covering the shop? Don’t you have an assistant or something?”

“Dorothy,” Nick supplied, nodding.

Sylar fidgeted with his pocket watch. “I”—he coughed—“gave her the day off.”

Over Sylar’s shoulder, Dorothy and her white-blond hair could be seen peering out at us. I lifted my eyebrows.

Sylar followed my gaze. “The
morning
off. Morning! My apologies. The break-in has me rattled.”

I was about to protest the words “break-in” when Nick touched my elbow. “So we’re all good here?”

Sylar clapped him on the shoulder. “Seems so. Nothing is missing from the shop, and I’ll go call Ve right this moment. Thanks for coming so quickly, Nick. It’s nice to have someone competent on the job.” He turned to go.

“Wait!” I cried.

He turned around, a bit of panic in his eyes. “Yes, Darcy?”

“The menu.” I passed it to him.

He lowered his glasses to the end of his nose and peered at the paper. “Good. Very good. I approve.”

I bet he did. There could have been mud cakes on that menu and he would have said it was fine. He just wanted to be away from us as soon as humanly possible.

He thrust the menu back at me and retreated into the shop, leaving the
CLOSED
sign still hanging on the door as it slammed closed.

Nick smiled his half smile. “Any reason you gave him the grand inquisition?”

“Promise not to tell?” I said.

This time he fully smiled. “Cross my heart.”

“Sylar neglected to mention that he was playing tonsil hockey with Dorothy behind the shop.” I shuddered at the memory. Some things a girl just didn’t need to see. “He hadn’t been to the doctor at all—he’d been on a walk with her.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. And that’s not all. There are shredded wedding invitations in the trash. And I don’t know if they’re extras or if the invitations were never mailed in the first place.”

Nick held up a hand. “Do I want to know why you were snooping in his trash?”

“It wasn’t snooping. It…it’s a long story. And doesn’t really matter.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “So Sylar is cheating on Ve?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that. It looks like Dorothy has her sights set on him, though, and he…he’s just weak. Men. Sheesh.”

He elbowed me. “Hey. Not
all
men.”

Suddenly, I felt bashful myself. “You’ll have to convince me of that.”

He held my gaze. “Maybe I will.”

My heart was pounding. In a good way.

“Do you,” he began, but was cut off by his radio. He gave a little shake of his head. “It’s been one of those days.”

Didn’t I know it.

“Sawyer here,” he said into his walkie-talkie thingy.

A voice crackled. “Chief, they need you back at the Keaton house.”

Nick winced as he asked, “Why?”

“Report of a robbery.”

“Be right there,” he answered. To me, he said, “I’ve got to go.”

“I heard. I’m on my way back there, too.”

He stepped off the curb. “Guess I’ll see you there.”

“Guess so.” I rocked on my heels.

He opened his car door, then looked up at me with that half smile. “Do you want a ride?”

I smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

On the two-minute drive to Patrice’s house, I called Ve to let her know that Sylar was in fact safe and sound.

For how long he remained that way was to be determined.

When Ve found out about what had happened with Dorothy, there was going to be hell to pay.

I was beginning to think that I shouldn’t tell her…just so there wouldn’t be another murder in the village anytime soon.

On the phone, Ve sounded relieved to hear the news but somewhat distant. Distracted.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Watching reality TV,” she said. “It’s really quite compelling.”

I smiled at the thought of her watching some of the more outrageous programs. “I’ll be at the Keaton house for a while. There was a bit of an incident there this morning.”

Nick cast me a sideways smirk.

Okay, “a bit” might have been an understatement.

“I heard.” She
tsk
ed. “That poor girl.”

That’s right—Mrs. P had been with her when I called for help. I told Ve I’d check on her in a while and hung up as Nick parked near Patrice’s house.

Mrs. P was marching around in her bright pink tracksuit, her hands in the air as if calling for help from the heavens. Elodie and Yvonne sat on the front steps, in almost identical positions. Elodie had her elbows propped on her knees and her head in her hand as she stared forlornly at the lawn. Yvonne had only one elbow on her knee, her hand cupping her chin.

Mrs. P came to an abrupt stop. “One minute they’re here, the next they’re gone. Couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds that I was in the house.”

Nick said, “Slow down. What’s gone?”

“The opals!” Mrs. P said as if we should have known.

“This is all my fault,” Elodie murmured.

“Now, now.” Yvonne patted Elodie’s knee. “It’s no one’s fault but the thief’s.”

Elodie’s hair was mussed, sticking out in lumps and bumps. “We all know who the thief is.”

“You do?” I asked.

Nick stepped forward. “Who?”

“Andreus Woodshall, of course,” Elodie said. “Who else?”

Mrs. P shivered.

So did I. The man’s name was popping up with alarming frequency.

“We don’t know that for certain,” Yvonne said, stretching out her legs.

Elodie threw her a “be serious” look. “Who else would it be?”

Yvonne pondered for a moment. “Perhaps you’re right. It was Andreus.”

Nick looked like he needed a stiff drink. Or a nap. Or both. “Did any of you see him take the opals?”

All three women shook their heads.

“Then how can you be sure?” Nick asked.

Completely serious, Elodie asked, “Who else would it be?”

I felt like we were talking in circles. I was starting to get dizzy.

“Maybe you should talk me through what happened,” Nick said.

Mrs. P said, “I was out here, separating piles. Trash from treasure. Elodie and Yvonne were in the house.” Her voice rose. “I heard a crash from the backyard.”

“We heard it, too,” Yvonne piped in.

“So I went a’running. Well”—Mrs. P grinned—“a’fast-walkin’.”

Which, despite her age, was pretty fast.

“A flowerpot had been knocked over on the back deck. By the time we got that sorted out and I came back out front, the box of opals was gone.”

“Just the opals?” Nick asked.

Mrs. P nodded firmly. “Just.”

“Which proves that it was Andreus,” Elodie said. She glanced at Yvonne. “He’s not usually so careless. He
should have taken some of the other gems, too, just to throw off some suspicion.”

My head was starting to spin. I sat on the grass.

Yvonne nodded in agreement. “Sloppy. But desperate times—”

Nick coughed. “Ladies.”

They all looked at him.

“Perhaps a little more clarification?” He had a pencil poised on a notepad. “What’s this about desperate times?”

“And what do you mean by usually?” I asked. “He’s broken in before?”

Yvonne said, “Andreus is desperate to get his hands on the Anicula.”

“And since we’ve had several break-ins over the past eighteen months—whenever the Roving Stones are in town—we assume it’s Andreus. He doesn’t usually take anything, though. He’s just looking for the Anicula.”

I looked at Yvonne. “So yesterday when we found the front door broken…”

She shrugged. “I assumed it was Andreus again.”

That would have been nice to know yesterday. But then again, there hadn’t really been any time to discuss the break-in after Patrice’s body had been found.

“The Anic what?” Nick asked.

“The Anicula,” I said. “It’s a magical amulet that grants wishes to its owner.” My mind kept replaying Elodie’s statement—the one where she said he breaks in but doesn’t take anything. Could
he
be the Peeper Creeper?

Nick went a little pale and looked like he wanted to sit down, too, but resisted. “Amulet?”

“Actually,” Elodie said, correcting me, “it doesn’t have to be its owner. It will grant wishes to whoever is within its immediate proximity. About six inches.”

“I didn’t know that,” Yvonne said.

Elodie glanced at her. “Not many people do. And technically…”

“What?” Nick asked as if he didn’t really want to know.

“It’s not an amulet.”

“It’s not?” Yvonne and I asked at the same time.

Elodie shook her head. “At one time it was, but then it became too recognizable and was dismantled. Now it’s just a solitary shaped gemstone awaiting a new setting.”

“Who dismantled it?” Yvonne asked.

She seemed a little overeager to know, if you asked me.

“My father,” Elodie said. “A long, long time ago.”

Nick rubbed the spot between his eyebrows and cut her off. “What does this have to do with the robbery today?” His eyes widened. “Let me guess. The stone is an opal.”

I drew in a breath. “A black opal?”

“How’d you know?” Elodie asked.

“I was at Upala this morning and there were a lot of black opals.”

“Andreus collects them,” Elodie said, “in hopes that one might just be the magical Anicula.”