Easy Bake Coven: Book One of the Vivienne Finch Magical Mysteries (29 page)

“Are
you positive?”

Vivienne
inhaled some of the cold air. “So that’s how Suzette’s nail must have been
broken. It had nothing to do with Mona Clarke at all.”

“So
how did her nail end up embedded in Mona Clarke’s wrist?” Joshua asked.

A
strong gust of wind whipped across the steps of the Sheriff’s office and
Vivienne shivered. “I don’t know. The vision ended right after that happened.”

“So
you think that Victoria Clemens had some part in this?”

Vivienne
shrugged. “Visions aren’t going to help in a court of law. We’re going to need
to find some tangible evidence.”

As
they started down the stairs, Officer Frank Borden knocked on the glass door to
get their attention. He opened it partly, fighting the wind. “Deputy
Arkins
, you never signed off on that incident report from
yesterday.”

Joshua
stopped in his tracks. “I forgot all about it.”

“I
hate to bother you on your day off.” Frank apologized. “But we need to send it
to Albany by tomorrow or there’s going to be hell to pay.”

Joshua
reached into his pocket and handed Vivienne the keys to his car. “You’ll catch
a death of a cold out here. I’ll be just a minute or two.”

“It’ll
be all heated up by the time you come back.” She smiled. “You don’t need any
more trouble at work.”

He
rushed back into the station with Frank on his heels just as her cell phone
rang. It was a call that was automatically forwarded from her business line to
her personal cell after hours.

“Vivienne,
this is Samantha. Thank God I took your business card with me.” She said
breathlessly over the phone.

“Is
everything okay?”

“I
found something in my purse when I got home and when I discovered what it was I
thought you should know right away.” Samantha explained. “Remember when I told
you I had knocked the purses over after the memorial service?”

“Yes.
I do.” Vivienne’s interest was sparked. “What did you find?”

“A
memory stick with a computer file on it.” Samantha continued. “I popped in my
laptop to see if I could figure out who it belonged to.”

“Who
did it belong to?” Vivienne asked.

“Victoria.”
Samantha’s voice cracked a little. “But that’s not why I called. It was what I
found on the memory stick that you need to know about.”

Vivienne,
freezing in the cold air, tried to coax the information out of Samantha a bit
faster. “I hope it’s something that sheds some light on this case. The police
here are completely on the wrong track.”

Samantha
jumped at the bait. “It had the original interview with Mona Clarke from the
online magazine on it and another file with some additional quotes to add to
the story.”

“What
additional quotes?”

“There
was something about running for mayor herself and how the townsfolk rarely get
things right when they vote on issues.” Samantha continued. “Not the sort of
things you’d say to get elected, that’s for sure.”

“Yes,
my friend Kathy read that article the night of the historic commission
meeting.” Vivienne recalled. “So, Victoria put new material in the interview to
screw Mona Clarke? Why would she do that to her best friend?”

“There
was also a note from Victoria to Fiona demanding she make the editor of the
magazine add the new answers into the story or she would use her contacts in
New York to yank advertisers from all her group publications. It was rather
nasty.” Samantha finished.

“You’re
kidding?” Vivienne felt her jaw drop. “How soon can you have this sent to me?”

“I’ll
have it sent overnight air to you and I’ll make a copy here just in case. I
hope it can help you with your investigating.”

“Oh,
believe me this will help.” Vivienne turned her back as a gust of wind whipped
up. “More than you can know.”

“Keep
me posted on how things are going.” Samantha finished. “Talk to you soon.” She
ended the call.

Vivienne
hurried down the steps, the cold wind whipping her hair against her face. She
pressed on the key fob and unlocked the doors to the Jeep.

Fighting
against the wind, she forced the passenger door open just enough to get inside.
She reached over and stuck the key in the ignition and started the car. Her
fingers went to the heat controls and she cranked it up way into the bright red
color along the dial. She couldn’t wait to tell Joshua about what Samantha had
found. While not quite a motive for murder, it certainly would open a new
avenue for the police to investigate.

Once
again, she admired how neat and clean he kept his vehicle. She wished her own
car would stay as pristine and have that new car smell. She sniffed the air to
get a whiff. Her nose rewarded her with the smell of something rotten and yet
at the same time sweet. It was the most peculiar smell she had ever known.
Thinking he had left some kind of takeout in the back seat, she turned around
to locate it when a shadowy figure reached out and snatched her from the
backseat.

Some
sort of rag was pressed against her nose and mouth. A new smell, a mixture of
alcohol and nail polish remover, made her feel woozy. She tried to resist, but
the touch of her attacker burned with searing cold, making her entire body
shake. She only managed a single honk of the horn before her hands slipped off
the steering wheel.

Her
arms and legs felt suddenly heavy. Despite her efforts, she could do nothing
more to resist. Her eyelids grew heavy, fluttered, and then everything went
black.

Vivienne
found herself sitting in a field on a warm evening just after sunset. The grass
was tall and swayed in a gentle breeze as hundreds of fireflies glittered
against the night sky.

Joshua
was next to her, sitting Indian style amongst a group of robed people who were
formed into a circle as the gentle beat of a solitary drum thumped along with a
slow, rhythmic beat.

“Hero
and villain, lad and lass, all answer to the hourglass.” A feminine voice
droned in time with the drum. It was Mona Clarke, dressed in a white robe with
a torch in hand. She smiled at Vivienne and then knelt down and touched the
flames to the base of the wood pile. It roared to life with a great whooshing
sound. “Round the wheel spins, wrong and right. Darkness falls into the light.”
Mona chanted as she stretched her arms up into the night sky.

The
bonfire blazed from the center of their circle, as the drum beat picked up
pace. Vivienne watched the sparks from the crackling wood leap into the air.
She clutched Joshua’s hand tightly and tipped her head back to look at the
stars above.

“I
love you.” He spoke softly.

“I
love you too.” She leaned forward to kiss him when the flames suddenly
disappeared and were quickly replaced with a wave of dark water. It splashed
outward and swept her away from the circle with a thunderous crash.

Vivienne
awoke with a start, her face wet from lying in a shallow puddle of water on a
cement block floor. She tried to move, only to discover that her arms and legs
were tightly bound with a thick braided rope. She rolled onto her back and
gasped in surprise. A sunken, hollow face watched her from above. Whoever it
was looked very old, and in the poor light she was unable to tell if it was
male or female. Dressed in a black hooded robe, it seemed happy to remain in
the shadows away from scrutiny.

The
familiar rotten, yet sweet, smell from Joshua’s car returned and she had now
found the source. It was her captor. “Why are you doing this?”

The
figure cocked its head to the side as if it didn’t understand her question.

She
inched her way back away from the solemn figure, until her movement came to
sudden stop against a large barrel. It smelled of grapes and upon closer
inspection she recognized it was one of those huge oak wine casks where the
aging process occurred. “Where’s Joshua?” She asked again.

The
figure remained stoically in place. Through a series of awkward stretches and
movements, she was able to at least sit upright on the floor. She tried to
loosen the ropes, hoping her movements didn’t attract attention. “I’m guessing
this is a wine cellar.” She looked around for anything that might help to cut
the ropes but the room was just a bunch of huge casks and barrels stacked along
shelves and a little table loaded with stained towels used to wipe up drips and
leaks. “I’ve never actually been in one before.”

The
sound of a door opening from the far end of the room caught Vivienne’s
attention. Footfalls, the clack of high heels, echoed in the large area. “He
won’t answer your questions.” Victoria Clemens stepped out of the shadows, her
arms folded across her chest.

“Victoria?
What’s going on?” Vivienne tried to reason with her.

Victoria
ran her hand along one of the many barrels stocked full of fermenting wine.
“You are in a wine cellar, but sadly it’s going to be your final resting
place.”

Vivienne
wriggled back and forth against the ropes which bound her. “Why are you doing
this?”

Victoria
walked over to the cloaked figure and ran her hands along the fabric. “You
certainly are inquisitive for a baker. I’d almost dare say you’re even better
than the local police, but that isn’t too difficult to do now is it?”
  

Vivienne
could feel the rope loosening a bit around her wrists, but she was far from
getting free. “I’m not just a baker.”

“That’s
right.” Victoria grinned. “You’re also a novice witch who happened to lose her
little spell book.” She clicked her tongue. “So it looks like magic isn’t going
to help you out of this one.”

“Victoria,
why did you do it?” Vivienne asked. “Why did you kill your best friend?”

“You’d
like that, wouldn’t you? To know all the answers and then wait to be rescued by
your deputy boyfriend just in the nick of time.” She laughed. “I’m afraid to
disappoint you, but that just isn’t going to happen.” She whispered something
to the cloaked figure and it shambled off leaving them alone in the wine
cellar.

“Since
you seem to know about the spell book, I’m guessing you’re a witch too.”

Victoria
slowly walked over toward Vivienne. “I’ve been called many things by many
people, but that particular adjective just happens to be true this time.”

“You
won’t get away with this.” Vivienne reasoned. “You think after Mona’s murder,
my disappearance isn’t going to cause a stir?”

“Oh,
I’m counting on that.” Victoria cooed. “You see, this town has had so many bad
things happen recently you’d almost think it was a cursed.”

“I
don’t believe in curses.” Vivienne could almost slip her right wrist out of the
rope.

“And
that’s why you’d never be anything but a baker and a mediocre witch.” Victoria
stopped just shy of Vivienne’s feet. “You don’t have the guts or the foresight
to become a great witch.”

“If
becoming a great
witch
means doing what you did, then
no thank you.” Vivienne shook her head.

Victoria
laughed out loud. “Color me so surprised.” She paced back and forth between the
wine casks. “I tried to be patient with life but you know what? It just isn’t
fair and the people that play by the rules get run over and pushed into the
ditch.”

Vivienne
tried to use reason to buy some time for Joshua to find her. It was a long
shot, but at the moment it was all she had. “Using dark magic is playing with
fire, Victoria. Why would you risk it? If the Elders found out…”

Victoria
glanced down at her with a look of pity. “A dead
witch
tells no tales, so they aren’t going to find out.” She tapped her hand along
one of the larger casks. “It’s such a shame to have to stuff you in one of
these casks, but think of it this way. You’ll be pickled in one of the very
best wines in the Finger Lakes.” Her lips curled into a smile. “If the wine
ages just right,” she said smugly, “Perhaps even a gold medal winner for
Glen Harvest Winery
?”

“Was
Mona a witch too?” Vivienne asked.

Victoria
rolled her dark eyes. “Stop talking about that stupid woman. She wasn’t even
part of the big picture.”

“Well,
you killed her. So she must have had something on you.”

Victoria
shook her head. “She was a puppet. Something I was able to manipulate until she
started to get a little too comfortable with the power I was giving to her.”

Vivienne
freed her one wrist and then slipped the other out with barely a twitch. “I
think you killed her because of something to do with the online magazine
interview.”

“You
really are a lousy detective, Vivienne.” Victoria sneered. “You just can’t put
the pieces together and it’s killing you.” She gave a little laugh. “Well,
drowning in a vat of freshly pressed grape juice is what’s going to kill you,
actually.” She laughed again. “It’s not as violent as say being stabbed outside
your bakery with the scissors that were going to be used to cut the ribbon for
your grand opening.”