Dizzy Spells (8 page)

No one seemed convinced. Thankfully, they
didn’t try to press the matter but instead helped themselves to the
lemon cake. It was Thyme’s creation of course. Amelia was barely
able to make lemonade unsupervised, let alone a cake.

Thyme seemed appeased at the explanation.
“How are you sleeping? Would you like me to stay over tonight, and
Mint too?”

“No!” Camino and Ruprecht exclaimed in
unison. The harmony of their tone and expression hinted that they
had years of experience shutting down sleepovers after the Ming
Vase incident.

I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

“The house did feel a little extra
temperamental the last time I was there,” Mint said. “I imagine it
wasn’t too happy having someone die on its porch.”

“Trust me, I feel the same way.”

“Now to business,” Ruprecht said. “Thyme
tells me she’s filled you in about Alder Vervain.”

“Even his name is a mockery!” Camino
snapped.

I was puzzled. “What do you mean? He can’t
help his name.”

Ruprecht shook his head. “To the contrary,
my dear, that is not his birth name. He legally changed it some
years ago. He was born as Tommy Hopkins.”

I nearly choked on my lemon cake. “Tommy
Hopkins? He doesn’t look like a Tommy Hopkins at all. Surely it
doesn’t matter that he changed his name, though?”

“It’s the context, Amelia,” Camino said
stiffly. “Those of us who are hereditary kitchen witches in this
town have names of herbs that are important to magical practices.
Alder is from a long line of people strenuously opposed to witches,
and so he changed his name to herbs.”

I was beginning to catch on. “So you think
he changed his name to a kitchen witch name to mock you?”

“Yes!” everyone exclaimed in unison.

“Alder is a strongly protective herb,”
Camino explained. “Both its roots and leaves offer powerful
protection from enemies. It undoes jinxes, too.”

“And vervain?”

“You probably know it as verbena,” Camino
said.

I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. Clearly I had
a long way to go in my witch education.

“Vervain is also used against evil and to
break a jinx. It was one of nine herbs traditionally used in
European witchcraft as a protection against witches.”

“That’s right, Camino,” Ruprecht said. “So,
Amelia, you can see that Alder Vervain’s name is ironic. He chose
to name himself after two herbs that offer protection, and one of
those herbs offers protection specifically against witches.”

I suppose I could see their point, but Alder
didn’t strike me as someone who would do such a thing. Still, I was
a new witch and I had to defer to their judgment. “Okay, so I know
mint is used to draw and protect money, and break curses, too.
Thyme is used in the same way, to protect and attract money.”

Camino nodded. “Well done. Thyme also stops
nightmares, if it’s burned before you go to bed.”

I wish I’d known that earlier
, I
thought. Aloud I said, “But what sort of herb is camino? I’ve never
heard of it before.”

Thyme chimed in. “It’s one of the most
important herbs there is. Abre camino, also known as Road
Opener.”

“Its botanical name is Eupatorium villosum,”
Ruprecht said. “Well, these days it’s known as Koanophyllon
villosum. I’ll go and get the mother bottle of Road Opener oil.
Wait here.”

He soon returned with a large bottle. It was
clear. The liquid inside was murky brown and appeared to have thick
stalks floating in it. “It’s all but impossible to buy the plant in
Australia,” Ruprecht said. “I managed to buy some seeds from
overseas years ago, and I grow several plants in my
greenhouse.”

“The seeds went through customs all right?”
I asked with surprise.

“Yes, it’s Road Opener after all,” Ruprecht
said with a chuckle. “It opens the way, removes obstacles, stuff
like that.”

“What about your name?” I asked. “What kind
of herb is a ruprecht?”

Everyone dissolved into helpless peals of
laughter, while my face flushed red.

Ruprecht was the first to regain his
composure. “Ruprecht isn’t a herb, but my middle name is
Celery.”

I did my best not to laugh. “Celery?” I
asked, wondering if I had heard correctly. “The stuff you eat in
salads?”

Ruprecht nodded solemnly. “Celery increases
psychic abilities and helps people have prophetic dreams. You can
put the seeds under your pillow, or burn them on charcoal.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage.

“At any rate,” Ruprecht continued, “I pulled
a tarot card just before you all came here today. It was The Fool,
reversed.”

Everyone looked at each other. Even I knew
that meant injustice, poor choices, even madness. Were they right
about Alder Vervain?

Chapter 12

I unlocked the front door and flipped over
the sign to ‘Open’, despite the fact it was half an hour before
opening time. With everything that had been going on, all I wanted
was one day of peace and normalcy. Surely that was not too much to
ask?

I walked back over to the front counter and
began looking through the previous and current orders. I couldn’t
cook, but I could make sure that the business side of things was in
order. That much I could do. I soon became engrossed in analyzing
the numbers. In fact, I was so engrossed, that I barely noticed
when the door opened and what I assumed was my first customer for
the day walked in.

However, it was the two detectives. “We
would like you to assist us in our investigation,” Detective
Harrison said formally.

My chest tightened as I struggled to make
sense of what was going on. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I
understand. I don’t know anything at all. I just discovered the
body.”

“That is not something we can discuss here,”
Detective Sassafras said. “Would you be willing to accompany us
back to the station?”

“Am I in trouble? Should I call a friend so
someone knows where I am?”

Harrison shook his head. “That won’t be
necessary, Miss Spelled. We just want you to help us with our
inquiries.”

Clearly I had no option but to go with them.
I nodded in defeat. “I just need to leave a note for my employee,”
I said. I scrawled a note, and then took it to the kitchen where
Thyme was sure to see it. I grabbed my handbag and keys and then
followed the officers out of the store, flipping the sign back over
and locking up before I left.

“The station isn’t far from here, so you can
ride with us,” Sassafras said.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. It wasn’t an
order, although it didn’t sound too much like a request. I wasn’t
being arrested, but it sure felt that way. “Okay,” I said. As soon
as I set foot on the street, the rain came down harder. Clearly
this wasn’t my day. People on the street stopped to stare when they
saw me with the two men, who looked even more like detectives than
the ones on TV. I felt awful.

The other cop opened the door for me to get
in. I crawled into the back of the vehicle and the door slammed
shut behind me.

“Okay then, let’s get this over with so you
can get back to your shop,” Detective Harrison said, as soon as we
arrived.

I followed them into the police station,
where everyone in the waiting room turned to stare at me. I was
soaked and my shoes squelched with every step. I felt I would just
die of embarrassment.

Detective Sassafras pointed toward the end
of a long corridor. “The interview room is right at the end of this
hall.” He walked ahead, leaving me to walk with Harrison.

Harrison turned to me. “Just tell the
truth.”

“I don’t have anything to hide!” I said in
alarm.

“Just tell us the truth and you’ll have
nothing to fear,” he said.

When we got to the room, Harrison waved me
inside. “Take a seat. We’ll be right in to talk to you.” He closed
the door behind him.

I looked around the room. Should I have
asked for a lawyer? Why wasn’t there a one-way mirror on the wall
like on TV shows? Was that camera on the wall recording me sitting
there? Were they out there watching me to see what I would do? Did
they really think I had something to do with Thomas Hale’s
murder?

I shook my head. This was no time to let my
imagination run away with me. I looked instead at the worn
furniture. The wooden-topped table looked ancient, as did the
wooden chairs. Black stuff was peeling off the metal legs. Surely
they could afford something better than this. The walls were brick
and painted in the most horrible shade of pale green I had ever
seen.

I debated whether to take off my rain-filled
shoes and empty them out on the floor, but finally decided not to.
If they were in fact watching me, it might make them mad.

Finally, the door swung open. Harrison
walked in, holding a thin folder that he threw on the table. He was
followed by Sassafras, who said nothing as he took a seat opposite
me. Both men looked solemn.

Harrison remained standing. He opened the
file and jabbed his finger on the front page. “This is your
statement,” he said sternly. “You told us that you had never met
Thomas Hale. In fact, you alleged that you had never seen him. Is
that correct?”

“Yes,” I said, wondering what was going
on.

Harrison sat down, and then bodily dragged
his chair across to the table in one motion. It made a horrible
scraping sound, and at that moment, one of the florescent light
panels started to flicker in a most irritating manner.

Harrison flipped over a page or two, pulled
out some large photos, and skimmed them across the table in front
of me.

At first glance, I wasn’t quite sure what I
was seeing. To my horror, they were photos of me with the victim.
“What’s going on?”

The cop leaned closer and separated the
photos. He laid them out individually, and pointed at each one as
he kept his eyes locked on mine. “Can you explain to us how we have
several photos of you with Thomas Hale, a man you claimed never to
have met?” His tone was accusatory.

I swallowed the large lump in my throat. My
hands trembled, and I sat there at a loss for words. “That’s not
me,” I said after an interval. I held it up to my face to get a
better look. “I know it looks like me, but it isn’t,” I said in a
small voice. “It can’t be.”

Harrison scratched his chin, and then leaned
back in his chair. “So you’re claiming you have a look-alike are,
you?” he said sarcastically. “A doppelganger?”

I stared at the photos. “Okay, it does look
like me, but the photographs must have been faked or
something.”

“Faked?” the second cop chimed in. He shook
his head, clearly not believing a word I said. “They look pretty
convincing to me.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of Photoshop?” I
shot back.

Harrison glared at me. “So, now you’re
saying someone is framing you for this? First, a body shows up at
your front door and you claim he’s a complete stranger. Secondly,
we receive photos in the mail that show you and the victim
together. So why don’t you tell us why someone would go through all
that trouble?”

I sighed. They didn’t believe me at all, and
part of me didn’t blame them. I probably wouldn’t believe my story
either if I were one of them. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve
never met that man before in my life. My only explanation is that
someone’s trying to frame me. I bet those photos were sent to you
anonymously.”

The two cops exchanged a look, and then
Harrison handed the file to Sassafras. He stood up abruptly and
walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Do you have diabetes?” Harrison asked.

“No!” I said. I knew where this was going.
Word was that insulin had killed Hale.

“Do you know anyone with diabetes?”

“No, not a soul,” I said truthfully.

“All right, this is what’s going to happen,”
Harrison said. “Those photographs will be submitted to the
Forensics Imaging team for analysis. If they determine that they
were indeed doctored, then you’ll be dropped as a person of
interest and we’ll be one step closer to finding the real
killer.”

Relief finally washed over me. “So, does
that mean I can go now?”

The cop opened the door and turned back to
me. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “But you had better not be lying to
us.”

Chapter 13

“Come into the back room. I think I’m in some
serious hot water,” I said to Thyme as soon as I got back to the
shop. Luckily, there were no customers at the time.

Thyme’s face was filled with anxiety. “What
happened with the police? I’ve been worried sick since I saw your
note.”

“I’m completely spooked, to be honest,” I
said. “They had a whole bunch of photos which showed me with the
victim.”

Thyme gasped. “With Thomas Hale?”

I nodded. “The police got some photos in the
mail that show me with Thomas Hale—when he was alive, obviously. I
don’t mean with me finding his body. Anyway, as you know, I’ve
never seen the guy before. The day I found him lying on my front
porch was the first day I had ever seen him.”

“I wonder why someone would do that? First,
the body turned up where it had no place to be, and now you’re
showing up in photos where you have no place to be. It’s rather
peculiar.”

I agreed. “It sure is. The good news is that
the police sent the photos to the forensic lab to be examined.
Obviously, they’ll find out that they’re photoshopped or
something.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,”
Thyme said.

I chewed one fingernail. “That’s not what
I’m worried about,” I said. “It would be pretty bad if the police
forensics lab couldn’t tell when images are photoshopped. What’s
really worrying me is that someone’s trying to frame me!” My voice
rose to a high pitch.

“Alder Vervain,” Thyme said at once.