Gone With the Witch (7 page)

“Y
ou fired me, remember?” I said to Ivy Teasdale.

I kept my body angled slightly in order to block the doorway. Not so Ivy couldn't see in—but so Titania wouldn't slip out. The village didn't need another lost pet to contend with.

“I know I did.” Ivy's tight topknot had fallen out, and she ran a hand through her disheveled hair, the pink-tipped ends lifting in the breeze. “And I'm sorry about that. Truly I am. I lost my temper when you couldn't be found at the Extravaganza, and I let my anger get the best of me.” Lifting her shoulders in a gentle shrug, she expelled a deep breath and looked me dead in the eye with a sincere expression. “I know I'm asking a lot of you, but can I have just a minute of your time?”

Just say no. Just. Say. No.

“One minute only,” I said, giving in. I yelled inside to Harper and Mimi that I'd be right back, and I nudged
Titania backward with my foot before slipping outside and closing the door behind me.

The sweet scent of roses permeated the air as I sat on the top porch step. I had no shoes on, and the warmth of the sun-drenched wooden planks radiated through the sensitive skin on the soles of my bare feet.

If Ivy was insulted that I hadn't invited her into the house, she didn't show it as she lowered herself next to me. At some point during the day, she'd removed her suit jacket and now wore only a sleeveless purple shell for a top. Smoothing her black skirt, she kicked her long legs out, resting her bright green sneakers on the lip of the bottom step. She crossed her ankles and pressed her knees together, ensuring that any tourists who happened by wouldn't get a free peep show.

A steady stream of cars rolled into the village. It was another busy June Saturday, and the death of a local woman wasn't likely to stop the tourist trade. All of the displaced Extravaganza contestants would also have to stick around until the police allowed them to return to the Wisp to collect their belongings. I could easily pick out the displaced entrants with their stunned expressions and tight grips on their pets' leashes or cages. A makeshift staging area had been set up on the green, and it looked as though it was turning into a lawn party as someone started playing loud music. Dogs barked in accompaniment.

“Was that Titania I saw in the doorway?” Ivy asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

On a few of Ivy's fingertips, her black fingernail polish was chipped along the edges as though she'd been biting her nails. After the stress of the day, I was surprised they hadn't been bitten to the quick. With a slump to her shoulders, she didn't seem as tightly strung as she had been yesterday, which was most likely a result of today's events.

It was hard to remain uptight when all hell was breaking loose around you.

“It was Titania,” I confirmed.

I glanced across the street. A small search party led by Angela Curtis, Harmony's life partner, traversed the green calling Cookie's name. I hoped they found the little goat soon. Harmony and Angela had had her only a couple of months, and I knew they'd grown attached. The village was packed with tourists today, so it was entirely likely someone had seen Cookie out and about. “I couldn't just leave Titania in the evacuated building, and I don't know if Natasha has any relatives around who can take her cat. Do you know?”

“None come to mind. She was always one to keep her private life private. However, I did hear a rumor that she was dating Chip Goldman. Don't know if that's true, but if it is, you could check with him about taking Titania.”

“I heard that rumor, too.” Evan had seemed pretty certain of the relationship, but it wasn't my place to make an official confirmation. “Chip's allergic to cats, though, so I doubt he'll take her.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “That explains his constant sniffling, watery eyes, and blinking. Why was he even there today? It's not exactly the best place for people with cat allergies.”

“Apparently, Natasha is very persuasive.
Was
,” I corrected absently.

“I can believe that.” She picked cat hair from her skirt.

Wearing black had been an ill-advised decision. The skirt was covered in fur.

“You could check with him about Natasha's relatives,” she said. “If they were close, he'd probably know. Or I can put her up for adoption through Fairytails.”

Leaves rustled in a breeze that carried with it a hint of saltiness from the coast. The scent was one of my
favorite things. I breathed it in, letting it soothe my rattled nerves. “Thanks, but I'll see what I can find out first.”

Her eyes shimmered in the sunlight as she slid me a sideways glance. “When you talk to Chip, perhaps you can ask him if he had a reason to harm Natasha.”

“What?”

Beads of sweat clung to her hairline as she twisted her body to face me. “It's why I'm here, Darcy. I want to hire you to find out what happened to Natasha.”

“What?” I repeated, stunned.

I wasn't sure what I had expected to hear when I found Ivy on the doorstep, but it certainly hadn't been this.

“I know, I know. It seems crazy, especially after how horrible I was to you earlier, but I don't know where else to turn. I need to ensure that Natasha's death had absolutely nothing to do with the Extravaganza.” She was wringing her hands, tears welling in her eyes. “All the TV cop shows always say that the love interest is the number-one suspect, right? A husband, a boyfriend . . . She wasn't married, so that leaves Chip.”

“The number-one suspect?” I echoed. Her minute of my time was long up, but I made no move to go back inside. It sounded as though Ivy had jumped to the same conclusion that I had about Natasha's death not being from natural causes, but I wanted to hear her say it. I also wanted to know why she had made that leap. “What do you think happened to Natasha exactly?”

“I overheard the medical examiner technicians whispering about poison. Seems they suspect cyanide was used. Someone killed her, Darcy.”

Harper was bound to gloat.

“And you think Chip did it?” I asked. “Do you have any reason to think that other than he might have been seeing her?”

“No. I'm just desperately grasping at reasons that don't include the Extravaganza. I heard the rumors about them dating, and how she treated him horribly. Maybe he got fed up? Maybe she dumped him, and he wasn't happy about it? I don't know. All I know is love is a powerful motivator. It can make you do crazy things. Especially when it goes bad.”

“It sounds like you're talking from experience.” I waved a buzzing bee away from my face. The bee bypassed the climbing roses and landed on a daisy bush, making its way to an open bloom.

“Haven't we all been there?”

I knew I had. It had been three years since my marriage went down the tubes, and it had been rough getting over it.

Ivy was right about love being a motivator, and I knew something she didn't: Natasha had also been in a relationship with Baz.

The importance of that information was twofold. It gave Chip added motivation, and it meant that Baz should be considered a suspect as well.

If Chip had somehow learned of Natasha and Baz's relationship and was crushed by the deception, he might have plotted a perfect plan for revenge. Where better to poison Natasha than to do it in front of a thousand people, before going off on his lunch break while the poison took effect? It was the perfect alibi—he hadn't been anywhere near her when she died.

It was a theory to share with Nick.

Ivy deadheaded a drooping rose bloom and began plucking browned petals. “I know I'm grasping at straws, Darcy, but I'm desperate to make Natasha's death a passion crime rather than something that hits a little closer to home.”

“Like?” I questioned.

“I thought for sure that Natasha had been behind
the accidents plaguing the show, but what if she wasn't? What if someone else was behind them, and Natasha was simply the next victim on the list? What if I hired you to watch the wrong person? The event can never recover from something like that.”

“That's a lot of what-ifs.”

“Yes, but they're all valid. The event
still
might not recover after what happened today. I'm going to have to refund everyone's entry fees, which, thank God, I had event insurance for. But there will be no Pawsitively Enchanted calendar . . . and that's a huge moneymaker. It'll be a big loss.” She crushed a petal between two fingers. “I'm not even sure I'll have enough to pay the judges their usual honorariums, never mind all the other vendors.”

I again wondered about her financial situation. As there was no way to recoup those calendar funds, would her bottom line be left in the red because of the failure of the event?

The coo of a mourning dove broke through the noise of the ambient barking and my churning thoughts. It was the first time I'd heard the sound in a couple of weeks. I shaded my eyes to look for the bird in the branches that overhung the walkway and along As You Wish's many gables. I didn't see it.

Ivy craned her neck, following my gaze. “What is it?”

“Thought I heard something.” I shook my head. “It's nothing.”

Or was it something big?

I didn't know. Not yet at least. I had to get another picture of that bird.

“And all your points are
not
valid,” I said to Ivy, trying to refocus our conversation. “You had every reason to suspect Natasha. Maybe not the first year, but most certainly after the second. It makes no sense to suspect someone else when she and Titania continued to win.”

Ivy dropped the rose and started picking at her fingernails, scraping the tops, and chipping off more black polish as she did so. She wasn't a nail biter after all—but this behavior seemed just as obsessive.
Flick, flick
. The sound made me want to grab her hands to keep them still.

“It does, however, make me wonder who didn't want to see her win again this year,” I added.

“That would be everyone,” she speculated. “The list is enormous. Natasha made no friends with her condescending and over-the-top personality.”

That was sadly true. “Did you tell anyone else about your suspicions of Natasha sabotaging the Extravaganza?”

I was thinking of Marigold Coe. And Baz. If either suspected that it had been Natasha who caused them to withdraw from previous events, would they seek to give Natasha a taste of her own medicine?

Especially Baz. After all, he'd been the one who'd had food poisoning. Had he decided to adopt his own version of an eye for an eye? One poison for another? Had he become close to Natasha just to get rid of her?

“I've told no one,” Ivy said. “I didn't want word to get around that someone might be undermining the event. And I still don't want that news to get out. Which is why I need you, Darcy. You know everything that's going on. I just need to know for sure that the Extravaganza is not involved.”

A cloud shifted in front of the sun, suddenly casting the village in shadow. “What if it turns out that it is?”

Despite the warmth of the day, she rubbed at goose bumps that had formed on her arms. “I don't know. I honestly don't know. I need to plan ahead for damage control, and that will be easier with you investigating the case. Will you take the job back?”

I hesitated. “I'm not sure.”

Just say no.

Just. Say. No.

I ignored the internal voice as I recalled Natasha's lifeless body on the floor of the Wisp.

She hadn't been the least bit likable, but I didn't think she'd deserved to die.

“Please, Darcy. You've proven time and again since you moved here that you're good at investigating. I'll pay you double.”

A loud voice split the tense air around us. Angela Curtis yelled, “Stop! Cookie! Stop right now!”

Before I could even stand up, Cookie the dwarf goat raced past As You Wish and took a hard right, headed toward the Enchanted Woods. As she passed she'd been nothing but a tiny beige-and-white blur that leaped more than ran. Angela and her search party were hot on her heels, trotting by one by one like something out of an old-fashioned cartoon.

The skin between Ivy's eyebrows wrinkled as she frowned. “What was that about?”

“Cookie got loose during the evacuation of the Wisp. You didn't know?”

“No. I was inside that whole time with the police. Everyone was long gone before I left.”

“Then did you know Archie was almost birdnapped as well?”

I didn't have to specify who Archie was. Everyone in the village knew the bird.

Her face drained of color. “He was what?”

“Someone knocked down Terry Goodwin during the evacuation and tried to steal Archie. Threw a bag over his head, but he managed to get away.”

“Is he okay?”

“He seems fine. Just lost some feathers. Terry's at the police station filing a report.”

“A police report?” she croaked.

I nodded.

She said nothing, only pressed her eyes closed and shook her head. I thought I heard her mumble something about “nightmare.”

For her, it definitely was.

It was bad enough that a woman had been killed during the Extravaganza, but if the media caught wind about a potential petnapping, the event was going to go down in flames. And police reports were public. It was only a matter of time before word leaked out.

I heard another coo and whipped around.
Aha!
The mourning dove was sitting on the arch of the gate arbor, the lighting making the pink iridescent feathers on its chest glimmer.

Searching the pockets of my jeans, I realized I'd left my smartphone inside. I faced Ivy. “Do you have a cell phone? One with a camera?”

“Yes . . . ,” she said hesitantly. “Why?”

“Can I borrow it?”

She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a cell. With a few swipes, she had the camera ready and held it out to me. I grabbed it and aimed the phone at the bird, tapping the screen to zoom in. I made sure my fingers were out of the way and held my breath. Just as I was about to click the button, the bird took to the air with a guttural coo. I snapped the shot as it flew off.