5 Beewitched (30 page)

Monday morning arrived chilly but with a promise of
warmer afternoon temperatures, and tomorrow’s forecast predicted more of the same, which would be perfect for Mom’s wedding.

Since we were working on an accelerated schedule, first thing I did Monday morning was pick a handful of withered rosebuds from the bushes along the side of my house. I took them with me to my honey house, which is a small, shedlike building where I store my beekeeping supplies and conduct honey experiments. There, I concocted my own sort of magic love potion—the bride’s honey for Mom and Tom to share before their vows. Honey, rosebuds, cinnamon, and cloves. Now it needed twenty-four hours to meld, so I’d just be getting it under the wire in time for the wedding.

The wedding. I couldn’t believe my mother would be walking down the aisle tomorrow.

What exactly had I volunteered to do anyway? After pondering for a few minutes without coming up with an exact answer, I went back inside and called Holly.

“You’re my assistant,” she reminded me. “I have a list for you to take care of today.”

Hunter came into the kitchen and sat down across from me.

“I’m sort of busy today,” I told her. Back when I’d raised my hand and waved it around, I hadn’t been right in the middle of a murder case. I’d been bored, which I certainly wasn’t at the moment. Besides, gopher hadn’t been what I had in mind. “Very busy, in fact.”

My sister gave an enormous sigh of frustration for my benefit. “You made a huge squawk about me being the wedding planner and you not getting to help, and now in the final hours you’re way too busy? I don’t think so.”

“Fine, fine, just give me time to open the store.”

“Carrie Ann is opening. I checked.
You
need to drive your truck into Waukesha and pick up some outdoor heaters I’ve rented. Mom insists on doing this outdoors, so I rented several propane patio heaters.” Then my sister chuckled. “In any other cold-weather state we’d be called crazy to have a wedding outside in October in these temps, but here we sunbathe if it’s fifty degrees outside.”

Which was true, but I still was stalling. “I’ll have to find someone to cover for me.”

“Stanley and one of the twins are working today. I checked on that, too.”

“Um.” She’d effectively blocked all my moves as though we were on a mat wrestling it out.

“No more excuses.” Holly gave me the address for the pickup.

“Can’t they deliver?” I asked.

Holly hung up.

“Family issues?” Hunter asked, why, I don’t know, because I always have family issues.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Then he produced the promised phone log.

“That was fast,” I said, pretty amazed.

“I contacted the office and had it sent as an e-mail attachment. Anything for you, sweet thing. But you’re wasting your time on this. Shouldn’t you be focusing on your mother’s wedding?”

“Holly has it covered.” I scanned the list and found what I was looking for. A date and time that matched my first meeting with the witches. Looked like a call was again placed from that number to Rosina’s phone several hours later.

“That’s the call our victim made from The Wild Clover,” I said, sounding just like a television cop about to expose the killer.

Hunter leaned across the table to see where my finger was marking the spot.

“It might not mean a thing,” I said. “But I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier so you could have followed up. Can you find out who that number belongs to?” I asked.

“Of course I can.” Hunter smiled. “And I plan to do just that.”

“Keep me in your inner circle,” I told him.

Then Hunter and Ben, the daring duo, headed out to protect our citizens by fighting crime. I pulled on a fleece, tucked my mojo bag in a pocket, and walked over to Patti’s house. She didn’t answer my rings. The house was locked up tight. No sign of her presence, which was really annoying.

Next I walked to the store.

“Your sister dropped off this to-do list for you as soon as I opened,” Carrie Ann told me, handing it over. Holly had been out and about that early? Wow. She was taking her position seriously. “There’s more on the back of the paper,” Carrie Ann added.

“I can’t possibly do everything on this list in one day! What is she thinking?”

“Why don’t I take a few of these chores and knock them off? Some of them are just calling and confirming. By the way, Milly called a few minutes ago to say she’s right on schedule with the catering, so you can cross that one off. See? Easy peasy.”

“I love you, Carrie Ann!”

Just then, Joan Goodaller came in, and she mentioned that Greg had asked her to stay at the farm for a few days rather than return to her own house.

Carrie Ann chuckled. “That’s because you are holding the place together,” she said, “and he’s taking advantage of that fact.”

“I enjoy the farm, and all the animals, and the visitors. I’m considering taking him up on his offer. It makes me feel closer to Al.” Joan’s face scrunched up as though she were about to cry, but she took a deep breath.

“You’ve done so much already,” I told her. “And there is a distinct possibility that Al will be back home very soon. I’m working on an angle.”

That had slipped out unintended. Blast my blabbing. So I had to tell my cousin and Joan all about the suspicious phone call between Rosina and an unknown caller. “I have the number and will know the name of the MIA witch before noon. And,” I bragged, “that piece of information is only one of many that I’m tracking down.”

Carrie Ann returned to check out customers. Joan pulled me aside.

“I’ve given some thought to that night,” she said, “and I’m convinced one of the campers had as much opportunity as Al.”

“My thought exactly.”

“But the evidence is stacked against him.”

“It could have been planted.”

Joan seemed surprised that I was taking Al’s side when so many of the locals were waiting for charges to be filed. “We’re on the same page, then. I wish you the best of luck,” she said. “And don’t overlook the tent partner. She’d been through the corn maze over and over.”

Tabitha? “That’s curious. Why would she do that?”

Joan shrugged. “Who knows, but there might be a motive we’re overlooking.”

Hmm. That was something new to ponder, when I had time. “I have to run an errand. My mother is getting married tomorrow,” I said.

“So I’ve heard. Can I help in any way?”

“Geez, Joan, you have enough on your plate.”

“Really, it’ll take my mind off my troubles. We found a college kid to work the stand, and the corn maze has been finished. I’d really like to help out.”

This woman was like the energizer bunny. “Ask Carrie Ann then. She has a list. And thank you, thank you, thank you!”

• • •

When I went out back, Patti was waiting for me in my
truck with the stolen goods on her lap.

“You should lock your truck,” she advised me. “You don’t want just
anybody
having access to it.”

Tell me about it.

“Did you crack Rosina’s security code?” I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“I sure did, but it took all night. I’m exhausted.”

I glanced over. Patti looked perfectly normal in spite of the lack of a good night’s sleep, and I envied her that gift. If I missed my beauty sleep, not only did I turn mean and cranky, but my body showed it.

“Where are we going?” Patti wanted to know as we pulled away from the store.

“To pick up something for the wedding. Tell me what you found on Rosina’s computer.”

“I don’t know why I’m doing all the work on this case,” Patti whined. “All day and all night, while all you think about is the next party.”

“It’s my mother’s wedding, Patti, lighten up. Besides, I’m working on something related to the case right this minute.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Really. I’m serious. In an hour or so I’ll have the name of the witch who backed out of the ritual.”

“Maybe I already have that.”

“You do?” Great! This was good news. Especially if that was only the tip of the iceberg.

“I said
maybe
,” Patti said with a hint or two of dodging the issue in her whiny little voice.

“So you don’t have a name.”

“It’s complicated.”

For the rest of the trip into Waukesha, Patti gave me a dissertation on the nuances of computer breaking and entering, the moral issues involved (Patti’s pro open-source everything, so she wasn’t too bothered), and the extremely complex process of mining for information.

“Will you please just get to the point?” I finally demanded, as my destination came into view and I still didn’t know anything new.

“She had one very close online friend, and the two of them exchanged e-mails after meeting on a social networking website and hitting it off. But I don’t have a real name yet. This friend went by a user name, or at least that’s what I assume, because nobody’s real name could be . . .”

Here, Patti paused, and booted up the computer.

Talk about frustrating! “What? What the heck is her name?”

“Nemesis,” Patti said. “She called herself Nemesis. Listen to this, ‘Thanks for inviting me along, but I won’t be able to take you up on your offer for a ride. I’ll have to join you out there. Directions, please.’ And a reply from Rosina, ‘Can’t wait to finally meet you.’ And then she gives the directions out to our street.”

“What about a real name?”

“Nothing in any of these e-mails,” Patti said. “But this Nemesis person is definitely the one who opted out of the evil dance with the devil.”

I slowed to check an address, then pulled into a parking lot.

“I’ll wait here,” Patti announced, already turning her attention back to the laptop.

After filling out paperwork and paying the deposit (which my rich sister hadn’t bothered to mention), we waited for the heaters to be loaded into the truck bed. I used the time to do an Internet search with my phone while Patti did her computer thing.

“Nemesis,” I repeated the name. “As in ‘enemy.’ Like Lori and me; she’s my nemesis. Does that mean Nemesis was Rosina’s enemy?”

“Or everybody’s enemy?” Patti added.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Several sites with references to Nemesis popped up on my phone screen.

“Wow,” I said after reading for a minute.

“What?” Patti wanted to know.

“Nemesis was a legend in Greek mythology. She was the goddess of revenge, punishing mortals.”

“An avenger. She sounds almost as scary as those witches,” Patti pointed out. “If you believed in goddesses, that is.”

I glanced up. “So you don’t believe in gods and goddesses,” I said, “but witches exist?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

I went back to the screen. “And get this. Nemesis was also called Adrasteia.”

“Which means?”

“One from whom there is no escape.”

Patti and I stared at each other.

“We might be onto our killer,” I muttered.

Patti nodded.

“You keep digging through data,” I told her.

On the way to Holly’s house with the heaters secured with ropes in the bed of my truck and Patti bent to her task, I called Hunter.

“Any luck with that phone number?” I asked him.

“Hold on a minute while I check,” he said.

Patti had to pause to put in her two cents. “That’s Hunter Wallace on the other end, isn’t it?” When I didn’t answer she made the assumption (not much of a leap) and proceeded to give me grief. “How many times do I have to remind you that we don’t need his assistance? You lean on him too much, and pretty soon, if you aren’t careful, you won’t have a single thought in your head that isn’t planted there by him.”

“He’s a cop with inside information,” I informed her. “He’s my most trustworthy contact. And it’s absolutely ridiculous that he’s going to control my mind. Geez.”

“Is that Patti Dwyre’s voice I hear?” This came from the other end of the phone. Hunter had come back quicker than I’d expected.

“The radio,” I lied, then added a bit of truth to ease my guilty conscience, at the same time raising a finger to my lips as a cue to my yakking passenger. “I’m in the truck delivering patio heaters to Holly’s house for the big event tomorrow. Did you get that name?”

“Have a little patience, Story. But don’t get your hopes up. Al Mason’s been a Moraine fixture for his whole life. I’ve known him as long as I can remember, and this is as shocking to me as it is to you, but you can’t change the facts by substituting wishful thinking. We have some very damaging evidence against him.”

“Just so you know, Holly has a list a mile long for me,” I told him. “These errands will take all day and all night.” I didn’t mention that I had help in the form of Carrie Ann and Joan. Their contributions would free me for a little investigative work, and now I could accomplish that without having to explain myself or my whereabouts to Hunter. “So don’t expect me home when you get there.”

“No problem. Ben and I are training a K-9 rookie tonight.”

“A new police dog?”

“He’s not the rookie; it’s his human partner who needs the training.”

“Ben will whip him into shape. Don’t forget the wedding is tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to you in that dress.”

I heard another voice in the background and muffled communication between another person and Hunter. Then he came back.

“This is so weird,” he said.

“What’s weird?”

“Those particular calls to the victim’s phone. This doesn’t make any sense. Are you sure you have the day and time correct? I bet that’s what happened, you calculated wrong. Because this can’t possibly be right.”

I almost said that I was absolutely positive, which I was, but something made me hold back. “I don’t
think
I made a mistake, but I guess it’s possible. Why? What’s the name?”

“It isn’t a name exactly. It’s a location.”

What a letdown. No name again? I seemed to be encountering one roadblock after another.

Then Hunter told me where the calls had originated, and that certainly was a big, fat surprise, one I had
not
seen coming.

He said, “Those two calls came from a gas station pay phone, the one just south of the police station.”