It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery (16 page)

Curling my hand around the linked chain, I said, “You just saved me a trip to the Furry Toadstool. Thank you.”

He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled. I tried not to notice how great his jeans fit, his strong hands, the small scar near his left eyebrow, or the appealing stubble along his jaw. I tried—but it was impossible not to.

“You’re welcome.”

I wondered if I should mention something about last night, about what we’d seen. I didn’t know how to broach the topic. He was mortal. I couldn’t tell him about the capes or the Vaporcrafter.

I was surprised, however, that he didn’t say anything. It’s not often a person vanishes in front of your eyes.

Unless you’re me. And it happens twice in the same day.

Nick, though, probably had dozens of questions. But he wasn’t asking them. He was just looking at me as though he wanted to say something. Yet he kept quiet.

I rocked on my heels. Then said, “Well, I should get back. Oh! Here, take one of these.” I handed him a flyer.

He scanned it. “This is going to bring the kooks out of the woodwork.”

“Do you think it will help get the watch back?”

“It might. But probably not. If the pickpocket took the watch and killed Alex in a struggle, then that watch isn’t going to surface for a long, long time. It’s too recognizable. If Alex was killed for another reason and the
watch taken to throw suspicion on the pickpocket, then that watch is never going to surface. It’s probably at the bottom of the Charles.” He shrugged, his eyes sparkling. “But it can’t hurt to try.”

I laughed.

He smiled.

A second passed. Two. The stretches of silence were becoming a habit. They weren’t uncomfortable. Instead, they were filled with a tension that hummed between us. Of wanting to say something, but not knowing what. It was the getting-to-know-you dance. He gives a little; I give a little.

It was exciting.

And terrifying.

“I like what you did,” he said, motioning to my hair.

My cheeks suddenly burned. “Thanks. It was time for a change.”

“Change is hard.” He sounded like he knew from experience.

“The first cut was the hardest,” I shared, wondering why I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “The fear of not knowing how it would look…”

“Fear of the unknown is even harder than change. I—,” he began, then stopped. “I mean, Mimi…” He shook his head, cut himself off.

“Is Mimi okay?”

“She’s fine. Great. Busy running around here somewhere.” He glanced around. “Camp starts next week.…”

A second passed. Two.

“I guess I’ll see you later,” I said. I moved to leave and his voice stopped me.

“Darcy? I do have a piece of interesting news.”

“Oh?” I asked. I could tell he was warring with whether to tell me.

“Do you remember how Mimi was asking about Alexandra’s belongings yesterday afternoon?”

I nodded.

A smile ghosted across his lips. “She didn’t exactly let up on the topic once we went home.”

I imagined not. Mimi didn’t seem like one to let things go easily.

“She kept going on and on about Alexandra not having any family, and what was going to happen to her possessions…”

There was such tenderness in his voice that it caught me off guard. The love he had for his daughter was obvious. And endearing. And attractive. I stepped a little bit farther away.

“.… and then one thing led to another and she was talking about what was going to happen to Alexandra. What was going to happen to her body? Would there be a memorial? A funeral? It was upsetting her that Alexandra might not have those things.”

Exasperation had entered his tone. I smiled. “What did you do?” Because I knew, just knew, he’d done something. I could tell he’d do anything for his daughter.

There was that faint smile again. “I figured if Alexandra meant that much to Mimi, then the least we could do was see that she was buried properly. I made some calls, and eventually discovered Alexandra’s body was still at the medical examiner’s office. I went down there this morning to find out what I had to do to claim the body, since she had no relatives.”

Again his forehead wrinkled. I was beginning to recognize that he did this when he was disturbed. “Did they let you claim her?”

“No,” he said.

“Why not? Is there some sort of legal process that has to happen?” I couldn’t imagine the medical examiner just gave bodies away to anyone who asked.

“There is, but, Darcy, this is the strangest part. Her body had already been claimed. By her next of kin.”

W
ith a Tupperware full of soup in one hand, and a gift bag in the other, I hurried down Fairy Hollow Lane as I searched for Evan and Starla’s address along the charming row of brownstones.

I could hardly believe what Nick had told me. Alexandra had a next of kin. Her story about being an orphan was just that—a story.

Unfortunately, the attendants at the medical examiner’s office would not give Nick the name of the person. I doubted he’d let the matter drop until he found out exactly who it had been who claimed the body. I also suspected he’d let the police know of this latest development.

The sudden appearance of Alex’s next of kin and my cynical side had me wondering if the ME’s office went through an extensive process to verify that sort of thing. If it was anything like what I went through after my father died, it would be easy to deceive the ME’s office. They probably had a similar form to the one I’d filled out and signed, having me verify only through my signature that I was, in fact, the next of kin. No ID check.

So, in fact, anyone could have claimed Alex’s body, by simply claiming to be a relative. Especially if the person knew Alex was alone in the world. I wondered how much money she had. Or if she had a will. Or like Mimi
wondered as well—what happened to all the stock in her storeroom? Would all those things go to this newfound relative?

If so, that might be motivation for murder.

There had to be a way to find out who the person was who claimed the body.

A thought struck. When I claimed my father’s body, I had to list what funeral home to have him taken to. Alexandra’s next of kin would probably have had to do the same. It was another thing to look into.

I found Evan’s address and followed a walkway lined on each side with flowers bursting with color toward the door. Before I could even ring the doorbell, the red front door swung open and a hand reached out and grabbed me, pulling me inside.

“Darcy, you have to help me. I’m desperate. I’m a Man on the Edge.” Evan hid in the shadows behind the door. Twink pranced around my feet, and I reached down and gave his head a pat.

I tugged Evan forward into the light and gasped at what I saw. Chicken soup was not going to help him in the least.

Huge welts covered his face. His eyes were almost swollen closed. Chipmunk cheeks puffed out, and worst of all, the rash looked to be spreading down his neck.

“You have to go to the ER,” I proclaimed.

“I can’t. I don’t think modern medicine can help me. I don’t even know what was in Alexandra’s lotion—how can it be counteracted? I need to find her formula.”

It pained me to look at him. “How are you going to do that?”

“Break into her shop, that’s how. Will you help me? I can barely see.”

I set the gift bag and soup onto a console table by the door. “Was it you in the shop last night?”

He looked down at his feet. My heartbeat kicked up a notch. Was Evan the Vaporcrafter?

“I know Starla told you we were watching a movie, but she was covering for me.” He smiled. At least I thought it was a smile. It was hard to tell with all the swelling. “She was trying to protect me.”

I understood the need, the overwhelming need, to protect a sibling.

“But she didn’t have to worry. It wasn’t me in the shop last night. Someone beat me to it.”

I must have had a “Please explain” look on my face because he went on.

“I’d planned to break in and search Alexandra’s files. I dressed all in black, stuck to the shadows in the alley. By the time I reached Lotions and Potions, I saw someone there, using a crowbar to crack open the back door.”

“Did you see who it was?” Twink barked, which was more like a squeak, and I picked him up.

Evan shook his head. “It was too far away, it was too dark, and like I said, I can’t see very well right now. The person wore a cloak with a hood and was short. Shorter than me.”

He was about five feet eight or so, give or take an inch. I filed that away.

“I waited in the shadows for the person to leave. Then I saw you and Nick Sawyer creeping around the building. I didn’t wait around. I accidentally kicked an aluminum can and thought I’d die right on the spot. I ran all the way home.”

That noise I’d heard in the alley last night had been Evan. It made sense, and his story held a ring of truth.

“So, will you please help me, Darcy?”

I was trying my best to think of a way to get into the shop without actually breaking and entering. Was there any way to gain access? Who could let us in? Alex’s landlord, perhaps, though I doubted that was legal—and most people, including me, frowned on breaking the law. But as I looked at Evan’s face, I knew I had to do something.
Fast. If the swelling reached his throat, he could possibly die.

“Why me?” I asked. I barely knew him.

He glanced at me, a guilty look in his eye. “I can’t ask Starla. I’d never forgive myself if she got into trouble.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But you’re willing to risk
me
getting into trouble?”

“That sounds harsh, doesn’t it?”

“A tad,” I said, trying not to laugh.

“I’m desperate, remember? Honestly, Darcy, from the moment I met you, I knew you to be someone who goes out of her way to help others. You’re a nurturer. I need nurturing.”

He blinked at me, trying to be charming. The welts made it look more pathetic than anything.

Truth was, I did want to help him. My heart broke for him, this situation he was in. It seemed so unfair. He was suffering, his business was suffering, and his life was potentially in danger.

“Do you still have the lotion?” I asked. “Maybe we can get it analyzed. What did it look like?”

He fidgeted. “It was pink. Smelled good. I’d show it to you, but I don’t have the tube anymore. I, ah, lost it.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “Lost it? Where?”

“I don’t know. If I did, it wouldn’t be lost.”

He had a point.

“Why do I feel like you’re not telling me everything?”

Scratching, he said, “I don’t know. Will you help?”

I knew I had to try. Could I possibly get him to wish himself well? There had to be a way around the law that governed against soliciting wishes, a sneaky way of coercing him to say what I wanted.

I thought about it for a second and finally said, “I bet you wish you hadn’t used that lotion.”

He sat on the bottom step of a wooden staircase. He gave me a look I had trouble deciphering—it looked a
lot like sympathy for some reason. “I wish a lot of things. I wish my face didn’t look like this. I wish I hadn’t used that lotion. At this point, I wish I’d never met Alexandra Shively.”

Relief flowed through me. I turned my head and mouthed “I wish I might, I wish I may, grant these wishes without delay.” I blinked twice. Expectantly, I turned to Evan.

Nothing had happened.

In fact, he looked worse.

Twink licked my hand, as if offering condolences.

Why hadn’t the wish worked? Evan’s wishes had to have been pure of heart—the kind of passion in his voice when he made them couldn’t be faked.

Had the wishes not been granted because I’d tricked him into making them?

Guilt flowed and a knot twisted in my stomach as I sat down next to him on the step.

“I have to get into that shop, Darcy.”

I bit my lip. “There might be another way.”

“What?” he asked, hope in his eyes.

“What are you doing later on?”

“Hiding in the house.”

Smiling, I said, “I have to run errands now, but I’ll pick you up at three thirty.” He’d have to stay in the car when I dropped the wombat off at Jake’s party, but we could go straight to Cherise Goodwin’s afterward. I couldn’t imagine Cherise would deny my request to cure Evan—especially after she saw him.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To drop off a wombat and then beg a favor.”

He smiled (I think), and said, “You lead an interesting life, Darcy Merriweather.”

I reached for his hand and squeezed it. I was slightly embarrassed at the tears filling my eyes. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

“Honey, you need to get out more.”

I was laughing as the front door flew open. Starla burst in, breathing hard. “Oh, thank goodness you’re still here, Darcy! I thought I’d missed you.”

Twink barked and I set him on the floor. He hopped over to Starla, who hung her camera on a coatrack, kicked off her shoes, and rubbed her hands together eagerly.

“Are you ready?” she asked me as she scooped up Twink.

She was scaring me. “Ready for what?”

“Oh, you’ll see. You’ll
really
see. It really is illuminating.”

I wasn’t sure what to expect as we followed Starla up the stairs and into a spare bedroom that had been turned into an office.

Starla gestured me inside. I looked back at Evan, who leaned against the doorway, grinning (I think).

“This is my studio.” Starla dropped into her leather desk chair, set Twink on her lap, and cleared a screen saver from the computer on the desk.

The room was warm and inviting, decorated in light blues. Framed photos covered the walls. People, flowers, architecture. Starla had a great eye for capturing an intriguing shot.

On the desk sat a stack of photos. The picture Starla had taken of Mrs. Pennywhistle yesterday sat on the top. I picked it up as Starla clicked through folders on her PC.

The photo was striking, captivating. Mrs. P was clearly lost in her thoughts, and the camera captured sheer anguish in her eyes. My heart broke just looking at her, and I decided a quick trip to the Pixie Cottage on the way home was in need, even though it would throw my schedule out of whack.