A Drop of Witch (A Cozy Mystery Book): Sweetland Witch Page 4

  “Yes. He was here over summer. When Ava first arrived. Remember?”

  “Oh, right,” Otis said. He still looked puzzled though.

  “Did Paisley Mudget ask any of you for a key to get in?” Detective Hudson asked, ignoring Otis.

  “No,” we all replied at once.

  Detective Hudson frowned.

  Dr. Dunne showed up just then and took Paisley’s body away. “I’ll let you know what I find,” he told the sheriff, virtually ignoring Detective Hudson, who seemed eager for discussion on the body.

  I caught one last look at Paisley’s face before she was carted off. It was turning blue.

  Everyone seemed to be doing their best to pretend that Detective Hudson simply didn’t exist. I was beginning to feel a little bad for him. He’d really dug himself into a hole the last time he was here. I wondered if he could dig his way out.

  Dr. Dunne left with Paisley, her smashed cupcake and cookie still stuck to the floor.

  “There’s no sign of forced entry. No broken glass. No door hinges snapped,” Detective Hudson said.

  “What about the cupcake and cookie?” I asked.

  “It’s obvious that Paisley did that herself when she fell,” Detective Hudson said irritably.

  “Have you tried a magic baiter?” Sheriff Knoxx asked.

  Detective Hudson’s face turned crimson. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I have one in my car. Otis, would you get it for me?” Sheriff Knoxx asked.

  “Right, right, Sheriff Knoxx,” Otis said and strolled languidly outside. His lithe figure barely blocked the sunlight that streamed through the open door. When he returned, he was holding a strange-looking contraption that resembled a carpenter’s level.

  “What is that?” I asked. I’d been on Heavenly Haven for several months now, but I was still discovering new things about the magical world every day.

  “It’s called a magic baiter,” Sheriff Knoxx told me as he took it from Otis. “It measures magic against everyday items, like doorknobs and pin cushions. It will tell me whether any magic was used to get inside the bakery. It’s a common tool in law enforcement.” He shot Detective Hudson a look.

  “I should have thought of that,” the detective murmured, his cheeks burning.

  Sheriff Knoxx began circling the bakery, going into the back room and scanning the walls until he was satisfied.

  “I can’t find a thing,” Sheriff Knoxx said, utterly perplexed.

  “Are you sure you’re using that right?” Detective Hudson chided.

  “Yes, of course, I am,” Sheriff Knoxx snapped, but he looked down at the magic baiter and gave it a gentle shake.

  “What’s that?” Trixie asked, bending down behind the cash register. When she rose back up, she was holding a key. “This is our skeleton key for the bakery. In case of emergencies.”

  “But we never leave it out,” Eleanor said, grabbing it from her sister. “It’s kept in the back room.”

  “Is it normally locked up?” Sheriff Knoxx asked.

  “No...” Eleanor said. “We never thought it had to be. Who would steal it?”

  “The party!” I blurted. “Paisley could have lifted it last night during the party.”

  “But why?” Trixie asked.

  “Maybe she had a sweet tooth?” Otis chimed in. We all looked at him. He grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. “Just a thought.”

  “Paisley had a sick sense of humor,” Sheriff Knoxx said. “Maybe she wanted to play some sort of prank.”

  “Prank us?” Eleanor asked.

  “If Polly Peacock was here last night...” I said, voicing the biggest concern looming in my head.

  “She might have seen Paisley in the bakery and mistaken her for you,” Trixie finished for me. She was wearing bright purple tights that began to sparkle as her feet did a nervous little jig.

  “She wasn’t here,” Detective Hudson said. “COMHA agents spotted her in Mistmoor.”

  “Yes, but they lost her. What if she made it to Sweetland?”

  “What are you talking about?” Sheriff Knoxx asked, his eyes alert. “Polly Peacock was seen last night?”

  “At Mistmoor Beach,” Detective Hudson said.

  “And your agents let her escape? Again?”

  “They are not my agents,” he said. “They are agents for the Council on Magic and Human Affairs.”

  Sheriff Knoxx snorted.

  “What about Anastasia?” Eleanor asked the sheriff. “Did you talk to her?”

  “Yes. She had no idea that Polly had escaped until I told her.”

  “She wouldn’t admit it if she did, though,” I pointed out. “Maybe I should talk to her myself. We have a history.”

  “That’s it,” Detective Hudson said, finally getting fed up with so many voices chiming in with their own opinions and ways of doing things. “Everyone out. This is a crime scene.”

  “But it’s past opening time already,” Eleanor said, peering through the front window where a line had started to form. They were here for our baked goods as much as they were for the gossip. I was certain that a police cruiser parked out front and the hearse-like vehicle Dr. Dunne had taken Paisley away in more than amounted to rumors that were already being spread.

  “There’s been a murder here,” Detective Hudson said. “Until further notice, The Mystic Cupcake is closed.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  .

  .

  .

  * * *

  * * *

  .

  T he doorbell rang the next morning. I looked out the window before answering and saw Lottie Mudget standing on our doorstep. Behind her, Detective Hudson was standing beside his car, watching us closely. He was ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble.

  “Is it him? That so-called detective?” Eleanor called from the kitchen. She’d been especially bitter about Detective Hudson closing our shop up.

  “How can we earn a living if the bakery’s closed?” Eleanor had asked after getting home last night. “He didn’t even say for how long.”

  “Maybe we can talk to someone higher up about it,” Trixie suggested. “Sort of get the verdict overturned.”

  “I went to school with Dean Lampton,” my father had said. “It’s been a while, but perhaps if I called him he could help.”

  “Dean Lampton?” Eleanor cried. “You mean from the Council on Magic and Human Affairs?”

  “Yes. He was always a bit of a sourpuss, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

  “That would be wonderful!” Eleanor cooed. “Thank you, Eli.”

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Ava!” Eleanor called. “If that’s Detective Hudson—”

  “It’s not,” I called back. “It’s Lottie Mudget.”

  Eleanor was at my side almost instantly. “Poor Lottie. She must be heartbroken.”

  Eleanor opened the door and her face fell. “Oh,” she said simply. “What do you want?”

  I stepped away from the window, wondering why Eleanor was treating Lottie like she was a fallen soufflé. Then I saw why.

  “Margaret!” I cried before I could stop myself.

  “Hello, Ava.”

  Margaret Binford stood at the door. Her violet eyes flashed at me, making her look all the move evil. Her snow-white hair was piled high in a tight bun, and she wore a dress with a high collar. She looked like an old schoolmarm.

  “Margaret,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “What are you doing here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Lottie called me. Paisley was a dear friend of mine. Practically my best friend. I came the second I heard.” Margaret wrapped her arm around Lottie, who honked loudly into a tissue.

  “Oh, Lottie,” Eleanor said, suddenly remembering herself. “Please, come in.” Lottie stepped inside, and Margaret followed her. Eleanor closed the door and led them to the kitchen, where Trixie and my father stood with astonished looks on their faces. My father was the sm
art one. He got out of there before he could get in Margaret’s way.

  “Nice to see you,” he murmured. “I need to make some phone calls.” And he was off. He cast a glance back over his shoulder in my direction and offered a shrug of apology. I didn’t hold it against him. Sometimes you had to save yourself.

  Lottie sank into a chair at the table and began to sob. “H-h-how did it h-h-happen?” she cried. “W-w-what was she doing therrrrrreee?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us,” Eleanor said, offering Lottie a glass of lemonade.

  “No, thank you,” Lottie said through her sobs.

  “I’ll take one,” Margaret said, smiling a wide, toothy grin.

  Eleanor poured Margaret a lemonade and set out a plate of chocolate chip happiness cookies left over from the party. Lottie took one and began to nibble on it.

  “Sheriff Knoxx thinks that Paisley used our skeleton key to get inside the bakery,” Trixie said. “Do you have any idea why she might do such a thing?”

  “A skeleton key?” Margaret asked. “I seriously doubt that. Paisley wasn’t the type to steal things.”

  “I found it myself,” Trixie said.

  “That proves nothing,” Margaret said. “For all we know, someone killed poor Paisley in a different location entirely and moved her to the bakery.”

  I looked at Eleanor and could tell she was thinking the same thing as me—it wasn’t a bad idea and why hadn’t we thought of that ourselves?

  “But why would anyone do that?” Trixie asked.

  “I haven’t a clue,” Margaret said. “But why would Paisley break into your bakery? Your cookies aren’t that good.” She smiled ruefully at us as she drank her lemonade.

  Usually, it was Eleanor who had to restrain Trixie. This time, it was the other way around. Trixie stepped in front of Eleanor, blocking her before she could take a magical punch at Margaret.

  “So, why are you here, precisely?” Eleanor asked through clenched teeth.

  “We’re here to find out what happened to Paisley,” Margaret said.

  Lottie let out a loud wail and stuffed three more cookies into her mouth. The wailing stopped.

  “These are excellent,” Lottie said. “Perhaps I’ll take that lemonade after all.”

  Eleanor handed her a glass and drew in a deep breath.

  “I noticed Detective Hudson outside,” Margaret continued. “I’m going to offer my services to him.”

  “Your... services?” I asked, thinking I must be misunderstanding something.

  “Yes. I may no longer be head of the Witch’s Council, but I still have many friends on it. Many powerful friends. I can be of great use in this case. Detective Hudson is going to need all the help he can get, especially considering the people he’s working with.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Eleanor snapped.

  “Well, you can’t leave it all to Sheriff Knoxx and that idiot sidekick of his.”

  I felt a surge of protectiveness for Otis Winken.

  “Sheriff Knoxx is more than capable—” Eleanor stammered, red in the face.

  “More than capable?” Margaret laughed. “Of course. That’s why so many people were killed during that whole thing with the draugr.”

  “That wasn’t his fault,” I said.

  “Of course not. Those goblins certainly didn’t help matters, did they?”

  “There is nothing wrong with goblins!” Eleanor screeched.

  I jumped between her and Margaret, afraid she was about to throw a fit. I’d never seen her face get so red. Her hand was halfway to her nose, and I sensed a spell coming on.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Margaret exclaimed, acting shocked at Eleanor’s reaction. “I don’t trust that detective out there much more either. Isn’t he the one who arrested the wrong person for those killings over summer?”

  “Yes, but he just made a mistake,” I said, feeling my own defensiveness creep in. But why should I feel the need to defend Colt? I mean, Detective Hudson? After all, Margaret was right.

  “I see,” Margaret said and left it at that. She was an expert at goading people into a fight.

  Lottie sat there contentedly eating her cookies.

  Suddenly, Margaret’s eyes widened. “Is that a ring you’re wearing, Eleanor?”

  Eleanor blushed and looked from Trixie to me. “Yes,” she mumbled, trying to hide her hand.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. Let me see it.”

  Reluctantly, Eleanor showed us all her hand. Trixie’s eyes widened. “Oh, my roses,” she whispered. “You’re engaged? How did I miss that?”

  “There’s been a lot going on the last few days,” Eleanor said. It was true, too. Between the party, Paisley’s death, and Polly’s escape, there had hardly been time to think. And New Year’s Eve was just four days away. Even though this time it was Mayor Singer throwing the party, that didn’t mean the bakery wasn’t booked solid for lucky cakes. I hoped we didn’t have to cancel all those orders because we were closed.

  Margaret’s eyes narrowed at Eleanor, then it was as if she caught herself. “Congratulations!” she said, sweeping a very surprised Eleanor into a bear hug. “No wonder you’re so defensive of the sheriff. You’re just defending your man.”

  “Congratulations,” Lottie mumbled between bites.

  “Yes,” Trixie said uncertainly, “congratulations.” She hugged her sister, looking at her with such disbelief that I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was she upset that Trixie hadn’t told her? Or was she upset that Eleanor was engaged? They’d always been very close, maybe Trixie was afraid of losing her sister.

  “We should go,” Margaret said. “I’m sure you and Sheriff Knoxx will be very happy together. He’s a lovely man.”

  I silently congratulated Eleanor for not calling Margaret out on her obvious condescending attitude and making things worse.

  “I’ll speak with Detective Hudson on my way out and let him know I am on this case,” Margaret said over her shoulder.

  “Margaret,” I said, “Detective Hudson doesn’t need your help. Trust me.”

  “Trust you? Oh, dear girl, I never trust anyone. And neither should you. Besides, I’m going to help whether anyone likes it or not. Paisley was my friend, and I will not let her murderer go unpunished. If it’s left to the lot of you, that’s certainly what will happen.”

  I watched through the window as Margaret steered Lottie toward Detective Hudson. Poor Colt. I mean, Detective Hudson. He looked miserable as Lottie spoke to him. When she finally left, he shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. I guess whether we wanted it or not, we were getting Margaret’s help.

  * * *

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  .

  .

  .

  * * *

  * * *

  .

  “Would you stop following me?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I eyed Detective Hudson irritably and quickened my pace.

  “Do you really think that Polly is going to jump out at me while I’m walking down the street in broad daylight?”

  “Yes.”

  I stopped and turned to him. “You do?”

  “In my experience, an escaped convict will do most anything to get what they want.”

  I started walking again, slower this time.

  “Polly and I...” But I realized I had nowhere good to go with that statement. Polly and I what? Polly and I are enemies? Polly and I hate each other? Whatever I said would only support Detective Hudson’s case that he should be sticking to me like glue.

  “I know that Polly blames me for losing her powers, but certainly she blames others, too. What about Dean Lampton? Or my aunts? Or you? Why is COMHA so sure it’s me she’s coming for?”

  Detective Hudson’s face turned a light shade of yellow. I had no idea what that meant. I’d never seen anyone turn yellow before.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied. “I’m just... I haven’t
been sleeping well.”

  “You don’t have to spend the night in your car all the time, watching the house.”

  “Yes. I do. It’s my job.” He paused a second. “Unless that was an invitation to set things up inside your house like I wanted to do in the first place.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  We continued walking in silence.

  “You never answered my question. Why is the Council on Magic and Human Affairs so certain that it’s me Polly is coming after?”

  “We have our sources,” he said, keeping his answer as vague as possible.

  “Great. I’m sure your sources are never wrong. Paisley’s death occurring the day after Polly escaped is just a coincidence, right?”

  “Ava,” Detective Hudson said, placing his hand on my arm.

  “We’re here,” I announced, shaking him off.

  He looked at the sign on the door. “Coffee Cove? This is where you were rushing off to?”

  “That’s right. Can’t I get a coffee and say hi to my friend without it warranting an investigation? Stay out here.”

  I opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans filled my nostrils, waking me up. Someone bumped into me, and I turned to see Detective Hudson standing there.

  “I thought I told you to stay outside.”

  “You did. But just because you told me to do something doesn’t mean I have to do it.” He smiled sarcastically at me and for some reason, my heart fluttered.

  Of course, my heart is fluttering. The man is as irritating as a flat tire.

  “Hey,” Lucy said when she saw me. Her younger sister, Megan, was standing in back looking bored, as usual.

  “Hi,” I replied, watching Detective Hudson from the corner of my eye. He was standing right next to me.

  I had wanted to talk to Lucy about Paisley, but not with him here. He was driving me nuts. I wanted to have one minute to myself. I couldn’t work out whether I believed Polly had killed Paisley or not. Polly was the obvious choice, but Paisley had a lot of enemies. Like Mayor Singer.