Be Careful What You Witch For (A Family Fortune Mystery) (8 page)

13

Diana and I tailed the cruiser down the hill and into town. It pulled up in front of the police station, which was tucked between a bookstore and a palm reader. We found a parking spot not far away—impossible during the tourist season but there were only a few die-hard visitors between the fall festival and Thanksgiving. Even without the siren, a small crowd of locals had formed to watch Dylan walk into the station, his hands cuffed behind his back. It would be about ten minutes before all of Crystal Haven knew Dylan had been arrested.

We followed Charla down the hall toward the one cell, which was more like a low-priced hotel room than any prison I had ever seen. The walls were clean and graffiti-free, and I knew the food came from Alex’s place. Ann Arbor had been a much bigger city with a more active and noisy prison facility.

She turned and held her hand up. “You two can wait in the lobby or come back later. We have to get him in the system and finish the paperwork. It could be a couple of hours.”

Diana released a sob when Charla said “in the system.” I took her hand and led her back out to the front. Dylan had not said a word the entire time. Maybe he would be okay if he just kept his mouth shut.

“We need to find a lawyer, Diana. Do you want to go over to Rupert Worthington’s office and see if he can take the case or recommend someone?”

Her eyes were glazed but she nodded. I knew she’d been keeping herself in check until the festival was over. She had said she was going home from the ceremony the evening before to have a bath and a good cry. She’d need more than that to get through this ordeal.

*   *   *

We sat on
a bench outside the police station to let Diana adjust to the circumstances. When she was no longer crying in earnest, we walked down the street in the direction of Rupert Worthington’s office. He’d been the one to tell me about my inheritance last summer. It was this bequest that had allowed me to give up my job as a dog walker and prompted me to abandon my plans to return to Ann Arbor and my old job as a police officer. He’d informed me I had inherited a house and cash but I had to live in Crystal Haven for a year in order to accept the inheritance—an unusual requirement of the will, and after some thought and prodding from my family, I had accepted. Of course, the money wouldn’t last forever and my future career was a nagging concern.

I doubted Mr. Worthington took criminal cases but hoped he could put us in touch with someone who did. His office was near the marina, empty now and quiet. I loved the clanging of the boat riggings and the squeals of seagulls in the summer. A few leaves skittered across our path on the nearly deserted street.

The air had turned significantly cooler in the last couple of days and I was glad to step inside the law office. Diana shivered, from cold or shock I couldn’t tell. We entered the office to the tinkling of a bell over the door.

“May I help you young ladies?” Rupert’s rumpled look was particularly bad that day. His shirt was partly untucked, his hair stood up in small spikes around his head, and he had loosened his tie to the point that he should have just removed it.

Diana glanced quickly at me, concern in her eyes.

“Mr. Worthington, perhaps you remember me from the summer?”

He took off his reading glasses and examined me. “Oh yes. Clytemnestra Fortune. How are you enjoying your new house?” He stepped forward to shake my hand.

I took his hand. “Please call me Clyde. Everyone does.” Only a few people from my childhood still called me Clytemnestra and now that I had moved back, I was systematically working to stamp out all use of that name. It had been my mother’s misguided attempt at giving her daughters unique and meaningful names. Her name was Rose; her favorite roses were orange. Both Clytemnestra and Grace are orange roses. Dad must have lobbied on my sister’s behalf. She got the normal name. Nine years later, he gave in and
I
have to live with it.

“What can I do for you?” Rupert asked. “The requirements in the will were quite clear and even though we
are
headed into winter, you have to stay in the house for a full year, you know. Only the tourists get to avoid the snow.” He chuckled at his own wit.

I assured him I had no intention of moving out of the house. He politely waited for me to explain our presence.

“This is Diana Moonward. She needs a lawyer for her brother.”

“You look very familiar, young lady. Have we met?”

Diana nodded. “You handled my parents’ estate. Elliot and Fiona Ward?”

“Oh yes. I remember. What a tragedy. I’m so sorry. I’d be happy to help you. Where is your brother?” He peered behind us. “What does he need—a will, a contract review?”

“No, sir. He’s in jail,” Diana said. “He’s been accused of murder.” Her voice broke and she began crying in earnest again.

Rupert Worthington sucked in air and shook his head. He pawed through the papers on his desk until he found a box of tissues.

“Oh my. I haven’t handled a criminal case in years, just years.” He chewed on his lip and regarded Diana’s pale, blotchy face. “But, yes. I can take care of him.” Rupert patted her shoulder and bounced on his toes. “I may need to consult with a firm in Grand Rapids, but you just leave everything to me.”

Diana cast a worried glance my way.

“Can you tell us what to expect next?” I asked. I had already told Diana what I knew from the arresting officer’s point of view, but wanted to hear what Rupert had to say. Procedures were different in various judicial districts.

“There will be a preliminary hearing as soon as they can get it scheduled. I hope to have him released on bail but I wouldn’t plan on it. Better to be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed.” Rupert began a smile and then retracted it when he saw Diana’s stricken face.

Diana and I shook his hand again and headed back out into the brisk day.

“What am I going to do? I don’t have money for bail. What if it’s a huge amount?” Diana waved her arms, and her eyes were wild. “Where will he stay until trial? How can they even think he did it? They’ve all known him since he was a little kid. Tom Andrews was his best friend in high school.”

I shook my head. I had never been on this side of the arrest before. I knew he would be booked and a charge would be entered. Then they would set a court date to decide whether there was enough evidence to go to trial.

“Let’s go to my place and figure out what the next steps should be,” I said.

We put our heads into the wind and, with linked arms, walked up the street.

14

Diana arranged with Rupert to meet her at the police station later that day. We convinced Alex to leave his manager in charge of Everyday Grill and go to my place with us to make a plan. I’d called Mom and Vi. I didn’t think I could keep Diana calm
and
organize what to do next all on my own. My mom was great at the soothing-and-calming thing. Maybe I could convince her to do a tarot reading that was slanted toward a good outcome.

I’d also phoned Seth, who was finally out of bed at eleven, and warned him the gang would be arriving shortly.

The doorbell rang just as we were taking off our coats. Mom, Dad, and Vi stood on the porch. I questioned the wisdom of calling them when I saw they were laden with baskets and tote bags.

“I knew it!” Vi said when I opened the door. She pushed past me and dropped her bags, gesturing wildly. “I knew that whole thing in the woods would lead to trouble. I just felt it in my bones and now look at us. Dylan’s in jail, Rafe is dead . . .” She got a good look at Diana and trailed off.

“Diana, come sit down. I have cookies and chamomile tea.” Mom held out a basket and gestured toward the dining room.

Seth, Alex, and I followed along with the dogs, who seemed to sense the mood of the room and went quietly into a corner to lie down.

“We have to find out what really happened so we can get Dylan out of prison.” Vi pounded the table and the dogs looked up.

“What can we do, Vi? We don’t know anything.” Mom shuffled her cards and laid them out in front of her.

“We can start by talking to whoever was there that night,” Vi said.

“Vi, did you see anything unusual?” I asked.

“What
wasn’t
unusual? People in robes, chanting, fire in the cauldron. I was amazed!”

“But did you see anything that might relate to what happened to Rafe?”

Vi sat back and took up her knitting. She claimed she couldn’t really think unless she was knitting, but her talents only stretched to scarves and hats. Occasionally she branched out into dog sweaters, which she foisted onto her clients. This time, something very long and purple dangled from her needles.

“I saw Rafe talk to that big guy.”

“Lucan Reed?” Diana asked.

“Yeah, that might be it. They didn’t look friendly, almost like they were arguing. They only spoke for a minute and then Rafe stalked off to the other side of the circle. It was really dark, so I couldn’t see much.”

“What about you, Clyde?” Alex asked.

“I was so busy keeping track of the food and making sure things didn’t blow away or get lost in the dark that I didn’t pay attention to who was talking to whom. I didn’t notice Rafe at all until he fell in the center of the circle. I thought he was having a heart attack,” I said, and glanced at Diana. It couldn’t be easy for her to be reliving that night.

Diana nodded. “I didn’t pay much attention to what other people were doing, either. I was focused on the ceremony and what I needed to do.”

Mom, sitting next to Diana, patted her hand.

“Look, honey.” Mom sat back in her chair and scrutinized her layout. “The cards say Dylan didn’t do it. If I’m reading this right it was a woman who was responsible.” We all leaned forward. It did seem as though there was a female presence in the situation, but just like every other divination technique, it was open to interpretation.

“Let’s get out that pendulum thingy,” Seth said.

Alex put his head in his hands. A simple divination technique, the pendulum swings in a “yes” or “no” direction in response to questions. He had never been able to work the device and he was too competitive to just let it go. The pendulum had become his nemesis.

Vi picked up her tote bag, allowing her knitting to fall to the floor.

“Alex, I need to check on Clyde’s alarm system. Want to help?” Dad asked. He was no fan of the pendulum, either, and the two of them disappeared.

We spent about forty-five minutes with the pendulum with no results. Vi had just taken possession of the crystal to ask another question when the doorbell rang and triggered a clamor of barking and scraping of chairs.

Vi got to the door first. After peeking through a small crack, she swung the door only far enough so she could fill the opening.

“Hello,
Officer
Andrews.” Her voice was icy. “What can we do for you?” She crossed her arms, and I could tell she was blaming Tom along with all the other police officers for Dylan’s arrest.

“Can I come in, please, Miss Greer?” Tom’s voice floated in from outside.

“We’re really very busy right now trying to figure out how to get Dylan out of
jail
.”

“I know. That’s why I want to come in.”

Vi glanced back at Diana, who nodded her consent. Vi swung the door wide to a somber Tom Andrews dressed in his street clothes. He raised a hand in greeting.

“Well, let the man in, Vi,” said Dad. He and Alex had come to see what was happening in the front hall.

“I’m so sorry, Diana,” Tom said. His foot got caught in the welcome mat and he stumbled through the door. He stood up straight and smoothed his jacket. “I had no idea they were planning to arrest Dylan. I would have warned you, which is probably why they didn’t tell me. They seem to think he’s a flight risk.”

“Who’s ‘they’? And why is he a flight risk?” Alex stepped forward. He, Diana, and I had been inseparable in high school and his protective instincts were strong. Anything that upset Diana was sure to upset Alex.

“Mac and Charla. They have
some
evidence and are looking for more,” Tom said. “Dylan hasn’t exactly been easy to find over the past few years. He follows the art shows and even Diana doesn’t always know where he is. They were afraid he’d take off again if he knew they were coming to arrest him. Basically, I’m off the case.” Tom stood with his hands out, palms up. “Mac says I’m too close to Dylan and can’t be objective.” He let his hands fall to his side.

I gestured toward the dining room and the group moved in that direction. Dad and Alex abandoned their project and joined us. The pendulum forgotten, we gathered around the table.

Per Tom, several witnesses had come forward with stories of Dylan and Rafe arguing and someone claimed that Dylan had threatened to kill Rafe. Dylan had the opportunity to doctor the bread since he had easy access to Diana’s kitchen, and another witness had seen Dylan leaving Rafe’s house the day he died. Rafe had followed him into the yard and grabbed Dylan’s arm. Dylan shook him off, and Rafe fell. Apparently, Dylan just kept walking. Tom ticked these items off on his fingers.

“Isn’t this just circumstantial evidence?” Alex said.

Tom nodded. “But they found some fingerprints on the EpiPen. One of them was Dylan’s. One was Rafe’s, one was the paramedic who picked it up at the scene, and they’re assuming the last set would be Diana’s.” His head was bowed toward the table.

“We have to do something!” Vi glared around the table, daring anyone to contradict her.

“But what?” Seth said.

“We need more suspects, for one thing,” I said.

Diana took a shuddery breath. “I don’t like the idea of looking to put the blame on someone else just to get Dylan out of jail. What if the other person didn’t do it, either?”

“All we need is another option to stop them from assuming they have the guilty party and ending the investigation,” I said. “Mac and Charla are solid cops, and I don’t believe they would arrest Dylan without good reason, but I also think it wouldn’t hurt to give them a few more avenues to look into.”

Diana took a deep breath. “I did have a weird conversation with Ember and Bronwyn.”

“What kind of crazy names are those?” Vi said.

I cast a threatening look at Vi and she picked up her knitting.

“Bronwyn is the mother and she and Ember make organic soaps and lotions. They also dabble in oils used for spells,” Diana said.

“What happened?” Tom asked.

“I was asking them about what they might have seen that night and Bronwyn told me about seeing someone rummaging through the robes. Then she started to say something about Morgan Lavelle, and Ember stepped in and cut her off.”

“Morgan says she wasn’t there,” I said.

Diana nodded. “She wasn’t on the list and she and Rafe tended to avoid each other. I didn’t see her there. I don’t know what Bronwyn was going to say. But it was strange.”

“So, any other gossip?” Vi asked. She leaned forward and glowered around the table as if we were keeping things from her.

“Lucan and Rafe have been fighting for the past several months,” I said. “I heard that Lucan didn’t agree with Rafe’s overly controlling leadership style.”

“I saw Lucan and Dylan arguing at the restaurant the day that Rafe died,” Alex said. He peered around the circle and looked down. None of us were sure if that would help or hurt Dylan.

“I heard that Morgan and Rafe had a major falling-out a few months ago,” Diana said. “There were rumors that they were a couple and then they fought about something and he kicked her out of the coven. She was livid and started calling all the coven members and bad-mouthing him.”

“That sounds like routine drama,” said Alex.

Diana nodded. “It was, mostly. Rafe wouldn’t admit it, but I think he was afraid of her. He caught her going through his garbage. He thought she was looking for supplies for her dark spells.”

“What?” I said. “Do the police know?”

Tom shook his head and watched Diana.

She hugged herself and shivered. “I told Mac that Rafe was anxious about kicking her out of the coven. That woman is scary. Did any of you happen to go by her booth? She sells all kinds of spell kits for revenge and power. It’s not what Wicca is meant to be.”

“Did you see how she dresses? She looks like a dominatrix,” Vi said.

Dad’s head snapped up from the newspaper he was perusing.

“A what?” Seth asked.

We all sent a glare in Vi’s direction.

“You know, black leather, scary hair, long nails . . .” Alex decided to skate over the definition and describe her clothing.

“Oh, like Lady Gaga?”

“Yeah, a lot like her,” Vi said.

“Skye told me her mother didn’t like Rafe,” Seth said. “Well, her mother hates everything to do with Wiccans.”

“I knew that, but thought maybe she was coming around since she came to the ceremony,” Diana said.

Seth shrugged. “Dunno. It’s just what she said. I got the impression her mother hating it was part of the appeal.”

“We have Lucan and Morgan in his coven,” Alex said, ticking off the suspects on his fingers. “They’d been fighting with him over the leadership of the group. And Dylan—who had what reason?”

Tom sighed. “He thinks Rafe killed his parents.”

A collective intake of breath circled the table. I was surprised Tom knew about this, and Diana’s perplexed expression indicated she was as taken aback as I was.

“How did you know?” she asked Tom.

“He told me a long time ago, the day after your parents’ funeral, right before he left. He thought Rafe had something against your dad and was sure that Rafe had arranged their accident.”

“How horrible, to carry around that sort of anger.” Mom had her amulet in a death grip. “Poor Dylan.”

Diana brought them all up to date on the grimoire and how there was something in that book that Dylan thought Rafe had killed their parents for.

“What could be in some moldy old book that would be worth killing for?” Seth asked.

Diana shrugged. “Dylan thought there was a powerful spell in there, but he’s shown it to a bunch of Wiccans who all say the same thing. The recipes are typical everyday spells that would be found in any grimoire, especially one that was passed down through a few generations.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” Vi asked. She dropped her knitting and leaned forward.

“There’s a family tree in the back.” Diana met my gaze. This is what she had been about to tell me the other day. “Dylan said he never paid any attention to it because he was convinced the secret was in the spells. The genealogy is that of Rafe’s family,” Diana said. “You may not know this, but one of the main reasons he’s in charge of the Grand Rapids coven is because he has the longest family history of witchcraft. He’s always played up the fact that Wicca is in his blood, and his followers believed him.”

We nodded to encourage her to continue.

“Dylan showed the book to a friend who knew nothing about spells, but a lot about genealogy. Apparently the symbols indicate that Rafe was adopted. His whole argument that he is most equipped to run the coven goes out the window if he’s adopted.”

“Oh my,” Mom said.

“Do you think your dad threatened to expose him?” Alex asked.

Diana held her hands out, palms up. “I don’t know. They were friends, but my dad always said that Rafe was power hungry and it would ruin him someday. Dad may have just wanted Rafe to be aware that he knew his secret. Maybe Rafe didn’t even know he was adopted. . . .” Diana trailed off, the day’s events finally taking their toll on her.

“We need a plan to figure out who else would want Rafe dead,” Dad said.

“I can’t believe that Rafe would have killed your parents over something like this—it’s just ridiculous,” Mom said.