Midsummer Night's Mayhem (13 page)

Honora’s assistant, Sawyer, greeted her as he was walking out. His smile was broad, but a stitch of concern marred his wide brow. “Hey, Clover.” He hugged her warmly. “Sorry about the party and Oliver. It’s tough. But don’t worry, we’re here to help out as best we can.” Handsome and casual in a pair of jeans and leather jacket, Sawyer was tall, had light brown skin, and wore his black hair buzzed short. He was also one of the smartest researchers and knowledge hoarders in the city.

“Thanks. I appreciate the help. I wouldn’t know where to start with investigating a wizard’s financial background. Honora said you guys dug up some information about his son, Austin.”

“We sure did, but I’ll let Honora catch you up on the details.” He held the door open for her.

“Will you be joining us?” Clover asked when Sawyer hesitated in the doorway.

“Not today. I’m doing some surveillance work on one of Jenny’s cases in a few minutes. I’ve got to run. We’ve been busy since she joined us. Double the investigators, double the fun,” he said with a salute.

“At least business is good,” Clover said and noticed Honora waving to her from a table near the window.

“Enough of the chitchat, you two,” Honora yelled over to them with a smile. “I’ll see you tonight, Sawyer. Be careful out there.”

“Always,” he said.

Clover joined her sister at a cozy round table draped with a lacy tablecloth. A waitress handed them both menus and asked, “Can I get you two something to drink? A ravished maiden, perhaps?”

“Oooh, sounds interesting.” Clover wiggled her eyebrows.

Honora shook her head. “Last time I had one of those I woke up face down on my desk with a killer headache an hour after lunch. They really knock you out.”

“Good to know,” Clover said. “Let’s try a pot of iced peach tea.”

The waitress shrugged. “Do you know what you want?”

“I’ll have the soothsayer soup,” Clover said. The soup was known for its prophetic offerings. After eating the soup, the diner peered down into the bottom of the bowl to see a message. It was a little like reading tea leaves.

“I’ll have a bowl of mermaid’s delight. I’m in the mood for seafood,” Honora said.

“Me, too,” Clover said and giggled at her play on words. “Get it.
See
food.”

“Yes, I got it, dork.” Honora smiled and shook her head and the waitress drifted off.

Clover settled into her seat and admired the restaurant with its rich ruby red-patterned wallpaper, glowing hanging lanterns, and velvet drapes. “Thanks for looking into Austin’s financials. What have you got for me?”

“You don’t look so good.” Honora narrowed her gazed and eyed Clover like a hawk. “The murder investigation has really taken a toll on you. Are you sleeping okay?”

Clover let out a deep breath, her spine hunched, and her shoulders slumped forward. There was no fooling Honora. “Investigating is a lot harder than it looks. My respect for you and your job has increased immensely over the last few days.”

Honora grinned. “Thanks, but I live for this kind of thing, macabre as that might sound. You, on the other hand, are used to a quiet life. What’s happened lately to worry you? No offense, but you’ve got some serious bags under your eyes.” Honora opened her purse and handed Clover a small glass vial. It was one of Vivi’s potions. The label read:
Go Bagless. Eye tightening potion for when you’re up all night
.

Clover took the vial, wondering if her sister hadn’t concocted a potion for almost every occasion. Then she filled Honora in about her run in with Gwen, Bradley, and the specter, followed by her eventful morning visit with Felicity.

Honora focused on the worst part. “Sending in a ghost to warn you is a real low blow. Black magic is nothing to fool around with.” Honora twisted up her lips. “I’m glad Juniper’s on the ball, but the whole wizard’s wrath angle sheds an interesting light on what I found out about Austin.”

Clover pulled out a small parchment notebook out of her giant leather handbag. “He was one of my top suspects until Felicity told me about his dad’s illness. Now I’m not sure if he’s involved, even though he did purchase the belladonna from Tabitha. Did you know she keeps a public record of poisonous plant purchases?”

“I suspected she did because of the law. But in the future, I’ll remember that in case I need any deadly plants.” She visibly shuddered. “But, seriously, Oliver’s illness changes things, but not as much as you might think.”

Clover was intrigued. “Felicity was pushing Oliver to work with Mender Corp. Did you have a chance to talk with Dax?”

Dax Cross was Honora’s dashing and filthy rich ex-flame and an executive in the medical company.

“Yep. And I’ll spare you the suspense. It’s a dead end. Turns out once the council began keeping records, death by poisoning dropped. Not surprisingly. Mender Corp is highly controlled and uses only one grower who is under contract to sell to them exclusively. The farm is guarded. No plants go in or out without someone knowing it. The poison didn’t come from them. And Oliver wasn’t on any patient list for the trials.”

“So at least no one from Mender Corp is involved. That leads us back to Austin,” Clover said. “Do you think he could have murdered his dying father? He’d need a really strong motive. It’s hard to imagine Austin would hurry the process along.”

Honora pulled a massive leather casebook out of her purse and set it onto the table, flipping it open like she was in her office, but none of the other customers seemed to notice. She tapped her wand on top, activating the spell. The private investigating tool made Clover’s notebook look puny in comparison. An image of Austin and a string of writing appeared on the page, sending a shiver up Clover’s spine.

“One thing at a time. First I looked up a little background on Austin. He works as a number reader for Golden Bears Investment Corp. Turns out his
persuasion
is part analyst and part business intuition, which he uses to find small- and medium-sized companies to invest in, and then he passes the information on to his superiors.”

Clover leaned over the table and stared curiously at the parchment page. “That actually sounds really interesting. He must use his intuitive
persuasion
to sense if the owner can handle the business pressures and run the company.”

“Yep. Any witch and wizard starting up or developing a business can apply for an investment from Golden Bear. Austin also seeks out new and upcoming businesses to offer financing to all over Everland. From what I can gather, he’s very good at finding lucrative business opportunities.”

“Like a peach berry!” Clover blurted out, recalling the fruit she sampled at the farmers market the day before.

“A what?”

“A peach berry. It’s a crazy delicious new produce the Winters developed and grow on their farm. I tasted one yesterday and it definitely qualifies as an up-and-coming product. It appears as if Sugar Snap Farms is branching off into some magical growing techniques and have a wizard from the city helping them.”

“Does this wizard have a name?” Honora asked. Her reed pen, poised over the page.

Clover told her sister all about Pete, the silver-tongued charmer and hybrid grower.

Honora suppressed a smile. “I’ll ask around about this mysterious Pete. Now, back to Austin. He has a spotless employment record, bank statements, and he’s even a good citizen with no arrests or even a parking ticket for the expensive hovercraft he drives.”

“So no demon horns. That’s too bad. I was hoping for some good conclusive dirt. But he’s not a stupid wizard. That’s for sure.”

A mischievous grin curled up Honora’s lip. “Oh, dear, naive Clover. Not all wizards are what they appear to be.” She set her pen down and waved her wand over the casebook and whispered a spell. “I dug a little deeper on him and found he has a shadow self.”

“A shadow self. Now that sounds like a lead.” Clover sat on the edge of her seat.

“Austin Yearling has a separate bank account and side business under a different name, which isn’t necessarily illegal. But unfortunately for Austin, his shadow self isn’t doing so well. He made some spectacularly bad investments and lost a ton of gold. He’s really hurting.” Honora brushed her fringy black bangs out of her eyes.

“How much gold are we talking?”

“Serious debt. He has a second mortgage on his posh city apartment and if he isn’t careful he’ll be living in that fancy hovercraft in a few months if he doesn’t come into some major gold and fast.”

“That’s why he freaked out at the will reading. No wonder he was furious. He had no idea his father changed the will and left the majority of the cash and land to Felicity.”

“
Allegedly
left the money to Felicity. You only have her word on that.”

“Good point. I’m going with her later today to the lawyer’s office as moral support when she claims the inheritance. The lawyer will need undeniable proof, which at least, from what Oliver said, she should have.”

Honora waved her wand over the casebook and a fresh stream of writing appeared. “One of the companies Austin invested in is called New Food, Inc. They do experimental magical hybrid foods. He’s bleeding gold on it as we speak.”

“That could be what the Winters are involved in,” Clover said.

“From what I can see there’s no produce. It’s mostly novelty candy and baked goods. They did well for a while but with witches and wizards being on health kicks, the candy business took a dive. But that doesn’t mean the company isn’t looking to expand. I can dig deeper into the available data to find out for sure.”

“That would be great. According to the fight I overheard between Gwen and Grady, Austin promised to sell his father’s land to the Winters. If Austin was desperate for gold, he or one of the Winters could have killed Oliver to get it sooner rather than later. Maybe they couldn’t wait for him to die naturally.” The thought made her stomach churn.

“True. Gold is one of the biggest motivators for crime. Plus, if Golden Bear found out about Austin’s failing side business, they could decide to sever ties with him.”

“Losing his job on top of losing all that gold on bad investments might have been enough to push him over the edge.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take over the case?” Honora’s eyebrow cocked. It practically had a life of its own.

“No. I got myself into this investigation and I can get myself out. Plus, it’s been eye-opening walking in your shoes. Being a P. I. is no joke.”

Honora crossed her ankles, showing off the sky-high heels of her leather boots. “And the shoes are killer. Just be careful how close you get to Austin or the Winters and make sure you question your suspects in public places with lots of witnesses around in case you need help,” Honora lectured. She closed her casebook, setting it on the seat next to her as the waitress served them a pot of peach tea poured over ice.

“Don’t worry.” It was nice having her younger sister be so protective of her. “I don’t want a repeat of last night.”

“If you want, I can take off work and stay with you for a few days until this blows over,” Honora said, sipping her tea.

“You’re busy with your own business. I’m thrilled your partnership with Jenny is working out so well. Plus, Juniper said she would leave an officer to watch over the house in case anyone tries anything again.”

“That’s good. What about taking all this stuff to the Juniper and the sheriff?”

“I plan on telling them everything tomorrow. She’s serving the warrant and if I don’t have a good suspect to miraculously solve the case, they’re going to know everything about me.”

“At least your name will be cleared once and for all.” Honora leaned back as the waitress returned, this time holding two small black cauldrons filled with bubbling soup.

Clover beamed and stirred her soup, a waft of steam rising up. “This probably isn’t the best choice for a summer lunch,” she said. “But Scarlet swears by this stuff.”

“Scarlet also plans her days around tarot cards.” Honora cocked her brow.

“Soothsayer soup is fun. Don’t you like it?” she asked around a mouthful of smoky-tasting soup filled with woody mushrooms.

Honora wrinkled her nose. “Every bowl they serve is different and custom-made for the witch who orders it. The last time I tried it, a half-dozen fish eyeballs floated up from the bottom of my bowl and stared at me.” She shuddered. “But the soup was right. I ended up on a surveillance case for weeks. This time I’m sticking with good old-fashioned mermaid’s delight.”

“Is it made of Merman?” Clover smiled, cracking another corny joke.

“No, just fish chowder. No prophecies and no surprises.”

Clover relished the dish. “This tastes delicious. Thick and meaty. Not sweet at all. No peach berries.” She swirled her spoon around and took another bite. Clover grimaced in pain. “Ouch!” she yelped and pulled something sharp and hard out of her mouth. “It think it’s a bone or…”

Clover and Honora examined a half-inch shriveled twig covered in thorns. “What is that?” Honora said.

“It’s thorny and it hurt. My soup bit back.” Clover stuck out her tongue.

“Eat at your own risk.” The waitress delivered a basket of bread to the table. “Prophecy can be a dangerous business.”

“So can investigating,” Clover said, dabbing her tongue on her napkin.

“That can’t be a good sign of things to come,” Honora said. “You should have had the mermaid’s delight.”

Clover had a feeling her sister was right.

14

A
fter lunch with Honora, Clover took the Silver Train home in time to meet up with Felicity and head over to the lawyer’s office. If Felicity was nervous, it didn’t show. She was dressed in a chic black pencil skirt and cardigan with her hair upswept in a loose chignon showing her long slender neck. She held a black velvet purse clutched to her chest. “I’ve got letters from Oliver inside,” she said. “I’m also wearing a necklace he gave to me.” She touched a silver moon-shaped pendant with a creamy opal set in the center that dangled around her throat. “It’s all the proof I have of our relationship.” Her eyes gleamed, a rosy blush glowing on her cheeks.

Felicity’s excitement to come forward and claim her prized inheritance was understandable, but Clover couldn’t help but be a little skeptical. Felicity had come into the mother lode—magically speaking—and snatched the inheritance right out from under Austin’s nose. Clover had a feeling it was going to be a rocky day. Austin wasn’t going to be happy to see Felicity.

The closest portal into town was located in a large oak not far from Clover’s house. Clover pulled her portal key from a key ring out of her bag and slipped it into a gold plate embedded in the side of the tree. Once the magic activated, the two witches stepped through the warm swirling energy and out onto Main Street in Willow Realm. Clover chose the portal archway between Nocturnes and The Glass Slipper boutique, putting them closer to the lawyer’s office.

Once they started walking down the street, it was obvious something was up. Many of the shop owners were standing out front of their stores, chatting with one another. Bear Griswold from Goodspells Grimoire, Willow Realm’s bookshop, and Lavender Blue from The Charmery were in an animated whisper session when Clover and Felicity strolled up to get in on the gossiping action.

“What’s up, you two?” Clover asked, sidling up between them. “Why’s everyone hanging out? Is there a party we didn’t know about?” She elbowed Bear playfully.

His bearded face lit up when he saw her. “Hello, Clover. Haven’t seen you in a couple weeks. I’ve got some new romance novels in that I know you’ll love.”

Clover had gotten a reputation as a bookworm and bought all her books from Bear, who kept her up to date on all the hottest reads. Little did he know that she was one of the authors of the books he always held for her. She often found herself having to buy copies of her own books, so he wouldn’t get suspicious.

“Thanks. I’ll stop by in a few days when I get some free time. I’ve been pretty busy lately.”

His eyes widened. “Sorry, sweetie. I totally forgot about the party. Especially now with the second act in
the mysterious death of Oliver Yearling
playing out right in front of us in our little town.” Bear had a flair for the dramatic; everything was a book saga to him.

“What do you mean?” Felicity asked. “What second act?”

Lavender Blue jingled her charm bracelet out of habit and leaned in close to tell the secret. “Well, I’m sure you’ve both heard about the infamous will.”

“Of course,” Felicity said with an impatient snap.

“Wait till you see the horde of witches trying to claim the inheritance. The witches of Everland have come out of the woodwork. Oliver Yearling must have been a real ladies’ man because literally dozens of his
true loves
have shown up at the estimable law offices of Wilford Rutherford, Esq. to snatch up his estate.” She threw her head back with a throaty cackle.

Felicity’s face went ashen. “What do you mean there are dozens of witches? The will clearly stated he had only one love.”

“One love, oh please. That might be true, but he didn’t name her in the will.” Bear nudged Clover. “It’s a real show. The streets have been packed. This is better than a town fair. Business has been booming all morning with the lovely witches milling around, doing some shopping while waiting their turn to talk with Wilford. That poor wizard must be going completely mad.”

“What about the box?” Clover asked. “Doesn’t it contain proof or something?”

“
Or something.
Who knows what’s inside? My theory is the box made the witches more curious. They took it as a challenge,” Lavender said. “The witchy ladies have come to take their chances.”

Bear crossed his arms over his barrel chest, his expression gleeful. “Old Ollie really should have seen this coming. Since no one knows who she is, every witch in town claims to be his one true love trying to get a piece of the inheritance.”

“But she must have proof! Without that they will look like fools,” Felicity squealed nearly hysterical.

“Well, whatever is in that box, the labyrinth is up for grabs. And those witches are fighting for it,” Lavender said. “Proof is in the pudding. Or, in this case, clutched in the wrinkled fists of every witch over three hundred.”

“Sounds pretty brutal over there.” Clover really wasn’t surprised. The labyrinth was priceless and witches could be ruthless when they smelled opportunity.

“What are you two ladies doing in town?” Lavender asked.

“Oh, just thought we’d come down to see the sights.” Clover shrugged, not wanting to embarrass Felicity, but the riled-up witch was in no mood to continue the conversation and hightailed it down the street.

“Gotta run.” Clover sprinted after Felicity, who took the turn to the law office and stopped so suddenly that Clover almost slammed into the back of her. They’d not been prepared for what faced them outside of the lawyer’s office—a crowd of witches all dressed up in their finest outfits, trying to elbow their way into the office.

Felicity reared back and grabbed Clover’s arm. “This is a mess,” she gasped. “How can all these witches come here and pretend to be something they aren’t? They’re all liars.” She clutched her purse, holding the letters to her chest.

“They’re doing it for the gold.” Clover put her arm around Felicity and eased her down the street. “I’m sorry, dear. But we’ll go in and straighten this all out.”

“You’re right. I have proof after all. None of them do.” Felicity held her chin high, but Clover felt her body trembling beneath her hands.

“It’ll be okay.”
She hoped.
“We’ll show them. Try not to worry.” Clover tried to calm Felicity, but it didn’t look good inside the crowded office.

Perfume choked the air. They pushed their way through a roiling sea of witches. Clover had never seen so much tulle and crinoline in her life. The witches had pulled out their finest dresses, hats, and veils to show off, not to mention donning elaborate hairstyles and thick make-up. Clover felt like she’d walked backstage at a beauty pageant. She and Felicity edged into the office, with the help of a few well-placed elbows, to reach the receptionist desk.

“We’ve come to speak with Wizard Rutherford about the will,” Clover said. Felicity was too busy staring around the room, eyeing up the competition with a mix of disdain and horror on her face.

Not surprisingly Wizard Rutherford’s assistant was frazzled. She glared up at Clover, her glasses askew. “Oh, no. Not you, too,” she snarled.

“No, not me!” Clover blurted. “Not in a million years. It’s Felicity.” She pulled the witch forward.

“Sign here.” The witch waved her wand and a scroll of parchment and quill appeared in the air.

Felicity scribbled her name. “You can tell the rest of these charlatans to go home. I have indisputable proof that I am the love of Oliver Yearling’s life.”

The witch wasn’t impressed. “You and everyone else, sweetie.”

Felicity opened her bag and showed her the letters. “Written in his own hand. No one has that.” She smiled tightly.

“You’d be surprised at what these witches brought as proof. You two can try to find a seat inside. Since you’re pushy, I doubt you’ll have a problem. The Wizard Rutherford will be addressing the crowd shortly.”

They entered the same room where the will had been read just a day earlier. Clover glanced around the crowd. It seemed like every witch was clutching some keepsake—a wizard’s pocket watch, a lock of gray hair tied with a ribbon, stacks of worn love letters.
The lover’s proof
, Clover thought and groaned on the inside. They all came prepared. This didn’t look good for Felicity. It was unnerving at how many witches had packed the law office. Even Dovy and Cookie were floating around, one holding a man’s embroidered handkerchief, the other a golden pair of hedge clippers.

Clover stifled a laugh.
What kind of wizard gave the love of his life hedge clippers as a memento?
This was serious, but not without its humorous side. Bear was right—witches had come out of the woodwork.

Felicity shoved her way to a seat in the front row and made room for Clover, literally pushing a skinny witch wearing a gauzy black veil out of her way. Clover began to wonder,
is Felicity really Oliver’s love?
But who would admit that, really, if it weren’t true? All she had to do was take a look around the room to answer her own question. The whiff of gold was in the air, and the witchy wolves had come out to fight for it.

“Are you doing okay?” Clover asked.

Felicity’s jaw was clenched, her eyes narrowed to seething slits. “I’ll be fine once this is over.”

“I’m sure Wizard Rutherford will clear this up. He must know who the real love of his client’s life is. Perhaps that’s what the announcement will be. Maybe it was a test.” Clover wasn’t sure if she believed that or was kidding herself.

“Deep down I was afraid of this,” Felicity said, her voice lowering. “Oliver should have been more specific. He should have named me in the will and none of this would be happening. This was supposed to be the last thing we did for each other. He gave me the choice to come forward. He did that for me. It was the romantic in him.”

Romantic? Is she serious?
Clover understood the gesture, but nothing was more unromantic than a will reading. But she was there to be supportive. “You were right to come forward. If you hadn’t, someone else could have stolen the inheritance right out from under you and Austin. I’m sure if no witch came forward the land would rightly revert back to him, which it should. No one else should have it.”

Wilford Rutherford entered the room, mopping his bald head with a handkerchief. His face flushed as his gaze scanned the crowd of yammering witches. The sound of chattering began to wane as all eyes turned to the lawyer when he set the mysterious box on the table. Suddenly the door to the room opened and Austin Yearling strode in and took a seat next to his lawyer in front of the crowd. He wore a bemused smirk on his face as if the turnout alone made a mockery of his father’s will. And then it hit Clover.

Austin knew. He knew his father was seeing Felicity and hadn’t told Wizard Rutherford.

Clover elbowed her and whispered Austin’s name, but Felicity winced as if in pain. “He’ll never be on my side. He hates me. He was so angry when he found out.”

“But this is a legal proceeding. He has to tell the truth,” Clover said. “Doesn’t he?”

Austin stared off not making eye contact with anyone.

“If I may I have your attention,” Wilford said. “I have a few announcements concerning the will. That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?” His glasses slid to the end of his nose as he peered at the crowd. “I have to admit that I’m not surprised at the turnout. I advised Oliver against leaving the decision to come forward up to the witch in question, but he didn’t listen, and now look. First, I have no name, and therefore, no idea which one of you is the real love of Oliver’s life. Unfortunately, Austin has also assured me that he, too, has no idea who the witch could be.”

Felicity made a little harrumph sound as if confirming her earlier point. There was no way he was going to hand over the inheritance by volunteering information that would give her the bulk of the estate and humiliate him in one fell swoop.

“The only way to know for sure is to access the contents of the box. It’s all we have to go on. Without further ado.” Wilford lifted the lid.

The crowd buzzed with excitement. Nothing happened—no magical image or haunting voice or illusion. Nothing.

“This is interesting,” Wilford said and pulled a heavy black key out of the box. Hushed whispers spread through the crowd.

Austin’s face paled. “It’s the key to the labyrinth. I’ve been looking for the spare and I can’t find it. Does anyone in this room have the spare key?” he snapped, but the room was silent. His head jerked around the room, eyes glaring. “There’s no match to the proof. It’s over. Finally, it’s all over.” Austin’s eyes closed in relief.

“Wait. There’s a note,” Wilford said and unrolled a small piece of parchment. “It’s written in Oliver’s hand. It says, ‘I leave this key as a testament to my true love’s devotion and her ability to navigate the labyrinth. She will be the only one to solve the maze and will earn my estate through our mutual love of magic.’”

Austin snapped to attention, absorbing the news. A grin bloomed across his face. It was a near impossible task and he knew it.

The new twist in the will had taken a strange turn.

“This is a trick,” a witch in the back of the room said.

“Yeah, this test is a trick!” the skinny witch wearing a black veil yelled out. “We weren’t told of a test. I have solid proof I’m the one. I don’t need to take a test.”

“Me, too.” A chorus of voices filled the room.

Not to be overshadowed, Dovy floated over and confronted the veiled witch “You’ve got a ratty old hanky. That’s not proof.” She snatched the handkerchief. “The embroidery looks brand new. You probably sewed it last night.” She waved the handkerchief in the air. “I say this is a fraud.”

The skinny witch grabbed her handkerchief back and shoved Dovy, causing her to lose her balance and fly backward, arms flailing.

“Calm down, calm down. Immediately.” Wilford waved his wand and the illuma lights flickered. “I will have order during these proceedings. Now, I understand this is an unusual way of showing proof, but Oliver clearly said that the love of his life would have proof. He believes navigating the labyrinth is it. Plus, since you all have your own
proof,
there is only one way to settle it.” He glanced at Austin. “As you all know, the other love of Oliver’s life was his precious labyrinth and if anyone still wishes to lay claim to the inheritance, then she must navigate the maze. There is no shame in opting out. More than a few of you probably should.”

Heads nodded in the crowd, mixed with approving chatter.

Austin stood and addressed the crowd. “My father spent countless hours working on the enchantments that make up the labyrinth. I feel that if one of you is truly the love of his life then you would have been privy to many conversations with him about the garden maze and the magic that makes it so wondrous.” No one objected so he continued, “Surely he would have shared his magical secrets with the witch he wanted to have the prized possession. We should follow my father’s final wishes. Whoever can navigate the labyrinth is worthy of my father’s estate.”