Spell Booked (Retired Witches Mysteries Series Book 1) (4 page)

Knowledge gained by deadly mean,

Leave thy vessel, sight unseen.

The heart which burns with stolen flame,

Never to be seen again.

“Hello.” She looked nervous and unsure of where she was. She was still wearing slippers with ears on them and red flannel pajamas under a black raincoat. “I’m Dorothy. I’m not sure why I’m here. I woke up and suddenly knew I had to come—wherever this is.”

Elsie nodded, and smiled at me. “The summoning. It finally worked.”

I was so surprised to see her that I almost couldn’t think what to say or do. Many times magic has that effect. You don’t think anything is happening, and then it is.

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” I unlocked the shop door. “Won’t you come in and have some tea?”

Dorothy walked in first, with a zombielike expression on her face.

“I thought we weren’t going to search for her again until after we find out who killed Olivia.” Elsie’s voice came out in a mock stage whisper.

“We may never have this chance again,” I reminded her. “Even finding one other witch will keep Cassandra and the council off our backs for a while.”

“Did you say ‘witch’?” Dorothy turned and faced us as I closed the door.

“How about some mint and chamomile?” Elsie asked with nod in my direction. “There’s mint for the disposition, and chamomile to relax. Mint always makes me want to giggle.”

“Okay.”

I could see Dorothy was trying hard to piece all this together. She’d come out on a rainy night, alone, to visit an odd shop on the waterfront. Not her normal lifestyle—we’d been watching her long enough to know.

“Come and sit down.” I encouraged her to sit at the little table where we’d watched her yesterday with the spelled binoculars.

“I don’t think I should.” She began to walk toward the door. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. Maybe I had a stroke or something. I’m not feeling very well. I should probably go home.”

“Well, if you’ve had a stroke or something, you probably shouldn’t drive right now.” I tried to rationalize the situation for her. “Sit here. Drink a little tea. We can call an ambulance for you if you need one.”

She sat awkwardly with a panicked air about her. “My pulse is racing. This can’t be good.”

“Oh my dear.” The teakettle began whistling, almost interrupting what Elsie wanted to say. “Most good things in life come with a racing pulse.”

Dorothy’s frightened brown eyes met mine across the table. “Where is this? I mean, where are
we
?”

I patted her hand. “This is Smuggler’s Arcane, our shop in the old Cotton Exchange. I’m sure you’ve been here before.”

She glanced around the shop at our oddities. “Not here. I’m sure I’d remember. But I have been at Two Sisters Book Store. We’re next to the river, right?”

“Exactly.”

Elsie brought three cups and the teakettle. She strained some tea leaves through the hot water. The cup she placed in front of Dorothy was new. We’d bought it especially for her—so we could appeal to her earthy nature at this moment. It had come from a local potter who’d created the design of leaves and tree on the handle.

“This is nice.” Dorothy smiled, as we knew she would. Earth witches love pottery and any kind of nature scene that involves trees.

She sipped her tea. Elsie and I watched her like she was drinking poison and we were waiting for her to fall over. I gestured to Elsie, and she quickly took her chair.

Dorothy seemed calmer after a swallow or two. She got up and inspected our books, potion bottles, spell charts and magic tools.

“What is it you do here?” She sat down again.

“We supply items to local witches.” I had no choice. We were forbidden by practice to lie when we were trying to recruit her. It had to be up to her—what
she
wanted. We could summon, and throw our hopes her way, but nothing further.

“And sometimes to witches who come from as far as Cleveland to purchase unusual items from us.” Elsie giggled a little. “Sorry. I told you, mint makes me light-headed.”

“That’s what you were talking about before.” Dorothy put down her cup. “You’re witches, aren’t you?”

“Yes. We are.” I included a large, friendly smile with the truth.

“
Bad
witches?” She was immediately wary. “Because you don’t look bad. You look like someone’s grandmothers.”

Elsie’s red eyebrows went up. “Well, you’re lucky Olivia is dead. She wouldn’t like you calling her a grandmother.”

Dorothy wrinkled her nose. “Olivia? Is she a witch too?”

“She was a very dear friend of ours.” I danced around the truth, trying not to overwhelm her.

“She was a witch too,” Elsie blurted out. “She was murdered tonight.”

“Murdered?” Dorothy got up quickly, knocking over her cup of tea.

The cup was about to roll onto the floor. I concentrated on changing that situation. Instead of falling on the hard floor and breaking into dozens of pieces of useless clay, it jumped right back on the table where it had been.

I was fortunate the spell had worked. It could just as easily have sent the cup flying across the room. It probably helped that there was still water inside it and we were very close to the river.

“Oh!” Dorothy backed away and almost tripped over Harper.

He’d come out for a snack and to see what was going on.

“I thought you were going to pine away from missing Olivia,” Elsie teased him. “She hasn’t even been gone a day and here you are, looking for treats.”

“Who are you talking to?” Dorothy’s fragile peace of mind rapidly deteriorated. “Are you talking to the
cat
? Can you talk to animals? Is this what happened to Olivia? You turned her into a cat?”

“Of course not.” I tried to coax her into sitting again and drinking a little more tea. “Harper was Olivia’s cat. That’s all. We brought him here because he had nowhere to go.”

“I have to go.” Dorothy backed away from us, one eye on the front door. “I have to go to work in the morning. I can’t be up all night.”

Elsie nodded. “Of course not. Librarians need their rest, don’t they?”

That was it. Dorothy was a blur of long legs and frightened eyes as she streaked across the squeaky wood floor and out the door.

“That went well, don’t you think?” Elsie always saw the good in everything.

“Maybe it could’ve gone better. But she was here. She won’t forget us. She’ll be back.”

Elsie yawned as she put out some treats for Harper. “I should probably be getting home before Aleese misses me. I don’t want her out driving around searching for me at this time of night. It could be bad for her health.”

I agreed. We locked up—this time with
no
surprises—and went home.

Joe came home a few hours later, as the sun was rising across the city. He closed the bedroom door behind him and yawned, running his hand through his hair.

I turned on the lamp beside me. “Good morning. I’m glad you made it home at all after last night.” I’d been awake, with Isabelle draped across my lap, since I’d come home from the shop.

“Me too. We had a couple of leads from the man who heard Olivia scream. We followed them up.” He shrugged.

“Nothing?”

“Have you been up all night too?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Would you like some breakfast?”

“How about I make my special omelets for both of us?” He grinned at me. “Guaranteed to get you through the rest of the day—if washed down with several gallons of coffee.”

I laughed and put Isabelle down on the floor, despite her complaints against moving. We went into the kitchen, and I got on a stool at the counter to watch him make breakfast. Watching your man cook is always a treat.

Before he got started, he took my hand. “I’m so sorry about Olivia. I know how much she meant to you.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “Thank you. It was a horrible way for her to die.”

He took out eggs and green bell peppers. “Any idea what she was doing down there by herself at that time of night?”

“I don’t know.” I wanted to tell him about the young man she’d met at the shop, but it was better for Joe not to get involved. Brian was a witch. Joe couldn’t investigate him—that would be up to the Grand Council.

He put a dollop of butter in the omelet pan and took out his notebook. “Was Olivia seeing anyone?”

“Not as far as I know.” I didn’t enjoy lying to him, but it could be dangerous for him to investigate this any further.

“Come on, Molly—she was always seeing
someone
, wasn’t she?”

“No. Your butter is browning.”

He cracked some eggs into a bowl. “Olivia’s house was trashed when we got there. I’m assuming it was the same when you were there. Any idea what someone was looking for?”

“Not really. Olivia had some very expensive antiques and jewelry. Do you think the same person killed her and ransacked her house?”

I couldn’t tell him about the spell book. This was as close as I ever wanted him to get to magic. I’d always protected him and Mike from it. This was no time to stop.

The council was waiting to pounce if we did something wrong. The penalty for telling him that I was a witch wasn’t pleasant.

“Would you know if something was missing?” Joe flipped an omelet and put bread in the toaster.

“Maybe. Would you like me to take a look?”

He shrugged. “We’ll see. Let crime scene take a whack at it first. Let’s see what they come up with.”

I got off the stool and poured coffee into two cups. I’d made it earlier so we could drink it and talk when he got home.

The cups reminded me of our encounter with Dorothy. I’d purchased them at the same shop earlier in the year.

Despite Elsie’s optimistic take on the situation, I wasn’t sure at all if Dorothy would dare come back to the shop again. We weren’t prepared. I wasn’t sure if it would’ve helped if Olivia had been there—although it would’ve stopped Elsie from talking about her being dead.

It was enough for someone completely unacquainted with witchcraft to deal with that idea without thinking that we had killed Olivia too. Witches have a bad reputation that isn’t deserved.

The omelets were done, and the toast was buttered. It was a cool, sunny, fall morning. We took our plates out to the patio and ate there.

“Are you sure Olivia wasn’t meeting someone? Has she mentioned anyone in particular lately?” Joe’s eyes narrowed against the sunshine filtering through the trees. “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but she could be a little on the wild side.”

I sipped my coffee and looked at my overgrown patch of rosemary. It was badly in need of a trim.

“I don’t think Olivia has been all that wild in the last ten years. She may have been dating someone and not said anything. It’s possible.” I didn’t want to say too much, but I had to say something.

Joe knew that Elsie and I were very close to Olivia. He was bound to ask questions. “I know. Sorry I had to ask. She doesn’t have any relatives, right? No one who might want to get rid of her and inherit a little faster?”

My hand trembled as I cut into my omelet. “No. She was the last of her line.”

“So who does the house and everything go to? You and Elsie?”

Witches have an inner knowledge when death is coming—at least natural death. Murder, car wrecks—we weren’t always good at seeing those. At least not for ourselves.

But the three of us had a pact about unforeseen death. Joe was right. Everything Olivia owned would go to us, if the council allowed it. It was a little trickier for me and Elsie since we had family, but it was always agreed that whoever was left out of the three of us would inherit any magic items we owned—such as Olivia’s staff.

“It would surprise me if Olivia had a will, if that’s what you’re asking. She never planned to die.” I couldn’t tell him that distribution of her belongings would probably be decided by the council since she had no will or heir.

He frowned as he bit into a slice of toast. “A wealthy woman like Olivia, with no family. It seems odd she wouldn’t want to safeguard what she owned.”

“I know. That’s the way she was.” I dabbed my lips with a napkin. I couldn’t eat the breakfast Joe had made.

He saw my movement and recognized it for what it was. “I’m sorry, Molly. I’m acting like a homicide detective instead of a husband. No more questions. Do you need help setting something up for her funeral?”