Be Careful What You Witch For (A Family Fortune Mystery) Read online

  Before I could duck behind the display board, Aunt Vi and my mom approached the table.

  “Clyde, there you are!” my mom said in a tone that suggested she’d trekked the Himalayas for a week to find me.

  The sisters were almost the same height, both with silver hair. Vi had hers in its familiar braid, and she wore a multicolored skirt with two cardigans and a shawl. Mom had her hair in a bun, as usual, and wore a light blue tracksuit and sneakers. This was her venturing-into-the-woods outfit.

  “I knew it! I knew all that Halloween chanting and fire gazing would lead to trouble.” Vi fixed me with her fierce black eyes. I refrained from reminding her that she’d insisted on being there.

  Vi, a pet psychic, and Mom, a tarot reader, had been unpleasantly surprised to learn a Wiccan ceremony would be part of this year’s Fall Fun Fest offerings. Mom held a long-standing wariness of spells and potions. Vi approached the Wiccans as an entertaining subculture, but one not to be entirely trusted.

  I sliced across my neck with my hand and jerked my head in Diana’s direction.

  Violet had taken a breath to begin her inquisition when she noticed my not-so-subtle maneuvers. The sisters glanced in Diana’s direction and fell silent. Violet did something gymnastic with her eyebrows but I gave up trying to figure it out. My aunt and mother truly did communicate with glances and nods, a skill I had not developed, at least not with them.

  I walked away from the booth and they followed. Once out of earshot, we began rapid-fire whispering, sounding like angry geese.

  “What are you two doing here?”

  “We came to support Diana in her . . . endeavors.” My mother clutched her amethyst amulet for protection. “Vi told me about what happened last night.”

  “It’s all anyone in town will talk about,” Vi said. “Witches in the woods, rituals, death. Hey, I heard there was good food here. Where’s the giant turkey legs?” Vi stood on her tiptoes.

  “I think you have this confused with a Renaissance fair. There aren’t any turkey legs here.”

  “Oh. No swords or jousting?”

  I shook my head.

  Violet dropped her heels and the corners of her mouth at the same time.

  “Do you know any more about what happened?” Mom glanced in Diana’s direction and lowered her voice. “To Rafe?”

  I assured them I had no information. My status as a former police officer led them to believe I had an inside track on such things. Last spring, after shooting a suspect while working as a police officer in Ann Arbor, I had come home to recoup and think about what to do next. I had had very little time for either when Crystal Haven had its first homicide in decades. One murder led to another and by the time the crime was solved, I found myself with a small inherited house and a large inherited bullmastiff. Now that I had my own place, the ladies in the family had taken to semi-stalking me, a side effect I hadn’t considered when I decided to stay in Crystal Haven and leave police work behind.

  I described the death of Rafe Godwin to Mom with minimal detail. She walked back to the booth and embraced Diana, both of them welling up and sniffling. In spite of her feelings toward Wiccans in general, mom loved Diana.

  Violet and I stood with our arms crossed, shaking our heads.

  “Diana, I’m so sorry. That must have been so horrible for you after losing your parents. Now you’ve lost Rafe as well,” Mom said.

  “I never liked that Rafe Godwin,” Vi mumbled out of the side of her mouth.

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “Everyone liked him. He led a very popular coven in Grand Rapids, did charity work, and was a huge support to Diana and Dylan.”

  “No, not everyone.” She shook her head. “The cats don’t trust him. They say he’s not as nice as he seems and they would know. They’re very good judges of character.” Vi nodded once to punctuate.

  Slow deep breath. It was my own fault for thinking Vi would have real information about anyone. Her pet psychic abilities were highly exaggerated in my opinion, but she and my mother took it very seriously.

  “Okay, well, he’s dead now so the cats don’t have to worry,” I said and turned back to the booth.

  “What’s he doing here?” Vi said. I turned to follow her gaze.

  Tom Andrews made his way through the crowd. He’d worked at his mother’s booth over the weekend helping to sell her healing herbs and potions. Tom was wearing his police uniform so I assumed he must be working at his day job.

  He spotted Diana and Mom and turned in the direction of the booth. At the same time, he tripped over someone’s dragging robe, grabbed a passing woman for support who shrieked and stepped away, which caused the group to scatter around him like an exploding firework. He righted himself and took the last two stumbling steps to Diana’s table and clutched it to keep from falling down. Diana had already rushed to help if he fell and I could still hear the crashes and grunts of the masses as the waves of Tom’s klutziness spread.

  As usual, Tom was unaware of the chaos in his wake and struck a pose of calm authority.

  “Diana Moonward?” he said.

  She cocked her head at him as if maybe he’d sustained a brain injury on his way through the fair.

  “You know I am. What’s up, Tom?”

  He dropped his officer stance and lowered his voice. “I have to take you in to the station for questioning—I’m really sorry.”

  “What! I knew it!” Vi rushed to his side. “I knew Rafe Godwin was murdered!”

  Tom turned to Aunt Vi. “How did you . . .”

  Diana gasped and the blood drained from her face. Mom squeezed her amulet in her fist and stepped closer to Diana.

  “So Vi’s right? He was murdered?” Mom asked.

  Tom looked from my aunt to my mother and then shot a pleading glance in my direction.

  “I can’t say anything. I just need to ask Diana some questions.”

  “Well, we’re going with her!” Vi crossed her arms and stepped between Tom and Diana’s table.

  “No, I’ll go with her,” I said. “Diana, text Bethany to come early for her shift and Vi and my mom can cover your table until she gets here.”

  Diana fumbled in her pocket for her phone and handed it to me with a shaky hand.

  “We can’t do that, Clyde. We don’t know anything about this . . . merchandise.” Mom swept her arm over the table, and shook her head.

  “We can do it, Rose. Selling is selling, right? We can always tell the customers to come back in an hour if we can’t answer their questions.” Vi was already rolling up her sleeves and rearranging the table.

  “Well, okay. Thanks.” Diana stepped from behind the table and grabbed my hand.

  “I’ll drive her and we’ll meet you there, Tom,” I said. “You aren’t arresting her are you?” Diana squeezed my hand, hard.

  “No. I’ll explain when we get there.” He glanced at the small gang that had gathered at Diana’s table. “Nothing to see here, folks. Go about your business.” He pushed his way through the throng, which gave him a wide berth, and we followed.

  4

  We walked to my car, an ancient Jeep Wrangler that had been brought back to life after I rolled it into a ditch last summer. We climbed in, buckled up, and bounced our way down the dirt path out of the woods.

  The vehicle was eerily silent. Diana tended to shut down when she was nervous, a trait I appreciated at this moment. There was no need for speculation without substance. I’d had enough of that growing up to last the rest of my life. But I knew she had to be wondering whether Vi was right, crazy as it sounded. Once we hit pavement, I broke the silence.

  “Diana, this is probably routine. They just need some more information about Rafe,” I said.

  She nodded and stared at the passing wooded terrain.

  “Just answer the questions as honestly as you can,” I said. “I�
�ll stay with you.” I reached over and squeezed her hand.

  “What if your mom and Vi are right?” Diana blurted as she turned in her seat to look at me. “Who would kill Rafe? And why do the police think I would know anything about that?”

  I was wondering the same thing.

  “Let’s just wait and see what’s going on,” I said. “You know Tom loves the dramatic moment. He’s probably just trying to make it look like a bigger deal than it is.”

  Diana gave me a small smile. I knew she didn’t believe the reassurances, but she appreciated the attempt.

  We parked near the station and sat for a moment before getting out. Diana took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and nodded at me. I took my own calming breath and opened the door.

  Tom met us in the lobby and walked us past Lisa Harkness. She was the receptionist and self-appointed news distributor. Her mouth hung open as she reached for her cell phone. Tom showed us to a small interview room and left. Diana and I exchanged glances. We didn’t wait long.

  When the door opened again, Mac stood there. With his six feet and a couple of inches he filled the doorway. He kept his blond hair cropped short, and whether he was in his uniform or jeans, he radiated authority. His size and gruff manner fooled most people, but I knew the lines near his mouth were from an easy smile. And that the sparkle in his eyes was more often from laughter than anger.

  I felt a warm flush at the sight of him. Last summer, we’d rekindled a relationship that had ended too soon, but we were keeping it to ourselves for now. In public we were all business. Especially since my family was not known for minding their own, and would likely begin planning the wedding if they knew we were back together. Mac was determined to give us every possible chance of doing things right this time. Between my family duties, his job, and Diana’s festival, we’d had a rocky start to our reignited romance. It seemed the Fates were conspiring against us. I’d been looking forward to an evening alone with him. The look on his face wiped away any thoughts of a romantic interlude in the near future.

  After I gained control of my smile and donned a more suitable expression of outrage that Diana had been brought to the police station, my heart sank at the realization that Vi must be right. Rafe had been murdered.

  Mac worked in the county sheriff’s office as a homicide detective. He wouldn’t be here in Crystal Haven unless there was suspicion of murder.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Mac said. “Of course you two were there when Rafe Godwin died.” Mac dropped a file onto the table and crossed his arms. He had perfected the intimidation stance. And his blue eyes could become a steely gray when he was angry.

  Intimidation didn’t work on me. But Diana squeezed my hand again.

  “Mac, what’s this about?” I said. “Why did Tom drag Diana in here?”

  He sat in one of the chairs and gestured that we should do the same. He dropped the tough-cop ploy and rested his elbows on the table.

  “Diana, did you know that Rafe was allergic to peanuts?”

  “Of course.” Diana nodded. “Lots of people knew that.”

  “Someone has come forward claiming that they tasted peanuts in the”—Mac looked at the file in front of him—“‘bambrack’ bread.”

  Diana and I looked at each other.

  She shook her head. “No. I made it myself. I knew Rafe was allergic and the recipe doesn’t call for nuts, anyway.”

  “What is bambrack bread?” Mac asked.

  “It’s a traditional Celtic bread made with fruit soaked in tea,” Diana told him. “I thought it would be a fun thing to do this year for the ceremony. My mother used to make it every Halloween.”

  “So, there weren’t any nuts in any of the food you served?” Mac said.

  “That’s right. I made everything myself. I don’t know how he would have been exposed to peanuts. Plus, if it was an allergic reaction, the EpiPen should have bought us some time.”

  “Yeah, we’re looking into that as well,” Mac said. He rubbed his forehead.

  “Mac, it was an accident,” I said. “He must have eaten something elsewhere and then reacted to it. Unfortunately, we were so far out in the woods that we couldn’t get him to a hospital in time.”

  “He was severely allergic,” Diana said. “He carried EpiPens everywhere he went, and stashed them all over the place. And he was really careful about what he ate. I don’t know how this could have happened.” She put her head down on her arms.

  I put my hand on her back.

  “Diana, you knew him pretty well, right?” Mac asked.

  Diana sat up and nodded. “He was my father’s best friend. Dylan and I called him Uncle Rafe. After my parents died, he was the one who helped us put the pieces back together.” Her voice broke and she put her hand to her mouth.

  Mac slid a box of tissues in her direction. “I’m sorry, Diana,” he said, and waited.

  After a loud use of the tissues, she said, “Sorry, I’m just overwhelmed with the festival and I’ve been avoiding thinking about him being dead.”

  “You’ve been working too hard.” I put a hand on her arm. “Let Bethany take over the booth today.”

  She shook her head. “It’s better if I stay busy.” Diana looked at Mac. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Whatever you can think of that would help us find out who might have wanted to hurt him.” Mac held his hands out. “It’s clear he ingested something in the hour or so before he died. Was he with you all that time?”

  Diana sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. She nodded and looked at the ceiling, trying to recall the evening.

  “He helped me set up the food,” she said. “We had a small meal before the ceremony. That’s where he would have eaten the bambrack. Who said they tasted nuts?”

  Mac looked at the table and then at Diana. “I can’t tell you.”

  I felt my jaw clench. If we’d been alone, I would have called him on his top secret attitude. There was nothing to indicate foul play as far as I could tell, so unless he was keeping major information from us, he had nothing to go on.

  “Mac, Diana is exhausted. I’m sure she’ll call you if she thinks of anything. Can we be done here?”

  He nodded. “Before you leave, I’ll need a list of everyone who was in the woods that night, his closest contacts, and any family.”

  Diana took the pad of paper he offered and began writing. Mac pulled me out in the hall while she worked.

  “Did you see anything that might help?”

  “Like, did I see someone hand him a jar of Planters?”

  “This isn’t funny, Clyde. I have to investigate the claim that his food may have been contaminated. Knowing Diana made it without any nuts means someone must have doctored it later.”

  “It’s all hearsay. Some random person claims they tasted nuts and now you’re launching an investigation?”

  “We have samples of all the food from the ceremony. The nurse who helped out at the scene took it all to the hospital—he thought it was a food allergy reaction and figured it might be useful to the doctors. He watches too much TV, but in this case it was actually helpful to be able to send it all off to a lab.”

  “You know that will never hold up in court. There’s no proof he got that food from the ceremony.”

  “Who said anything about court?” Mac’s voice got a little higher and he held his hands up like I was mugging him. “I’m just trying to figure out if this guy died by accident or not.”

  “Diana did everything she could to help him.” I crossed my arms and held his gaze.

  “No one is accusing Diana of anything.” He put his hand on my arm and slipped it around my back to pull me into a hug then retracted it quickly when he remembered where we were.

  I raised an eyebrow, then smiled at him. “Good.” I wasn’t sure why I was worrying. Mac was right, there was no
reason to suspect she had anything to do with peanuts in the food, but I was getting a bad feeling anyway.

  In general, bad feelings are the only kind I have. Or maybe they’re just the strongest ones. I’ve never quite figured it out, but I was excellent at predicting trouble and doom. It was my special talent. Vi talks to animals, Mom reads the tarot, and I have vague inklings of badness, punctuated by dreams predicting death and mayhem. I’d trade it in an instant for a talent like singing or painting.

  Diana came out of the room and handed Mac her list.

  “Thanks, Diana. I’ll look into this.”

  He walked with us back toward the front of the building and said good-bye. Mac could get very wrapped up in a case. It was unlikely I’d see him anytime soon. But, I smiled and nodded—I don’t do clingy.

  5

  I insisted on taking Diana to lunch instead of returning right away to the festival. I felt we needed a dose of Alex, the third member of our little group and the designated cheerer-upper. I knew he could help me out in the support-a-friend department.

  Everyday Grill felt more crowded than usual this time of year. The festival had definitely helped the tourist trade this fall. Shocked once again at the changes Alex had made to the interior of the restaurant, I surveyed the new atmosphere with appreciation. Last summer, he was just an employee and the décor ran toward 1970s dark steak house. After the events of the early summer had resolved, he’d purchased the restaurant at a bargain and was able to put some money into renovations. Now the whole place felt lighter, brighter, and more like Alex.

  The menu had been fancied up as well but he left a few old standbys for the regulars.

  Diana and I were well-known by the waitstaff so her iced tea and my diet soda arrived almost as soon as we sat down.

  Diana sipped her tea and then pushed it away. “I’m not really that hungry.”

  “You say that now.” I shoved a menu at her even though we both had it memorized.

  I ordered the Cobb salad. Diana, who wasn’t hungry, got the bacon burger with fries. It’s always good to drown stress with grease and fat. I was distracting her with tales of Baxter, my bullmastiff, and his never-ending war with our neighborhood squirrels, when Alex came out of the kitchen. A few inches taller than me, he had the shoulders of a kayaker and the barely contained energy of a toddler. His dark hair was hidden under a white bandanna, but he’d removed his apron. He pulled up a chair and gave Diana a long hug.