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“So what are we looking at here?” I asked after a little while of watching, waiting, and understanding absolutely nothing.
“She’s developing a new potion. A powerful one. But she doesn’t seem to quite have it yet.”
I stared at the book harder but still couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “To do what?”
“I can’t quite tell. This is all garden witch stuff. They’re big on brews. Me? Not so much.”
“Do you think it could be a poison?” I asked, thinking of poor Harold. Yeah, he may have been stingy and mean, but he certainly didn’t deserve to be murdered over it.
Merlin immediately picked up my suggestion and ran with it. “You think Luna could be behind Harold’s death?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, why not? We don’t really have any other suspects that make sense.”
Merlin slammed the journal closed. “A very interesting theory. She may have been trying to get to you, but nabbed Harold instead.”
I gasped, unaware of just how much danger I’d been in this whole time, how much danger I was still in. “She would do that? Kill me?”
“Duh.” Merlin yawned as if this very important conversation bored him. “Luna is very dangerous, and she has it out for me, which means now she has it out for you, too.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have broken her heart then,” I mumbled, adding to the long list of reasons why I was very upset with my cat that day.
If only I’d have adopted a dog instead…
10
“I have to get to work,” I said before shuffling my way toward the shower. We’d spent the better part of the last hour poring over that stolen grimoire and still had nothing to show for it. Well, except for my poor frazzled nerves.
“If Luna’s so dangerous, perhaps you should return that journal,” I shouted back toward Merlin before I closed the door and enjoyed some much-needed time to myself.
And he seemed to have taken my advice, because by the time I finished getting ready for my shift, neither he nor the journal were anywhere to be seen.
Honestly, I didn’t know whether I was expected to show up for work that day, given the whole crime scene thing, but I decided it would be best to at least try to honor my responsibilities to the late Harold.
When I reached the coffeehouse, I found that it was still blocked off by police tape but that my coworker Kelley was moving about inside.
I let myself in, too.
Kelley glanced up suddenly from her place behind the glass pastry display case. “Oh, hi, Gracie,” she said with a frown.
“How are you holding up?” I asked gently, coming over to stand beside her.
She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
I glanced down at her hands, but they were empty. In fact, Kelley appeared to be doing nothing more than standing there in a mournful trance.
She’d been upset while we were waiting for the police yesterday, but I’d assumed that was more of an in-the-moment reaction. If possible, she seemed even more torn up today.
And that made me feel guilty that I hadn’t spent any time mourning for Harold. Instead I was too focused on my worry that I might be pegged with his murder.
Even if Harold had been a bad boss, I still wanted to be a good person. Maybe if I helped Kelley now, it would make up for my earlier failures.
“Yeah, it’s hard,” I said, keeping my eyes downcast. “He may not have been the best boss, but he was still a person we knew.”
Kelley sobbed into her hands. “Not me. I hardly knew him. Not yet. I thought we’d have more time.”
I didn’t know Kelley all that well myself. I hadn’t realized she’d wanted more than a casual work acquaintanceship. Had she been crying out for a friend, and we’d all been too busy to catch on? If so, I felt horrible about it.
Kelley had only been working at our coffee shop for about a month. She was a sweet girl who’d recently graduated high school and moved to our area for a gap year. I always wondered why she’d chosen to move to rural Georgia rather than backpack through Europe, but who was I to judge? Maybe she’d inherited a house just like I did. I could have asked, though. I should have asked.
