It was after nine and Ada Mae was no longer on duty at Belhurst Castle. Thinking fast, I had the automated system transfer the call directly to the bar. As I waited for someone to pick up, I saw Travis and Robbie from the vineyard move closer to the bonfire. They had offered to hang out until it died down. Time and a half helped, I mused. To be on the safe side, the crew had had truckloads of water brought to the scene earlier in the afternoon.
A second later, a male’s voice was at the other end. “Belhurst Castle. Lounge and bar. How may I help you?”
“This is Norrie Ellington from Two Witches Winery. I’m calling to speak with one of your guests: Whitney Fontana.”
“Sorry, but the only guests in here are middle-aged and senior men. I can forward this call to her room and you can leave a voicemail.”
“Thanks.” I left her a brief message with no expectation she’d return the call.
“You all heard that,” I said. “Whitney’s AWOL. I’m thinking maybe—” And then another thought crossed my mind. I clutched the pashmina to my chest and charged toward Glenda and Zenora, who were still watching the bonfire. Charlie was at my heels, as if this was some sort of game.
“Zenora! Can you still do that thing where you hold an object in order to locate its owner?”
“You mean the visualization and reconnection?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you call it.”
“It’s a practiced art. I’m still honing my skills.”
I shoved the pashmina at her. “Well, hone away. Sam and his friends found this in our woods while they waited to make their grand scary entrance.”
Zenora gasped and wrapped both arms around the pashmina while Glenda stood wordlessly watching.
Bradley, Cammy, Theo, and Don inched forward but didn’t say a word. None of us took our eyes off of Zenora, who moved the woolen cloth across her arms, her neck, and her head. Finally she spoke. “The life is gone from this pashmina. What was once wool is now dust. All I sense is cold, dank ground.”
“Maybe that’s because the pashmina has been lying on the ground in the woods. It’s almost November. Naturally the ground is cold and dank.”
Zenora shook her head. “The object gets its life from the wearer.”
“Are you saying the owner’s dead?” My stomach tightened and I was positive the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees.
“It’s not an absolute science,” Glenda said. “Zenora can’t sense any life related to the pashmina. That could mean anything.”
Cammy touched the scarf and shrugged. “I’ll tell you what it means. It means it’s getting late and cold. I say we worry about it tomorrow.”
“Ditto!” Don shouted. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all night. And here’s another one—if you plan to call Grizzly Gary, it can wait a day.”
“Not like Stephanie,” Theo added. “We better let her know what’s going on when we get home.”
Don rubbed his forehead. “Fine, but you do all the talking.”
I looked around and, other than Travis and Robbie, the seven of us were the only ones left at the bonfire. In the distance I watched the remaining cars pull out of our parking lot and drive down the hill. I took the pashmina from Zenora as if it were cursed. “I’ll put this in a safe spot in my house until tomorrow.” Preferably as far away from me as possible.
Glenda tapped my arm and kept her voice low. “A fast sage-cleansing of your house before you turn in might be a good idea.”
Just the thing to keep my romance with Bradley going.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
We all said our good nights and went our separate ways: Bradley and me up the hill to my house, and everyone else to their cars. The only uptick to the night was that Alvin didn’t have a conniption fit with the noises from the bonfire. Who says miracles don’t happen?
When we were a good eight or nine yards away from everyone, Bradley pulled me close and the two of us kissed. I had Charlie’s leash in the same hand as the pashmina, making sure to keep both of them away from us.
“I couldn’t wait till we got inside. It’s been too long already,” Bradley said.
“Is that your car parked next to Francine’s Subaru? Please tell me you’re spending the night.”
“Would I leave you alone in the house with that smelly pashmina? I don’t think it had the life sucked out of it. I think some animal marked it.”
“Ew!”
“Seriously, if it does belong to that podcaster, then we’ve got a lot of unanswered questions ahead of us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, us. You don’t think this Hardy Boy is going to let you have all the fun solving murders.”
“Murders? Let’s hope it’s only the one. Hey, you must be starving. I know I am. Come on, for once I thought ahead and I’ve got cold cut subs in the fridge.”
“Fantastic.”
Charlie positioned himself between the two of us and used his best begging skills to land tidbits of ham, roast beef and cheese before curling up on the rug by the sink.
“Are you as wired as I am?” Bradley asked when we finished eating. “Usually I’m winding down by nine or ten, but my mind’s on overdrive tonight. It’s been that way ever since you told me about Donovan.”
“Yeah, speaking of which, Deputy Hickman believes whoever killed him left us clues in the form of moving objects around in our displays. Told us not to touch those displays until he gives us the okay.”
“Am I the only one still laughing over the Grim Reaper choking one of the egrets?”
“No, Don and Theo thought it was pretty funny, too.”
“About that, both your display and Stephanie’s had parts of other displays added. What about Don and Theo’s? Was anything added to theirs?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact. They didn’t notice it at first because whoever added it, taped it to the back of their giant pumpkin. And we didn’t notice it either because it was so small. It was a black envelope that one of the witches held. It said ‘Recipes’ and had depictions of newts and eyeballs on it.”
“Clever. Look, since we’re wide awake, maybe we can puzzle this out and come up with our own clues.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure but I do know that scythes represent justice and death. Believe or not, it was in one of my law classes.”
“Okay. And since the scythe was found in our cauldron, along with Donovan, does that mean he got the justice he deserved?”
“It’s as good a theory as any. What about Stephanie’s display? What does death have to do with an egret?”
“I’m not sure. Let me google it and see what comes up.” I grabbed my iPhone and sure enough, the egret was thought to represent good fortune. “Guess this one’s a no-brainer—Donovan’s good fortune has met its end.”
“And the recipes?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe we’re reading too much into it. What do you say we go old school? At least as far as motive is concerned. I’m not sure about means and opportunity.”
“Heck, it’s like building a case. We start with what we know and go from there.”
“I already made a list of Donovan’s inner circle for the past few days. We can easily convert it into name and motive.”
Less than ten minutes later, I read back the stark reality surrounding Donovan.
“Adrienne—Revenge for stifling her career. Raisa—Revenge for stealing her story. Unknown middle-aged man at Belhurst—Anger over something. Ronny—loathing.”
“Then there’s his wife,” I went on. “She’s in Valhalla but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t orchestrate something from a distance. Her motive is clear as could be—cheating.”
Bradley pinched his shoulders together and stretched. “Looks like you’ve got the entire lineup as far as motive goes. But factor in means and opportunity and we may be looking at a very different story. And then there’s Whitney. Don’t you find it coincidental she’s from Valhalla just like the wife?”
“Oh my gosh. It kind of blew past me with everything else going on. So help me, if Whitney’s body winds up in our woods, then the wife is going to become my prime suspect, even if she is six hours away by car.”
“Slow down. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Whitney’s probably having a fun night out in one of the lakeside establishments. Besides, there’s nothing to connect her to Donovan.”
“Nothing that we know of. When she introduced herself to me Friday night, she indicated that she and Adrienne had met in the hotel. But given how circumspect they were, it very well could be that she and Adrienne knew each other prior. I don’t care how angry Grizzly Gary gets, I plan to track that woman down as soon as I get into the tasting room tomorrow. After all, wouldn’t you be concerned if you lost your pricey silver pashmina?”
“Let’s hope that’s all it was.”
Another half hour of playing “whodunit” and we could barely keep our eyes open. Fatigued and no closer to figuring out whose motive had the most punch behind it, we gave up and turned in for the night.
With Bradley’s warm body pressed against mine, any thoughts of Whitney and her silver pashmina evaporated into the night. Morning, however, was another story. The first thing I did when we woke up was to turn on the news and scan my phone apps for the announcement regarding Donovan. Deputy Hickman said his name would be released to the media today and I knew it would be splashed and splattered all over the place.
“No word about Donovan,” I said to Bradley as he brushed his teeth. “I figured it would be on the news by now.”
“Probably on the noon segments. That may be a good thing since your event attendees will be too busy with the festivities to be checking the news.”
“All it will take is one loudmouth customer and we might as well hire a town crier.”
“They haven’t determined the cause of death yet so you can still go to the default setting—medical issue.”
“I’ll have to. It’s the only line I’ve practiced.”
“Try not to worry about it. Nothing you can do, anyway.”
Bradley took off for his own house as soon as we downed our first, and only, cup of coffee. Even though it was a Sunday, he had paperwork to deal with and laundry to do. I told him I’d call if I found out anything more about Whitney. He promised not to miss the final bonfire and even offered to pick up marshmallows, but Cammy already had that covered.
At a little past nine, I walked into the tasting room and removed an old tartan scarf from my neck, an indicator that winter was fast approaching. Charlie had already been fed and I’d taken him for a decent walk around the vineyard and one other stop before showering. As for breakfast, I counted on Emma and Fred’s culinary delights rather than cold fiber-infused cereal, compliments of my sister.
“Quite the bonfire,” Cammy said when she saw me. “Let me guess. Breakfast at our bistro?”
“Uh-huh.”
She laughed. “No wonder you’re so early. Must be Bradley had to get back to Geneva.”
“Yep, work and laundry. Can’t compete with that. As soon as I grab a bite, I’m calling Belhurst Castle again. If Whitney’s not in her room, I will call Grizzly Gary.”
“I hate to think it, but finding that pashmina was unnerving. Not that I put any credence into Zenora’s premonitions, but still . . .”
“Yeah, I know.”