I wasted no time getting ready, the entire time hoping to hear from Vance and see how things had gone with Diane and the sheriff. Thankfully, Vance texted me at five o'clock, saying he was wrapping up at the sheriff's department and he would come to pick me up after going home and freshening up.
I twisted my hair and pinned it with a faux diamond clip to match my earrings.
"You look beautiful," Aunt Thelma sighed as I clipped the second diamond earring on. The earrings belonged to my mother, and Aunt Thelma had kept them safe all these years.
"Thank you," I stepped back and smoothed the dark blue satin dress across my waist. "It's not too much?" I thought about using a bit of glamour on my face, but I didn't want to end up looking like I'd robbed a cosmetics counter, so I thought I better play it safe and do it old school with a bit of blush and mascara.
"Not at all. You'll be the belle of the ball if I do say so myself."
I looked over at my aunt, who seemed to have a tear in her eye. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm just an old lady turning into a watering pot." Aunt Thelma waved her hand at her eyes and looked up at the ceiling to dry her tears.
"Stop it. You're not old." Not that anyone could ever guess her age. My aunt and Clemmie were both known to splash on age-defying potions every now and again. My aunt might be approaching retirement, but she didn't look a day over forty-five. Sooner or later, people were bound to think we were sisters.
“Your mother would be so proud if she could see you now." Aunt Thelma sniffled.
My aunt had stepped in and raised me when my mother passed away when I was a young girl, acting very much like a mother. I relayed the thought to my aunt. "You didn't have to give up your life and raise me, but you did. In so many ways, you are my mother, and I know she's smiling down on us from heaven. Thank you for being you.”
"I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. But you know, it was an honor to raise you. Except for the teenage years, oh and that time you ghosted me." Aunt Thelma winked. "Now excuse me while I grab a tissue. My makeup is running down my face." Aunt Thelma dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her fingertips.
"Knock, knock," Vance said as he opened the apartment's front door and stepped inside. He looked handsome as ever in a black suit and tie.
"Don't the two of you make a pretty picture," Aunt Thelma said, sniffling a bit.
Vance caught my eye. His expression seemed to question if everything was okay.
"It's okay. We were sharing a moment."
"Ah,” Vance remarked.
"How is Diane holding up?" I asked.
"She's alright. Luckily for us, the sheriff and Amber didn't want to miss the gala any more than we did, and they didn't have enough to hold her. Not that they didn't try."
"They searched the bakery?"
"They did, and they ran into Roger there and tried to say he was destroying evidence, but the workers confirmed he got there two minutes before the sheriff did. Diane's cameras confirmed it."
“I didn’t know she had cameras now,” I remarked.
It was Aunt Thelma’s turn to join in the conversation. "Oh, yes. She and Roger both installed them. I think maybe we should here, too.” The security system was about the only thing we hadn’t upgraded at Mystic Inn. After the old system quit working, we never bothered to replace it.
"The sheriff held Diane until he went through all the footage from Friday night but didn't come up with anything. Mr. Haggerty never even stepped foot in the bakery, and without any evidence from the kitchen, they couldn't keep her."
"But didn't Mr. Haggerty get the latte from the high school?" I asked.
"That's the assumption, but nobody has proof. Diane doesn't even remember waiting on him Friday night, so it must have been one of her workers."
"So there was a chance he could've gone into the bakery," Aunt Thelma thought out loud.
"That's what the sheriff wanted to rule out. That's also where Diane had prepared the drinks,” Vance supplied.
I thought back to Friday night. Diane hadn’t brought her barista equipment with her. Instead, she had brought prefilled stainless steel urns. The kind that held fifty cups of coffee. She kept them plugged in to keep the drinks hot.
"If dozens of people drank from the same coffee pot and nobody else got sick—"
"That means that the killer took advantage of Mr. Haggerty drinking coffee and slipped the potion into his drink when he wasn't looking. Or that's the angle we presented to the sheriff.”
"So, it's someone who bumped into him last night after he grabbed a latte," I added.
"That only leaves almost everyone who lives in Silverlake. The high school was lit," Aunt Thelma remarked.
"Lit?” I looked at my aunt.
"You know, it was popping,” Aunt Thelma did her best impersonation of a DJ spinning her tracks.
Vance chuckled, amused at Aunt Thelma's use of slang.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Yes, the high school was busy last night. Anyway, does that mean the murder is premeditated?" I asked.
"How so?" Vance asked.
"Think about it. The murder weapon is a potion. Who goes around carrying a deadly potion if they don't plan on using it?"
"I've been known to carry one in my purse a time or two," Aunt Thelma chimed in.
"Let me rephrase that. What sane, rational witch goes around carrying a deadly potion?” I lovingly teased my aunt.
"I hadn't thought of that," Vance remarked.
"Our killer was waiting for the right opportunity," I said.
"And happened to find it Friday night," Vance concluded.
"Too bad we have no idea who he is." Aunt Thelma frowned.
I almost forgot that Connie was stopping by until there was another knock on the apartment door. "It's probably Connie. She said she was going to stop by and look at the stain," I explained to Vance as I walked over to answer the door.
Vance picked up my train of thought, "Maybe she can identify the potion."
"That's what I'm hoping."
Five minutes later, we were at the scene of the crime. Even with the stain on the carpet, you would never have known a man died there hours before. Unfortunately, with all the traffic in and out of the room, I could no longer smell the particular scent that had intrigued me this morning.
"It looks like a regularly spilled cup of coffee," Connie remarked, keeping a short distance. "I don't see any metallic flaking, do you?"
"No, I don't think so, but I haven’t looked too close,” I remarked. Vance and Aunt Thelma agreed.
"Do you mind?" Connie asked, motioning to the bedside lamp.
"No, be my guest. Do whatever you think is best," I explained.
Connie unplugged the lamp, took it toward the stain, and plugged it in to a nearby outlet. Unfortunately, even under the added light, the stain looked rather ordinary. "That's disappointing," Connie remarked.
I frowned, not because she was wrong, but because I tended to agree.
"Sleep of the Dead reflects bits of gold under the right light, but this potion is flat as can be."
I twisted my lips and looked over to Vance. He reached over and wrapped his arm around my shoulder in a comforting gesture.
"I guess it's a good thing I brought my special equipment." I looked around the room. Connie was dressed in a black sequin cocktail dress. I wasn't sure where she kept her specialized equipment, but it wasn't in her dress. Connie walked over to the dresser and opened her clutch purse, retrieving a small flashlight. The metal tube was about four inches long. Connie pushed a button, and the light portion popped out of the end, doubling the piece's length. Connie moved to close the blackout curtain and block out the setting sun. "Hit the lights, will you?" Vance nodded and did just that. I wasn't sure what Connie was doing until she turned on the flashlight, and I realized it wasn't just a regular bulb but a black light. The moment the beams came in contact with the carpet, the stain began to glow bright red.
"It's your lucky day. Well, so to speak." Connie stood up and motioned for Vance to turn on the light. We all blinked as our eyes readjusted to the brightness. "There's loxie in the stain."
“Loxie?” I replied.
"The killer probably used a Final Night potion. There was a famous case in London in the 1920s. A woman used it to kill four different husbands after they each accused her of being a witch."
"She sort of proved their point, didn't she?" Vance questioned.
"That she did. Unfortunately for her, one of the detectives was a witch, and he put the case together after smelling black licorice at the crime scenes.”
"Is it a hard potion to make?" Aunt Thelma asked
"It's not complicated except for the final ingredient—a midnight orchid. It can be tricky to find.”
"It's a black orchid, right?" Suddenly, the case was starting to come together.
"It is. Why? Have you seen one?" Connie asked.
"The centerpieces for tonight's gala. Each one has a black orchid in the middle. I wonder if it's the same flower?"
"We better get to the gala and find out. Roger should be there." Aunt Thelma moved toward the door.
"Let's get going then," I said. "The sooner we talk to Roger, the better."