A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery by Heather Blake Read Free Book Online Page A

leg, and wished Nick would hurry up and take my statement so I could get out of here.
    “This is all his fault,” Roger growled.
    His? His whose? Andreus Woodshall’s?
    “For Pete’s sake,” Yvonne said, hands on hips. “Not this again.”
    “You know it’s true,” he insisted.
    She leveled him with a hard stare. “No, I don’t.”
    “You’re not being sensible.” Beefy arms folded across his chest.
    I almost laughed. Yvonne, not sensible? I’d known her for only a couple of hours, yet I knew there was no one
more
sensible.
    “And you’re holding on to inappropriate jealousy,” she snapped.
    Zing!
Her words hit their mark as Roger huffed, his spine stiffening in anger. His hair bristled. All of it. “Nonsense. Whatever happened to Patrice is his fault, plain and simple.”
    I was desperately trying to follow along. There was a whole history here I was missing. My curiosity was killing me, and I had to know who they were referring to. “Whose fault?” I asked, sharpening my mental pencil, ready to add another suspect to my list.
    Roger turned hard eyes on me and blinked as though he’d forgotten who I was.
    “Whose fault?” I repeated softly.
    Red-faced, he growled again. “Jonathan Wilkens, of course.”
    “Jonathan Wilkens, culinary wizard from the Sorcerer’s Stove?” I asked, thinking of the tasting I had just come from. Roger had to be mistaken.
    He lifted a stern wooly eyebrow. “No, I mean Jonathan Wilkens, Patrice’s killer.”

Chapter Five
    “S ome witches have all the luck!” Harper cried when she opened the door to let me and Missy in.
    The news of Patrice’s murder had obviously reached her. “I wouldn’t call the death of a woman lucky.” I brushed past her gleaming, eager eyes. Missy bounded in behind me.
    It was good to be here, away from Ve’s germs (she had been sleeping when I stopped home) and away from the bad juju on Incantation Circle.
    Roger’s remarks were still ringing in my head. Jonathan Wilkens a killer? I just couldn’t believe it.
    As soon as he’d said so, Yvonne had taken him to task for accusing the chef with no proof. All Roger would say in his defense was, “You know his actions killed her even if he wasn’t the one behind her physical death.”
    I’d tried my best to wheedle more information out of them, but they had clammed up. Not long after, Nick had sent an officer over to take my statement and release me. I’d never been happier.
    Now, at the bottom of Harper’s stairwell, I listened for the click of the security door—the one that led into the alley behind the bookshop—before climbing the narrow, nondescript steps up to the open door of her new apartment. I was learning that one couldn’t be too careful, even in an enchanted little village.
    Maybe
especially
in an enchanted little village.
    Upstairs, Starla Sullivan and Mimi Sawyer, Nick’s daughter, were hard at work painting a wall a vibrant blue. I smiled. Harper had always been good at delegating.
    Missy immediately made a dash for Mimi. Mimi dripped paint into the dog’s fur as she bent down to allow her chin to be licked to death, but neither seemed to notice. The mutual affection was obvious.
    It wasn’t hard to see why. Both were completely lovable. Twelve-year-old Mimi had become like another little sister to me. (One that wasn’t nearly as annoying as my own.)
    Starla, as always, looked like a thirty-year-old version of a perky cheerleader. High blond ponytail. Bright blue eyes. Open, friendly, somewhat naive face. Only a huge paint splotch on the front of her pink T-shirt detracted from her flawlessness.
    Harper pushed a paintbrush into my hands. She was seven years younger than me, but I was more a mom to her than an older sister. I’d practically raised her on my own since our mom died shortly after Harper was born prematurely, both events the result of a tragic car accident. Our father, unfortunately, had sunk into a deep depression after the loss and never quite