Silenced by a Spell Read online

  “I don’t mean to brag,” Lacey said, “but I’m not exactly desperate for the money.”

  It was another lie. The money from Alaric had bounced, and with the case putting customers off from shopping at her store, it wouldn’t take long for her reserves to dwindle, what with two salaries to pay.

  “Are you implying I’m desperate?” Jeff replied with a scoff.

  “Not at all,” Lacey said, almost amazed at his ability to find an insult within her statement. “All I’m saying is the book is yours.”

  “How big of you,” Jeff the pawnbroker replied, thinly. “Generously returning something to me that was never yours in the first place.”

  Lacey bristled at his sarcasm. He really was an unpleasant man. She was half tempted to tell him to stuff it and slam down the phone, but she reminded herself of the true reason for her call, and took a calming breath. She wasn’t calling to quibble over old ground.

  “You can come and pick it up any time that suits you,” she said.

  “You expect me to come to you?” came Jeff’s incredulous reply.

  Lacey didn’t want to admit the cops had forbidden her from leaving town. If Jeff got a whiff of this being about a murder, her plan would fall apart.

  “My car broke down,” she said, quickly, thinking on her feet. “It’s in the repair shop.”

  “How convenient,” Jeff snapped. “First you steal my possession, then you make me go out of my way to get it back.”

  His comment chafed her. He sounded pissed, but better pissed than suspicious, Lacey thought.

  “Look, do you want the book or not?” she pressed. “I can just as easily sell it if you’re going to be so ungrateful…”

  “If it’s the only way to get the book back,” he interrupted, speaking rapidly, “then I suppose I’ve no other choice.”

  “Good,” Lacey said between her teeth. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Jeff ended the call with a grunt. Lacey returned the phone to the receiver, rattled somewhat by the fraught conversation. Jeff was a difficult man indeed. Possibly even a murderer. And she’d just invited him to her store.

  *

  Not ten minutes had passed before Lacey heard a knock on her office door. Finnbar poked his head around.

  “There’s someone here to see you,” he said. “Jeff Peters?”

  “That was quick,” Lacey replied.

  Her lure had worked better than she’d expected. He must’ve driven straight here after their call. Jeff the pawnbroker was clearly very eager to get his book back. Or at least very eager to give off the impression that he was.

  “Send him in,” Lacey said.

  Finnbar nodded and disappeared, leaving the door ajar. A moment later, Jeff entered through it.

  Lacey was surprised to see him hobbling in on crutches, with a big black cast strapped around his foot.

  “What happened?” she asked, jumping up to offer him her seat.

  Jeff sank into it with a strained sigh and rested his crutches against the desk.

  “I tripped,” he said. “On my way back from your auction, in fact. The cobbles are rather uneven around my store, if you recall, and this blasted black cat ran in front of me. I tripped on the curb and broke my foot.”

  Lacey was glad Gina wasn’t here to overhear that a black cat had been to blame for his injury. She’d never let it go. But Lacey, on the other hand, didn’t buy his story for one second. It was too much of a coincidence that he’d get hurt on the same night Alaric was murdered. It seemed far more likely to her that he’d been injured whilst tussling with Alaric atop a medieval stone tower.

  “What bad luck,” she said, leadingly.

  “Indeed,” he replied, thinly.

  The atmosphere in the room became very tense. Jeff was quite evidently suspicious of Lacey, and she of him.

  “Anyway, enough of that,” he said. He held out his hand, palm up. “The grimoire, please.”

  Lacey braced herself. It was time to poke the bear.

  “I don’t have it,” she said.

  Jeff’s face immediately flushed red as his quick temper flared.

  “What?” he snapped. “Where is it?”

  “It’s been stolen.”

  Jeff was so furious his neck and ears turned red. He looked like a hot tomato in a roasting pan about to burst its skin.

  “You dragged me all the way here?” he cried. “Me! A poor injured man. And for what? A prank? What is this? What is going on here?”

  He grabbed his crutches and Lacey hopped as far away from them as she could, worried he was about to whack her with one.

  She held her hands into a truce position and spoke rapidly. “The man who bought the book at the auction is dead. In suspicious circumstances. When the police searched his possessions, the grimoire was gone.”

  Jeff looked stunned. Lacey studied his expression, searching for any indication that he already knew what she’d revealed to him. If he was the thief and killer, none of this should come as a surprise, after all. But so far, so convincing.

  Jeff flopped back against the chair like a deflated balloon.

  “It’s the curse,” he murmured, staring hypnotically into the distance at nothing before his gaze snapped to Lacey and turned into an angry glower. “I told you! Didn’t I tell you? You had no place meddling with things you know nothing about, and now look what’s happened! Some sort of evil force has been unleashed. The curse has struck! A man is dead because of you!”

  “With respect,” Lacey said, “I don’t think it was the curse that got him. I think it was someone who wanted the grimoire. Someone from my auction. Someone who knew its true worth.”

  The pawnbroker’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oh, I see what’s going on,” he said. “You think it was me, don’t you?”

  Lacey shook her head. “I never said that.”

  “But you implied it,” Jeff shot back. “Why else am I here? You don’t even believe in the curse, so I can safely assume you didn’t lure me out here for advice.”

  Despite his antagonistic and condescending personality, Lacey managed to keep her cool and remember what she was really attempting to achieve with this interrogation: to get a confession.

  “How did you hurt your foot?”

  Jeff frowned. “I already told you. I tripped on the curb.”

  “A bit odd, don’t you think?” Lacey said, folding her arms. “You’ve owned that store for how many years?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Twenty years.” She whistled. “And in all that time you’ve never tripped on the cobbles before? Why so suddenly clumsy now?”

  Jeff’s eyes darted left and right. He was clearly getting hot under the collar. “I wasn’t thinking. I was still in a bad mood after you stole my book.”

  Lacey turned the pressure gauge up. “Ah, yes. Your bad mood. You were in quite a state when you left my store.”

  “So?” he snapped.

  “Took you quite a while to calm down, by the sounds of things, if you were still mad by the time you got back to Ippledean. Especially since you spent five minutes furiously pacing my neighbor’s store.”

  Jeff squirmed in his seat under her interrogation. “And? What are you implying?”

  “I’m implying that you were just as furious when you got back home as you were when you left the store. I’m implying that you’re quick to fury at the best of times, and that losing out on a seventy-thousand-pound profit provoked a rage in you like none you’d experienced before. One that erupted into violence.”

  “FINE!” Jeff barked. “All right! You’ve got me!”

  Lacey blinked, stunned. Was Jeff confessing to killing Alaric Moon?

  “I didn’t break my foot tripping on the curb,” he said, his words coming out in one long exhale. “I lied.”

  “Go on,” Lacey prompted. “How did you do it?”

  “I… I kicked a wall.”

  Lacey stared at him with surprise. “You what?”

  “I kicked a wall,” Jef
f said more loudly, this time through his teeth. He looked ashamed of himself. Embarrassed to be admitting such a thing to Lacey. “I have issues, okay? Ever since I was a boy. I was bullied mercilessly at school, and when I got upset, I’d lash out and end up doing stupid, harmful things. But I only ever hurt myself. I didn’t kill anyone. I can prove it.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone.

  Lacey frowned with curiosity as she watched him scroll through his picture reel. What kind of evidence might be on his phone that proved he hadn’t killed Alaric Moon?

  He turned the screen to face her. “There. Feast your eyes on this.”

  Lacey took the phone from him and peered at the screen. She was looking at a photograph of an X-ray. It quite clearly showed a broken ankle. The name beneath it read Jeffrey Peters. The date and time matched those of Alaric’s murder.

  A wave of guilt washed over Lacey. She was wrong. Jeff wasn’t the killer. He was just a troubled man with an anger problem.

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” she stammered, handing the phone back to him. “I got this all wrong.”

  Jeff put the phone in his pocket, his posture now dejected. He looked meek. Ashamed, even.

  “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “For directing that anger at you. But you can understand why I was so mad, can’t you? Seventy thousand pounds! For a book my stupid clerk sold to you for twenty.” He shook his head, looking desolate. “That amount of money would’ve changed my life.”

  Lacey couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

  “If it’s any consolation,” she said, “the payment bounced. I never actually received a penny for the grimoire.”

  Jeff raised his downcast eyes. A small smile twitched on his lips. “That does help actually. A little bit.”

  He started to chuckle. Then his chuckles turned into a full-blown belly laugh, and his shoulders shook as he was overcome with joy at Lacey’s misfortune.

  “Ah, schadenfreude,” he said, as tears ran from the corners of his eyes. “Is there any feeling sweeter?”

  “I’m glad to have helped,” Lacey said, wryly.

  At least one of them had something to smile about. Because with Jeff crossed off her suspect list, Lacey was back to square one. It was time to break the news to her employees.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “So?” Gina asked, the moment Lacey emerged from her office after her meeting with Jeff. “What happened?”

  “It was a dead end,” Lacey told her.

  “But why was he on crutches?” the older woman pressed.

  “It’s a long story,” Lacey explained. “A pretty sad one, really. But the abridged version is that Jeff had nothing to do with Alaric’s death.”

  Finnbar joined Gina and the two employees followed her across the store in much the same way the dogs did when they wanted more kibble.

  “So he had an alibi?” Finnbar asked. “An irrefutable one?”

  “It was irrefutable, all right,” Lacey said. “Pretty much signed, dated, and stamped. Trust me, Jeff’s not our guy.”

  Her employees seemed to deflate. Like Lacey, they’d had high hopes that the case would solve itself quickly so things could go back to normal.

  “But he seemed like such a good fit,” Finnbar complained, looking just as disappointed as Lacey felt.

  “He did,” Gina agreed. “Although I can think of a better fit…” She paused for effect. “The curse.”

  This. Again. Lacey had just about reached the end of her patience when it came to Gina’s belief in the curse. She added Gina’s state of mind to the long laundry list of motivations for solving the case currently swirling in her mind and weighing her down, along with clearing her name, saving her business, not having to fire her employees, getting back what was rightfully hers, and freeing herself up to finally go see her father. Her poor friend wouldn’t sleep easy until she knew an actual human being was responsible for Alaric’s murder, rather than some murderous evil ghost she’d unwittingly summoned.

  “We need to think about other suspects,” Lacey said, grabbing her notepad and pen. “Before Taryn distracted me with Jeff, we were thinking about the goth group.”

  She wrote GOTHS at the top of the page.

  “What about the guy who came around before the auction asking questions?” Finnbar suggested.

  “Eldritch Von Raven,” Lacey told him. She wrote his name down at the top of the list, picturing the willowy man in his black silk suit. “That’s a good idea. He obviously wanted the grimoire, since he tried to buy it outright before the auction. And he was bidding on it for ages until the price was pushed up beyond his means and he dropped out.”

  Finnbar clapped and flashed Gina a reassuring smile. “See, Gina? There are more suspects. Ones with much better motives for murder than your ghost.”

  Gina twisted her lips, clearly giving the theory some consideration.

  Lacey, on the other hand, was giving Finnbar’s suggestion more than just a bit of consideration. She cast her mind back to the Halloween party at the Lodge and the creepy vibes Eldritch had given off when he’d stared at her at her through the flames incinerating the Violet Jourdemayne effigy. In fact, he’d given her such a bad feeling, she’d ended up having a nightmare about him. She knew it wasn’t just prejudice on her part; none of the other spooky out-of-towners had sucked away her desire to dance to the “Monster Mash” quite like Eldritch Von Raven had. Were her instincts trying to tell her something?

  She underlined Eldritch’s name on her list. She had a brand new prime suspect.

  “Eldritch is staying at the Lodge with the others, isn’t he?” she said, tapping her pen on the paper as she mulled over her next steps.

  “I’d imagine so,” Finnbar said with a nod. “I can’t picture any of them choosing to stay at Carol’s B&B. Can you?”

  Carol’s was the other B&B in Wilfordshire, painted Barbie pink on the outside, and filled with flashing neon signs and flamingo statues on the inside.

  “No,” Lacey agreed. “I don’t think any of Eldritch and his crew would set foot in there.”

  She put her pen down with finality and swiped up her car keys.

  “Come on, Chester,” she said, whistling to her companion. “Let’s go visit Aunty Suzy.”

  Her dog came trotting to her side, wagging his tail with excitement at the prospect of an adventure.

  Lacey headed for the door. “Finnbar, can you do some research on the grimoire for me? I don’t know if it’s relevant or not, but all the goths came to town because of it, so there might be some clues there.”

  “I’m on it,” Finnbar said, turning immediately to the laptop.

  She reached the door and tugged it open. A gust of frigid cold wind blasted inside; the temperature had dropped considerably since a little while earlier.

  “Lacey,” Gina called. “I know you think I’m a silly fool for believing in the curse, but the truth is none of us really knows, do we? None of us can say for certain what’s going on in this crazy cosmos, whether there are ghosts or spirits among us. So just… be careful, okay?”

  Lacey didn’t know whether it was the cold chill that had gusted into the store, or Gina’s warning, but a shiver went right up her spine.

  “I will,” she said, before hurrying away.

  *

  The Lodge was bustlingly busy as Lacey entered through the foyer doors and into the wide corridor where the mahogany reception desk was located. The spooky decorations had been pared down a little now the party was over, but there were still enough about the place for actual Halloween day, which had not yet commenced.

  Lacey found Lucia on duty today. Her hair was still faintly red from where she’d dyed it for her rag-doll costume, though her usual glossy brunette locks were starting to return. She looked up from her task and her eyes brightened as she registered Lacey and Chester standing in front of her.

  “Hi, you guys!” she said, enthusiastically. “Are you here to see Suzy? Because I’m afraid you just missed
her. She just got called into the station to give a statement about Alaric.” She grimaced. “Horrible business, isn’t it? Imagine going on vacation and dying?” She shook her head. “It’s just so tragic.”

  “His friends must be cut up,” Lacey said, steering the conversation down the route her investigation wanted her to go.

  “I guess,” Lucia said. She lowered her voice. “It’s hard to tell though since none of them smile anyway. I mean, they literally arrived looking like a funeral procession, so not a huge amount has changed.”

  “I’m surprised they didn’t all check out this morning and leave,” Lacey said, leadingly.

  “I guess they all want to be together to support one another,” Lucia suggested.

  Lacey hadn’t considered that possibility. Maybe they weren’t sticking around because of the grimoire like Taryn suggested, but because of each other? Not that that was the purpose of Lacey asking the question. She’d been trying to get confirmation that Eldritch and his creepy companions were indeed still occupying rooms at the Lodge. By the sounds of things, they were.

  “So when are they due to leave?” Lacey asked.

  This time, Lucia hesitated. “I—I’m really not meant to give out details about guests.”

  “Oh, of course,” Lacey replied, breezily, to mask her true intentions. She quickly conjured a cover story. “It’s just that I was hoping to hold a little Thanksgiving soiree in the Drawing Room. But if you’re still hosting all those goths, there probably won’t be much space, right?”

  “Oh!” Lucia said, looking a little sheepish. “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot you Americans have another holiday to celebrate between Halloween and Christmas.” She blushed as she grabbed a blue binder and began flicking through the pages. “Hmm… you know, looks like all the rooms will be fully booked around Thanksgiving. It says here a family from Utah is visiting.” She chuckled. “Must be a big family if they’ve booked the entire Lodge!”

  “Will there be any space between when the goths check out and the Utah people check in?” Lacey asked.

  Lucia checked the binder. “Yes… if you don’t mind celebrating early, there’s a couple days free?”