With scream and sugar, p.12
With Scream and Sugar, page 12
“Alright, girl—here we go.”
21
The Showdown
Tilda meowed—I took that as “good luck.” Slowly, I climbed from the car and waited beside the open door for just long enough to let Tilda leap out. Even if by some chance the killer had witnessed that, I doubted that it would make her think anything except that I was an extremely strange woman. My cat slinked off and disappeared into the shadows.
I shut the door behind me and shoved Gus’s keys into the back pocket of my jeans. As I crept toward the manor, my boots crunched on the gravel, and I stuffed my freezing hands in the pockets of my wool coat. My fingers wrapped around my cell, the app recording. The huge double doors to the estate stood open, so I slipped directly inside.
The dark interior opened before me, shadowed in deep blues and blacks. I blinked as my eyes adjusted and picked my way across the broken floor tiles. Creepy.
I jumped as something lunged at me from the right, whirling to find that it was just a plastic tarp, flapping in the breeze. I inched through the parlor, past the grand, sweeping staircase, and into a large room with a tall ceiling.
I gulped and cleared my dry throat. “Hello?”
My voice echoed through the huge, empty estate. I shivered and spotted the stars and moon through a giant hole in the roof, big enough for Gus’s Rolls to drive through. My wide-eyed reflection gazed back at me as I passed a cloudy old mirror standing in the corner. “Hello?”
“Over here.”
I jumped and whirled around at the sound of the voice. Paula Fortescue emerged from the shadows. “Hello there, Minnie.”
Though I knew Gus, Fitz, and Tilda hid nearby, probably watching me as we spoke, I couldn't help the fact that my legs nearly buckled with fear. I backed away from her as she advanced toward me.
She wore a sleek wool coat that hung down to her knees and stylish leather boots with chunky heels. She kept her hands in her pockets as she stalked toward me, until we faced off about twenty feet apart in the center of the room, under the giant hole in the ceiling.
I jumped when she pulled a hand free from her coat, and she shot me a pitying look. She tucked a stray strand of shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear and then stuck her hand back into her pocket.
“So. Tell me what you think you know.”
Her smug attitude gave me some courage… or at least annoyed me enough to find my voice. I lifted my chin. “I know you're the one who killed Amanda. And you killed your own mother.”
She stared me down and didn't answer. Didn't even flinch. Cold.
“I know you gave your mother that copy of Northanger Abbey. And I know you're the one who added the green gilding to the pages. It's Paris green, isn't it?”
Paula pressed her lips together and raised a brow. “I’m impressed. How did you put it together?”
“I have some Regency knowledge.” Or at least my vampire boss who’d lived during the era did. “I know Paris green is toxic. You painted it on the pages, knowing your mother's habit of licking her thumb to turn the page. You knew she'd ingest it and that it would poison her.” I shook my head. “But where did you get it?”
Paula smirked. Actually smirked about killing her own mother.
“One of my workers died from being exposed to some Paris green in the wallpaper recently. A leak in the roof got the wall wet, and the wallpaper released a toxic gas.” She pulled her hand from her coat and gestured around the house.
“This renovation has been an absolute nightmare. But at least one good thing’s come of it. While tragic for my worker, it's what inspired me. Before his death, I hadn’t realized Paris green contained arsenic. After his death, I remembered that we’d found a can of the stuff in the old shed. One of the family who used to own this place must have been a painter.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I figured if it could kill one of my strong workers merely from breathing the stuff, it would probably make quick measure of my elderly mother.”
I curled my lip in disgust. How could she talk about killing her own mother that way? “To get your inheritance?”
“Yes. She was old and headed to her deathbed soon anyway, so I probably could have waited it out if it weren't for that pesky Madison butting in. After I checked with my mother's lawyer and made sure that she had not yet in fact updated her will, I decided to take care of her before she had a chance to include Madison in it.” She scoffed. “I mean, you saw my mother. She was a miserable old curmudgeon. I was putting her out of her misery.” She let out a heavy sigh. “And now you want a cut of that inheritance, I presume?”
I gulped. Oh yeah. I'd almost forgotten I was pretending to blackmail her. “That's right. $20,000.”
Paula chuckled. “That's it? I'm almost tempted to give it to you.” She sighed. “Except, I have a feeling that the next time you're down on your luck you’ll come crawling back and hold this over my head for the rest of my life.”
My stomach tightened. I had a feeling where this was going, and I doubted she planned to cave to my fake demands for money. But I still had questions I wanted answered.
“There's something I still don't understand.”
Paula raised a brow.
“Why did you kill Amanda?”
“For the same reason I'm going to kill you.” She drew a gun from her pocket and pointed it at me.
My breath caught.
A thud sounded in another part of the house, and we both turned our heads. Paula froze, listening for a long time, then turned back to me.
I sure hoped that was one of the vampires or Tilda, ready to save me.
“Amanda had a pretty extensive knowledge of Regency history. On our tour earlier that day, she specifically brought up Paris green with the tour guide at the estate we toured. I knew then I was probably in trouble.”
She sighed. “But it was too late to change course. As soon as Mother opened the present I’d anonymously left for her, I knew Amanda would recognize the color. She rushed up and tried to take the book from my mother, and then tried to warn her about the pigment. Which earned her a slap from my dear old mum.” She rolled her eyes. “When she snatched up the bookmark, I had an inkling of her plan. I followed her outside, grabbing Bunny’s stiletto on my way out to use as a weapon if my fears were confirmed.
“I followed her into the alley, where she told me she planned to call the bookstore to ask them if they'd tested the green pages and warned me of the dangers of Paris green. She told me she feared the paint contained arsenic and that I should try to get it away from my mother as soon as possible. I pretended to be worried and told her I'd rush inside and get the book while she called the bookstore. As soon as her back was turned, I made my move.”
I shuddered, picturing the pink stiletto sticking out of Amanda's back.
Paula, still pointing the gun straight at me, let out a heavy sigh.
“Now I’ll have to kill you and hide your body somewhere on the estate.” She bit her lip, deep in thought. “Maybe down the well? But how to get rid of the car…”
Wow. I wrapped my fingers around my phone, hoping it had recorded everything she said. It’d be enough for a conviction for sure… if only I survived this encounter.
Meow.
Paula jumped and whirled around, pointing the gun at my sweet little cat who trotted in behind her, tail in the air. As soon as Paula was distracted, two huge bats swooped in from the hole in the ceiling. In inky clouds of magic, they transformed back into my vampire friends.
The two men tackled Paula to the ground, which sent the gun skittering away across the broken tiles of the floor.
Paula screeched. “Get off me!”
I blew out the breath I’d been holding and ran across the floor, snatching up the gun. The icy cold metal felt horrible in my hand and I held it gingerly, with the barrel pointed toward the floor.
Fitz wrestled Paula’s hands behind her back and hauled her to her feet. Gus marched over to a pair of dilapidated curtains, snatched the gilded rope tie, and marched back. While Fitz held Paula still, Gus tied the rope around her wrists. Once secured, Fitz handed her off to Gus.
“What is this? Who are you? Let me go!” Paula thrashed, her hair a disheveled mess and her eyes wild. Gus easily restrained her.
Fitz hurried over to me, his brows pinched together. “Are you alright, Minnie?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but can you take this from me? I'm afraid I'm going to accidentally kill someone.”
He gently took the gun, then smirked and leaned close, whispering in my ear so Paula wouldn’t overhear. “Good thing two of us are already dead.”
I smirked at him as he leaned back and gave me an approving nod.
“You did great. I knew you would.”
I smiled so broadly, my cheeks hurt.
I texted DI Prescott the audio file I’d recorded of Paula confessing to killing her mother and threatening to do the same to me. Gus and Fitz easily restrained her until sirens sounded in the distance, about ten minutes later. I scooped Tilda up as we waited for the cops to show up. Detective Inspectors Prescott and O'Brien rushed into the manor with half a dozen uniformed officers behind them. He blinked in surprise and his older partner scowled when they spotted Gus in the big room holding Paula with her hands tied behind her back.
I'd already double-checked that I’d recorded the whole thing, before texting Prescott the audio file.
The detectives holstered their guns, and Prescott frowned. “Minnie! Are you alright? What in the world is going on here?”
I shifted Tilda up over my shoulder. “I suspected Paula Fortescue killed Amanda and her own mother, Julianne, but I had to get proof. I had to get her to confess, so I recorded it. Did you get my audio file?”
Prescott nodded, his eyes wide. “I got about halfway through it, I was more concerned about getting here in time. I’m still not entirely sure I understand though. What is Paris green?”
I turned to Fitz. “Fitz is actually the one who explained it to me, why don't you—”
Fitz held up a hand, cutting me off. He pressed his lips together and looked between me and DI Prescott. “Upon consideration, Minnie, I think you've proven yourself quite capable. I think you've got this.” He gave me a tight smile. “I find myself in need of some fresh air. I'll leave you to it.”
I frowned after him, watching him and his broad shoulders disappear out the front door and past all the police cars. He’d been so protective before… was he actually learning to trust in my ability to handle myself? I sucked in a breath and turned to Prescott.
“Um… apparently it's this type of paint that was made hundreds of years ago. It contains arsenic and it can be deadly.” I turned to Paula. Gus was handing her over to the uniformed officers.
“Paula is renovating this country estate, and she found a can of the Paris green paint powder out in the shed. When one of her workers was killed by the pigment in some wallpaper, she realized the deadly effects it could have. She painted it on the pages of the book, gave it to her mother and… well, you know the rest.”
DI O’Brien scowled at me and Gus. “Next time, you leave it to the professionals, got it?”
I gulped and nodded. He marched over to the uniformed officers and supervised them reading Paula her rights.
Paula bared her teeth. “This is ludicrous. She’s lying!”
O’Brien scoffed. “I heard the recording, lady. You confessed, and we’ve got it on tape. Besides, the lab got back to us and the green gilding tested positive for arsenic. It all tracks. You’re under arrest for the murders of Amanda Mooney and Julianne Fortescue.”
I grinned. We’d done it.
Gus swept by me and winked. “I’ll be out front with Fitz if you need me.”
Which left me, Tilda, and Prescott. I rocked on my heels, suddenly feeling a bit flustered. His dark eyes twinkled as he gazed down at me.
“You know, you’re trouble. But the good kind.”
I smirked—I was a witch with two vampire friends. He had no idea. “As long as it's the good kind.”
He grinned at me. “It is. Look, I'm really sorry. This is absolutely not the time or place, and I don’t want you to feel pressured, at all, but…” His chest puffed up as he sucked in a breath. “Would you like to get dinner with me?”
I froze, my mind whirring a million miles a minute. I considered explaining to him that I was just getting out of a long relationship… a long marriage, in fact, and that it wasn't the cleanest divorce. I thought about telling him I wasn't quite ready to jump into dating again, and that I didn't know if my heart had healed.
But then I considered the faith Fitz had in me. He’d believed I could pull this off with Paula—and I had. I thought again of the spell I’d done with Mim. I’d tapped into the greater magic that connected us all and had gotten out of my own head. If I could do it once, I could do it again and stop worrying so much—right? And I thought of my own advice to Calvin, to just go for it. Because what was the worst that happened—I got to know a friendly, handsome man better and possibly made a new friend?
So instead of caving in to all the reasons not to, I lifted my chin and looked handsome DI Prescott in the eye.
“I would love to.”
His eyes widened. “You would? I mean—” He shook himself. “I’m just—I’m just pleased. That’s great. I'm really looking forward to it.”
He flashed his charming smile, and I couldn't help but smile back.
I nodded. “Me, too.” And in truth, I was. And also a little nervous to be honest. But it was time to take a little bit of a chance. As the last few days had proven, life was short.
22
The Gift
The next evening, Gus, Tilda, and I waited anxiously downstairs by the fire. My giant collection of Jane Austen's works rested open on my lap, and though my eyes scanned the page, I wasn't really reading the words. I heaved a sigh and clapped the book shut with a heavy thud. Tilda lifted her head, startled, then settled back down again, curled up against my side.
I lay on the chaise with my back to the fire and my legs stretched out beside my friend. I poked Gus with my toe. “Have you heard anything from him?”
He lowered his wineglass from his lips and shot me a flat look. “You mean since you last asked two minutes ago?”
Three knocks sounded at the door, and I bolted to my feet.
Gus raised brow. “Eager much?”
I hurried to the door. “You know you’re just as worried as I am.”
I yanked the door open, and a mix of relief and anxiety twisted in my chest as I looked up into Fitz’s handsome face. He stared down at me, his brows raised in surprise.
“Well?”
His lips twitched towards a grin. “Aren't you going to invite me in?” Rain poured behind him.
I huffed and stepped aside. “Please, come in.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you.” He stepped inside and hung his wet coat on the rack. He held a small rectangular package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine behind his back.
I felt like a puppy bouncing around at his feet as I followed him into the living room. He took the velvet tufted armchair across from the chaise, and I threw myself back into my usual spot by the fire.
Tilda lifted her head, blinked at Fitz, and meowed.
He nodded at her. “Evening, Miss Tilda.”
I raised my brows and gestured for him to hurry up. “Come on, I’m dying. Did the council let you off?”
Gus, who was all smiles, raised his brows at me. “Minnie, he wouldn't be here right now if they hadn’t.”
I looked to Fitz. “Is that true?”
He smiled, looking more relaxed than I’d seen him in days. “Yes. Barry made sure they cleared my name. It was part of the deal, after all.”
I let out a happy squeal and bounced in my seat. “Tell me everything.”
Fitz had just come from another special council meeting. This time I hadn't been allowed to go, so Gus had stayed home with me.
Fitz took a deep breath. “Barry explained that the human police had arrested Paula Fortescue and played for them some of the audio clip you recorded. She confessed and the police arrested her—so there was very little for them to quarrel with… though it’s not as if Darius didn't try.”
Gus snorted. “Of course.”
“Thanks to you, Minnie, my name is cleared.” He leaned back in his seat and set the wrapped package on the small table beside him. “Now let's just hope there isn't another murder in the tearoom.”
Gus raised his glass. “I’ll toast to that.”
“They did admonish me to keep a low profile, as there's a vampire hunter on the loose.”
I let out a heavy sigh, my shoulders tensing with anxiety. “As if we didn’t have enough to worry about already. Doesn't help that my ex is accusing me of cursing him.” I rolled my eyes. “Might turn into a real witch hunt, too.”
Gus narrowed his eyes. “I think it's time you responded to that weaselly little ex of yours.”
Fitz, the absolute picture of sincerity, lifted his chin. “My offer to take care of him still stands.”
I chuckled in spite of myself. It was a chilling thought, and yet somehow, with everything that had gone on lately, I found it oddly comforting.
“Thank you.” I took a deep breath. “You're right. I’ve solved two murders. I should be able to handle Desmond.” I pulled my phone from my pj pants pocket. “What should I say?”
Gus swirled his drink. “Tell him to never speak to you again unless he wants to see what a real curse is like.”
I chuckled. “Tempting, but that might make it worse.”
Fitz gave me a steady look. “I think you've got this one.”
I smiled at him, then looked down at my phone. I didn’t want to encourage Desmond by asking why he thought I’d cursed him. I wanted him to leave me alone without starting a confrontation.
