The Witches Three Cozy Mysteries 4-6

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

I only got the briefest of glimpses of the room filled with books and anxious-looking men before I was nearly bowled over by someone tackling me, arms wrapping tightly around my middle. My body reacted without my brain needing to summon a thought, dropping my center of gravity and planting my feet to brace against the blow.

But the arms around me weren't trying to confine me. I was getting hugged. Almost uncomfortably tightly, but still. I looked down and recognized Coco's dark head.

"Coco?" I said.

She hugged me tighter. Then I saw Charlotte standing behind her, looking at me through narrowed eyes. I patted Coco's shoulder, and she finally let me go.

"I'm sorry." She didn't so much whisper as just mouth the words.

"For what?" I asked, but she just shook her head sorrowfully then stepped around me to leave the library. Charlotte turned her head as she walked past me to keep that glare fixed on me until she too stepped out the door, closing it behind her.

I kept looking at the door, not ready to turn around and face the rest of the room yet. What had Charlotte told them? Given Coco's behavior, it must have been bad.

"Miss Clarke, is it?" someone said to me, and I could delay it no longer. I turned to face the room.

Despite my trepidation, my first thought at getting a good look at the library was how thrilled Brianna would be if she ever got inside. The room extended up to the second story of the house, with a balcony running the perimeter of the room at that level. A fire was hissing and sparking inside the massive fireplace, filling the air with the smell of well-aged wood and smoke. An array of sofas were arranged around the hearth, each crammed with men who had been in tuxedos for the party but were in various stages of undress now, most with their coats off, quite a few with loosened ties or cummerbunds removed, and one or two with the sleeves of their dress shirts rolled up.

Mr. McTavet was sitting behind a massive desk in the center of the room, scraping out the bowl of his pipe with shaking hands. The chief was sitting on one corner of the desk, and a man wearing a black suit but not a tuxedo, and a fedora rather than a top hat was standing behind Mr. McTavet's chair.

The man in the suit was the one who had said my name. He was looking at me now with growing impatience.

"Yes, I'm Amanda Clarke," I said. "McConnell asked me to tell you all what I know about what happened to Thomas."

"We have more questions than that," the man in the suit said, or rather snarled.

"Please be civil, Mr. Reilly," Mr. McTavet said to him, his eyes still on his pipe as he filled it with fresh tobacco. "Miss Clarke is a guest in my house, and I will have her treated as such."

"I wasn't rude," Reilly said, but in a more neutral tone.

"Is she a guest?" the chief asked, turning to look back at Mr. McTavet. "Her name doesn't appear on the list you gave me." He picked up a piece of paper off the desk and gave it a quick scan then shrugged.

"She was a last-minute addition at the request of my daughter," Mr. McTavet said.

"Ivy?"

"No, Coco."

"I see," the chief said and turned back to face me. "How do you know Coco?"

"I live next door," I said, surprised they didn't already know that. What had Coco and Charlotte told them?

"You seem a little old to be a playmate of Coco's," Reilly said.

"I do believe that my friends and I were invited because we are friends of Edward's," I said. "Coco didn't want him to have no one to stand with him when… well, I guess at the time she thought he was the one getting engaged today."

Mr. McTavet sighed, and both the chief and Reilly looked at him, waiting for him to speak. But he merely lit his pipe then sat back in his chair, smoking.

"Yes, well," Reilly said then consulted a notepad in his hand. "You saw Thomas fall, then?"

"Yes, past the parlor window," I said. "He fell head first. I believe he landed on the back of his neck."

"Swan dive," Reilly muttered, scribbling in his notebook.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Hitting the ground head first would be the only reason he's dead from that fall," he said.

"You're making it sound like he jumped, Mr. Reilly," I said.

"Yes, that is the theory we're working from," he said.

"You've examined the body?" I asked.

"Of course," he said, narrowing his eyes at me. But I wasn't intimidated.

"Examined it for defensive wounds?"

"I'm the one asking the questions here, missy," he said.

"Then start asking the right ones," I said. "Thomas was thrown from that balcony."

"You saw that from the parlor window, did you? The window which is nearly directly beneath the veranda?"

"No, but I was the first one to reach the body. He was already dead, but when I looked up, I saw someone up there looking down at me."

"Who?" Reilly asked.

"I don't know. Go outside and take a look for yourself. With the light coming from the lanterns around the patio, it's impossible to see more than shadows of everything up on the veranda."

"Then you can't be sure you saw anything at all."

"I know I saw someone. They fled when I noticed them there, and by the time I got up to the room they were gone."

"The room was locked," Reilly said.

"I got in through the window," I said.

"I meant, how did the person you claim to be chasing get out of the room without a key?"

"Perhaps they had a key," I said.

"There are only two keys that work on those doors, and my men had possession of both of them for the entire time," Reilly said.

"Someone got in and out of there somehow," I said. "You can't exactly claim it's unfeasible unless you have an explanation for Thomas getting out of his manacles as well. Someone had access to those keys."

The chief turned to look back at Reilly, both eyebrows lifted as if he too was curious what Reilly had to say in response to that.

"Copies of keys can be made," Reilly said. "For all I know, you have one in your bag there right now."

I clutched that beaded bag tightly, not sure what I would do if they asked me to let them search it. I had nowhere else to hide my wand.

But the shape of the bag in my hands was wrong. Or rather, was right again. Because not only I was feeling the length of my wand, I could feel the magical skeleton key as well.

Had I only imagined I had lost it? Or had whoever taken it when they bumped me in the ballroom returned it just as surreptitiously? Or rather more, as I hadn't noticed anyone bumping me since.

Except Coco. Coco had hugged me for a really long time.

Had Coco taken the key? But she didn't even know it existed. Even if she did, why would she take it?

"Have you had much champagne this evening, Miss Clarke?" Reilly asked.

"Some," I said. "But none since Ivy fell. I'm not now nor was I at any point this evening intoxicated."

"Hm," he said and scribbled in his notebook.

"She doesn't seem tipsy now, Reilly," the chief said. "And if she isn't now, I doubt she was minutes ago when Thomas fell."

"Well, it wouldn't take much, would it?" Reilly said to him. "A bit of champagne, the shock from witnessing two deaths in one night, the poor quality of the lighting."

"There was someone on the balcony," I said. "I didn't imagine it."

"You're sticking to that story, then?" he asked. "Despite the six good officers guarding the doors around that room not seeing this supposed person who would have had to get past them to escape?"

"They might not have had to use one of the doors," I said. "This house is filled with secret passages and hidden doors."

"Built for children," Reilly said.

"I can fit through them," I said, then instantly regretted it. The last thing I needed was to put myself on the suspect list. Reilly looked me up and down, eyes lingering on the skirt of my gown that was torn in several places, wet from the snow, and covered in dust from crawling through the passage out of Coco's room. And below that, my dirty, bare feet.

"It looks like you have at that," he said.

"Why are we arguing about this when you should be searching the house?" I asked. "The murderer is still among us, undetected by any of you, and perhaps about to strike again."

"I'm sorry, miss, but I just don't find your story convincing," he said. "We've searched the entire room and the rooms around it, and there is no sign of any person lurking anywhere. No one was in that room but Thomas. That is a fact, and facts are all I have to work with."

"That makes no sense," I said. "Thomas set himself free of his manacles how exactly?"

"Thomas was a man of wide-ranging interests," Reilly said with a shrug.

"Lockpicking as well as boxing?" I asked.

"Perhaps he was a fan of Houdini. Many his age were when they were young."

"Those are your facts?" I scoffed. He narrowed his eyes at me again.

"He was alone. That is a fact until we find proof otherwise."

"Are you saying he freed himself from his bonds then went out on the veranda to take the air and accidentally fell – head first, no less – over the rail?" I asked.

"No," Reilly said, his eyes mere slits now.

"I say," Mr. McTavet interjected. "Look here, Reilly, if you're saying the young man offed himself, I really must object. Think of his family."

"We would need proof before I will tell them any such thing," the chief said.

"It's more likely than an accidental death," Reilly said. "Look, I hate it as much as both of you, but we can't rule it out. He was a boy of strong passions. The love of his life was just killed before his eyes. We know he felt guilt for his powerlessness to save her. He was frozen like a statue until our boys put hands on him, but then he was raving when we locked him in the room."

"We should have spoken with him sooner," the chief said, and Mr. McTavet made a murmuring sound of agreement.

"Are you going to argue that he wasn't despondent?" Reilly asked me.

"I never met him when he was still alive," I said. I too wished I had spoken with him sooner. "But from what I've heard, those strong passions you mention were more of the angry sort."

The chief pinned Reilly with a look again.

"We never did rule him out as a suspect to my satisfaction," Reilly said. "He could have killed Ivy in a fit of passion then offed himself in regret."

"Let's not pursue this line of thought any further," the chief said.

"But it fits the facts better than an accident," Reilly said.

"Someone else was up there with him, I'm telling you," I said. "Since you won't take my word for it, it really is a shame that your man Stuart trampled over the snow on the veranda, or you could've seen the signs of a struggle for yourself."

"Yes, a shame," Reilly said as if he had found another hole in my story.

"Didn't you talk to Coco?" I asked. "Didn't she tell you about the person that was up on the balcony with them, that knocked her to the ground just before Ivy fell?"

"She mentioned that," Reilly said with a look on his face like he'd just been sucking on a lemon.

"For someone who insists you work with facts, it sure looks to me like you only accept as fact the things that fit your pet theory," I said.

"Careful with your tone," Reilly said.

"Reilly, we're not going to call this a suicide unless we're absolutely sure," the chief said. "And accidental death seems unlikely. Someone here has a motive to kill Thomas and Ivy both on their engagement day. The announcement took many by surprise, but for someone, it wasn't a happy one. Let's go over the witness statements again with fresh eyes. Oh, and Miss Clarke? You can go rejoin the rest of the party in the ballroom."

"You should keep everyone together in groups," I said. "In case the killer isn't finished."

The chief raised his eyebrows at me. "We did tell everyone to stay in a group in the ballroom after the first death this evening. It's just you and your friends that didn't get that message."

I felt my cheeks coloring. He was right.

"The witness statements can wait," Reilly said, flipping through his notebook. "Let's take a closer look at that veranda. Stuart might not have trampled on all of the evidence."

"Upstairs, then," the chief said, standing up and stretching out his back. The others got up from the sofas, and Mr. McTavet got up from his chair.

"One more thing?" I said as the chief walked past me. He looked back at me, less patient this time. "We can agree that Edward could not possibly be the one who killed Thomas, correct?"

"He could still have killed Ivy," Reilly said. "We haven't ruled out two killers."

"But the person who killed Thomas was capable of sneaking past guards and locked doors to get to him. Edward might be in danger. As his friend and a profound believer that his innocence will be proven, I'm asking you to let him come downstairs. Shackle him in the ballroom if you like. Just put him in a place where many eyes can watch over him. You can be sure he doesn't kill, and I can be sure he isn't killed himself."

"Fair enough," the chief said. "Jerry, go up there and tell the boys to bring him down."

The young man he was looking at nodded and pushed his way to the front of the crowd to be the first to run up the stairs.

And just like that, I was alone in the library. I opened my bag and looked inside to be sure I hadn't imagined it. But no, the key was definitely there.

The fire was still hissing and popping, but I thought I heard something else, a softer sound. Like a skirt brushing against a wall, maybe? I crept closer to the fireplace, straining my ears in case the sound should come again.

Coco had a listening place somewhere in the walls around this room. Was it near the fireplace? Were she and Charlotte in there now?

Charlotte. If she had told the police what she had seen the three of us doing at the top of the stairs, they clearly hadn't taken her seriously, or they would have asked me about it.

But why would she keep our secret?