“Am I now doubling as a dictionary?”
“I know the traditional stuff, like a pipe as a conduit for water. It’s what Ms. Vine said she is. You told me yourself that I should ask her.”
Cosmo froze. His silence filled the room, uncomfortably so, until he shook himself, jumped onto the bed and kneaded Aunt Violet’s old scarf that I had put there as a comforter for Cosmo.
“Are you upset? Is it because I’ve failed a lesson?”
He stopped mistreating the scarf. “I have failed. I should’ve known.”
“There must be a reason why you didn’t. I didn’t sense anything. Maybe she can shield whatever it is that she does? I don’t think anyone but my aunt knew.”
“Exactly. Violet must have known that Ms. Vine is a sort of magical booster. She’s evidently the one who strengthened the original protection spell surrounding Willowmere.”
“That’s why negative news still fade from memory in the outside world, even though my aunt is dead?”
“Yes. And all these years, she kept that secret from me.”
My heart broke a little as I watched his eyes fill with pain. To discover that the person you’d shared your life with – and he had, at least the best part of two of his lives – had lied to you, was soul crushing.
I was still at a loss for words when Ange turned up, with her dogs in the back of the car. I’d expected Cosmo to swipe his harness off itshook and race with it to his stroller. Instead, he burrowed his head into the old scarf. His fur rippled.
“I’ll soon be back,” I whispered. Everyone had their own way to work through heartbreak.
“The café’s dog-friendly, and I’ve left my fur babies alone long enough,” Ange said when I climbed in and we set off. “Is Candice a dog person?”
“No idea. If not, we’ll have to sit at separate tables.”
“I always think of pets as a character test.”
“Although there have been serial killers who adored their dogs.” I watched through the window as we passed by the lake that gave Willowmere its name. Only a few days ago the crazy coven had passed here on our way to a weekend to remember. Well, that part had proven to be true.
“Statistically, they don’t count.” Ange took a hand off the steering wheel to wave aside the very idea of pet-loving murderers. “And I thought that we’re working on the assumption that Candice had nothing whatsoever to do with Tim’s ending up in the chest.”
“We do. I haven’t even mentioned the argument between them that we both observed to the detective. Not until we’ve talked to her.”
She nodded with approval. “Good. The police jump to conclusions too easily, when they should take baby steps. Although Trey Stone is learning to listen to you.”
“It’s not his case anymore. I wish – oh, I don’t know what I wish.”
“Of all the antiques’ fairs in all the towns in all the world, she walked straight into yours,” Ange misquoted. “At least you can’t say that we lead boring lives. I remember my aunt complaining that her life was practically over when she hit the menopause, and here we are, gathering steam under pressure. Like a speed train.”
“As long as we don’t get derailed.”
Again, she took one hand off the steering wheel to give my leg a quick pat. “We won’t. I won’t let you. And once you have that girl sorted out, you’ll be able to draw a line under the past. Just tell the love birds to stop popping up in your inbox like a Jack in the box.”
“The voice of wisdom.”
Behind me, Mrs. Miniver and Mr. Chips gave a soft bark.
“My fur babies agree with you.”
We arrived atTea and Tartswith ten minutes to spare. That gave me a chance to collect my thoughts.
Ange asked the waitress for a secluded table inside.
The café had a nostalgic air and a décor rooted in the 1970s, and the name obviously alluded to the baked goods and not anything a bit more risqué.
Ange filled two water bowls that she’d carried in her purse, and the dogs settled at our feet.
