Free A Vision in Velvet: A Witchcraft Mystery by Juliet Blackwell Page B

Will. “Remember, you agreed that I would help you go through your papers and books, and she’s helping with the clothing and household items.”
    “I guess so,” said the older man as he returned to his seat at the table. “What are you two talking about?”
    “I was just telling Lily about my research and how you’re sharing your family history with me.”
    “You believe that?” said Bart. “Man’s being paid by the taxpayers to study something like this. Why anyone would be interested in my genealogy besides my family, I’ll never know. In fact, the family doesn’t seem to care. . . . Hannah’s more interested in cleaning out my closets than learning about her ancestors.”
    “I should get out of your hair,” Will said, gathering up a stack of papers and a couple of books. “And let you two have a visit. Nice to meet you, Lily.”
    “Same here.”
    Bart saw Will to the door. It was easier to speak about yesterday’s events without a witness; worried we’d be interrupted soon, I started in as soon as Bart came back to the table.
    “Speaking of the things Hannah has sold,” I began. “Iwanted to ask you a few questions about a trunk that she brought to Sebastian Crowley’s shop.”
    “Do you have it?” he said, sitting up straighter. “My niece sold it by accident. I’d like it back. I tried calling Sebastian, but he never picked up.”
    “I, uh . . .” The vision of Sebastian under the tree washed over me. Should I tell Bart Woolsey about Sebastian Crowley’s death? Was it my place? I couldn’t believe I didn’t think of this beforehand. What should I say to the man? “No, I’m sorry. Actually, the police have the trunk.”
    “The police? Why?”
    “They thought it might be connected to a crime. I . . . Mr. Woolsey, I—”
    “Please, call me Bart.”
    “Bart, did you know Sebastian Crowley?”
    “A little. I’ve known him for years, through a cousin who buys and sells antiques. Not like we get together to play pinochle or anything. Why?”
    “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but he was found in Golden Gate Park yesterday. He had been attacked.”
    “Attacked? Is he all right?”
    “No, I’m sorry, he’s not. He was killed.”

Chapter 6
    “Oh. Oh my. Poor guy.” Bart looked down at a stack of papers he held in shaky hands. “Though . . . Sebastian really was a bit of a character. I imagine he’s made some enemies through the years. Have the police talked with his clients?”
    “Clients?” I asked, wondering whether Bart might know something about Sebastian’s occult activities, the ones to which Sailor and Oscar had alluded.
    “He always bragged about buying things cheap, claiming they were worthless and then turning around and selling them for a fortune. There was one time . . . what was it? Something about telling the owner of priceless Limoges ceramics that they were cheap knockoffs. Then he made a bundle off the deal he finally brokered. Dangerous stuff. Trust an old man when I tell you: Greed can drive people to extremes.”
    I nodded. Maybe it was as simple as that, I thought. Maybe Sebastian had dealt on the wrong side of things one too many times and had made a dangerous enemy—the kind who packed a gun. This might be liberal California, but it still didn’t seem all that difficult to obtain afirearm. Even if you didn’t actually intend to
kill
someone, in a moment of rage, what could be easier than pulling a trigger?
    The one thing that still made no sense, however, was that Sebastian was found under a tree across town from his ransacked shop.
    When it didn’t seem as though Bart was going to volunteer any further information, I added, “Could I ask you where the trunk came from?”
    “That trunk . . . Well, now, let me see. . . .” He nodded and continued with sorting through a stack of papers. His attention seemed to wander. I wondered precisely how long this cleanup process was going to take—and how long it had already