Free It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery by Heather Blake Page A

tape to indicate something terrible had happened. Just a cardboard CLOSED sign taped to the door.
    “I heard Sylar was arrested,” she said. “I just can’t believe it.”
    Abruptly, Starla tipped her head, looking at something over my shoulder. She quickly switched lenses, adjusted her zoom, and took aim. I turned to see the object of her attention. Mrs. Pennywhistle sat on a hand-hewn log bench in front of a multitrunked birch tree, its branches heavy with new leaves.
    She looked in a daze, staring ahead at nothing in particular. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing the same pink tracksuit she’d worn the night before at the village meeting. Her hair was deflated, and her hands stayed in constant motion, twisting and turning over themselves. “She looks like something’s very wrong. Did she know Alexandra?”
    Starla lowered her camera. “Everyone here knows everyone. But if Mrs. P and Alex had a special friendship, I didn’t know of it.”
    “Did Alexandra have many friends?”
    Missy, who had been sweeping the area for any interesting smells, settled at my feet and seemed to be looking at Mrs. Pennywhistle, too.
    “A few. She and Evan were friends. They’d hang out and watch movies and hit the pub now and again.”
    Starla didn’t mention anything about Alex’s forays into Crafting, and I wasn’t going to bring it up.
    “She wasn’t the easiest to get along with. Very…intense. I sensed a loneliness in her. I thought it was because she never dated, but apparently she did. Secretly.”
    “Why would she keep it secret, do you think?”
    “Maybe her boyfriend was married?”
    If he was, and his wife found out about the affair, that would be good motive for murder. Maybe Harper and Ve were right. Maybe Sylar was innocent.…
    “I have to get these images back to the shop and get them uploaded. Are we on for running tomorrow morning?”
    I nodded. “You’ll be sure to bring the defibrillator paddles?”
    “Never leave home without them,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.
    I looked down at Missy. “I hope she knows I wasn’t joking.”
    Missy thumped her tail.
    Inwardly, I debated whether to go over and see if Mrs. Pennywhistle was okay, but when I glanced her way, she had her head down as if she was praying. I decided to check back with her on my way home.
    Looking around the square, I wondered where I could pick up wombat supplies. First and foremost, I needed balloons. And newspapers—lots of them. And glue. I started for the village’s general store, the Crone’s Cupboard. When I passed the bookshop, I paused. Was Harper behaving herself? I peeked in the window and saw her shoulder to shoulder with Vince, arranging a display.
    She spotted me and motioned for me to keep on moving. I’d just decided to go in and give her a good teasing when a raised voice turned my attention. Missy started yapping and tugging on her leash, wanting to see what all the excitement was about.
    Down the street a bit, I spotted a man in front of Lotions and Potions, beating on its door. I moved a little closer. It was a man I didn’t recognize at all. Tall, fit, and completely bald.
    A good-sized crowd had gathered round. I looked for any familiar faces to see if they knew the man, but I didn’t recognize anyone. Sirens screamed as a policecruiser pulled to the curb. The man wasn’t the least bit fazed by the approaching patrolmen.
    “Come out of there, you witch!” he shouted. The glass door panes rattled under his fists. “You’re nothing but a phony! You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me! Mark my words! I’ll make you pay!”
    Apparently, Alexandra had made many more enemies than friends in this village.
    Then I remembered a mournful Mrs. Pennywhistle sitting on the bench. I turned to see if she was still there, but she was gone.

Chapter Seven
    “H is name is Griffin Huntley,” Harper said as she stirred sugar into a glass of iced tea. “He’s a local car salesman. You’ve