Pawsitively Poisonous Read online

  Kimberly sputtered a laugh. But she sobered quickly. “I really miss her.”

  Amber nodded, chest tight. “Me too.”

  A charged silence filled the car.

  To get to the Purrcolate coffee shop, one only had to take a straight shot down Ragdoll Way from Kimberly’s house. Amber had roughly ten minutes before they reached the place and before the tonic wore off. Lampposts slowly started to click on as it grew darker.

  They passed two small churches, a bank, and a drug store before Amber spoke again.

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “You two must have really gotten to know each other well once you became her assistant.”

  “Oh yes! We talked nearly every day—sometimes more than that.”

  “I see. I wonder if … no. I …” Amber made a show of hemming and hawing over her next statement. She attempted a Betty Harris tongue cluck, knowing she didn’t have the older woman’s skill. But it was enough to get Kimberly’s attention.

  “What?”

  “I just … did she ever tell you about that guy she was seeing?” Amber asked, hoping she sounded more like a playful gossip than an interrogating busybody.

  But Amber needn’t have worried; the gossip tonic had kicked in.

  “Oh my God, Amber, I’m so glad someone finally asked! I’ve been dying—oh my God, I did it again!” She let out another semi-hysterical laugh. Amber made a mental note to put a little less kava in her next batch. “But … okay, you didn’t hear this from me, but she was seeing Derrick Sadler!”

  Amber offered a gasp that she hoped wasn’t too over-the-top.

  A soft rain started to fall and Amber turned her windshield wipers onto the slowest setting. The lights of Edgehill—rectangles of warm yellow spilling onto lawns and sidewalks from people’s living rooms, the bright neon blue and white of gas stations and convenience stores, the red of stop lights—grew blurry as the rain fell, then were swept back to clarity with the swipe of her wipers.

  “I know, right?” Kimberly said, taking another long swig of her drink. “Our sweet Melanie, getting all tangled up with a married man. She totally didn’t want me to know—for anyone to know—but one night we’d been working late on festival stuff. After I left, I had to double back twenty minutes later because I forgot my phone charger.

  “I went up to the front door to knock and glanced into those windows right by the door, you know? And what do I see? Melanie pushed up against the wall with her legs wrapped around Derrick’s waist. I was gone for less than half an hour and they were already going at it! They should have at least closed the blinds.”

  “Did she see you?” Amber asked, still shocked that she’d had no idea about this side of her friend.

  “Well, I sort of yelped,” said Kimberly, wincing. “Melanie heard it. She saw me standing there with my mouth hung open. I bolted to my car as if I had been the one caught in a very compromising position with a married man, and she came running after me. We sat in my car and she cried and cried and said she knew it was wrong, but she loved him and he was planning to leave Whitney …”

  “Really?”

  “Mmhmm,” Kim said. “But … well, she told me that six months ago. Doesn’t seem like he was in any real rush to leave his wife. Why give up a good thing when he can get a little extra on the side?” Kimberly gasped. “That was a horrible thing for me to say! Maybe he was planning a slow exit. I don’t know. She begged me not to tell anyone. I’d never seen her cry so hard.”

  Amber pursed her lips. Melanie had lied about every aspect of her relationship with the mystery man. And it had been going on for over six months?

  “Part of why she was so upset was because she said Whitney is really controlling of Derrick and that if Whitney found out about the affair, she’d—” Kimberly clapped a hand over her mouth. When she lowered her hand again, she said, “You don’t think … you don’t think Whitney had anything to do with what happened to Melanie, do you? Oh my God, Amber, should I have told someone about the affair? Should I tell the police?”

  Amber definitely needed to recalibrate her gossip tonic—it wasn’t one of her strongest recipes. Plus, with tonics that coerced a person into actions they normally wouldn’t take, sometimes there were adverse reactions. Such as crushing guilt.

  The other woman started to hyperventilate.

  “Hey,” Amber said, glancing over at Kim and reaching across the center console to gently rub the other woman’s arm. “Hey, just breathe, okay?”

  They’d just driven by the tiny video game store, so they were almost at Purrcolate. She just needed to get Kim there before she lost it.

  Amber rolled Kim’s window down, letting in the biting January air.

  “I should have told someone,” Kimberly said. Gasp of air. “What if this is my fault?” Gasp. “I should have …” Gasp.

  “Kim, honey, this wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault,” Amber said, contemplating flooring the accelerator to get them to the coffee shop faster. Five more blocks. Two more minutes until the tonic wore off. “Inhale really slow and let it out. You’re okay.”

  The cool air seemed to help a little, but Kimberly had a death grip on the door handle. Amber wasn’t sure if Kim needed to hold onto something solid, or if she was planning to tuck, drop, and roll out of the car. The gasps soon morphed into long pulls of air into her nose and slow releases out her mouth.

  “You were being a good friend by keeping it a secret,” Amber said. “For upholding her wishes. She trusted you with something very important to her and you honored that. Her trust was in the right place.”

  Amber would have to process this information later. The reality that when it came to Melanie’s deep, dark secret, she hadn’t wanted Amber to know about it. Hadn’t trusted her with it. Maybe if she had, Melanie would still be here.

  It wasn’t lost on Amber that she had been keeping a secret for even longer than Melanie had. Amber had never shared anything about her witch heritage with Melanie.

  “Oh wow,” Kimberly said, hand to her forehead. “I feel a little woozy—almost like a hangover.” She held up her cup of hot chocolate and laughed softly. “What did you put in this thing?”

  Yep, definitely needed less kava. It worked to calm people down, but also had the potential to make them feel a little high.

  Then Kim placed a hand over her mouth, silencing another gasp. “I told you about Derrick! Oh crap. Oh crap, crap, crap. You won’t tell, will you?” Sighing dramatically, she thunked her head against the headrest again. “The stress of everything is really getting to me.”

  “Of course I won’t tell,” Amber said, guilt coating her throat now; it pooled in her stomach. Her magic wasn’t meant for this. It was meant for wonder and helping others. Not for turning someone like Kimberly into an even more high-strung mess than she already was. Not for unearthing secrets that were none of Amber’s business.

  But then Amber recalled the way Melanie had looked like a ghostly pale version of herself the last time Amber had seen her. The way Mel’s hair had stuck her to face and neck with sweat. Her complaints about headaches. Her uncharacteristic fatigue.

  Someone had done that to her.

  Someone had poisoned her.

  Had it been Whitney Sadler in a fit of jealousy?

  If magic could lead Amber to her killer, why not use it? She wasn’t a corrupt witch. She wasn’t like the cursed Penhallows—a family of witches who only used their magic for personal gain. Amber knew her limits.

  Pulling her car into the parking lot of the coffee shop, Amber shut off the vehicle and turned in her seat to look at Kimberly. The other woman had clearly been crying silently for the last minute or so.

  Amber placed a hand on Kim’s arm again; she flinched, clearly lost in her own thoughts. Her own tangled web of guilt. “You were a good friend.”

  Kim managed a small nod.

  And I’m going to be a good friend, Amber thought, and find out what Whitney Sadler actually knows. Maybe I can dump a little of the
back-up vial of gossip tonic into everyone’s coffee when they aren’t looking.

  No.

  No, she was a Blackwood, not a Penhallow.

  But, if she did find out Whitney Sadler had anything to do with Melanie’s death, Whitney would have one ticked-off witch to deal with.

  Chapter 4

  Purrcolate was part coffee shop, part co-op work space. It was by far the hippest establishment in Edgehill. Four years ago, there had been a considerable effort from the owners—and diehard patrons—of the well-established Clawsome Coffee, which had been around as long as Edgehill’s cats, to keep Purrcolate from ever opening. But the two young Terrence brothers had won the town over once they’d explained their co-op work space idea.

  Clawsome Coffee was done no favors by the owner, who was a hateful woman through and through. Before the Terrence brothers had come around, it hadn’t mattered that Paulette was a monster, as she’d had a monopoly on the best coffee in town for years. One had to put up with her if you wanted the good stuff.

  Purrcolate had been the first business to truly give Paulette a run for her money. And Paulette wasn’t going down without a fight.

  The space at Purrcolate was advertised to allow small businesses to have an affordable meeting place, give groups a safe space to congregate, and on Sunday afternoons, give students a quiet and free place to study. The Wi-Fi was promised to run at lightning speeds. Clawsome Coffee could only offer quality coffee and ambience; Paulette refused to modernize.

  For the Here and Meow Committee, it gave the group of five women and one stay-at-home dad a convenient place to discuss the festival twice a month for a nominal fee. Plus, Jack Terrence made amazing blueberry scones, and he always had a plate of them waiting, along with the complimentary coffee and tea they had for whoever booked the conference room.

  Amber led the way through the shop now—offering a quick wave to Jack and Larry behind the counter as she went—and pushed open the mottled glass door to the conference room.

  The room was plain. A large gray conference table took up most of the space, lined on both sides by comfortable black desk chairs. The table sat fourteen comfortably. The wall on the farthest end of the room had a large whiteboard fastened to it. The Here and Meow Committee used it during most meetings. A magnetized cup was attached to the board in the corner, with a colorful array of markers sprouting from it like a bouquet of flowers. Nothing else decorated the walls.

  Ann Marie, Susie, Nathan, and Whitney were already inside. And had already plowed through half the scones.

  Amber and Susie, as usual, avoided eye contact.

  “Oh, Kim!” Ann Marie said, on her feet in an instant, hand to her chest. Ann Marie was almost a mirror image of Kim. They were both tall, thin brunettes. They both wore their hair long, but while Kim’s was loose around her shoulders now, Ann Marie’s was in a single braid down her back.

  Amber glanced behind her, where Kimberly stood framed in the doorway, one bag over her shoulder, and the other two clutched tight in one hand. Her bottom lip shook.

  “Oh my God, Ann Marie!”

  Kimberly dropped her purses just inside the room, the door swinging shut behind her as she hurried around one side of the table, while Ann Marie scurried the rest of the way to meet her. The two enveloped each other in a tight hug and immediately burst into tears.

  Nathan, Susie, and Whitney’s gazes shifted to their scones and coffee. When Ann Marie let out a choked cry, still clutching tight to Kimberly, Nathan’s cheeks went pink. Embarrassed by the loud display of grief—or his lack of it—Amber couldn’t be sure.

  Amber grabbed Kimberly’s discarded bags and dropped them into the open chair across from Nathan and Susie. When Amber pulled out the chair beside it for herself, she saw a white, ten-sided die resting by the table leg and surmised that the last group to use the room had been the Dungeons & Dragons meetup.

  “How you holding up, Amber?”

  She glanced across the table to see Whitney Sadler staring at her, her pretty little mouth pulled down in a slight frown. Her stick-straight blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, accentuating her sharp cheekbones.

  Amber shot a quick glance at Kim and Ann Marie, who still clutched each other tightly, their sobs shifting into muffled sniffling and whispers. Plopping into her chair, Amber sighed. “I keep hoping my phone will ring at any minute, I’ll see her face pop up on the screen, and it’ll all have been some kind of misunderstanding.”

  Susie scoffed, but tried to cover it up by taking a bite of scone. Amber ignored her.

  Ann Marie let out another choked sob. “I miss her so much,” she said, having extricated herself from Kimberly’s grasp. She sniffed hard and swiped a finger under her nose. “I was supposed to meet her last week for dinner because she was starting to feel better, but I called it off because I just wanted to stay home for the night.” She hiccuped, sniffing again. “That was my last chance to see her and I blew it off because I was being a lazy cow.”

  Kimberly pulled Ann Marie against her side again, hugging her. “Don’t say such silly things! None of us could have known our time with her was going to be cut so short.”

  “She and I had a meeting planned on Monday, the day before,” Whitney said. “I told her I would have to reschedule because I’d completely forgotten that Sydney’s first fashion show meeting for the Here and Meow was happening. For the junior fashionista prodigies, you know?”

  Amber did not know. And from the blank looks on everyone else’s faces, no one else did, either. Whitney had a knack for making things about her and seemed flabbergasted when others weren’t privy to the ins and outs of her schedule.

  “Anyway,” Whitney said, sniffing. “I was driving Sydney back to school in Belhaven that morning. To think I was having such a normal day and Melanie was …” She sighed. “If I had just made Derrick take Sydney to that fashion event instead, maybe meeting with Melanie would have … maybe she wouldn’t be …”

  The atmosphere in the room turned somber. Everyone struggled to make, let alone keep, eye contact.

  “You were the last one to see her, weren’t you, Amber?” a voice finally said, breaking the silence.

  Amber’s gaze shifted to the spot next to Nathan, where Susie Paulson sat. Susie was the volunteer director and had been for as long as Whitney had been the finance chair. Over time, Susie had become brusque and to the point, her patience worn thin after dealing with a large portion of Edgehill’s teenage population, who often signed up for the Here and Meow to gain volunteer credit for college applications. That was the common theory people had about Susie Paulson anyway, but Amber had known Susie for long enough to know the bad attitude had started much sooner.

  Susie and Amber had worked together at the Paulsons’ tea shop—Paws 4 Tea—after high school and hadn’t gotten along well then. It had only gotten worse.

  Kimberly cleared her throat, let go of Ann Marie, and made her way to sit beside Amber. “I don’t know if I appreciate your tone, Susie,” she said, moving her bags to the floor before sitting beside Amber.

  “There was no tone,” Susie said, not yet taking her eyes off Amber. “Was I mistaken, though? I heard Melanie had been in your shop just an hour or two before she … you know.”

  Ann Marie loudly blew her nose from the chair on Amber’s other side.

  All eyes turned to Amber then and she felt her face grow hot with some combination of anger and embarrassment, mostly because, now that the question was out there, Nathan, Ann Marie, and Whitney watched her expectantly. Like it was the question they’d all been wanting to ask, but didn’t have Susie’s same lack of tact.

  “Yes,” Amber said. “She came by because she had a headache—another headache—and the meds she had weren’t working. I gave her something to help her sleep.”

  “Yeah, sounds like it …” Susie muttered, face turned away as she pretended to find her scone terribly interesting again.

  “What was that?” Amber said, leaning her arms on the t
able and angling a mildly concealed glare Susie’s way. How she itched to put a spell on Susie’s plate to turn it into a scuttling spider, to turn the legs of her chair to wiggly rubber, to turn the scone in her mouth to ash. “Is there something you need to say, Susan?”

  Susie looked away from her scone then; she hated to be called Susan. “Guess we’ll know if I have something to say when those results come back from Portland. Chief Brown sure seems to think we’ll have a whole lot to talk about then.”

  Amber pursed her lips. “You really think I had something to do with this? You’ve known me for over fifteen years.”

  “And I know some seriously weird crap is sold in that store of yours,” Susie said, tightly folding her arms across her chest. “Your teas and sweets and hot chocolate … they’re all addicting. People swear by them. And others say there must be something … extra in your products to keep customers coming back.”

  Amber stared at her. “You think I’m drugging my customers? Are you upset because I actually have—”

  “Ladies, c’mon,” said Kimberly, cutting Amber off. “We’re all stressed out. This is hard on all of us. We don’t need to take it out on each other.”

  “I’m just stating for the record, that if we find out something … criminal happened to Melanie thanks to someone in this room … that we rethink who’s part of this committee,” said Susie.

  Amber was going to pluck this woman’s eyes out. “You know what? I’m done here. I’m sorry, Kim.” She stood abruptly. “I’ll be back in an hour to take you home.”

  With that, she stormed out of the conference room, her magic like a physical thing writhing under her skin. High emotion always agitated her magic, like a caged lion circling its enclosure. It wanted out. It needed a release.

  Heightened states also gave spells an extra kick.

  Too bad she couldn’t give an extra kick to Susie Paulson’s face.

  She stomped through the coffee shop, ignoring a shout of concern from Jack, and shoved her way out into the chilly evening. The brisk air hit her like a slap, cooling her skin and calming her magic. It was only by a fraction, but it might be enough to keep her from doing something stupid. Like deflating all of Susie’s tires.