Visions and Spells by Kate Allenton

Author:Kate Allenton [Allenton, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

I spotted Ryder in the doorway and waved him in.

“What can I make you, Ryder?” Noah asked.

“Whatever is fine,” he answered, sounding like his mind was a million miles away.

“Did your call go okay?” I asked, unable to read his face.

“Yeah, maybe, jury is still out.”

His conflicting words had me frowning. “Ryder, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head and smiled in the fake way my father did when greeting guests. “Watson, could you go check the rest of the feed with their dad to clear his name.”

“Uh, sure.” Watson exchanged a worried with look with Ryder. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Noah pulled off some pancakes from the griddle, slid them onto a plate, and handed it to Ryder before pointing with his spatula toward the coffee pot. “It’s self-serve decaf, Ryder.”

“Remind me again how you two are related,” Ryder said, pouring a cup of coffee.

“My mom was ex-wife number 2, after Tess’s mom, so we’re half-brother and sister.”

“How many women has your dad married?” Ryder asked, sipping the coffee.

I shared an amused look with Noah. “He’s on number 4, right?”

“Yeah, he just divorced number four, the evil stepmother from hell.” Noah shivered. “I was glad to see that one go.”

“So it’s just the two of you? No other siblings running around the island or on the mainland?”

“Just us,” I answered. “What’s up with the questions?”

He shrugged. “Just double-checking facts for our database and for when I write my report when this is over.”

“Well, you’re running out of time, Mister Officer Man. Our guests are only here for five days, and you’re down to three. The ferry arrives on Friday, and we’re no closer to knowing which person you’ve been hunting that killed Mrs. Halliwell.”

He simply nodded.

“If this was my investigation, I’d probably look at all of your victims to see if there’s a connection.”

“They’re both witches, but beside that, I can’t find a link,” he said, glancing up.

“Most serial killers have a method to their madness. Same color hair, same age, same person that pissed them off, some type of fascination with something like college aged girls. Something that ties them together, even if it’s just destination.”

Noah turned the stove down and laid his ladle in the holder. “Who was the first victim?”

“An employee of a caterer that served drinks in California.”

“What about age?” I asked.

“Thirty-two. Not much to tell about her. She worked full time and studied her craft in the evenings. No enemies, but really smart. I think she did a couple years in college and then decided to switch gears into business.”

“So not even the same age or experience.” I sighed.

He shook his head.

What I knew about murder, and judging by the scoreboard, some might argue I was a killer myself, I knew three undeniable facts. The perpetrator needed motive, opportunity, and means.

“Start with the obvious,” I grumbled and jumped down to wash my plate.

“I thought I had.” He chuckled.

“Your killer needs three things, motive, means, and opportunity.”

“That’s a given,” Noah added.

“You start with opportunity.

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