How to Stone a Crow (Witch Like a Boss Book 2) Willow Mason (inspiring books for teens .txt) 📖

“Evelyn has every right to call the police. The fact there’s evidence of supernatural involvement doesn’t prevent a perfectly rational human explanation from being possible as well.” She tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “I have every confidence in you.” She waved me back from the car.

“You gave us a lift here.”

“True but your new house guests will have a vehicle, so you don’t need me.” Genevieve twiddled her fingers and put her foot down.

“We’re ready,” Wendy said, dragging a backpack along the ground behind her. “If you don’t have any plans for tea, can we get fish and chips?”

“No, you can’t,” Gareth said with the air of a man who’d already lost. “They’re too unhealthy.”

“Fish is great for you. My teacher said. Don’t you want me to get my full range of omega-3s?”

Patrick raised an eyebrow at me and hid a chuckle. “If you can give us a lift to your temporary home, it’ll be my treat.”

Chapter Eight

We picked up Patrick’s car from its park on the main road a few hours later. The greasy residue of deep-fried chips still coated my fingers, no matter that I’d already given them a good wash. A spell to get them squeaky clean would be good but I kept in mind that I shouldn’t be wasting my magic on trivialities—especially when it seemed there was something very wrong in Briarton.

My mind wandered over our brief stint at home. I’d pulled Paisley into a side room, determined to tell her the bad news about Violet before she heard it anywhere else, only to discover I was already too late.

<Your aunt dropped by with the news,> the black cat had explained with a plaintive mew. <I guess people just couldn’t wait to start accusing me.>

<Paisley was here with me all morning,> Annalisa had protested before I had the chance to ask. <She couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with Violet’s disappearance.>

The thought might have been emphatic, but the panther stopped me from asking any further questions. Fair enough to have privacy during a normal day, but with suspicions abounding, it made my jaw ache.

Still, concentrate on Pru and Andrew was what my supreme had told me, so concentrate I would.

When we entered Pru’s house, I was surprised to see Jared was already there. “Helping to clear up,” he explained, holding a dustpan in one hand and a large shard of broken crockery in the other. “Tables don’t just right themselves.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a shoulder bump. “I’d almost forgotten how thoughtful you can be when you’re not refusing to seek any help for your totally obvious problems.”

“Nice compliment.” Jared grinned at me, his teeth poking way too far over his lipline. “Hard to see at first, sandwiched as it was between all those past grievances.”

“You’re back?” Pru stood in the connecting door between the kitchen and dining room, pulling at the neck of her blouse. “What did you find out?”

“Not a lot, so far,” I admitted. “Once we’ve helped you clear up in here, would you mind taking us through everything you know about Andrew’s case?”

“There wasn’t a case.” Pru adjusted her horn rims and leant forward. “The police just did a cursory examination of the scene. I don’t know what more I can tell you.”

Patrick stepped up with his expertise. “Before the police referred his death back to the coroner, they must’ve ruled out alternative causes. Do you know if he had an autopsy?”

“I guess so. I don’t really know.”

“What about the scene of the accident? Did they tell you anything about the crash site?”

Pru turned pale and clutched her hands together. “I can show you where it happened if that’s what you mean. There’s nothing there.”

“Even if there had been, I wouldn’t expect it to last fifteen years.” Patrick gave her an encouraging smile. “What about the car? Did you send it to a wrecker’s yard?”

“Oh, no. Apart from a dent in the front end, it was barely damaged. He…” She fiddled with her neckline again. “He went through the windscreen. No seatbelt.”

I thought of the old car I’d had up in Auckland. It must have been over twenty years old, but it still beeped like a roadrunner if I didn’t have my seatbelt done up. “Did he often drive like that?”

“No. I can’t imagine…” Pru put a hand to her forehead, taking a moment to gather herself. “It seemed strange at the time but then, everything felt strange back then. Andrew was always a stickler for rules and regulations. I mean, the proposal he’d been working on was about improving health and safety in the workplace.” She shook her head. “The police were adamant though. He wasn’t buckled up.”

“Perhaps the belt was faulty.”

I’d barely got the words out before Pru shook her head again. “That’s not it. You can see if you want.” She turned toward the back of the house.

“Wait, a minute.” Patrick put his hand up. “You mean, the car is here?”

Pru frowned. “Where else would it be. I couldn’t sell it to another person, not when it’s the last thing Andrew touched.”

I was flabbergasted. “You drive around in it?”

“Oh, I can’t drive.” Pru flapped her hand. “In Briarton, there’s not really a need, is there? I can walk pretty much everywhere.” She rubbed the side of her neck while her eyes stared at something I couldn’t see. “The car’s in the garage, exactly where it has been since the police returned it.”

“Can we examine it?” Patrick asked, pulling out his camera.

“Knock yourselves out. Although, I’m not sure what you think you’ll find that the police didn’t.”

Together, Jared and I lifted the dusty tarpaulin off the vehicle, releasing a cloud of particles into the air. Between sneezes, we folded the cover and placed it on the workbench, beside a small fortune in tools. Each one had a place marked out on the board, the individual items hanging from nails.

Ordered. Precise. Not the setup of a man who liked to drive without a