“What happens to the fingerprint scan?”
I shrugged. “Maybe that gets erased. The instructions didn’t mention what happened in a power failure. That’s what I’m waiting to find out.” I told him about the message I had left at Secure-Lock.
“The killer would also have to know that the lock is disabled when the power is cut,” Tyler pointed out.
“It’s a very expensive lock, Tyler. You’d think it wouldn’t disable.”
“That’s what I’m thinking too,” Tyler said. “The real question is, who wants both Richard and Antonio out of the picture?”
Chapter 24
By the time Tyler and I returned to the wine festival, it was shut down. The parking lot was empty, and the gym doors were locked. Surprisingly, Aunt Pearl really had wrapped everything up before the liquor license expired.
Or had she?
“Hang on a sec.” I jumped out of the Jeep and ran to the gym door, which displayed a large white sign. The note in black Sharpie pen directed all wine festival attendees to the only other place in town with a liquor license: my family’s Witching Post Bar and Grill. I was pretty sure the redirection hadn’t been part of Tyler’s instructions.
Aunt Pearl had simply moved the festival to our bar because it had a liquor license. Aunt Pearl being Aunt Pearl, had exploited the situation for her own benefit.
Ten minutes later, we arrived at the Witching Post to find overflow parking and loud, drunken voices drifting outside from the bar. We went inside to find it full to standing room only. Carolyn Conroe, Aunt Pearl’s Marilyn Monroe lookalike alter-ego, waved from the makeshift stage that had materialized in one corner of the bar. It had surely been conjured up, yet it was utilitarian compared to Aunt Pearl’s usual over the top pyrotechnics and other attention-getting touches. Her witchcraft seemed a little off, but then again, she had been juggling wine sales, contest judging, and secret police assignments for most of the day. That was a lot for anyone to handle, even her.
We stood inside the doorway. We had missed a lot, according to the large sign posted above the stage that declared the winners in each category.
Mom’s Witching Hour Red Merlot had won the Best New Wine category, the last category to be judged before the festival’s liquor license had expired. There was only one more category left to judge and it was the big one: Wine of the Year. My hopes that the judging would be wrapped up quickly were soon dashed. By now the wine tasting and judging had deteriorated into a drinking game.
I suspected that most people were here to see whether or not Desiree won or lost Wine of the Year, now that her boyfriend Richard was no longer judging.
If she lost, there was bound to be trouble one way or another. It was one thing to be Desiree knocked out of first place in the Best New Wine category; losing the Wine of the Year top prize was another thing altogether. She was certain to throw a tantrum if she lost. Things were shaping up to be a lot more contentious than previous wine festivals. The only good thing was that nobody seemed to care about Richard’s absence. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying themselves more. Under Aunt Pearl’s format, the contest was definitely more exciting and fun.
The stage was too small to comfortably contain the three judges and Carolyn Conroe. They sat on barstools instead of chairs, leaning into each other as they drunkenly swilled their glasses. They spilled wine, broke wineglasses, and came dangerously close to toppling off the stage like dominos. Now, out of necessity, the judges reused their wineglasses instead of replacing them after each wine sample.
“Drink up, everyone!” Carolyn Conroe slurred into the microphone. She wore a sparkly red sequined evening gown cut from the same fabric as Aunt Pearl’s tracksuit. “We’re about to choose Wine of the Year, the overall winner of the Westwick Corners Wine Festival.”
“Thank goodness.” I turned to Tyler. “I wonder who it will be?”
“Who cares, as long as it’s someone,” he said.
It couldn’t happen soon enough as far as I was concerned.
Suddenly Desiree sprang from her seat. She ran up onto the stage and lunged for the microphone, accidentally knocking Carolyn down in the process. “You can’t do this! This is not an officially sanctioned event!”
“Uh-oh.” My pulse quickened. Aunt Pearl—or rather, Carolyn—would never stand for such a challenge.
“She wouldn’t—” Tyler’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.
Carolyn Conroe staggered to her feet and kicked Desiree’s legs out from under her. Desiree tumbled onto the stage and curled into a defensive fetal position.
Carolyn drew a deep breath and waved her hand in a big arc.
She had just frozen everyone in the bar. Everyone who wasn’t a witch, that is. Even Tyler stood motionless beside me.
Mom ran out from behind the bar. “What is going on?”
“Mom, she put a frozen spell on everyone,” I shouted. “Stop it, Aunt Pearl!”
“Pearl, you can’t treat people this way.” Mom sounded irritated. “Undo it so we can finish the judging. And change back out of that ridiculous Carolyn caricature. You’re confusing everybody.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Ruby! That woman attacked me. It was self-defense.” But Carolyn did change back into Aunt Pearl.
I glanced over at the stage where Desiree lay on her side, curled up in front of the three judges. “You didn’t have to use such force.”
“Nobody came to my aid in this lawless town.” Aunt Pearl’s sickly-sweet smile dared me to challenge her.
I followed her gaze to Tyler, who stood motionless by the door. “How could he possibly help you? You froze him unconscious.”
“Quit nitpicking, Cendrine!”
I sighed in exasperation. This endless verbal sparring was going nowhere. I took a deep breath and recited the reversal spell:
Take the future
Make it old
Now the present
Can be retold
Once I reversed my aunt’s spell,
