Chapter Thirty-seven

Poker Face

RILEY

Riley and Mila left the hospital in a hurry, determined to catch Mrs. Knox before she got away. They hopped into Riley’s car and drove at breakneck speed through town toward Cherry Knox’s house.

When they reached their destination, Riley wasted no time. He killed the engine of his car and vaulted out, not even waiting for Mila as he speed-walked up Mrs. Knox’s driveway. In a few long strides, he was already at the front door and knocking. He had to pound on the door multiple times before the tired and suspicious-looking old woman opened it, holding a suitcase in her hands.

“Oh,” Mrs. Knox reeled in surprise. “I thought it was my taxi. Who are you, young man?” she asked, and Riley couldn’t shake the feeling that despite her playing dumb, she’d recognized him as the police detective from the hospital all too well.

It was in the way her shrewd, beady eyes darted to the side as if to search for an escape route.

“Detective King, and this is my partner, Detective Bennet.” Riley flashed his human-confounding badge. “I need to speak to you about the attempted murder of Mrs. Blackwell.”

Mrs. Knox’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? I had nothing to do with that!”

“Then you won’t have trouble answering a few questions,” Mila said, stepping forward.

Mrs. Knox backed away, her hand clutching a suitcase tightly. “I’m sorry, Detectives, but I really don’t have the time now. I was about to leave.” She lifted the suitcase as a demonstration. “My taxi will be here anytime.”

“Then we have time to talk until it gets here,” Riley said, subtly putting a shield on the house so that they wouldn’t be disturbed even if Mrs. Knox’s getaway car did arrive.

“That’s ridiculous!” Mrs. Knox exclaimed, her voice turning shrill.

“Is it?” Riley asked. “We spoke with Mr. MacNeil, and he mentioned you were very supportive of him during his visits to the hospital.”

Mrs. Knox’s eyes darted back and forth. “I was just being kind.”

“And then there’s the fact that you conveniently left when Mrs. Blackwell was about to be woken up from her coma,” Mila added.

“I have a flight to catch!” Mrs. Knox protested.

“A flight to Mexico for New Year’s?” Riley asked pointedly.

Mrs. Knox hesitated for a fraction of a second before quickly regaining her composure. “Yes, that’s correct. Last I checked, going on vacation is not a crime.”

“Interesting,” Riley said with a raised eyebrow. “And what do you plan on doing once you get there? Living out your days on a beach somewhere sipping margaritas?”

Mrs. Knox glared at him but remained tight-lipped.

“Mrs. Knox,” Riley continued. “I strongly encourage you to cooperate.”

“Detectives, I know my rights, so unless you have a warrant or are here to arrest me, I’d kindly ask you to leave.”

“Very well, Mrs. Knox, you leave us no choice.” Riley conjured a search warrant out of thin air and drove it out of his coat pocket, handing it to a stunned-into-silence Mrs. Knox.

At the sight of the official paper, the old lady looked flustered and started fidgeting with her suitcase, but reluctantly accepted defeat and opened up her home for them to look around.

Riley quickly surveyed the area, making a show of searching through cupboards and drawers while he weaved a searching spell that would guide him toward what he was looking for, even if Riley still didn’t know what it was.

He released the spell and waited for the magic to tug him in the right direction. Soon, the pull came, and Riley followed it to the kitchen, where the magic guided him to a set of potted plants on the windowsill. One among them in particular.

Bingo.

Riley lifted the plant and turned to Mrs. Knox. “This is a castor oil plant, Mrs. Knox, whose beans are used to make ricin poison, the same poison that almost killed Mrs. Blackwell.”

He thought he had the old lady nailed down, but she simply shrugged. “It’s just a plant. It’s not illegal to have one. If this is all the evidence you have, you don’t have a case.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mila said telepathically.

“So what? We keep her here until Mrs. Blackwell wakes up and identifies her as the killer.”

“What if Mrs. Blackwell doesn’t remember anything? We have to nail her now.”

“How?”

“Let me try something,” Mila said, and Riley recognized the knitting of magic in the way she moved her fingers.

Then Mila’s phone started ringing.

She picked up, putting on a show worthy of an Oscar.

“Yes? Did she wake up? Yes, we’re here now… and she’s sure, beyond the shade of a doubt? Thank you, Sarah Michelle. No, we’ll take care of it. Reinforcement won’t be needed.”

Then Mila, with the most serious poker face he’d ever seen, turned toward Mrs. Knox and said, “It’s over, Mrs. Knox. Josephine Blackwell just woke up and identified you as the person who delivered the poisoned cupcake to her.”

For a moment, Mrs. Knox kept still, her eyes darting around the room as if she was still planning to make a run for it. But then the old lady took one look at them, at him in particular, Riley noted, and she must have decided there was no reality in which she could outrun them.

Mrs. Knox finally gave up and started confessing, telling them about how Mrs. Blackwell was a man-eater who would only use George and then discard him once she’d tired of him, just as she’d done to poor Jacob. While she truly loved MacNeil and would’ve done anything for him—including killing someone.

With the confession, the case was truly solved and could finally be handed down to the regular Salem PD. Riley called the local human authorities, and they led away a handcuffed Mrs. Knox into a police car with flashing lights.

Riley and Mila watched them drive away from the curb in front of the old lady’s house until the human police vehicle disappeared behind a corner.

“Well, that was intense,” Riley said, turning to Mila.

“Goblins, it was. The dating scene of septuagenarians is cutthroat,” she replied with a smirk. “I can’t believe she actually did it.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Riley paused for a moment before adding, “But I have to admit, you were pretty impressive back there with the fake phone call and beautiful poker face, especially since Sarah Michelle just called and informed me that Mrs. Blackwell couldn’t remember a thing about the night of the recital.”

Mila’s eyes widened. “Is Mrs. Blackwell all right?”

“As well as could be expected given the recent poisoning.”

Now Mila’s expression turned wicked as she grabbed him by the lapels of his coat. “Does that mean you’re officially off the clock, Inquisitor King?”

Riley smirked, relishing the feeling of her hands on him. “I suppose it does. What do you have in mind, Miss Bennet?”

Mila leaned in close, her lips almost touching his ear. “I think it’s time for a little celebration.”