Willow's Tail" 29 (gather the suspects)

The festival’s closing ritual had begun, the reception hall was lit with twinkling fairy lights and a banner strung across its impressive façade welcomed all to the Summer Solstice Celebration.

Through the double oak doors, the grand hall was bathed in natural light that filtered in through a domed skylight. After sunset, the room’s three crystal chandeliers would be responsible for illumination and aided by the flickering flames on long tapers set in silver holders on each of the linen covered tables.

The Reception Hall’s famed garden was landscaped with a variety of rose bushes that added a secluded tranquility to the garden’s main attraction, the centuries old lily pond.

Martha and Perfidia stepped into the grand hall and were impressed by its lavish transformation.

Martha’s winning tea was being served from a place of honor, next to a long banquet table where a local chef’s culinary delights filled the room with tantalizing aromas. There were vintage champagnes and exceptional red and white wines circulating the room on large trays carried by a formally attired wait staff.

“It looks like they went all out this year,” Perfidia remarked, taking in the ambiance and concluding, “They must have known we’d win.”

Martha shook her head at Perfidia’s vanity. “I’m sure they meant it for all in attendance, not just us.”

“Sure, whatever you think,” Perfidia shrugged and grabbed a glass of white wine from the tray of a passing waiter as she added, “I deserve this pomp for all the hassle I’ve…actually, we’ve had to endure; so you deserve this too…even Willow.”

“Nice of you to include Willow and me, but I agree; we do deserve a night of revelry.”

“Yes we do! And once we find the responsible party for all our troubles, this night will be perfect!”

A waiter with a tray of wine filled glasses stepped up to Martha and offered her a choice of white or red. She declined and he walked on. She turned back to Perfidia and resumed the conversation. “We may have to be content with winning.”

“No; that’s not enough,” Perfidia insisted waving her wine glass for punctuation, “They can’t impose those havocs on us and get away with it, free from retribution or, at the very least, groveling.”

“Groveling?” Martha chuckled.

“Yes, I’ll accept groveling in lieu of vengeance, if they grovel well enough.”

Martha gave her a sympathetic look but she understood the desire to face their nemesis in victory and demand answers, only her defeat this afternoon had hit her hard; that mischief-maker hadn’t shown up, her unwanted past had.

“I don’t know Perfidia; this person has protected their identity well and I don’t even have a tingling of intuition to point me in their direction, do you?”

“Well, no.”

“And don’t forget, every suspect we’ve considered was innocent.”

“Presumed innocent...we aren’t ruling anyone out just yet.”

“You still think it could be Jon?”

“I don’t know but he’ll be here and I intend to find out. What about Dillon? Have you ruled him out?”

“He’s off my suspect list but you’re free to question him,” Martha huffed; she didn’t think he was guilty of those havocs but she didn’t care if Perfidia put him through a critical examination. It would serve him right to be beset by Perfidia’s suspicious nature.

“Maybe I will then; if I see him here.”

“Good luck.” Martha shrugged.

“I don’t need it; they'll be here tonight so it’s the perfect opportunity to root them out.”

“After they’ve managed to avoid our radar all this time? I’d be surprised if they’d willingly step forward now.”

“Maybe you will be surprised,” Perfidia said sagely then, to avoid Martha’s questioning her assurance she suggested, “We should find a table before it gets too crowded.”

“I suppose so,” Martha agreed but as they walked she heard discordant voices raised in heated conversation and grew curious.“Do you hear those arguments?”

Perfidia had indeed heard them and knew it boded well for her truth potion’s potency, but she wouldn’t tell that Martha.

“I don’t usually pay attention to other’s conversations,” she said off-handedly but it was the truth. She couldn’t be bother with the ramblings of random guests who'd tasted Martha’s tea; she was only interested in one particular tea taster, that illusive troublemaker.

Martha gave her a curious look. “So how is the wine?”

“It’s surprisingly good; you really should have some.”

“Maybe later…would you mind if I went to say hello to a few friends?”

“Not at all; I don’t have that compunction, to be friendly, but I get it, you’re a nicer person then I am,” Perfidia admitted with candor.

“I wouldn’t say that; you’ve been very nice these past weeks.”

“Ugh, please say that isn’t so,” Perfidia groused, but she had experienced kinder thoughts and feelings during these challenges, even for that cat.

Martha chuckled. “I’ll be back soon.”

“No problem, take your time,” Perfidia shrugged, hoping she could rekindle her indifferent self once this was truly over.

She walked to an empty table and put down her wineglass. Of course she didn’t mind Martha going off to speak with friends; it gave her the opportunity to fully focus on finding the culprit in the room. She perused the guests, listening now to those inharmonious conversations Martha had commented on and waited for that havoc maker to taste the tea, and incrminate themselves when they were compelled to tell the truth.

*

Miriam took another sip of tea and grudgingly admitted Martha’s blend was outstanding and worthy of first prize, but when she heard herself telling that very thing to Percival, she was shocked by her unintended honesty. Her shock however was soon overshadowed by annoyance when Percival responded with glowing praise, for Martha.

“It’s the perfect tea,” Percival punctuated his words with another satisfying sip of said tea and sighed as he added, “it’s refreshing and invigorating but I’m not surprised; Martha has always had a way with tea leaves.”

Miriam’s countenance darkened with jealousy.

“Is that all she has a way with?” She questioned sharply, suspicion narrowing her eyes.

“What do you mean by that?’ Percival asked, uncertain of the reason for her tone of outrage.

“Don’t play innocent; you loved her once. Maybe you still do; do you still love her?”

“I-”

“Oh, never mind!” She cut off his response and stormed away.

Percival stood in compete bewilderment, confused by her unexpected accusation and taken aback by her odd behavior.

*

Gloria took her first sip of Martha’s winning tea; the flavor tingled delightfully on her tongue but when she took a second sip, she was engulfed in an unusual sensation of awareness. It was the strangest sensation and she wanted to express every feeling she felt. She’d never experienced anything like this before and looked at the tea in her cup. Was there something in the tea?

She turned to Roger to ask what he thought of the tea but catching sight of his handsome profile, her interest shifted from the unusual tea to him. She felt giddy with grand emotions for this sweet, kind and…very handsome man and her thoughts filled with loving definitions of him.

“This is a delectable tea, isn’t it Roger?” She asked with a sigh and a coquettish smile.

“It is,” Roger agreed easily but when his eyes turned to her, his heartbeat sped up. He felt a great pleasure in the way she was looking at him.

“So…is there anything else here you like?” She asked coyly, batting her eyes at him.

It was an unnecessary hint to what she’d meant him to appreciate and Roger chuckled at her silliness, but he didn’t hesitate in his response.

“I find you very pleasing.”

“Do you?”

“I most definitely do,” he said with serious conviction.

Gloria gazed deeply into his warm, puppy dog, brown eyes and blurted, “I love you Roger, more than anything and it’s all I think about…how much I love you,” she admitted with a deep blush.

Roger’s grin nearly split his face as he heartily responded. “I love you too Gloria and you’re all I think about.”

Their enchanted gazes didn’t waiver and in a trance, they continued to sip Martha’s tea.

*

Dillon stepped into the packed reception hall and quickly grabbed a glass of red wine off the tray of a passing waiter. He took a sip of it as he scanned the room of guests but as he swallowed that first taste his attention shifted; he looked down with suspicion at the wine in his glass. It had an odd flavor he couldn’t identify but he knew it wasn’t from the natural fermenting process of the grapes. He gingerly put the wineglass down on a table of discarded glasses before continuing on into the room.

He noticed Percival at a corner table having an animated discussion with Miriam; he wasn’t about to disturb whatever was going on between them but he hadn’t come here to speak with his brother anyway. It was Martha he was hoping to find; their earlier conversation hadn’t ended as he’d intended, and he needed to rectify that.

He looked around the crowded room but had not the slightest glimpse of Martha. He did see Perfidia and, with hopes she could lead him to Martha, walked over to her.

“Good evening Perfidia.”

Perfidia turned at the greeting but seeing it was Percival, and not Jon, she remained uninterested.

“Good evening to you Percy. Where’s Miriam?” she asked with little care as she sipped more of her wine.

“I would guess she’s with Percival.”

Perfidia nearly spit out her wine as she looked back at him.

“You’re not Percival?”

“No.”

“You’re Dillon?”

“I am.”

“How do you know me, we’ve never met.”

“Well, technically that’s true but truthfully, we have.”

“What…when?”

“More than once actually, if I’m forced to be honest and I think for the moment I am,” he admitted with derision; he looked down at her wineglass and detected she’d have the same issue.

Perfidia stifled her gleeful smile knowing he was under her potions influence.

“So,`you’ve tasted Martha’s tea?”

“No, not yet but I’m sure it’s splendid.”

Perfidia’s brow furrowed, she was taken off guard by his answer.

“So, this forced honesty you say you feel, would it be your conscience wanting you to confess something?”

Dillon chuckled at her obvious interrogation. 

“No, I’m merely offering to satisfy your curiosity as to how I knew you.”

Perfidia’s frown deepened; she wasn’t sure she trusted him to be honest, with no outside influence to force it, but she was curious to hear when they’d met.

“When did we meet?”

“Soon after my family moved here, Percival and I were about to begin university. I’d already received my acceptance to UCLA in California and Percival was accepted to a local university here but, being twins, we did love to trick our friends by switching places and we did that on a few occasions during our freshman year, after that it became too difficult; we had conflicting career paths and couldn’t risk failing each other’s majors.”

“So when I met you; I’d have thought you were Percival?”

“No, you wouldn’t have known Percival yet and before you ask, it was before he started dating Martha, if that’s where your mind was going.”

“It might have been but, go on with your story.”

“That first semester, just before holiday break; you were having trouble with your locker.”

Perfidia’s eyes widened and she sucked in her breath. “That was you? You helped me with my combination and you were…oh my. I’d forgotten that day, but you looked different, you’re hair was lighter.”

“Sun bleached I’d say; I surfed a lot in California.”

“And you were…”

“I was what?”

Perfidia had no intention of telling him she’d found him attractive but regardless of her intention, she found herself saying it.

“You were a dream…” then she slapped her hand over her mouth and stared at her wine, “I…I don’t know why I said that.”

Dillon leaned closer and whispered, “I should warn you, I think someone has added a little something to the wine.”

“What?” Perfidia squeaked, hoping he was joking but, by the way she’d felt compelled to be honest, she knew someone had added something. Someone had added some of Martha’s truth tainted tea into the wine but who could have known what she’d done, and why had they decided to switch it up on her?

“I’m guessing you’ve had the wine too?” She asked.

“I did, just a sip but, even with a sip, I can tell it’s potent.”

Perfidia knew that was true. However, the small amount of potion he’d consumed in a sip wouldn’t be effective for long; she’d have to question him before it wore off.

“You said we’d met more than once so, when was the next time?”

His smile was wickedly smug as he told her.

“The other day at the festival, I bought you the lemonade when you though you were following Percival.”

“I knew it! I knew you weren’t Percival!

“And you were right; so now can you tell me where Martha is?”

“I’m not sure she wants to see you.”

“Oh I’m sure she doesn’t; our conversation this afternoon wasn’t friendly.”

“Then why don’t you tell me what you want to say and I’ll tell her; and by the way…did you havoc us?”

Dillon chuckled at her obvious hope to force a confession but he countered with his own question.

“You were part of that havoc too?”

“Yes, even Willow, so we’d all like to know if it was you; were you guilty of those havocs?”

“Guess you’ll have to keep looking for your suspect Perfidia; it wasn’t me.”

“That’s disappointing,” she said sourly but wondered if he was still under the influence of the potion or if it had worn off.

“I don’t want you to think I’m not enjoying our truth-fest but, do you know where I can find Martha?”

Perfidia shrugged. “I don’t know but she’s here somewhere.”

“Then I’ll leave you to your sleuthing and by the way, have an honestly, nice evening Perfidia,” he added with a chuckle before walking away.

Perfidia didn’t find his parting remark to be funny and quickly placed the wine glass down on the table as if it were poison, which for her it was.

Even though she’d only had a few sips of it, she knew it was going to be a problem for, at least, the next half hour. She’d have to keep away from everyone and not allow anyone to talk to her, or ask her any questions but, there was a certain feline she’d like to have a conversation with. She had a sneaking suspicion how the tea ended up in the wine and only that feline knew what she’d done.

Perfidia didn’t see Willow anywhere but realized, even if she could find that cat and accuse her, that feline would just cat laugh at her predicament. Maybe she’d be better off finding Martha and telling her what she’d done.

“Excuse me, Perfidia?”

Perfidia sucked in her breath at the sound of that voice and turned slowly around with dread.

Jon stood a few feet away from her, holding two cups of tea.

“Jon,” she said with no enthusiasm.

“You did say we could talk over a cup of tea, so I brought the tea.”

“I did say that,” she admitted through clenched teeth, because she couldn’t force a lie.