by Cindy Stark
She lifted her gaze to him. “Placed there by witches?”
He kept his gaze trained on her and shrugged. “You tell me. Normally, I wouldn’t have considered it part of a case, but after the pyramid of rocks, it made me wonder. It was only a few feet from John’s vehicle.”
Her pulse grew stronger, and she picked up the photo to study it closer. “It’s hard to tell from a picture. Birds die all the time. Animals catch them or old age.”
A shiver left goose bumps on her skin. “This one doesn’t look like it was mauled.”
“Nope. Perfect condition. Looked like it tucked right down in the grass and died. Plus, John, the bird, and the rocks were almost in the exact spot where Fauna was attacked.”
“Yeah,” she countered. “But Cora and I were the only witches who knew Fauna’s location. None of the others did. Of course, John did, too.”
She caught the look of wonder in his eyes and shot him a warning look. “No. Cora had nothing to do with this. I’d trust her with my life.”
The harsh set of Peter’s shoulders softened. “Okay, then. But maybe she told the others?”
Hazel thought on that. “I suppose she could have, but I don’t know why she would.”
She studied his expression and the expectation hovering there. “I know some bad spells or hexes do require a sacrifice. Usually, it can be blood without having to kill anything.”
“Does killing something make it stronger?”
Her insides twisted. “I’m not sure, but I think so. I’ve heard rumors of witches accessing the darkest magic. But that harms the user as well. No one I know would go that far.”
He arched a brow. “No one?”
She pondered the witches in her coven, even Harriett and Olivia, and then shook her head. “No. Some can be petty, but they’re not stupid. Besides, if it is one of them bent on revenge on Fauna’s behalf, there are plenty of other ways to harm someone without putting themselves at risk.”
Peter lifted a pinch of lemon grass from her workshop table and sniffed. “Okay. Then I’ll put more focus on the others, but you keep your ears open.”
“I will.”
He seemed satisfied. “If it’s not one of your coven, then I’m leaning toward the brother-in-law.”
“Eddy? Why him and not Susan? Her husband cheated on her and gave away their savings.”
Peter snorted. “Twenty thousand gone. From what we can tell, it went to an organization called Providence, LLC. One of my guys thinks he’s heard of it before. Says it’s a prostitution ring. So, we’re investigating that, too.”
Hazel widened her eyes. “If my husband cheated on me and gave our savings to a prostitution ring, I’d likely murder him, too.”
He grinned. “Well noted.”
She chuckled. “Susan has more motive than her brother.”
“On the one hand…” Peter lifted a hand outward, palm up. “She’s definitely a woman wronged. And she did act odd when we asked her to identify the hose used. She denied seeing it before.”
Then he did the same with his other hand. “But did you notice how protective Eddy is of her?”
He lifted and lowered each hand as though weighing their guilt. “She’s hurt but weak. He’s strong and angry. I go with him. Besides, if it’s not a suicide, whoever murdered him would have had to overpower him at some point. A person isn’t likely to go along willingly.”
“Unless she drugged him.”
He shook his head. “She still would have had to get him into the driver’s seat. She’s not strong enough.”
Hazel smiled, loving the way they worked together. “Unless she convinced him to drive her out to the lake and drugged him in the car. She could have connected the hose to the tailpipe, rolled up the window, and left. Easy way to commit a murder without getting any blood on her hands.”
He studied her and slowly nodded. “Good point. I’ll take that into consideration.”
She grinned. “Admit it. You’d be lost without me.”
A chuckle burst out of him. “I’ll have you know we solved a good many cases in the years before you arrived in Stonebridge.”
“Maybe so, but you have to admit you have more fun investigating with me.”
His smile and the love radiating from him swelled her heart like a giant red balloon.
He held the lemon grass toward her. “I like this.”
She grinned. “Me, too. It’s settled. That will be in our tea for sure.”
Chapter Thirteen
In the early morning hours, Hazel parked her car near Teas and Temptations and stepped out. Frosty air kissed her cheeks and tightened her lungs. Most would think her crazy for climbing out of bed on a snuggly morning before the sun had officially called it a new day, but she had business that needed to be accomplished before dawn.
Namely, reconnaissance. Library reconnaissance that was.
Serious business.
If she was to determine the lay of the land and any weakness in the library fortress, she needed to do it before the majority of Stonebridge woke and began their day.
Her breaths froze into puffs of white as they emerged from her mouth. She crossed the street and walked quickly toward the library. Everything lay quiet in an eerie hush and set her nerves on edge.
She silently laughed to herself. This was the same town, the same streets she walked every day. They shouldn’t feel any different now than in the daytime.
But they did.
She kept to the shadows so that anyone out and about wouldn’t see her. The library loomed before her, also dark in slumber. Still, she swore she could hear voices calling out from the books, luring her inside for an adventure.
She quickly darted toward new shadows and crept closer to the historic rock building. If only it could talk. The stories it would tell.
Hazel reached the cluster of pines where she’d performed the spell to close the lock on Timothy’s chest and opened her senses. Slight traces of magic lingered in the air, but perhaps only she could sense them since they were her magic.
She hoped so.
She wondered if the library builders who’d laid the foundation and then had carefully placed each rock knew it would still stand centuries later, a mark of their talent and skills. She hoped she could leave a positive mark on the world as well.
Chilly air seeped into her bones, and she placed a hand on the cold, rock wall. She walked the perimeter, trailing her fingers along the stones, mentally looking for special wards or magic that might reside inside the building or protect it from outside intruders.
She circled along the back of the building, grateful to be hidden from view, and then emerged on the other side. Nothing stood out to her. Windows were locked, but she couldn’t see any reason her magic wouldn’t open them.
She ducked behind a tree as two headlights cruised down the street, flickered across the grounds, and continued on. Someone with somewhere to be. No one interested in her or what she was about.
When she reached the corner that would bring her to the front of the building, she paused and listened for any approaching vehicles. While she checked the front doors, she would be visible to anyone on the street if they looked in her direction. Overhead lights that lined the sidewalk would ensure that.
When she’d ascertained that all was quiet, she scurried across the lawn, her feet crunching on the frozen morning dew. She reached the sidewalk and realized she’d left a trail of mashed grass behind her.
Nothing she could do about that now. Traces of her visit would likely be gone by the time Timothy arrived to open the library anyway. And it could have been anyone. Teenagers, even. Her feet weren’t that big.
She hesitated at the front door and hovered her hand near the handle, searching for any kind of resistance. Nothing. When she’d played volunteer librarian a few weeks ago and John Bartles had come to lock up for the night, she hadn’t observed him setting an alarm.
As far as she could tell, Stonebridge’s library was only protected by a simple lock. One that s
he could easily break.
She couldn’t wait to tell Cora.
For now, she needed to get the heck out of there. The first vestiges of sun appeared as a rosy glow on the horizon, and she wouldn’t keep her anonymity for long.
She turned toward the sidewalk. A low hum of an engine caught her attention, and she froze. A car approached, but trees blocked her view.
They also hid her.
She slid behind pines flanking the building and held still, waiting for it to pass.
Instead, the vehicle slowed and parked along the front of the building.
“Son of a crunchy biscuit,” she said beneath her breath.
The driver killed the engine. A moment later, one door shut, followed by another.
She slid farther into the trees and crept along the side of the building in case whoever parked was headed for the library’s front doors.
When a thick oak blocked her hidden path, she stopped and held her breath. Footsteps approached.
Two men’s voices reached out to her, and she strained to hear what they said. One was Timothy, for sure, but she couldn’t recognize the other.
“We lay low,” Timothy said. “Let things play out. No need to be involved at this point.”
“Is that wise?” the stranger asked.
“I think it’s our best course of action for now, Sam.”
Sam? As in Samuel Canterbury?
Their footsteps stopped, and a metal key scraped against the lock. Another minute, they’d be inside, and she’d be free.
A tickle on her skin caught her off guard.
Her mind screamed “spider”, and she slapped a palm over her hand to brush it away.
The moment skin hit skin, she realized her mistake. It wasn’t a loud noise, but in the quiet morning hours, the sound might as well have been.
She closed her eyes to say a quick prayer.
“Hello?” Timothy called out.
“We’d better check it,” said the other man, and she sensed their energy drawing nearer.
Holy harpy. She had no way to escape.
She had to…appear as though she meant to be there. As though she had nothing to hide.
Praying she wasn’t making the worst choice of her life, she stepped from behind the trees and smiled. “Oh, hello, Timothy.”
She glanced to the tall, gray-haired man standing behind him and then back to the librarian. “I didn’t think you opened this early in the morning.”
Timothy shot her a suspicious look. “Hazel. Why are you creeping around in my bushes?”
She grinned and shook her head as though embarrassed, even as her mind searched for a logical reason for her to be where she was. “You’re going to think I’m an idiot, but—”
A flash of ginger fur dashed behind the stranger and into the trees. She jerked a finger in his direction. “There he is. My cat. He ran away, and I chased him here. He’s been playing hide and seek in your trees and bushes.”
Both men turned to look behind Samuel. Then the tall man focused a sharp gaze on her. “I don’t see a cat.”
She swallowed. “No, really. Come here, kitty-kitty. Come to momma.”
Just then, Mr. Kitty strutted from the trees, right past both men until he reached her. He rubbed his face against her jeans, and she snatched him from the ground.
She was sure her cat could feel her trembling. “There you are, silly boy.”
She petted his fur, and the purr rumbling beneath her fingers soothed her fears. Mr. Kitty might drive her crazy, but the dear one always had her back.
Uncanny as that might be.
Samuel grunted and studied her with dark eyes.
Timothy’s suspicions also remained intact. “You chased him all the way here from your house?”
She released a breathless laugh. “Oh, no. Just from my teashop. I’ve been working extra hours to get ready for the holiday season. In fact, now that I have this little stinker, I should probably get back to it.”
Timothy still seemed leery. “Uh-huh, okay. Glad it was just you. Someone tampered with the locks recently. Got inside.”
Her heart dropped, leaving her queasy. “Really? I hope you reported it. Was anything stolen?”
Timothy shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Just a few disturbed items.”
A tingle raced up her spine, and she feared he referred to the snooping she’d done whilst in his office. Which meant, he must suspect her. Or he was testing her to see her reaction.
Mr. Kitty dug nails into her arm, not hurting her, and she understood the warning.
She maintained her composure. “Teenagers, most likely. Maybe it was a dare. You know how kids can be.”
Samuel eyed Timothy with a disappointed look. “I hope you secured everything better this time.”
Timothy seemed to shrink under his stare. “I contacted City Hall. The doors have new locks. As soon as the budget allows, they’re sending someone to put in an alarm system. In the meantime, the cops are watching it closely.”
“Sounds like baloney to me, boy.”
Timothy lifted a hand as though to calm him. “Don’t worry about it. Things are secure.”
Hazel snugged Mr. Kitty tighter to her. “I should really get back. Glad everything is okay.”
Timothy gave her a dismissive wave, and the two men turned and headed toward the library’s door. Samuel’s gait was slightly unsteady and that jogged her memory. The more she watched, the more she wondered if he was the one who’d hurt Fauna. Her attacker had seemed to run funny.
Or maybe it was only the uneven ground he’d traveled over.
Samuel glanced back at her for a long moment that left her shivering.
If he was Fauna’s attacker, then he knew she was the one who’d run him off before he could finish the job. Did he know that she knew, or was he trying to guess?
She inhaled a steadying breath.
Here she was, standing in the dark with two known witch haters. Men that could take her down and make her disappear, and no one would be the wiser.
The error of her early morning reconnaissance became very clear. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she forced herself to take one step and then another, each carrying her farther away from the threat and closer to safety.
Mr. Kitty climbed up until his front paws rested on her shoulder.
She was certain he watched the men until they disappeared inside the building, making sure they weren’t a continued threat to her.
She buried her nose into his soft fur. “I love you, Mr. Kitty. Thank you,” she whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
Hazel remained locked inside the teashop, intending to hide in the backroom until Gretta arrived to open for the day. She pulled out herbs and fruits so she could work on producing tea, but the incident that morning had fragmented her thoughts, and she couldn’t concentrate.
The sight of her assistant brought her back to the real world.
Gretta widened her eyes and smiled when she found Hazel in the back room. She removed a bright red scarf and hung it on a coat hook, and then shrugged out of her coat. “I’d wondered why the lights were already on, but then I saw your car outside.”
Hazel gave a casual shrug. “Oh, you know. Just trying to get ahead of the upcoming holidays. With the influx of people wanting to see a witch town around Halloween, we’re running low on a few of the teas.”
Gretta stepped closer and gazed as the ingredients Hazel had laid before her. “That’s good, though, right? More sales equals more money.”
Hazel snorted. “Thank you for pointing that out. I was starting to feel sorry for myself having all this work. More sales means that I’ll be able to eat this month, maybe have enough for a new outfit, and be able to give a nice bonus to my wonderful assistant at the end of the year.”
She grinned. “I like the sound of that. Working for you has been the best job ever.”
Hazel’s lips curved into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Gretta. That’s very kind of you. I’ve l
oved working with you, too. We’re a great team.”
“Yes, we are.” Gretta nodded toward the front of the shop. “I’d better get out there, so we can open on time. The closer we get to the weekend, the busier we get.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be back here for maybe another hour, and then I need to pop over to see that crazy police chief.”
Gretta laughed. “Crazy for you, you mean. I shouldn’t rub it in, but, I told you so.”
Hazel smiled and shook her head. She couldn’t very well argue with that.
****
When Hazel entered the main part of her teashop an hour later, Mr. Kitty rose from the coral chair where he’d been sleeping, stood, and stretched. He jumped down and followed her to the front door.
She glanced down at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
He meowed and rubbed against her leg.
Gretta chuckled. “He’s so cute and sweet.”
Sweet? Hazel gave an inward chuckle. To everyone but her. Still, he loved her, and she loved him. “I think you should stay here where it’s warm,” she told him.
He chuffed and released several meows, basically warning her that if she didn’t let him tag along, he’d sneak out anyway, and then she’d be left to explain to Gretta how her cat had managed to escape.
“Fine.” She bent and scooped him up.
He purred and purred.
“I’ll be back soon, though I might drop this rascal off at home.”
Once they were outside and several feet down the cobblestone sidewalk, out of Gretta’s view, she set him on the ground. “Maybe you should go home. I’ll be fine here.”
“Oh, isn’t that cute,” came a voice from behind her.
Hazel whirled.
Mrs. Tillens walked toward them with slower than usual steps, her arthritis obviously bothering her that morning. She must have come out of a nearby shop, because Hazel had been certain no one else was near her when she’d stopped.
“Good morning, Mrs. Tillens,” Hazel offered brightly and hoped her conversation with Mr. Kitty wouldn’t cause speculation.
Mrs. Tillens glanced between Hazel and the orange cat who sat at her feet. “Good morning, dear. And good morning to you, adorable kitty.”