A Hillcrest Witch Mystery Collection

by Amorette Anderson

  “It’s something,” Turkey says.

  I grin. “Progress,” I say. I lean down and give him a kiss on the forehead just as there’s a knock on the door. “That would be Marley!” I sing.

  The next half hour passes in a frenzy of surveillance preparation. Marley takes a shower while I blast music—mostly Michael Jackson—in an attempt to get pumped up about the evening’s events.

  Then we both slurp down mugs of hot coffee, while Marley shows me how to do the moonwalk. Yes, we get slightly off track, but then at the last minute we pull ourselves together and make our way down to her van.

  By seven thirty-five, we’re parked in front of the Hillcrest Inn. The sun has set, and moonlight bathes the streets and sidewalks. We’ve positioned the van just across from the inn, a few parking spots away from the front gate.

  While Marley fidgets with a pair of binoculars, I voice some concerns that have been bouncing around my mind since the afternoon.

  “It’s weird that no one has seen them,” I say. “Isn’t it weird? I mean, Raul arrived on Tuesday morning. That was two whole days ago. What has he been doing for two whole days?”

  Marley puts the binoculars down. “I feel like we’re spies or something,” she says, as though she hasn’t heard a word I just said. “And this is our mission. What if we were from another country? What if we had accents? What if we had super-secret code names?”

  “Marley,” I say. “I love the idea of secret code names. I mean really. I love it. But we have to be a tiny bit serious.” I hold up my thumb and forefinger, an inch apart. “Surveillance is one of the most dangerous tasks that a PI does. I learned that in my online program. Things can go really wrong.”

  Marley stares at me blankly.

  I continue. “I was communicating with Turkey, and he was reminding me about all of this stuff I learned in class. You know—surveillance can lead to confrontation, and...”

  Marley frowns. I know this isn’t what she wants to hear. It’s not really what I want to talk about either, but it must be said.

  “This isn’t a game,” I say. “This is real.” I’m trying to sound like an adult, but at the same time, I want to feel excited and happy with my friend. Then, I feel a grin breaking out. “But code names could be useful...” My mind starts to wander. Black Hawk? Panther? Orion? Smurfette?

  Suddenly, I spot a figure walking towards us. It’s a man; he’s muscular and stocky.

  Now, Marley’s van windows aren’t tinted or anything, and we’ve parked right beneath a street light. The moon is also very bright tonight. I know that the people on the street can see us.

  “Marley,” I say from between my teeth. “That’s him! Raul! He’s walking down the sidewalk!”

  Marley puts the binoculars up to her eyes and turns to look up the sidewalk, just as I say, “Don’t look!”

  She’s staring at Raul, and I am too. I know we shouldn’t be.

  Raul is looking down at the sidewalk as he walks. There’s a slight limp to his gait. His hands are stuffed in his pockets; he looks like he’s thinking about something. I slouch down in the van seat, while keeping my eyes on him. “Check out that back pack,” I say. He’s closer to us now, about to pass by the van.

  “Big,” Marley says.

  “Yeah. Looks like a hiking pack.”

  “Maybe he’s been out in the woods,” Marley says. She’s still looking through the binoculars, though they’re totally unnecessary. “His pants look kind of dirty, too. See how the knees are all smudged? I wonder if—oh, shoot, Penny, he’s looking over here. He’s looking at us!” Marley slouches down too.

  “Pretend you’re busy,” I say urgently.

  “Doing what?” Marley asks, her tone just as urgent. She’s trying to take the binoculars off of her neck, but the strap is tangled in her hair. “Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh no!” she whispers, as she works to free the strap. “I think he’s coming over this way!” Finally, she frees the binoculars and pushes them under her seat.

  “Don’t look at him!” I say again. “Here!” I reach behind us, and find a bag of chips. I toss it to her. “Open this! Let’s pretend we just stopped here for a picnic. Pretend I’m making a joke. Marley, look at me!”

  I can see out of the corner of my eye that Raul has indeed crossed the street. He’s looking directly at the van.

  “Oh, Penny! That’s so funny. Ha, ha, ha, HA!” Marley says stiffly. She reaches in the bag of chips, and pulls one out. Her eyes are wide and her motions are robot-like. She couldn’t be acting more suspicious if she tried.

  I try to play my part. I think I’m a better actress than Marley. “And then the other one said, ‘that’s why they swim in the Dead Sea’!”

  “Ha!” Marley says, her eyes like saucers. She crams a chip mechanically into her mouth, and crumbs fly out in every direction, as if she’s Cookie Monster. “The Dead Sea!” she repeats.

  She reaches for another chip, and it meets the same fate as the first—turning into hundreds of little crumbs that rain like confetti over her lap.

  Now I see Raul’s face, in the drivers’ side window.

  “Uh, Marley,” I say. “I think he wants to talk to us.”

  “Hunh?” Marley turns abruptly, showering crumbs across the driver’s side floor.

  “Ah!” She gives a little shout as she spots Raul’s face. Then, she rolls down the window. “Hi! Uh—we’re just having a picnic. My friend, Penny and I.” She motions over to me. “We always do this. HA!” She lifts the bag of chips and gives it a shake. “We like to hang out at random spots and eat corn chips. Nothing wrong with that!”

  Raul’s eying her like she’s crazy. “I just wanted to tell you I like your van,” he says, slowly.

  “Oh!” Marley says nervously. “Oh! Thanks.”

  “What year is it?” Raul asks.

  “A sixty-nine,” Marley says.

  Raul nods. “Sweet,” he says. “Retro. It’s in great shape. You could carry lots of surfboards on top.”

  “I never leave Hillcrest,” Marley says. “I don’t put many miles on it.”

  “That’ll keep it in good shape,” Raul says, nodding. He’s been looking at Marley, but now he looks over at me. Our eyes meet.

  He has dark, brown, almost black eyes. Now that he’s up close to us, I definitely see that he’s dirty. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and another on the front of his shoulder. He’s wearing a grey sweatshirt. We stare at each other for a beat, and then he backs up. “Well, you ladies enjoy your corn chips,” he says.

  Then, he crosses the street and enters the inn through the front door.

  “Well,” Marley says, brushing corn chip crumbs off of her thighs. “That was awkward. A picnic?”

  She shoots me a look.

  “It was all I could think of,” I say.

  “Now what?” Marley asks.

  “Now, we wait.”

  “For what?”

  “For something to happen.”

  Marley pulls out the binoculars again and begins looking at the inn. I rummage through our bag of supplies and find a giant bag of peanut M&Ms.

  For the next several hours, Marley and I watch the hotel.

  We also listen to music, and sing along to our favorite songs. And eat. A lot.

  By eleven forty-five, Marley is yawning so much that she’s swallowing all of the air in the van.

  “Stop that!” I say, when she emits her tenth giant yawn in a row. Watching her makes me yawn. “You’re making me sleepy,” I protest, as my mouth stretches open and my eyes water.

  “I’m making myself sleepy,” Marley protests. “Raul’s probably sleeping—or at least in bed. The overhead light in his room went out an hour ago. Now there’s only that dim reading light. We haven’t seen any movement in that room for ages. Why are we still here?”

  “It’s almost midnight,” I say. “Neville said that the wolves were out on the sidewalk at midnight. Maybe it will happen again.”

  “And maybe it won’t,” Marley says, sta
nding in a crouched position so that she can squeeze through the driver’s and passenger’s seats, and make her way into the back of the van.

  “I’m going to go into the back and lie down for a little nap,” she says. “Wake me up if anything exciting starts to—”

  “Marley!” I say, pulling on her sleeve. “Look! Look up the street!”

  Marley returns to her seat.

  “Someone’s coming!” I turn down the radio. Then, I start lying my seat back. “Flatten your seat!” I say. “So they can’t see us!”

  Once my seat is flat, I look across at Marley. She looks wide awake now. “Who was it?” she asks. “Did you see?”

  “It looked like a woman,” I whisper. “I’m going to take a peak. Stay there.”

  “Someone’s wearing her bossy pants tonight,” Marley says.

  “Well, you blew it with Raul.”

  “I blew it?” Marley says. “You were the one who suggested we pretend we were having a picnic.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to eat chips like you’re Cookie Monster. ‘I’m Marley. We’re having a picnic. We like to park in random spots and eat corn chips. Nothing to see here!’” I’m doing my best Cookie Monster impression, and Marley starts to giggle.

  I poke my head up above the dashboard, and peek out the window. The figure is still walking down the sidewalk. As she nears, I recognize her pencil skirt.

  “It’s Sarah Pelletier!” I whisper, still watching.

  Sarah slows as she gets to the front of the inn, and then looks around, left to right.

  I duck down again.

  “What?” Marley says.

  “She’s looking around,” I answer. “I don’t want her to see us watching.”

  After a second, I chance another peek. “Oh my goodness, Marley!” I whisper. “She’s creeping towards Raul’s window!”

  “No way!” Marley whispers, poking her head up too. “What in the world is she doing?”

  We both watch Sarah walk across the inn’s front lawn. She’s wearing heels, and with every other step, her heels poke into the grass, causing her to almost lose her balance. Then, she wobbles up close to the window of Raul’s room.

  There’s a large shrub in front of it, and she manages to press her body between the shrub and the inn’s siding so that she’s right up against the window. Then, after a moment, she backs out of the bushes, makes her way unsteadily back across the lawn, and leaves the inn’s property.

  When she’s on the sidewalk, she looks around her again, left to right.

  Marley and I duck down, as fast as we can.

  We’re both hushed. I think I’m holding my breath.

  I’m half expecting Sarah Pelletier to come knocking on the van window.

  I hope that doesn’t happen, but given our luck so far, it’s entirely likely.

  A few minutes pass and then I risk peeking out the window again.

  I see Sarah, walking up the sidewalk in the direction in which she came. “She’s leaving,” I say.

  “Whew!” Marley pops up too. “That was unexpected! I thought we were going to be watching Raul tonight, not Miss New Council Member of the Year, Sarah Pelletier! What is she doing snooping around like that?” she asks.

  “And she’s not the only one,” I say, looking up the sidewalk. Another figure is approaching!

  “Down!” I whisper.

  Marley and I follow the same protocol, only lifting our heads to take quick glances out the window.

  This time, the figure is clearly a man. It takes me longer to recognize him, since he’s wearing a black baseball cap pulled low over his brow. But as soon as he steps under the inn’s porch lights, I know who he is.

  “That’s Marty—with Animal Control,” I whisper.

  “It looks like he’s—is he—?” Marley whispers back. Her jaw drops. “He’s picking the lock!”

  Chapter Four

  She’s right. We both watch as Marty takes a knee, and begins jamming tools into the inn’s front door. Soon, he has it swinging open.

  “Should we call the police?” Marley asks. I already have my phone out.

  “Dialing!” I say, as I punch in the Hillcrest P.D.’s main line.

  It’s no surprise when Chris picks up. “Hillcrest Police Department, this is Captain Chris Wagner.”

  “Chris!” I say. “It’s Penny! I’m at Hillcrest Inn. You guys have to get down here!”

  As I speak, I see Marty take one last look over his shoulder and then disappear into the inn’s lobby. I duck down out of sight.

  “Are you okay?” Chris asks.

  “I’m safe Chris, but we just saw Marty—you know, Animal Control Marty.”

  “Marty Stevens,” Chris supplies.

  “Right,” I say. “He broke into the inn!”

  “What are you doing at the inn? It’s past midnight.”

  “Overnight surveillance. Marley and I are here, watching for a couple big dogs that Neville saw... I can’t explain now. Chris, Marty is inside the building. Should I go in after him?”

  “Stay where you are,” Chris says authoritatively. Then he adds, “Wherever that is.”

  “Marley’s van,” I say. “We’re across the street. I think I should go in...” I’m sitting up now. “I have my gun in my bag,” I say, as I start to rummage through my bag.

  “Do not go in there, Penny. Stay put. We’re coming right over. I’m going to get McDougal now. I’ll call you right back.”

  “Get him?” I ask. “Where is he? You’re at the station, right?” I’m watching the inn attentively, looking for signs of struggle. What is Marty doing in there?

  “We’re parked out on the highway. There was an accident just outside of Hillcrest and the Melrose cops asked for backup.”

  “When will you get here?” I ask.

  “Give us ten minutes,” Chris says. “Fifteen, tops.”

  “But Chris, Marty is inside the inn. What if he’s dangerous? I should go in and —”

  “Penny, think this through,” Chris says. “If Marty isn’t planning on hurting anyone, you charging in there with a gun is only going to escalate things. And if he is planning on hurting someone, you aren’t prepared to stop him safely.”

  “I could do something...” I say. “I can’t just sit here.”

  “You’re not just sitting there. You called us. Now let us do our job. Hold tight, all right? Let me go get McDougal.”

  “Okay,” I say quietly.

  “I love you, Penny,” he says, before getting off the phone.

  “Love you,” I murmur.

  When I hang up, Marley is looking at me anxiously. “Is Chris on his way?” she asks.

  “Yeah—from an accident scene out on the highway. Him and McDougal aren’t going to be here for another fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes!” says Marley. “What do you think we should do?”

  I eye my bag again. Sure, I’m not trained like police are, but I have taken down a murderer or two. And I’m a witch, for goodness sake.

  “We could use magic,” I say.

  “The Power Spell?” suggests Marley.

  “Yes,” I say. “You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. This could be dangerous, Marley. You should stay out here and call Dawn and Neville. Tell them what we saw, and that I’m coming in.”

  I begin reaching for my gun.

  “If you’re going to use magic, why are you bringing your gun?” Marley asks.

  I pull my little hand gun with the pearl handle out. “It doesn’t hurt to pack heat, too,” I say, as I reach for the door handle.

  Just as I’m about to open the van door, Marley stops me.

  “Penny, wait!” she says. “The inn’s front door is opening. I think he’s coming back out!”

  I release my grip on the handle, and crouch back down so I’m hiding again.

  Marley is lying flat. She does a half-sit up, and looks out the window.

  “He’s leaving,” she says. “He’s walking down
the steps... out to the sidewalk...” She flattens herself again for a minute, and then sits up again. “He’s going up the hill.”

  “Any new lights on inside?” I say. “Anything look different or out of place?”

  “Just that one reading lamp still. Nothing looks different. Hang on... What’s that?”

  I can’t help it. I pop up and take a look.

  That’s when I see someone else is coming down the sidewalk. No, make that two someone elses.

  We sure picked the right night to do surveillance! This is getting crazy!

  “What the...?” Marley says, voicing my thoughts exactly.

  The first man is a complete stranger. He is lean and tall. He’s wearing a tan trench coat. His long, white hair, which is tied back in a low ponytail, reflects the moonlight in an eerie manner. His pale face is spooky too—with a long, sharply pointed nose and deep-set eyes. He’s moving quickly—almost at a run.

  The second figure is twenty feet behind the first, trailing the man in the trench coat furtively. He hides behind bushes, trash cans, and anything else he can find, and then sprints forward every few moments. I see that he’s wearing a grey knit cap, and a sweatshirt. He’s tall, and has a dark beard. It’s Raul’s visitor.

  They’re coming down the hill, fast. Neither of them bother looking over towards our van. It’s a good thing, too, because Marley and I are too captivated by the scene that’s unfolding to even think about ducking down out of sight.

  We watch in horror as the white-haired man bounds up the inn’s front steps. He tries the door handle.

  It opens up.

  Marty must not have locked it, when he left.

  “He’s going inside!” I say, in shock.

  “I can see that!” Marley says. “I’m not blind.”

  At first my friend’s attitude irks me, but then I remember that we’re both on edge.

  “I know,” I say. “Sorry. What’s the other guy doing?”

  “He looks like he’s calling someone!” Marley says.

  Indeed, the man in the grey cap now has his cellphone out. He looks distressed as he presses his phone to his ear. His other hand is up, his elbow crooked. He cradles the back of his head and then flings his arm down with frustration as he pulls the phone away from his ear.