Bedtime Fury

by Annabel Chase

  Bedtime Fury

  Federal Bureau of Magic Cozy Mystery, Book 5

  Annabel Chase

  Red Palm Press LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Also by Annabel Chase

  Chapter One

  Pancakes sizzled on the griddle. I watched the rounded edges bubble and brown as I waited for the right moment to drop in a handful of blueberries.

  “I want chocolate chip,” she said.

  Now you might think that ‘she’ refers to my five-year-old niece, Olivia, but you would be wrong.

  “Grandma, I already told you I'm making blueberry pancakes,” I said. “If you want chocolate chips in yours, then you’ll have to make them yourself.”

  Grandma glared at me from the dining table. “I thought you were making us breakfast for change.”

  I slid the spatula underneath the first pancake and flipped it. “Exactly. I said I’d make breakfast, not take orders. This isn’t Gouda Nuff.”

  “It sure isn’t,” Grandma mumbled.

  “Chocolate chip pancakes are dessert, not breakfast,” Verity said from her place at the table. As a doctor, my sister-in-law is firmly entrenched in the minimum five fruits and vegetables per day camp.

  “Dessert for breakfast!” Olivia cried out. “I can’t wait to tell my teacher.” She hopped up and down in her chair.

  “Now sweetheart, there’s no need to tell your teacher what you ate for breakfast,” Verity said.

  Despite the affectionate tone, I heard the unspoken panic that she would be judged for her poor choice to serve her daughter such an unhealthy morning meal. I don’t envy moms today.

  “Well, I have to tell Prudence,” Olivia said. “She’s always boasting about her muffin like it’s a gift from the gods.”

  “Sounds like your grandmother,” Grandma quipped, and Verity shot her a silencing look.

  “You don’t need to compete with Prudence,” Verity said.

  “Not when you’re the clear winner,” Grandma added.

  Verity pressed her lips into a thin line. “That’s not what I mean.”

  Olivia crossed her arms. “Prudence says she’s better than me because the teacher gave her the Patience Award this month.”

  “It is a virtue,” Verity said. “Especially for children.”

  “I’ll teach you a spell that puts ants in her pants,” Grandma told the five-year-old. “That’ll put Prudence in her place.”

  “Esther, don’t encourage her,” Aunt Thora said.

  “You’re one to talk,” Grandma said. “I seem to recall some of your more creative spells when a classmate annoyed you.”

  Olivia’s blue eyes shone. “Like what?”

  “I was young and foolish,” Aunt Thora said.

  “Liar, liar, pants on fire was inspired,” Grandma countered.

  “No one is setting anyone’s pants on fire,” Verity said firmly.

  I flipped the rest of the pancakes and listened to the satisfying hiss as the batter hit the heat.

  “Where’s the coffee?” my mother’s voice rang out. She sauntered into the kitchen, still in her pink silk robe and ballet-style slippers. Her hair and makeup, on the other hand, looked red carpet-ready.

  “You literally just walked in here and you're already making demands,” I said. “How about ‘gosh, Eden, those pancakes sure smell good.’”

  My mother splayed her hands on the countertop. “Coffee smells better. Now do you intend to make any or should I get it started?”

  “Really the coffee should've been started first,” Grandma said. “People always have their first cup before eating.”

  I groaned as I served the first batch of pancakes onto a plate. “Grandma, you always have tea when you first wake up.”

  Grandma wore an innocent expression. “I didn’t say me. I said people.”

  “You know, Eden,” my mother said, “if you ever expect to get married and have a family of your own, you need to learn how to do these things.”

  “Is that what this is, Eden?” Aunt Thora asked. “Are you practicing?”

  I delivered a serving plate stacked with pancakes to the middle of the table. “The only reason I’m doing this is to be nice to my family.”

  “Oh, good,” Grandma said. “You could use the practice.”

  I shot her a dark look before returning to the griddle for the next batch. In truth, I had an ulterior motive, but I wasn't about to share it. My secret hope was that I would kill my family with kindness so they would stop killing each other with lightning bolts. I wanted to appeal to the slivers of good in their natures and show them how nice it felt to give and receive kindness. I figured breakfast was a good place to start. It was, after all, the most important meal of the day.

  “I, for one, appreciate Eden's efforts this morning,” Verity said. “Aunt Thora, can you please pass the syrup?”

  “We sure are going to miss having you here,” Aunt Thora said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Grandma muttered.

  “We all knew this day would come,” Verity said. “Living with you was only ever meant to be temporary.”

  Now that the renovations on their house were finally finished, my brother and his family were moving out of my mother’s house. I wasn't sure how much would really change, given that the children would still be here most days while their parents work and they decided to leave behind Charlemagne, their Burmese python. Their house was only five minutes away. I imagined the children riding their bikes to visit me in the barn when they were old enough. One of the main reasons I felt better about being forced to return to Chipping Cheddar was the fact that I could be a positive influence on my niece and nephew. That meant spending quality time with them as often as possible.

  Anton breezed into the kitchen in his suit and tie. “I’m running late.” He stopped short and sniffed the air. “Why don’t I smell coffee?”

  “Because you smell pancakes,” I said.

  “Your sister didn’t make any,” my mother said.

  Anton’s gaze alighted on the stack and he grinned. “I can get coffee on the way to work, but I can’t get pancakes.” He squeezed in between Grandma and Verity. “Grandma, you know the rules. No screens at the table, please.”

  Grandma glanced up from her phone. “What? I’m about to level up.”

  “Little Critters again?” Anton asked.

  “What else?” Grandma held up her phone. “I’m so close to the top level. All I have to do is win the next battle.”

  “You’re setting a bad example for the children,” Verity said. She inclined her head toward Olivia and one-year-old Ryan in the high chair.

  “I’m showing them how to be a winner,” Grandma said. “How is that bad? They’re certainly not going to learn it from their parents.”

  “Hey!” Anton said. “Verity and I are both successful.”

  “Sure, at your jobs,” Grandma said. “Who cares about that?”

  “I do,” Verity said. “I take my job very seriously.”

  “We know,” my mother said with a pinched smile.

  I delivered the rest of the pancakes to the table and sat down to enjoy them.

  “Coffee?” my mother prompted. She held up an empty mug and I was tempted to bonk her on the head with it—except that wasn’t withi
n the parameters of Operation Kill Them With Kindness.

  “I’ll take care of the coffee,” Aunt Thora said. “I’m sure Eden has to leave for work shortly.”

  “Not dressed like that she doesn’t,” my mother said.

  I glanced down at my gray T-shirt. “What's wrong with this? It’s got a cute cat on it.”

  “What isn’t wrong with it?" my mother shot back. “It says pet me and die.”

  “So what?” I said. “It's funny.”

  “It’s off-putting to a man,” my mother said. “Makes you seem frigid, like some kind of ice princess.”

  “Elsa!” Olivia said.

  “Conceal, don’t feel,” Anton added with an amused grin.

  “Is Elsa your favorite princess?” I asked. I'd only been back in Chipping Cheddar for a few months and was still getting to know my niece and nephew. I’d been living in San Francisco where I worked as an FBI agent, until an unfortunate incident forced me back to my hometown, the one place I thought I’d never settle.

  Olivia pulled a face. “No way. It's Ursula.”

  “I don't know a Princess Ursula,” I said. “Which story is she from?”

  “The Little Mermaid,” Olivia said. “She's not a princess. She's a sea witch.”

  I had no doubt that was my family's influence.

  My mother wasn’t ready to let go of the problematic T-shirt situation. “There are plenty of cat T-shirts that don't make it seem like you’re determined to be alone for the rest of your life,” my mother said. “I saw an adorable one just the other day that said the snuggle is real.” She pointed at me. “You wear that and you’re sending the right sort of message.”

  “That I like puns?” I asked.

  My mother scowled. “No need to be a smartass.”

  “I come by it honestly,” I replied in sticky sweet tone. Kind over matter, I reminded myself. It didn’t matter what my family threw at me, I was determined to rise above it and lead the way to goodness by example—even if it killed me.

  “How are your pancakes, Ryan?” Verity asked.

  “Why are you letting him eat pancakes with his hands?” my mother asked.

  “There's no syrup on them,” my sister-in-law said.

  My mother placed a hand on her chest. “No syrup? That's like sex without an orgasm.”

  Anton grabbed his forehead. “Mom, could you not? We’re eating.”

  “And there are children present,” Verity added. “Besides, he doesn’t need the extra sugar.”

  “Oh, honey,” my mother said, “everybody needs a little extra sugar every now and again. Like I said…”

  Anton held up a hand. “We know what you said. Thanks for the insightful analogy.”

  “Such prudes at this table,” my mother grumbled.

  Aunt Thora brought over the coffee pot and filled my mother’s mug. “Anyone else?”

  “No time,” Anton said. He’d gobbled down his pancakes in record time. “I’ll see everyone tonight. It’s back-to-back meetings today.” He kissed his wife and children goodbye.

  “What about the move?” Verity asked. “You’re supposed to help supervise.”

  Anton grabbed his wallet from the counter and stuffed it into his back pocket. “You’re a much better supervisor than I’ll ever be. I trust you.”

  Verity’s mouth opened to protest, but Anton was gone before she could eek out a word.

  My mother heaved a regretful sigh. “So much like his father.”

  “Not really,” Verity said. She carried her plate to the sink. “He’s already shown he has better taste in women.”

  Grandma glanced up from her phone with a mischievous smile. “Someone’s feeling liberated on moving day.”

  I made a quiet escape before I drew anyone’s ire. Operation Kill Them With Kindness didn’t mean offering myself as a sacrificial lamb. There were plenty of actual lambs in Chipping Cheddar for that.

  Chapter Two

  On my way to the office, I passed by Magic Beans, the new coffee shop owned by my witchy rival, Corinne LeRoux. The shop was reopened now, having been temporarily closed due to contaminated coffee beans. I noticed a sign in the window that read Coffee with a Cop, Today 9-10am. My heart sank. Apparently, Corinne’s relationship with the chief of police was going so well that they decided to work together in some capacity. So much for getting to the office on time. I pulled into the first parking spot I saw. Although I knew it was like scratching a scab, I couldn’t resist going in.

  I lingered on the pavement and stole a quick glimpse inside. My stomach jumped slightly, as it always did at the sight of Sawyer Fox. The police chief sat at a table with his back to the door, while his pug, Achilles, drank from a bowl at his feet. The chief was deep in conversation with an older gentleman I didn’t recognize. Corinne smiled as she brought the old man a cup of coffee. I’d be smiling too if I were dating the sexiest, most handsome man in Chipping Cheddar. I tried to shrug off the mantle of jealousy that had settled on my shoulders. After all, I was the one to reject a relationship with him—not that I wanted to. I would have liked nothing more than to embark on a normal relationship with the chief. Dinners on the waterfront, picnics at the park with the dogs, snuggling under a blanket in front of the television late at night—the works. Life wasn't that kind to me, though. I was saddled with responsibilities that trumped my personal feelings and desires. I had to make peace with that. Somehow.

  Finally, I steeled myself and opened the door. Corinne glanced up as I entered and I caught the subtle look of surprise on her face. She likely didn’t expect me back after the borer demon incident, the aforementioned contaminated coffee bean situation.

  “Good morning, Eden,” she said. Her hair was in its natural state today, beautiful brown curls with threads of gold. Sometimes she straightened it, but today was not one of those days.

  Chief Fox craned his neck to greet me. “Hey there, Agent Fury. You’re here for Coffee with a Cop, aren’t you?”

  I approached the table, ignoring the whirlwind in my stomach. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Eden, do you know Mr. Riggin?” Corinne asked. “He lives out near the Tasker farm, past Cheddar Gorge.”

  The older gentleman looked at me. “Please, call me Stuart.”

  “Nice to meet you, Stuart,” I said. “I used to play in the fields at the Tasker farm. My brother and I even rode their horses without their permission sometimes.”

  “Eden Fury committed an intentional criminal act?” Chief Fox asked. He clucked his tongue. “And yet they accepted you into the FBI. How standards have changed.”

  “We were stupid kids,” I said. “To be honest, I can't believe the Tasker farm is still there. It must be one of the last holdouts.” Chipping Cheddar, Maryland had once been acres of farmland owned by English Puritans with surnames like Bradford, Danforth, and Cawdrey. Some of the dairy farmers eventually turned to cheesemaking, kickstarting the town’s love affair with cheese.

  “It is,” Stuart agreed. “My wife and I have dinner with the Taskers sometimes. Mary Tasker might be known for the best apple pie in town, but my wife makes the best fidget pie you’ve ever tasted.”

  “I love fidget pie,” Corinne said. “It’s got to have a strong cheddar cheese, though, or it’s too bland.”

  “That’s sort of why I’m here,” Stuart said.

  “Fidget pie?” I asked.

  Stuart offered a sad smile. “My wife.”

  “Mrs. Riggin hasn’t been herself lately, apparently,” Corinne said. “She left a roast in the oven and nearly set the house on fire.”

  “She didn’t even seem upset about it,” Stuart said. “She just said ‘these things happen,’ like it was nothing.”

  “I can see why you'd be concerned,” I said. “Has she been evaluated by a doctor?”

  Stuart nodded. “Doc says she’s in good shape for her age. Couldn’t find anything amiss. I’m telling you, though, she’s not my Shelley. All the light has gone out of her eyes. She’s always been the warmest wo
man in a room. People always want to talk her ear off because they sense her compassion.”

  “But not lately?” I asked.

  “Yesterday, I tripped going up the stairs and fell on my face,” Stuart said. “Got this mark to show for it.” He pointed to a small cut on his chin. “The old Shelley would have made a fuss over me. Made me a drink and brought me a compress and a Band-Aid.”

  “But not this Shelley?” I asked.

  Stuart's gaze dropped to the table. “She didn't even bother to ask if I was all right. She just kept shucking corn as though nothing had happened.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” I said. “If this continues, maybe consider getting a second opinion. My sister-in-law is a doctor here in town—Verity Fury. She’d be happy to examine your wife.”

  “Thank you kindly,” Stuart said. “A second opinion isn't a bad idea.”

  “Mr. Riggin initially sat down to tell me about a fox that's been terrorizing his chickens,” Chief Fox said. “We got a bit off-topic.”

  “You keep chickens?” I asked, delighted. “I always liked the idea of fresh eggs.”

  Stuart clasped his hands on the table. “That’s definitely one of the perks. The downside is coming out in the morning and finding one of your chickens brutally murdered. You get attached.” His expression clouded over. “I take it pretty hard. Shelley did, too, before…” He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

  “I’ll be sure to send Deputy Guthrie around to check on the chickens,” the chief said. “We look after all our residents, not just the human ones.” He reached down to stroke Achilles’ head.

  Chief Fox had no idea how true his statement was. He was human and new to Chipping Cheddar. He didn’t know about the supernatural world in plain sight. He certainly didn’t know he was dating a witch. At least the LeRoux witches weren’t wicked like the ones in my family.