by Susan Harper
“He might be a mystic,” Monica said, and Holly’s eyes glistened. “Or he will be able to tell you about your mother, and maybe she is?”
“I am finally going to get some answers,” Holly said. “If I can find my dad, that is. This could change everything for me, you know? I mean, I can learn what I am. I might be able to figure out what sort of mystic I am. I could meet all sorts of family I never knew. It’s all so crazy, you know?”
“That is crazy to think about,” Monica said. “Do you think we will be able to track him down?”
“Maybe,” Holly said. “That’s the hope.”
There was a chime, and Monica turned to see the door opening. It was Brian, and Monica smiled. “Hey, stranger,” she said.
“Date night,” Brian said sternly. “You and me, please. I finally got a night off, and I miss you.”
Monica grinned. “That sounds perfect. Tonight?”
“Of course,” Brian said. “If you’re free?”
“Just let me get everything closed down,” Monica said.
“Closed down? Please, that’s what you hired me for. Get out of here. The cat and I will hold down the fort,” Holly assured her, and Abigail let out a loud meow.
Monica grinned and thanked Holly before following Brian out. She was ready for a date night, as it was long overdue. He made her very happy. She thought about what Xana had said to her at the stadium, and she cringed slightly. She liked Brian, but she wondered if the scrutiny of dating a mortal would be worth it.
He revealed a picnic basket sitting in his car, and Monica beamed. Yes, definitely worth it.
An Eye for Murder
Back Room Bookstore Cozy Mystery, Book 5
1
Monica Montoya was what one would call an unnatural witch. As a twin, as often happened with mystic twins, there had been a risk that one child would be born without magic. Unfortunately for Monica, that was her. Her sister Mona was the natural witch with more power than she could have ever dreamed of—enough for two, frankly—but Monica was a mystic, nevertheless. The ounce of power within her was minimal. Everything she did took extreme effort. Spellcasting was not something that came easy to her at all. No, she was more of a potions master, which even non-mystics could master with time, and she was an excellent flyer. That being said, Monica still liked to regularly practice her wand-waving skills even if it would often backfire on her. Like today.
“Duck!” Holly cried, jumping behind a bookshelf as a load of books soared past her. Holly was Monica’s one and only employee at Backroom Books, and though the woman supposedly had some sort of mystic ancestry, she had been raised by her adopted mortal parents and was still getting used to this world of magic.
Monica grabbed the butterfly net and proceeded to chase after the flying books she had cast a spell on to get them moving to their proper shelves. She and Holly had both arrived a bit late that morning, and a lot of books had been left out. She had hoped to save time, but now she was working up a sweat trying to clear the charmed books before any customers arrived. “Got it!” Monica exclaimed as she managed to trap the snapping book in the net.
Abigail, Monica’s familiar, slowly made her way out from under Holly. “That’s what you get!” Abigail hissed. “I told you that spell was too advanced for you!”
“I’ve done more complicated spells than that,” Monica said, opening the back door to the shop that was really a portal leading to the other side—the mystic side, where her twin sister ran a similar bookshop with more magical qualities. She thrust the book, butterfly net and all, through the door and slammed it shut. “Let Mona deal with that…” she said, panting a bit. “Okay, Holly, you can turn the sign around to open.”
Holly, almost a bit breathless, took a moment to flatten her hair before heading over to the front door and turning the sign around. “That was nuts,” Holly said, laughing. “Glad I’m probably not a witch.” Trying to discover what sort of mystic ancestry Holly held had become a sort of hobby of theirs. Recent events had led them to discover that she had mystic ancestry, but since she was adopted, she had no way of knowing exactly what that would be. And after the Sorcerer’s Council ancestry cauldron spell had not worked, they were more or less back to square one.
“Yes, speaking of which,” Monica said, straightening up herself as well. “Any news on the father search?”
Holly shrugged. “Well, the adoption agency was able to give me my biological father’s name… And I was able to track him down…”
“What!” Monica exclaimed. “Seriously? Holly, that’s amazing!”
“Yes, well…maybe…”
“What did he say to you?” Monica asked.
“Nothing, because, well, I haven’t spoken to him yet, and he doesn’t know I’m looking for him either,” Holly said.
Monica stared at Holly blankly for a moment. “You know where he is, but you haven’t reached out to him yet?”
Holly walked around the counter, straightening up the display books as she spoke to avoid eye contact with Monica. “It’s weird, I know. I was so excited when the agency came back to me with his information. I was so ready to reach out and talk to him. But when it came time to actually call him and introduce myself, I got a little nervous. I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know why he gave me up. I don’t know what to expect, I guess. I’m going to reach out to him soon, I know. I just have to wait until I’m ready.”
“We understand that, Holly,” Monica assured her.
“How is yours and Abigail’s research going for the cauldron ancestry experiment?” Holly asked, eager to move the conversation away from her father.
“Slowly,” Monica admitted. “But don’t worry. We’ll get it ready to go before too long. We found an ingredients list, but the stuff is pretty hard to come by. It’ll just be a matter of finding everything at this point, but that could really take some time.”
“But you think you’ll be able to do the cauldron ancestry test for me?” Holly asked hopefully.
“No doubt,” Monica said, though she was a little nervous about performing it. It hadn’t worked for the Sorcerer’s Council—what made her believe that she, an unnatural witch, could pull it off?
“I think between Monica and myself, we should be able to do it just fine,” Abigail said. “Someone on the Sorcerer’s Council probably messed up one of the ingredients and they just don’t want to bother with trying it again because of how complicated it is. You know those government types.”
“Thanks, guys,” Holly said. “Did you two see the paper this morning, by the way?”
“No, did Isaac do another article?” Monica asked.
“Yeah, he made the front page, actually,” Holly said, smiling as they spoke about her close friend. “Only thing…” Her smile faded slightly. “He was writing on the disappearance of Kevin.”
Monica cringed. Kevin had been a wizard charged with murder there in Bankstown. After his arrest, the Sorcerer’s Council had shown up at the station and had taken him to Wysteria, where he could be tried by a wizards’ court. While he was serving time via house arrest and a spell that was going to leave him drained of magic, the police in the mortal world believed that the killer had escaped them, resulting in a massive search for someone who was no longer on this plane. Justice had been served, of course, but that didn’t mean the local police weren’t now wasting their time and resources trying to find someone they were never going to find.
“Knowing Isaac, he probably thinks aliens took him or something,” Abigail said with a snort.
Monica rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he didn’t put that in the article…did he?”
“No!” Holly said, laughing a bit. “He knows when to be professional. He saves that sort of craziness for his personal blog. He told me yesterday his blog has gotten some new followers, though.”
Abigail huffed loudly. “He’s a big child, isn’t he?”
“Don’t make fun of Isaac,” Holly warned. “He means well.” Holly reached out and p
atted Abigail’s head. “So, Monica says that they reduced your sentence again?”
Abigail beamed, letting out a slight purr as Holly continued to pet her. “Yes. I’m down to one hundred and fifty-five years more that I must spend as a witch’s familiar. Then, I’ll be my old self again. Abigail Williams once more… I look forward to the day! I have a theory…”
“Oh, this should be good,” Holly teased.
“Hush up and listen,” Abigail snapped. “So, I was given a year reduction after helping Monica out. Then I was given another reduction after saving Madam Warz from taking a crash on her broomstick, right? Well, maybe if I continue doing various good deeds, then they will continue to reduce my sentence.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Abs, are you serious?” Monica asked.
“Well, why not?” Abigail asked. “I will continue to be a model citizen. Monica, you can keep track of all my various good-doings, and then maybe request another hearing for me for a sentence reduction? I think if we keep a good record of all my wonderful deeds, then they will consider reducing my sentence again. Who knows, maybe I can get this down to just a few years?”
“That might be wishful thinking,” Monica said. “And, no offense, Abs, you were given a five-hundred-year sentence for a reason.”
“I’ve served over half of that,” Abigail argued. “And I’ve learned my lesson. Be good to mortals or whatever…”
“It doesn’t really sound like you’ve learned your lesson,” Holly said and made her way over to the coffee display next to the counter. She began pulling out some of the fall flavors they had gotten in.
“Of course I have!” Abigail cried. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt mortals.”
“Anymore,” Holly said. “Because you did cause the Salem witch trials.”
“I was a kid,” Abigail said, starting to sound like a broken record with the number of times she had used that defense. “But I digress. I think if I continue doing good deeds, then maybe they will continue to hand out reductions to my sentence.”
“I suppose it’s worth a shot,” Monica said. “Besides, you could probably stand to try to do a few good deeds. Might actually give you that warm fuzzy feeling most normal people get when they do something nice for someone.”
“What warm fuzzy feeling?”
Holly snorted while trying to stifle a laugh just as the front door opened. Abigail meowed loudly, returning to her usual cat-mode she was forced to endure whenever mortal customers entered the shop. Monica smiled excitedly when she saw that, as usual, their first customer of the day was Officer Brian. Brian came in just about every morning for some of the bookshop’s coffee before heading into his shift. “Usual, Brian? Or would you want to try our pumpkin spice flavor?”
“Pumpkin spice?” Brian asked hesitantly.
“It’s really good,” Holly insisted.
“Sure, why not?” he said. While Holly got to work on his drink, he turned his attention on Monica. “How are you? Got any Thanksgiving plans?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Not sure yet. You?”
“Well, I don’t know about Thanksgiving, but I was thinking about going to the Turkey Trot,” he said.
“The what?” Monica asked.
Holly laughed a bit. “Every year, they do an annual fundraiser for a different local charity. It’s a five-K walk around town. But at the start and finish of the event, there’s a sort of carnival for people to go to.”
“That sounds really fun!” Monica exclaimed.
“Yeah, well, if it’s something you think you would like to go to, I thought I’d see if you wanted to be my date. It’s tomorrow night,” Brian said.
Monica beamed. “That sounds perfect!”
“Isaac and I are going to probably be there too,” Holly said. “He didn’t go last year because he had the flu, so he’s been talking about it nonstop all month.”
“Perfect,” Brian said. “Double-date?”
Holly frowned. “Um, you know Isaac and I are just friends, right?”
“Oh, right, sorry,” Brian said, shaking his head. “You two spend so much time together, I sometimes just assume…” Brian took the coffee Holly had just finished and took a careful sip. He gave her a thumbs up. “Perfect. You are a regular old barista, Holly.”
Holly smiled. “Well, I try. You know, you’re always in here, and I never see you buying books.”
Brian shrugged. “Guess I’m not a big reader.”
“How can you date a woman who runs a bookshop and not be a big reader?” Holly asked, and Brian shrugged. “Nope, I’m not letting you leave for work until I get you a book I think you’ll like.”
“Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Brian insisted, but Holly insisted harder.
The next thing Monica knew, Holly was dragging Brian around the store until she at last came across a true crime novel that she figured he had to love considering he was a cop. Brian laughed, bought the book, and promised to read it when he had some spare time. “I’ll see you at the Turkey Trot, Monica,” he said on his way out.
Monica shook her head at Holly, turning her attention back to the shop.
2
Usually on a date night, Brian would pick Monica up at the bookstore after she got off work. However, tonight Brian was running a bit late, so they agreed to meet at his apartment. Monica had never been to his apartment before, so she was a bit curious to see what this man she had been dating lived like. When she knocked at the door, it took him only a moment to answer. Her cheeks turned warm as he had elected to answer the door in nothing but his trousers. “Oh!” she exclaimed.
“Sorry, I was just getting dressed. Come on in and sit down, and I’ll be ready in just a second,” he said and hurried off to the back of the apartment toward his bedroom.
Monica was surprised at herself. She had never been so flustered over something as silly as seeing a man with his shirt off. She saw centaurs all the time half-dressed, but she supposed that was quite different seeing as how she was not particularly attracted to human-horse hybrids. She found herself a seat on the nice, red couch and proceeded to glance from wall to wall. Brian’s apartment was under-decorated, as was to be expected for a young bachelor. There was a single picture frame sitting on the table next to the television of what she assumed to be Brian and his parents. She smiled, wondering if she was ever going to have the opportunity to meet them.
There was a shoebox sitting on the coffee table, and it was full of mismatched items. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she picked it up and placed it in her lap to rummage through. There were pictures of Brian from when he was young that made her giggle slightly, along with a yoyo, a strange mortal device she had yet to figure out how to use, and a few other things. She pulled out what looked to be a golden medal, and she found herself a bit transfixed on it for a moment just as Brian exited the bedroom.
“Nosy,” he teased and came and plopped down next to her on the couch.
“Sorry, I get bored easily,” she said, brushing her dark blonde hair out of her face. “What’s this for?” she asked, holding up the medal she had been fiddling with.
Brian beamed. “That thing?” he asked. “It’s a medal I got after taking a bullet on duty.”
“What!” Monica exclaimed. “You’ve been shot!”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice?” he asked. “Yeah, that’s right, I caught you gawking at me.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes.
“Don’t get a big head, you surprised me is all,” she said, but she couldn’t help but to laugh at herself. She knew she had been incredibly obvious when he had opened that door without his shirt on.
“Sure,” he said and then lifted the left side of his shirt up, showing her his side and a round mark where he had received a bullet. “Happened during a raid in my early years as a cop before I was transferred to Bankstown. I briefly worked with my dad in the big city before I came out this way.”
Monica smiled as she listened to him tell the story of working with his fat
her in the city before his move to Bankstown. He was so incredibly thrilled as he told the story of the raid and taking the bullet for one of his fellow officers, and he talked about how proud he was to receive the medal from his commanding officer. She hadn’t really seen this excitable side of him before.
Eventually, though, he tucked the medal away in his shoebox as they were ready to gear up for the Turkey Trot. “You really should get a nice display case for that,” she told him as she stood up off his bright red couch.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to, but you’ve seen how busy the chief has been keeping me these days. Believe me, I have a long list of to-dos I just can’t seem to get to,” Brian said, shaking his head.
They took his personal vehicle back into town toward the park, where the it seemed as though half the town was gearing up for the Turkey Trot. The whole park was full of people dressed in silly costumes, mostly women in colorful fall-themed tutus and men in oversized shirts depicting turkeys. The booths lined the creek front, and people were selling all sorts of fun crafts. “The whole town is out,” Monica said perkily.
“Yeah…” Brian said distractedly, and after a moment, he pointed. “Is that your Aunt Wilma? I thought she was back in Chicago?”
Monica jolted a bit and peered across the lawn, and sure enough, her Aunt Wilma was shopping at one of the booths. “Oh no,” she said under her breath and then quickly made up a story. “She’s here for Thanksgiving!” Monica exclaimed.
“Oh, awesome,” Brian said, heading straight in that direction to say hello.
Monica followed. “Aunt Wilma!” Monica called, and the older witch spun around on her heels.
“Oh, Monica! I figured I would see you here,” Aunt Wilma said. “I never miss a Bankstown Turkey Trot.”
“I remember,” Brian said with a laugh. “I figured you would still be in Chicago this far out from Thanksgiving.”