Witch Way To Amethyst: The Prequel (A Stacy Justice Mystery Book 0)

by Barbra Annino

  "Parker, we were kind of in the middle of something," Chance said.

  Parker ignored him and slumped over the table, staring at me with his little round eyes, hands clasped.

  "What?" I said.

  "Do I get an exclusive?" he asked, blinking rapidly. Parker wouldn't take a hint if it were wrapped in a bundle of hundred dollar bills.

  "You're kidding, right? You're the only paper in town." I didn't even ask what he was talking about or how he knew. Scanners, small town life, Miss Bouffant and her underground network of busybodies. Word traveled fast.

  "I'm not the only paper in the tri-state area. I just want your word that you won't grant any interviews to anyone else."

  "I won't grant any interviews. Period." Granny poisons Gramps would be huge news for these folks.

  "Oh, I see what you just did," Parker sat back and waved a finger at me. "Okay, smarty, no interviews to anyone except the Amethyst Globe."

  "Right, no interviews."

  "Great, and you'll write it."

  "Very funny. I said 'right'."

  "Yes. You will write it."

  "Stop it, Parker."

  "Just repeating after you."

  I kicked him in the shin.

  "Not nice." He wagged his finger.

  Olivia slid a white Styrofoam container in front of Parker.

  "You know you want to work for me." He slinked from the booth and grabbed the container. "I'll hold you to it."

  "I won't do it," I yelled to his back as he marched out the door.

  Geesh, he was annoying, How did my dad ever put up with Parker and his awkward fashion sense?

  Chance said, "You know, you might enjoy working for him. He'd give you whatever you want. A corner office, a secretary, maybe even one of those mini refrigerators."

  I stared at him like he was having a seizure. "A story about who won the prize for the best pie at the county fair is not my idea of journalism."

  "You know, Stacy, some of us hicks are pretty cultured. We discuss politics, films, current events. Heck, we can even read."

  I didn't mean to insult him. But I guess that did sound snotty. I was batting 1000 today for miscommunication.

  "I didn't mean it like that, Chance. You know that. Come on."

  "What I know is you've been trying to convince everyone that you've been running towards something since you left here. But I think you've been running away from something. Or someone."

  I shifted in my seat. "Oh, really. And what, or who, might that be?"

  Was he talking about himself? Did he think I was still in love with him? There was no denying that Chance was my first love and when I was a teenager, I thought it would last forever and always with a big heart around it. Everyone thinks their first love will be with them their entire lives and in a way, they are. But what I wanted out of life and what Chance wanted were so vastly different, we may as well have been living on different planets.

  Chance sat back, a crooked grin on his face. "You tell me." He was frustratingly cute with his hair tousled from the wind, eyes the color of rain clouds, and shoulders that filled out his shirt in ways that defied gravity. But he was still full of malarkey. Just because I didn't choose to live in this one-horse town didn't mean I was running away. What was so wrong about wanting more out of life than what you were born to? Like solving problems without chants and crystals.

  I gave Chance a you're talking out of your ass look and smiled. He shook his head and reached for my hand. It felt warm. Safe.

  Olivia returned with our food, halting our conversation and saving me from saying something else stupid. She also produced a fresh straw and a bottle of ketchup. "Anything else?"

  "Mrs. Locke, is Pearl around?" I asked.

  "Call me Olivia, honey." She threw a glance over her shoulder. "Haven’t seen her much since your grandpa fell ill. And I'm here all the time," she said, hand on hip.

  I nodded and smiled. "Thanks."

  She smiled and walked to another booth.

  I stabbed at my salad and Chance attacked his burger. We ate in silence for a few minutes. Chance was watching a game on the television behind me and I was wondering how I was going to spring my grandmother from jail. Then I wondered how many other women had this problem.

  We talked about the family dinner at the Geraghty House. Chance had been working on the roof and Fiona graciously invited him to join them.

  “I can’t remember anything unusual, really.” Chance darted his eyes away as he thought about that night. “Well, there was one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Birdie was cordial to your grandfather. She didn’t threaten him one time.”

  That was disturbing, I couldn’t remember a meal when Birdie hadn’t needled Gramps for one thing or another. It was her true talent. She had taken the practice of empty threats and raised it to an art form. I did a case study on it once for a human development class.

  “However,” Chance dipped a fry in ketchup, “she did have a moment with Wildcat.”

  This was not surprising. “What happened?”

  “Well, I’m not sure, but I think he pinched her and the next thing I knew, his chair collapsed. She was across the room at the time, but…”

  “Got it.”

  “Any conversations stand out between Wildcat and Gramps? Anything about a business proposal?”

  Chance shook his head. “Just stories about the war. Things like that. Pearl didn’t seem to appreciate his presence. That was clear the minute they were introduced.”

  “Really?” This was news to me. “What makes you say that?”

  Chance wrinkled his forehead for a minute, organizing his thoughts. “She was just quiet the whole night. She kept looking at him in the strangest way.”

  Everyone looked at Wildcat in a strange way, but it did pique my interest.

  “How so?”

  Chance considered it. “Like she thought he was full of it.”

  That was understandable. Sucking down my tea, I contemplated my next move when something shiny caught my attention in the bottom of the glass.

  Chance watched as I fished it out. Another penny. Again, I couldn't place the significance of the year and it was beginning to frustrate me.

  "A penny? In your iced tea. That can't be good.”

  I had a feeling he was right.

  Chapter 15

  I was hoping to see Gramps before visiting hours ended, so Chance dropped me back at the cottage after our meal. He had promised not to wake me before sunrise again.

  Funny, I thought as I walked up the path, could have sworn the porch light was on when I left. Then I remembered I forgot to get food for Thor and wondered if Great Danes liked pizza. I had a cheese and pepperoni in the freezer.

  A spider's web clung to the doorway, a sign that a visitor was coming. Careful not to disturb it, I unlocked the door and flipped on the hall light. It flickered and a chill raced down my spine.

  It was quiet. Too quiet considering my over-sized houseguest. Soon, I found the reason why.

  It was as if I missed a hell-raising keg party. The couch appeared to be inside out, there was a lamp kissing the carpet and the damn shoe chair's heel was busted. Even the desk was knocked over, phone book and menus scattered everywhere.

  And in the midst of the chaos sat Thor, chewing on something.

  "Thor."

  He galloped over and nuzzled my hand.

  "Did you do this?" I shook a finger at him. Thor cocked his head, confused.

  "Did you destroy this place?" I asked again, sternly.

  Thor bowed his head and whined.

  "Go." I pointed to the bedroom.

  Thor took a step backward and sat down.

  "Go on." I tossed my hand back.

  He tucked his tail between his legs, trotted into the bedroom.

  I hauled the groceries to the kitchen, which appeared to be unscathed, and set them on the countertop. I rested my foot on one of the stools and assessed the damage. Moonlight was sprawle
d across the top of the fridge like he had the best catnip buzz of his life.

  "What did you do? Watch him tear the place apart?"

  The cat yawned and rolled on his back.

  I sighed and moved through the living room, replacing cushions and uprighting furniture. The shoe chair was a challenge. The heel fit back on the base, but I couldn't guarantee it was safe to use so I tested it and fell on my ass. Hot glue might work. Where did Fiona get that thing anyway? I balanced the toe of the shoe on top of the heel and made a mental note not to sit on it.

  Birdie’s voice came to me as I was stuffing papers back into the desk drawer. You'll have to rely on that intuition you try so hard to shun. Use the magic you were born with.

  Intuition. Messages. Magic. A lot of good that's done me. If it weren’t for my intuition my father would be alive today.

  It was because of me he took that particular route to work that day. Because of my stupid dream that warned his head would crack open like an egg on the fire hydrant, blood oozing from his skull coating the red paint. My screams were all it took to convince my father to drive rather than walk that February morning to work. I can still play the scene over in my mind when I close my eyes or gaze into a black mirror. Maybe if he had taken that route, maybe someone would have found him. Could have saved him.

  Instead, he hit a patch of black ice on Highway 20 and crashed head-on into a tractor-trailer. He was killed instantly.

  I finished tidying the living room and went into the bedroom to grab a notebook and pen from my suitcase. After the light blinked on, it was apparent that the party had continued in there. Not to my surprise, I might add.

  If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought someone just had the sex of a lifetime in that room. The mattress dipped off the bed, sheets were tangled, and the suitcase had spit all my clothes onto the carpet.

  I crouched to pick up the garments.

  “Dammit, Thor!” I yelled. Cin could have warned me he was a little tornado.

  That's when the lights went out.

  Chapter 16

  Why does the electricity always go out at night?

  I waited for my eyes to acclimate to the blackness before I stood. Thor’s heavy panting wasn’t all that comforting at the moment. He sounded like a hungry lion and I just realized I didn’t have food for him.

  Think. When Fiona gave the tour was there a flashlight, oil lamp, anything that would offer illumination? Wait a minute. My cell phone. That had a light on it. In my coat, in the hallway.

  Moving forward, I heard "Woof."

  "Sorry, Thor." Stepped on his tail.

  I felt around the bed, which was no easy task since it wasn’t where it was supposed to be, and tumbled over my open suitcase, falling face first into the doorknob. Pain shot through my cheek. That should leave a nice mark. Damn, it was dark. Even if clouds weren't shielding the light of the moon, the curtains were closed tight and thick as bricks. There weren't many street lamps in the residential section of Amethyst and the back of the main house faced the front of the cottage. So no benefit of a porch light.

  I veered left and kept going towards the front door until the floor changed beneath my feet. Tile. Felt around for my coat and knocked it off the hook. Then I heard the phone slide across the foyer and smack into the wall.

  I shifted to find two eyes staring at me, nearly glowing.

  A scream ripped from my throat.

  Pant, pant, pant.

  "Thor! You scared me to death!"

  I felt for the phone, found it, and punched the flashlight app.

  The illumination from the cell phone wasn’t much, but it helped me maneuver through the cottage. Hey, so I wasn't Ben Franklin, but it got the job done. Now to hunt for matches and candles.

  The empty grocery bags hung from the knob of the back door and a breeze made them rustle. Was there a window open? A draft around the frame of the door? I went to investigate and discovered paw prints on the glass of the door. Big ones. I eyed Thor, who was shadowing me.

  "Were you trying to make a break for it?" I asked.

  He licked my hand.

  Then the front door flew open, there was a crash and something screeched by my ear.

  I was still screaming when I realized the screech came from Moonlight, startled by the door. It must not have clicked shut. I picked him up to comfort him and screamed again. There was a man standing in the entryway.

  Chapter 17

  Thor trotted right up to Leo and slobbered on him.

  “Nice watchdog you are, Thor,” he said. I guessed Leo and Thor had already met. “Sorry, I startled you, Stacy. Are you all right? I heard a scream.”

  I pushed my heart back into my chest. “Fine. Thank you. Seems the storm took out the electricity and I think Thor may have molested my couch while I was gone, but other than that…” I made the OK sign.

  “Fuse box?” he asked, pointing around the cottage.

  “I’m not sure exactly.”

  Leo fired up a flashlight and asked if there was a basement. There wasn’t so he dug around in the utility closet until the lights came back on.

  “Thanks, Leo.” Gotta love a man who’s handy. Handy and sexy are my two favorite combinations. Like peanut butter and jelly.

  “No problem.” Then he said, “Yikes. What happened to your eye?” He reached to lift the hair away from my face.

  “Doorknob.”

  His hand cupped my cheek for a moment. Then he grabbed a towel and filled it with ice.

  I asked, “So, what brings you by? More relatives to arrest?”

  Leo dabbed the ice pack to my swollen face. “Wish it were that simple.” His expression told me I wasn’t going to like hearing this news and he wasn’t going to like saying it.

  “Oh please, things couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

  Here’s a tip: Do. Not. Say. This. Ever. It’s tempting fate. Things can always get worse and any idiot on the planet knows this. Except for me, apparently.

  Leo pulled out some papers from inside his leather jacket and passed them to me, still catering to my wound.

  “What’s this?” I asked, scanning the documents.

  Leo sighed, raised his eyebrows like they do in mafia movies. “Motive.”

  I flipped through the papers, which had been signed by my grandfather less than a week ago.

  It appeared to be a million dollar life insurance policy on my grandfather listing Birdie as the beneficiary.

  “This can’t be right.” I pulled up a chair. I flipped back and forth through the papers. “It has to be a mistake. No one mentioned this to me. This has to be something that was never updated after the divorce.”

  “It’s no mistake. It’s a brand new policy. I checked.”

  Why would Gramps take out a policy for Birdie now? I'm sure the rest of his estate went to Pearl, Cin or myself. But Birdie? Was there something I didn't know? Something between them? Was Birdie in trouble financially? And if she were, what would she do to get out of it?

  I slapped my forehead for even thinking it. No way. My grandmother might have been a lot of things, but she was no murderer. Besides, what was that business with the spell if she wanted to do him in? There had to be another explanation. Unless…Was it a trick? Was the spell to seal the deal? I was missing a few pieces of the puzzle but I was determined to find them.

  “There’s something else, Stacy.”

  “Of course, there is. What?”

  “I spoke with your grandfather’s doctor. He’s certain it was ethylene glycol in your grandfather’s system.”

  “Let me guess. That’s the long answer for antifreeze.”

  Leo nodded, looking like he hated this conversation.

  I shoved the papers into a drawer in the desk and ushered Leo through the cottage. “Thanks for stopping by, Leo. I appreciate everything.” I needed some alone time to think this through.

  “So I guess that means you aren’t up for a drink?”

  “Not tonight, maybe another time.
” Please, God, let there be another time.

  I wondered if the aunts were still awake. All the clocks were off thanks to the power outage.

  “Leo, what time is it?”

  He checked his watch. “After ten.”

  Cinnamon would still be working. Too late to bother the aunts, but I had my laptop.

  I set the ice pack down on the entry table. “Really, Leo, thanks.”

  He turned suddenly and cupped my face in his hands. His eyes were an island. A base of sturdy brown flecked with green and gold. He kissed one eyelid, then the other. “Take care of that shiner.” His lips fell to mine and I was a puddle.

  Leo pulled away slowly and didn’t say another word as he slipped out of the cottage.

  My head spun as it tried to process this latest development.

  Thor was munching on something again when I closed and locked the door, which I planned to do religiously now. He spit it out when I walked over to him. A swatch of plaid. A chill seized me again. What was it Birdie used to warn about chills down the spine? An unexpected presence? Uninvited guest?

  The spider web. A visitor coming. But...Leo had been here. Was someone else here before that? Before I got home? I picked up the fabric, rubbing it between my fingers. Immediate pain--as if I had been punched--shot through my stomach. Then a wave of nausea swayed me.

  "He was in here," I said, slowly circling. The knowledge filled my head. No details, just…a masculine presence.

  Thor stood and leaned against me. Then he trotted to the back door and I followed. My sight trailed from the paw prints to the handle.

  I twisted the latch and a slip of fabric, same as what Thor had been eating, fell to the ground. Red and black plaid.

  The Great Dane sat, tongue wagging, looking ever so proud and I understood what had happened to the cottage while I was out. I ruffled Thor’s ears and promised him a juicy steak.

  “He was in here, wasn’t he boy? And you chased him away.”

  Thor held his paw up and I shook it.

  I had one answer for the evening. But I was left with a bigger question.

  Who was he? And what did he want?