by Cindy Stark
Except the sight of kids selling holy water balloons on the street corner and Victor planting geraniums near the main entrance to the church. She blinked, trying to find words, but none would come.
He glanced up as she approached and dismounted her bike. A flat of pink, orange and purple zinnias rested next to him on the grass, along with another flat of red geraniums. He squinted against the bright sun as their gazes connected.
Irritation thumped hard inside her like tennis shoes in a dryer. “What in the Samhain are you doing?”
She was starting to sound like a broken record where he was concerned.
One corner of his mouth quirked. “Good morning, goddess. You look amazing.”
She ignored the familiar bleep of long-ago attraction. On the surface, Victor was the perfect package, but she knew what lay beneath. “Answer my question.”
He opened his palm, gesturing toward the garden. “Planting flowers, obviously. I would think an earth witch would appreciate that.”
She narrowed her gaze in distrust. He couldn’t have known she’d be stopping by to drop off tea to Rosalinda this morning, so what was his game? “I can see that. My question is why.”
With one lithe move, he stood, and she now had to angle her gaze upward to see him. “I’m new in town. I want to make a good impression. As you know, some residents are on a particularly nasty witch hunt, so I’m trying to avoid suspicion.” He nodded toward the kids selling water balloons.
She couldn’t very well cast blame since she’d joined the chowder cook-off for the same reason. “It sounds like you’ve met Timothy.”
Easy laughter rolled off his tongue. “Yeah, I’ve met the dude. Does he not realize his blood is the same as ours?”
Hazel had always been jealous of his ability to know things instantly. “He knows. His family denied their heritage a long time ago, and he’s keeping up the tradition. However, very few in town know he is. Certainly, none of the witch haters.”
“I could take him out for you if you’d like.” He snapped his fingers.
Dang it. She’d love dearly to say yes in that instance, but she didn’t want Victor involved. Didn’t want him in town at all. “Thanks, but no. We’re dealing with it.” For now, anyway.
“Yeah. Besides, that’s your challenge.”
His words confused her. “What do you mean?” Her personal challenge or the town’s?
“Nothing. Just…” He shrugged. “Not my problem.”
Her anxieties twitched, and she forced herself to ignore his taunts and relax. She couldn’t let him upset her. That gave him control. “It’s an interesting situation here in Stonebridge.”
He hooked a thumb into his jeans and regarded her with interest. “Yeah?”
She’d wanted to have this conversation with Peter the night before, but she’d never found the perfect opportunity, and she wasn’t sure he could have helped her anyway. “Three hundred years ago, the town persecuted four elemental witches.”
“I’m aware of the history.”
Of course, he would be. “One of them was my ancestral grandmother. One of the curses those witches placed upon the town, who so desperately wanted to rid society of our kind, was that someone with their blood would always live here. It’s a losing battle to try to get rid of us, but they don’t know that.”
“Interesting.” He nodded, his icy blue eyes sparking as he thought. “I like this grandmother of yours. Wish I could have met her.”
No way would she tell him he still could meet her ghost.
“So,” she continued. “There should be four of us here now, right? Belinda recently passed. Well, was murdered. Another, Glenys the bank manager, was sent away for murdering the first one. There’s me, of course, and the final person is our favorite, Timothy the librarian.”
He chuckled. “Oh, wow. That is rich. Is he aware of this curse?”
“Of course not. I’m not going to out myself to a witch hater by telling him.”
“He’s a witchy witch hater,” he corrected.
“Whatever. What really has me concerned is who will replace the dead one, and if the other is still alive but not in Stonebridge, will someone come along for her, too? How can I find out?”
His gaze turned sultry, putting her on alert. “Want me to look into it for you?”
Inwardly, she groaned. What had she been thinking?
No, she didn’t want him involved, and she never should have mentioned it to him. Heck, never should have spoken to him at all. If she wanted him to leave, she needed to make it the most boring place on Earth.
She did her best to give him a carefree smile. “No. I’m just musing. Didn’t mean to take up your time.”
With her common sense back in place, she retrieved the tin of tea from her basket and headed toward the church’s door.
Suddenly, a doomed feeling claimed her. What if Victor was the replacement? Please, Blessed Mother. No.
“Try researching online.”
His suggestion stopped her, and she turned back. “Like one of those ancestry websites?” Why hadn’t she thought of that?
He knelt and picked up the hand shovel. “Why not? It’s not reserved for non-witches. Research the people already in town, and then check any new ones who arrive. That should give you plenty of heads-up notice so you can be ahead of the game.”
She growled inside, hating that he could read her so well. “Thanks. I think I’ll do that.”
She lifted a hand and let it drop. “Later.”
“For sure,” he called after her. Unfortunately, she was afraid that would be true.
Cooler air scented by time and overwhelming quiet greeted her as she entered the church. She glanced at the gorgeous, empty chapel as she passed, and chanced opening her senses again to the multitude of souls that had worshipped here. For the most part, happiness reigned, but darker emotions clung to the shadows.
She knocked on Rosalinda’s mostly-closed office door and peeked inside. The room was empty. Granted, Rosalinda wouldn’t be expecting her until later, but Hazel had decided to make the church her first stop instead of the last today.
Mostly because she was eager to talk to the church’s secretary again and see if she could extract more information. Now, she’d have to come back later with her delivery or leave the tea and wait until next week to speak to Rosalinda.
Her curiosity wouldn’t allow her to wait.
She checked down hallways and in other rooms to be sure Rosalinda wasn’t somewhere else in the church, but the whole building seemed to be empty.
With the tea canister in hand, she headed back outside, wishing she didn’t have to see Victor again. Calm and boring, she reminded herself as she pushed open the door.
Victor glanced up, and the enchanting smile returned to his face. “That was fast.”
“Rosalinda isn’t here.”
“I could have told you that.”
She wanted to be irritated that he hadn’t, but he couldn’t have known.
“She left about ten minutes ago. Had to drive some papers to the regional office in Salem.”
The gears in her brain turned. “To Salem? She’ll likely be gone for at least a half hour.” And that was if Rosalinda didn’t stay to chat, which was unlikely.
“No idea.” He pointed toward the flat of flowers farthest from him. “Could you hand me a couple of geraniums?”
She snorted. “Since when do you know the names of plants?”
“Since I fell in love with an earth witch a couple of years ago.”
Oh, no. She was not getting drawn into this again. He’d had his chance and had completely blown it.
Besides, she loved Peter, and what she had with him was much deeper and richer than the superficial love affair she’d had with Victor. She thought she’d been in love with him. Now, she realized she’d been in love with the idea of him.
Something her mother apparently still clung to.
She nudged the flat of flowers closer to him, ignoring his claim
of affection. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Absolutely. See, I knew you’d need me.”
She worked to keep a delirious laugh to a minimum. “I need to check something inside the church, but I don’t want anyone to see me doing it. If someone shows up, will you escort them inside and make a lot of noise so I hear you coming?”
Intrigue flashed across his face. “Ooh. I like this daring side of you. Maybe later we can take a ride on my Harley, and you can tell me what you’re up to.”
She held up a hand and chuckled. The man was relentless. “Please. I just need you to keep a look out. Can you do that?”
He winked. “That and so much more.”
If he wasn’t such a shallow person, she’d be flattered.
“Thanks,” she said before she rolled her eyes and walked off.
Sixteen
Hazel’s pulse throbbed with excitement as she hurried back to Rosalinda’s office. The woman had been more than a little secretive last time, and Hazel was dying to know what she might have hidden.
She dropped the tea canister on the corner of the desk and claimed Rosalinda’s chair. She tugged on the biggest drawer, looking for files, but it was locked. “Son of a crunchy biscuit.” The larger filing cabinet behind her was tightly secured, too.
With nervous fingers, she opened the pencil drawer and searched it for keys. She looked under the potted plant, behind the pencil sharpener, and even lifted pictures from the wall to see if anything would fall out.
Frustration reigned.
Rosalinda must keep them with her.
Here, Hazel had the perfect opportunity and could do nothing with it.
Then another idea slid into her consciousness like a slimy slug, and she sagged against the chair. She had no choice.
With dread weighing each of her footsteps, she headed back outside.
“Victor?” She did her best to sound sweet instead of annoyed. “Could I ask you for one more favor?”
His satisfied grin nearly stole her composure. “Anything, goddess.”
She swallowed an unkind retort. “Can you open a locked drawer?”
He stood. “Drawers. Doors. Anything you want.”
She motioned him forward. “Hurry, then.”
With a few muttered words and some deep concentration, he had both drawers opened within seconds.
“Thank you so much.” She plopped into Rosalinda’s seat again and tugged open the drawer. She discovered a jar of peanut butter, a can of almonds, and a big bag of Swiss chocolate. Some might consider it a payday, but she didn’t have food on her mind today. “Nothing but snacks.”
He slid open a drawer on the larger filing cabinet. “Try here. You might have more luck.”
With renewed determination, she moved next to him and glanced over the folder’s tabs. Immediately, she recognized the names of many in town that had been moved to the front of the files. Lobster Lucy Flanigan—she couldn’t believe they’d included lobster as part of her name. Dan Cullpepper and Family. The mayor and his wife, Robert and Sandra Elwood. “Thank you. This is perfect.”
She turned to him with a bright grin and then dimmed it when she saw his reaction. “You’re a great friend. Thanks so much.”
He snorted. “You’re trying to friend-zone me now?”
She wanted to explode, to tell him once again what a jerk he’d been, that he’d be lucky if she did call him friend, but she was done traveling that road. “I have a boyfriend, Victor. In case you’ve forgotten.”
“Yeah. One who has absolutely zero powers. Not much of anything, really. He’ll never keep you happy.”
She narrowed her gaze, anger flitting through the cracks. “Did you check up on him?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
Full-blown ire took over. “You have no right to interfere in my life. You lost that privilege when I found you with Adele, naked in my bed in case you’ve forgotten. I don’t want to hear your opinion whatsoever on my new life and who I choose to share it with. Got it?”
Instead of joining her anger, he grinned. “Do you realize your intensity when you’re angry? You should try a spell when something has you pissed. You’d be amazing.”
Yeah, like a blood spell directed straight at him. Instead of arguing further, she pointed toward the door. “We’re done with this discussion. Go keep watch.”
He lifted his chin in agreement. “For now.”
The urge to pick up Rosalinda’s potted fern and hurl it at his retreating back was strong, but she resisted. Instead, she buried her face in her hands, slid her fingers down her cheeks, and then shook them out as though the action could cleanse Victor’s slime from her soul.
Several precious moments slipped past while she regained her sanity and then she snatched the mayor’s file. But something gave her pause, and she peered back into the drawer. At the very front, sat a new, pristine-looking folder just asking to be noticed.
She pulled it out, turned, and placed it on Rosalinda’s desk. As she glanced through the contents, a big smile erupted on her face. Dealing with Victor’s antics had been worth it.
Rosalinda apparently enjoyed sleuthing herself. She had listed each person that had been named as a possible suspect in the case. Some had been crossed out like Hazel’s name had, but she’d underlined Lucy, Dan and Mayor Elwood in red. Even the poor woman who’d died in the crash, Karen Bernard, was on the list, on a separate side, albeit. But that made no sense. She was dead.
Hazel flipped the page and found a more detailed list of what Rosalinda knew about Lucy. The next was all about the mayor. She should take notes so she wouldn’t forget anything. With her mind racing, she searched for a blank piece of paper and then realized she could just take a picture and be out of there in a jiffy.
She quickly snapped photos of all the pages. After that, she pulled personal files from the drawer and glanced through them, but it seemed Rosalinda had already condensed anything of interest into the other file. Her lucky day, it seemed.
Hazel replaced the folders in the drawer and closed it. She didn’t want to ask Victor to lock them, but she would just so Rosalinda wouldn’t suspect anything.
She straightened everything on the desk, hoping it looked the same as when she’d entered. She tucked the canister of tea under her arm, intending to come back later so that if anything was amiss, Rosalinda wouldn’t immediately suspect her.
She hurried outside and halted mid-step when she found Rosalinda speaking to Victor. Her heart flopped flat on the sidewalk.
Rosalinda looked up in wonder. “Hazel. I wasn’t expecting you until later. What a nice surprise.”
She summoned her friendliest smile. “Hello, Rosalinda. I stopped by with your tea, but when you weren’t here, I decided to come back with it later so we could chat, too.”
“Oh, darn. I wish I could chat now, but I was on my way to the church in Salem and realized I’d forgotten what I was supposed to deliver. So, I really don’t have time now. I need to grab and run.”
Hazel waved away her concern. “That’s okay. I’ll just give you your tea and catch up with you later.”
Rosalinda pointed toward the building. “But I need to pay you.”
She shook her head. “No worries. I’ll stop by later or catch you next time.”
Rosalinda’s gaze turned odd. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I still have more deliveries to make, so I should be going, too. Safe travels.”
Victor sent Hazel a conspiratorial wink and put a hand on Rosalinda’s back. “I’ll walk in with you. I could use a drink from the water fountain.”
She hopped on her bike and pedaled away before Victor or Rosalinda could find a reason to stop her.
When she was half a mile down the road, she pulled to the side and stopped in the shade of a large oak. Her breaths came hard but slowly morphed into crazed chuckles.
Blessed Mother, she couldn’t believe how close she’d come to getting caught. She prayed she’d understood Victor’s
wink to mean he had her back and would lock the drawers. She had no idea what Rosalinda would have done if she’d discovered her, but damage to her reputation would be at the top of her list.
As soon as she was back at the teashop and had sent Gretta to lunch, she’d pull out her phone and study the information she’d gleaned.
Then she’d have to figure out a way to tell Peter what she’d discovered without letting him know she’d broken the law. Again.
Seventeen
In the quiet backroom of the teashop, Hazel studied the photos she’d taken of Rosalinda’s abbreviated version of the files. Dan’s information was pretty much what she already knew. Lucy’s husband had abused her, and Father Christopher had encouraged her to stay in the marriage.
Hazel heaved a disgusted sigh.
Mayor Ellwood and his wife were more interesting. They, too, had undergone counseling with Father Christopher. But, for some unknown reason, he had suggested Sandra leave her husband, that staying with him would damage her soul.
Hazel shook her head as she tried to make sense of the two cases. The more she learned about Father Christopher, the more she wondered if she’d encountered a psychopath who’d hidden behind a priest’s clothing.
She continued reading, and then paused when she found Rosalinda had written “unofficial notes” toward the bottom of the page. It appeared that Rosalinda was certain Father Christopher and Sandra Elwood had engaged in an affair years ago.
Beneath that, Rosalinda had noted that the mayor intended to run for state senator, and then she’d added, “possibly killed F.C. to keep him quiet” with a question mark afterward.
Hazel didn’t know the mayor well, but Peter did and would have more insight as to whether he believed Mayor Ellwood was capable of murdering the Father to keep him quiet and further his political career. Or maybe it was Sandra who saw the Father as a stumbling block on the way to the Capitol and wanted him gone before someone spotlighted her sordid past.
Interesting. All very interesting.
She hoped Peter would be more interested than angry.
When she’d exhausted that line of information, she moved on to something more personal.