The Witches Of Enchanted Bay: A Riddle Of A Murder (Witches Of Enchanted Bay Cozy Mystery Book 5)

by Amelia Morgan

  Even for someone with as much verbal dexterity as Meg, this was one corner she couldn’t talk her way out of. Connor had been trained to detect when other people were lying. She saw no choice but to tell the truth. Well, in her own way.

  “I uh, thought you guys had left,” Meg said.

  “And you were going to break into a crime scene?” Connor asked.

  Dating a police detective had plenty of advantages. This was not one of them. Connor was a smart, by-the-book kind of guy. What Meg was about to do was about as off the books as could possibly be.

  She decided to put on the most contrite face she could. “I know what this looks like.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “If we weren’t dating, I’d arrest you.”

  She tried to lighten the mood. “It’s a good thing we’re dating then.”

  He did not find humor in the situation. “Breaking and entering is a serious offense.”

  “Well, technically, I haven’t broken or entered.”

  “Not yet, at least.”

  Meg came up with an idea that would ease Connor’s concerns and move the conversation in a new direction. There were far more important issues at play to get bogged down with this.

  She pulled out a key from her purse. “I meant, it wouldn’t be breaking and entering because my mom had a key to Hope’s place.”

  Never mind that the key was to Meg’s storage locker. Connor didn’t need to know that. She just hoped this would settle him down.

  It didn’t. “Why did your mother have a key to Hope’s house?”

  Meg thought her first lie would put an end to this. Instead, she found herself telling a second lie to try and cover up the first one. “Hope went out of town a fair bit and asked my mother to water her plants and get her mail when she did.”

  “Oh.”

  Luckily, he seemed to be satisfied with that answer. Meg tried to transition to a new topic. “Now, back to Hope’s murder.”

  Unfortunately, Connor wasn’t ready to move on. “That doesn’t change the fact that you were knowingly going to set foot on a crime scene.”

  Meg exhaled. No wonder suspects so often cracked under interrogation. She didn’t know how murder suspects did it. Lying was so stressful. Besides, she wasn’t any good at it. Now, she’d dug herself into a hole that she had to try to find her way out of.

  “Your men had left the scene already. I figured it was clear,” Meg replied.

  He stared her down, not buying a word of what she was saying. “Have you already forgotten what I told you earlier about staying away from this case?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re just blatantly disregarding a direct police order?”

  He had her there.

  “I didn’t intend to investigate this at first,” she explained.

  “Yet here you are.”

  “After my mother’s urging, I reconsidered--”

  He shook his head, full of frustration. “What is it with your family? Not only am I your boyfriend; I’m a police detective. It’s my entire job to investigate cases like this.”

  “I know that. And you do a great job.”

  “If you believed that, why are you here?”

  “Because I know I can help you,” Meg declared.

  “You shouldn’t be here. You should be at home taking care of your mother.”

  “You say that, but she wants me here. And, as you know, every good kid does what their mother asks.”

  “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

  “Guilty as charged. If I’m willing to admit that, you should be willing to admit it wouldn’t hurt to have a hand with this murder case. Or, are you still labeling it a burglary gone wrong?”

  His face tightened. “All right, so I’ll admit it, I’m coming around to your theory that this wasn’t really a burglary, but rather a homicide staged to look like a break in.”

  “See, you should be thanking me, not lecturing me,” Meg said.

  “Don’t push your luck. I still don’t like how you went behind my back like this.”

  “Look how much I’ve helped already.”

  “I’m not joking. I’m still worried about you with this case. Detective work requires keeping a level head, and with your mother’s friend being the victim, it’ll be hard to keep your emotions in check,” Connor said.

  “Connor, I’m sorry for going behind your back. I shouldn’t have done that. But look, when this is all over, I’ll make it up to you.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll think of something.”

  He smiled. “I have a few ideas.”

  “How many of them involve me making donuts for you?”

  “None. Although, now that you mention donuts, I wouldn’t be a very good detective if I turned them down.”

  “Your stomach is so predictable.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Isn’t life unpredictable enough already?”

  “Speaking of unpredictable, what made you come around to believing that Hope’s death was more than just a burglary gone wrong?” Meg asked.

  “After going over the entire place, as far as we can tell, there wasn’t anything stolen. Not even Hope’s purse, which was right there in the next room. She had a couple hundred dollars in cash just sitting in her wallet as easy pickings. If this was the work of a burglar, it was the dumbest burglar I’ve ever seen. And, let me tell you, the world is full of stupid burglars.”

  “I’ll bet. Just as I’d put money down that this was murder.”

  “You don’t happen to have any evidence of that, do you?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I have a strong hunch, and that’s what us detective types go on.”

  He snickered. “Really, you’re going to explain the fundamentals of being a detective to me?”

  “It was a joke.”

  “Don’t quit your day job. Although you can feel free to quit your second job as an amateur sleuth if you’d like,” he cracked back.

  She laughed. “Very funny.”

  “You’re not the only one who can joke around here,” he replied.

  “All joking aside, I think it’s time we get down to investigating this case.”

  “All right, what have you got?”

  “It turns out a number of people had reasons to want Hope Riddle dead.”

  “Go figure.”

  “I’ll tell you all about them while I look over the crime scene,” Meg said.

  Chapter Nine

  Meg and Connor went inside Hope’s house with completely different intentions. She was eager to poke around, looking for any clue that might have been left over. He had other things on his mind.

  “My team has already gone over every inch of this house. What do you expect to find?” Connor asked.

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” Meg replied.

  He corrected her. “If you see it, you mean.”

  Meg had really hoped to look around the place alone. Having company threw a wrench into her plans, especially given the spell she was looking to cast. She had to survey the scene without the help of her magical witch powers, at least until she could think to come up with a big enough diversion to give her the time to cast the spell. Connor remained right by her side, meaning she’d have to make due for now.

  She made small talk. “Did your team find anything?”

  “No fingerprints, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “That’s not surprising. The killer probably wore gloves or wiped the prints off the murder weapon before they left. Were you able to find any useful clues?”

  “Unfortunately not. As far as I can tell, the killer was very good about covering their tracks. All we have right now is what you already know. Hope Riddle was hit over the back of the head with the frying pan that we found on the ground beside her.”

  “Did the neighbors see or hear anything or anyone coming from this house last night?”

  Connor shook his head. “Not a peep. Although we weren’t able
to interview the Galloways, as they weren’t home this morning.”

  That was interesting, considering both Galloways had a reason to want Hope dead.

  “Do you know where the Galloways are now?” Meg asked.

  “My men are working on it. They won’t be leaving town. My team will make sure of that.”

  “What was the time of death again?”

  “The coroner put it between eleven and midnight.”

  Meg kept looking around the house.

  Connor continued. “I told you; we already searched this place from top to bottom.”

  “It never hurts to look twice. If you’re bored, you can wait outside.”

  “No, that’s ok.”

  Just then, Connor’s police radio went off.

  A voice was heard over the radio. “Detective Smith.”

  Connor turned to Meg. “I have to take this.”

  “Go for it,” she replied.

  Meg welcomed Connor taking the call. Knowing him, he’d want privacy, which meant he’d be walking out of the room. With the place to herself, she’d have the opportunity to cast the spell she’d been wanting to.

  As expected, Connor excused himself and stepped outside to answer his radio. Meg immediately went to work, closing her eyes and casting an eagle-eyed spell. This little slice of magic allowed her to survey the scene with extra keen eyesight that could pick up on details her naked eye couldn’t.

  Unfortunately, the spell did not yield the results she was hoping for. She got the superb eyesight she’d be looking for, but after a thorough search, she wasn’t able to turn up any clues. Much to her chagrin, the killer had covered their tracks well.

  Meg didn’t have time to bemoan her fruitless search. Before frustration had the chance to set in, Connor poked his head back in the house with breaking news.

  “Hope’s husband Andrew is at the coroner’s office to identify her body. I don’t know about you, but I have a few questions for him,” Connor said.

  Meg nodded. “You aren’t the only one.”

  Chapter Ten

  Meg and Connor headed off to the coroner’s office, where Andrew Riddle awaited. Andrew was a slender man in his mid-fifties with scraggly brown hair, matching brown eyes, and a twenty-six pocket fisherman’s vest on. He identified Hope’s body with grief all over his face. Meg and Connor gave him a moment to process his thoughts before peppering him with questions.

  “I can’t believe it. She’s gone. She’s…” Andrew trailed off, not even able to finish the sentence.

  His voice cracked as he uttered the words. He looked completely heartbroken. The question became, was this all an act?

  There was a time when Meg never used to think about these things. Given the suspicious nature surrounding Hope’s death and the fact that Andrew was her soon to be ex-husband, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just a cover.

  Meg was usually good at spotting a liar. There were the telltale signs; sweaty palms, dilating pupils in their eyes, a change of timbre in their voices. None of that was present here. If this was all just an act, Andrew had an amazing poker face. He had Meg convinced.

  Connor appeared to be buying it as well. “I’m sorry, Mr. Riddle. This must be an awful time for you.”

  “It is,” Andrew replied.

  “I couldn’t help but notice how long it took you to get over here after you got news of your wife’s death. My deputy called you two hours ago,” Connor said.

  Andrew tensed up. “Yeah. I would have been here sooner, but I was out of town.” He looked off into the distance. “I can’t help but feel guilty.”

  Meg’s eyes got wide all of a sudden. “Guilty?”

  He couldn’t be on the verge of confessing, could he? That would be refreshing. In her experience, suspects never admitted wrongdoing without having it drawn out of them. Maybe there really was a first time for everything.

  Or, perhaps not. Andrew apparently was feeling guilty about something else. “Yeah. I would have never left town if I knew something like this was going to happen.”

  “But how could you know something like this would happen?” Meg asked.

  “I couldn’t. It’s just one of those things; you can’t help but ask what if, you know? Like, what if I’d have been home last night? Maybe she’d still be alive,” Andrew speculated.

  “By the way, where did you go last night?” Connor asked.

  “Lake Mendocino. A buddy and I went on a fishing trip. That’s why it took me so long to get here,” Andrew replied.

  Meg furrowed her brow. “Actually, that seems pretty quick.”

  Andrew looked confused. “Come again?”

  “Lake Mendocino is three hours away. Connor’s deputy called you only two hours ago.”

  Andrew quickly revised his story. “Well, we were just outside of the lake. And we drove home in a blitz. We didn’t exactly follow the speed limit if you get my drift.”

  “We do. Now, you said we. Who was with you?” Connor asked.

  “My friend Michael Newman,” Andrew replied.

  “Where is he right now?” Connor wondered.

  “Yeah. Why isn’t he with you?” Meg added.

  “He’s waiting in the car. Michael doesn’t like talk of dead bodies, not since he lost his wife a few years back,” Andrew revealed.

  “So if we went out to the parking lot right now, he’d be able to confirm all this?” Connor asked.

  Andrew looked completely confused. “Yeah. Why?”

  “We just want to know exactly where you were when your wife died,” Connor said.

  “But, the deputy told me Hope had been killed by a burglar,” Andrew replied.

  “We’re not so sure now,” Connor said.

  Andrew backed away. “Wait a minute. You don’t believe I could have done this, do you?”

  It didn’t take Andrew long to break out into a full panic. For a man with a supposed alibi, that seemed very peculiar.

  “We’re not ruling anything out,” Connor said.

  Andrew shook his head vehemently and denied involvement. “I loved her.”

  The more out of control Andrew’s emotions became, the calmer Connor remained. It was an old detective trick he’d learned over the years. When a suspect saw the police keep such a tight lip and an even keel, it often made them freak out even more, possibly letting vital information slip in the process.

  “Crimes like this are usually committed by someone very close to the victim. For example, a jaded spouse,” Connor said.

  “I’m not jaded,” Andrew declared.

  “You are separated, though, and on the road to divorce court,” Meg said.

  “No. I’d never do anything like this,” Andrew replied.

  “That’s what you say. We’re going to go ahead and verify your story anyway to see if you’re telling the truth,” Connor insisted.

  There was no mistaking the fear in Andrew’s eyes. If there weren’t a slew of police deputies around, he looked like he’d try to make a break for it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amazingly enough, Andrew Riddle’s alibi checked out. His friend, Michael Newman, was parked outside and corroborated Andrew’s entire story. Meg couldn’t believe it. Despite what both Andrew and Michael had told her, something didn’t add up to their stories. Unfortunately, it was just a hunch right now, but it was a big one.

  For example, if Andrew was telling the truth back there, why was he sweating so much when she and Connor questioned him? The panic on his face and fear in his eyes made even less sense now.

  Connor clearly felt the same way.

  “Is it just me, or was something fishy about that whole exchange?” Meg asked.

  “You mean, other than the fact that he was wearing a fishing vest to the coroner’s office?” Connor deadpanned.

  His wisecrack surprised Meg. “Really, Mr. By-the-book is choosing now of all times to make jokes?”

  “It’s a nervous habit. I was just blowing off steam, and it turns out I have plenty
to blow off.” Connor watched Andrew Riddle and Michael Newman drive away. “You’re right. That was fishier than week-old tuna salad. Still, we had nothing to hold him on. His story checked out.”

  Meg threw a theory at him. “Maybe that’s because Andrew planned out his story beforehand with Michael Newman.”

  “It’s possible, but we can’t prove that. What we need is evidence, and we have none of that. What we do have is a number of other suspects.”

  Meg sighed. “Yeah, too many.”

  “Speaking of, do you have any idea who you want to start with?”

  Meg didn’t have to think long about that one. “Actually, I have a very good idea.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Meg and Connor headed back to Oak Street, but not to check out Hope’s place. This time, they were paying the neighbor she reportedly had a falling out with a visit. It was also the same neighbor that wasn’t home this morning when the police were investigating. That could just be a strange coincidence. Then again, it could also be much more. That’s what they were here to find out.

  Thankfully, they saw a car in the driveway at the Galloways house, so it was clear someone was home. Would they answer the door? If not, Meg could always walk around back and cast a spell in private drawing them outside.

  Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Brooke Galloway opened up shortly after Connor knocked. Brooke was in her early fifties, with wavy blonde hair, a trim figure, and a sweater with a drawing of a cat’s face on it. Meg paid close attention to Brooke’s body language in hopes of gleaning any insights she could. Brooke wasn’t tipping her hat either way; at least not yet.

  “Yes, can I help you?” Brooke asked.

  “I hope so,” Connor replied, pulling out his detective badge. “Connor Smith, Enchanted Bay Police Department.”

  Confusion came to Brooke’s face. “Police? What are you doing here?”

  “We have to ask you a few questions about your neighbor,” Connor said.