The Case of the Trust Spell: A Hillcrest Witch Mystery (Hillcrest Witch Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Amorette Anderson

“I’d absolutely love that,” Max says.

  A horn honks again.

  “I’d better let you focus on your run, now,” I say dreamily.

  “I’d rather talk to you,” Max says, just as dreamily.

  I’m twirling my hair as I respond. “I can’t wait to see you,” I say.

  “You too, Penelope. See you soon.”

  When we hang up, I’m blushing and smiling. I cross the bedroom and return to my group of friends with a big grin on my face. “Max said that he can judge the tournament for us!” I say.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Annie says. “I really don’t think I was up for it. I want to enjoy watching the games. Not to mention we have a murderer to find. And baked goods to share!”

  I love seeing Annie’s excitement about the weekend. I’m actually even feeling excited myself—plus nervous since there’s a murderous spirit down in Cora’s living room at this very moment.

  Thinking of the murderous spirit, I speak up, “I think it will be good to have Max around for the games,” I say. “I know that the four of us can handle just about anything on our own, but it won’t hurt to have Max around to help out if things get crazy. Remember, one of those spirits down there killed Janice. He or she might get violent again. We don’t know.”

  “But you said you thought that the killing was specifically against the judge?” Cora asks nervously.

  “I do think that,” I say. “I believe that the murderer specifically targeted the judge. They might have more revenge killings in mind, too. I don’t feel that any of us are going to be targeted.”

  Cora gives a sigh of relief. “Good,” she says.

  “But even though we’re not targets, we still have to be careful. If we get too close to the killer, they could lash out in defense. I’ve seen it before.”

  Cora wrinkles her brow. “So we are in danger?” she asks.

  “Er... a bit I suppose,” I admit honestly. “You guys—we don’t have to do this. We could cancel the games and lock the portal back up.”

  “And let the killer go free?” Marley asks. She shakes her head. “Uh-uh. No way. I vote that we figure out who killed Janice. I don’t like the idea of leaving the portal closed out of fear. Sure, evil beings do come through, but sometimes nice beings come through too.”

  “Like Fred,” Annie says. “He seems like a nice man.”

  “He does,” I agree, thinking of Fred’s smile. “We’d be closing ourselves off from the good and the bad if we always kept the portal closed.”

  Marley shakes her head. “I don’t like the sound of that. We would miss out on so many visitors.”

  “So we keep it open?” I ask. “And try to solve this case ourselves?”

  I look around at my friends. Annie nods. Marley nods and smiles.

  Cora hesitates again.

  “I don’t know,” she says, resting a hand on her abdomen. “Now I’m having second thoughts. One of those ghosts down there is dangerous. I don’t like the thought of them in my house. And now my bathroom is contaminated with weird ghost blood! I don’t even know how to clean that.”

  “I’m sure bleach will do the trick,” Annie says.

  “Bleach is bad for the earth,” Marley chimes in. “White vinegar is better. Mix it with a few drops of lemon essential oils and you’ll be good to go.”

  “That’s not really my point,” frets Cora. “I’m engaged. I’m going to have a baby. I don’t need to be hunting down ghost murderers.”

  Annie speaks. “They’re spirits, Cora dear.”

  “You know what I mean!” Cora says.

  Marley places a hand on Cora’s shoulder. “Cora,” she says. “Think about this. If we had kept the portal closed from the beginning, you would never have had a chance to meet Silas. Yes, dangerous beings have crossed over and I’m guessing they’ll keep coming over—which is why it’s important for us to be able to deal with whatever comes our way. We can do this. Don’t you believe we’re capable of figuring this out?”

  “I do believe we’re capable of it,” Cora says.

  “Yes!” I say, pumping my fist in the air. I’m getting kind of fired up. This team huddle is really motivating me. “We can so handle this!” I say enthusiastically. “This is nothing for the Terra Coven. We’ve got this, ladies!”

  “Yeah!” says Marley.

  “Yes!” Annie says.

  “Here we go,” says Cora, shaking her head and finally flashing one of her bright smiles.

  Chapter Five

  For the next half hour, Marley, Annie, Cora and I try to calm down the very shaken group of spirit athletes in Cora’s living room.

  “Poor Janice!” Camille whispers as she sobs quietly.

  Pat, Camille’s teammate, replies every time with a ‘there, there’. Pat tries to calm Camille down by rubbing her back. I notice that Pat’s eyes are little leaky too, and she keeps having to stop the back rub so that she can wipe her eyes.

  Fred is also teary-eyed, but he seems to be trying to keep himself together for the good of the group. Marve is quiet, perched on a chair with his arms folded across his chest.

  Boris and Bolslava have stony expressions. The only clue that they are upset comes when Boleslava utters a small cry that sounds a bit like a hurt puppy, just after Annie announces that Janice is indeed dead. Boris comforts her with a big bear hug.

  “How did this happen?” Beth asks innocently, from her position on the couch.

  She looks truly confused. I think back to the way she was the one with the trophy in her bag, and she went upstairs to use the bathroom. Is she faking her cluelessness?

  “We don’t know,” I say, raising my brow. I want to say, ‘Maybe you could tell us,’ but I bite my tongue. “What we do know is that this is a tragedy. Luckily, I am a certified Private Investigator. My friends...” I motion to the three women standing by my side, “My friends and I are studying to be witches. We are confident that we can figure out who killed Janice. In the meantime, it is important to us that Walterdon is not canceled.”

  Fred nods. “Janice would want us to compete,” he says. “She’s been waiting for this day just like the rest of us have.”

  “She was very excited about it,” Beth says.

  “Canceling the tournament would be like letting the killer win. We can’t let that happen,” Henry adds.

  I notice that Marve has taken out a small video camera, and he seems to be recording our conversation. I look over at him. “Marve, what are you doing?” I ask.

  He’s doing a slow pan of the room, and he finishes by aiming right at me. “Getting some footage,” he says. “This is what sporting events are all about, you know. The heart and soul of it aren’t removed from life and death. Competing is about life and death. This is inspiring stuff.”

  “Let the games go on!” Fred calls out.

  Their enthusiasm is contagious. Soon our little meeting wraps up and I find myself back in the dining room, staring down at my plate of cold spaghetti. I’m starving, and it doesn’t matter to me that it’s cold. I find that I’m over the blood spattering. I dig in. It doesn't’ taste like wallpaper paste... not that I’ve ever tried wallpaper paste or anything.

  The table is hushed as we all eat.

  I manage to stop chowing down for a minute or two just to ask Fred about moving Janice’s body. It’s not the best dinner conversation, but we get a plan ironed out. Fred informs me that the Spirit Realm does have a police force, but since we’re out of their jurisdiction they won’t put any effort into helping us find Janice’s murder. They will, however, make sure that Janice’s body is returned to her family for proper burial. They’ll leave the investigation to us.

  I hope we can handle it.

  After one last look at the crime scene (yep, she was hit on the head with the trophy), I help Fred wrap Janice in a sheet. Marley gives us a ride up to the portal, and we meet a sturdy looking Spirit Realm police officer there. He’s happy to take the body off of our hands, and even happier that we’re taking responsib
ility for the case.

  It’s six forty by the time I leave Cora’s house for a final time, and six fifty by the time I reach my apartment. I unlock the door and am immediately greeted by Turkey.

  “How did it go?” he asks me telepathically. He trots towards me while I remove my hat, jacket, and mittens.

  “Well, Walterdon is off to a bumpy start,” I say. “But we’re not going to let that stop us.”

  I make my way into my little kitchen, which really means that I step a few feet over from the front door so that I’m behind the counter bar that separates my living room from my kitchen. I reach for the pantry door.

  “What kind of bumps?” Turkey asks as he hops up onto a bar stool.

  “A dead body,” I say. “One of the tennis players killed the woman that was going to judge the tournament. Personally, I think it was Beth, but I know it’s too soon to really tell.”

  “Penelope! That’s awful!” Turkey says. “What happened?”

  I’m filling up Turkey’s bowl. Above the rattling sound of dry kibbles hitting metal, I say, “Someone whacked her in the head with a nickel, gold-plated, two-foot high trophy. I mean, this thing is substantial. It probably killed her in one blow.”

  “Sheesh!” Turkey says. “What a tragedy! The tournament must be canceled, then?”

  I shake my head. “Nope! Walterdon is going to be a yearly event, Turkey. We’re forging a new relationship with the Spirit Realm. This is about politics. We decided to be diplomatic and have the tournament proceed as planned. While it goes on, the girls and I will try to figure out who the killer is.”

  “That sounds difficult,” Turkey said. “You don’t know anything about these spirit beings. They’re strangers. How could you possibly dive into their psychology deep enough to understand them? It will take quite a while... quite a lot of digging.”

  “Well, we don’t have ‘quite a while’,” I say. I’ve scooped wet food onto the dish of dry, and I lower it for Turkey. He walks over. As he bends over the dish and begins lapping up food, I squat down and pet the top of his head.

  “They’re going to leave on Monday morning at the latest,” I say, stroking his soft head. I love the top of Turkey’s head. It’s flat and soft and always a little bit warm—like his brain is working so hard that it’s producing heat.

  He gives his little head a shake. I take the clue and remove my hand. He tilts his chin up. “Why Monday morning?” he asks. “Couldn't you detain them here—if the investigation is still going on?”

  “Not really,” I say. “It has something to do with their health and the atmosphere on earth. Even if we don’t find the killer this weekend, they’re all going to return to the Spirit Realm. They can only last in the Earth Realm for about forty-eight hours.”

  “I see,” says Turkey. “Then you really have no time to waste.” He lowers his head again and begins eating.

  I stand and look at the clock on the oven. It’s almost seven. “Not even a minute,” I say, agreeing with my cat. “The investigation will start tonight. Max is going to be here soon. He’s going to—”

  Before I can explain that Max has agreed to judge our tournament, there’s a knock on the door.

  “That must be him now!” I say happily.

  Turkey is busily lapping away at his wet food, which is his favorite part of the meal, so I let him be and skip over towards the door. I really do feel light on my feet at the thought of seeing Max. My heart feels like it’s bursting with excitement as I pull the door open.

  There he is—all six foot two of him. His handsome chiseled features are more sun-kissed than usual, given the fact that he was just in the rural wilderness for a week. His dark, wavy hair pokes out from under the wool cap that he’s wearing.

  His espresso-brown eyes glitter with joy and excitement as they meet my eyes. He smiles, showing off his pearly white teeth. His fangs used to freak me out, but not anymore. I’ve started to find them surprisingly attractive.

  Without a word, we wrap our arms around each other. Max holds me tight, so tightly that my feet leave the ground. I lift one foot up, kicking it into the air and pointing my toe.

  When he sets me down, he pulls away slightly. We stare into each other’s eyes for a minute, and then before I know what’s happening, our lips are locked.

  I love kissing Max. It’s better than I ever could have imagined—and believe me, I did a lot of imagining.

  His lips are soft and warm, but strong too. He always tastes delicious, and when we kiss, I want it to last forever.

  I wrap my arms up around his neck and pull him in closer. We walk backward into my apartment, still kissing. My eyes close, and I lose track of everything except for the feel of his lips moving against mine.

  When I sense the side of my couch hit the back of my legs, I realize we’ve walked all the way to my living room. Max lifts me up a little bit, and then I feel myself falling backward onto the couch.

  Max situates himself on top of me. The entire time, our lips don’t part. My fingers move from his neck to the bottom of his thick curls. I rake my fingers through his hair, pushing his hat up and then off of him.

  He pulls away and laughs as it falls to the floor. As I open my eyes, I notice him staring down at me.

  “Hi there,” he says. His voice is so deep and dreamy. His muscles bunch as he holds himself up above me.

  How did I get so lucky?

  I want to pull him down on top of me. I want to feel his lips against mine again. “Hi,” I say.

  “I missed you,” he says, before succumbing to my pulls and kissing me again.

  I hear Turkey’s voice in my head. “Is this really the best use of your time?” he asks. “I thought that you said that you didn’t have a minute to waste. You’ve been kissing now for about five minutes.”

  His telepathic communication distracts me a bit from my activities. “I did say that, didn’t I?” I ask Turkey telepathically.

  Max pulls away slightly. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

  I maneuver myself, under him, so that I’m moving towards sitting. He takes my clue and lifts his weight off of me. Soon we’re sitting side by side.

  “Turkey started communicating with me,” I say while straightening my shirt.

  Max watches me adjust my garments with a look of longing in his eyes. I can tell that he wants me to pull my top up and off. Instead, I situate the neckline of my top so that it’s centered. “He was reminding me that tonight is going to be a busy night.”

  Turkey has hopped up on the coffee table and is now looking at both of us with an air of disapproval. I feel a bit as though I’m a teen, caught doing something naughty by a stern adult.

  Max reaches forward and gives Turkey a pat on the head.

  Turkey ducks, pulling his head away from Max, and then leaps off of the table and onto the couch next to me, on the opposite side from Max.

  “Sorry,” I say to Max. “He’s not a huge fan of yours, I guess. Ever since I told him that your an animalitarian. Give it some time.”

  Max laughs. “I don’t eat familiars!” he says. “I wouldn’t dare. I don’t eat cats or dogs or any other domesticated animals. Only wild game, and it’s done in a very respectful manner. I learned from the Nagmori tribe. It’s the circle of life.”

  Inside my head, I hear Turkey scoff. “Penelope, if your goal is to find a murderer this weekend, I think your mission is already accomplished. He’s sitting right next to you.”

  I scoop Turkey up and place him on my lap as I silently respond. “Max is not a murderer, Turkey. He drinks the blood of maybe one elk or deer a week. I eat meat too, you know. Do you think I’m a murderer? Your favorite dinner is Feline Finicky Feast in duck flavor. They use real bird meat, you know.”

  “I don’t want to think about this,” Turkey responds. His response makes sense. As my familiar, Turkey is an extension of me. Our minds are connected. I’ve always felt a bit guilty about my meat-eating habits, so it makes sense that Turkey does too.

&n
bsp; “Everything okay?” Max asks. He loops his arm around my shoulder.

  Ah... it is so nice to sit here by his side.

  He’s so darn muscular. And handsome. And smart. And funny. And—

  Turkey interrupts my train of thought. “Did you tell him about the murdered Judge in the bathtub?” he asks.

  “Yep,” I answer. “I told him right away.”

  “Right away, hm?” Turkey says. If I’m not mistaken, there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Is my familiar jealous of my relationship with Max?

  Uh oh. I don’t want that. I’m going to have to have a heart-to-heart with Turkey.

  However, now is not the right moment.

  Turkey jumps off of my lap. I watch him cross the living room and then disappear behind the kitchen counter.

  Max turns to me and lifts his eyebrows.

  I give a little shrug. I have a feeling that I know what is going on with my cat but I don’t want to explain it to Max here and now. For one thing, Turkey is in earshot, and I don't want to hurt his feelings by talking about him as if he’s not there. For another, it’s already quarter after seven, and Max and I need to be heading over towards the park.

  I slap my knees as I stand. “Ready to get this show on the road?” I ask.

  Max stands as well. “If judging a tennis tournament in the middle of the night is what I need to do to spend time with you, then yes, I’m ready.” He grins.

  I nod. “Good. Because it is. I’m going to go throw on some extra layers.”

  “Can I come?” Max asks mischievously, as I head towards the bedroom. Well, I know where that would lead, and it certainly wouldn’t help us get out the door and to the park on time.

  I turn around and grin at him. “You’d better stay out here. I’ll be right back,” I say.

  “You know,” Max calls out, as I rush into my room to find some warm clothes. “Intimacy is a crucial aspect of longevity! If you want to become a vampire, you’re going to have to start making time for—”

  I push my hands through a sweater sleeve and lean out of the bedroom to call out, “Who says I want to become a vampire?” Then I duck my head back into my room.