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

by Amorette Anderson

  “What secret?” Marve asks.

  “You know... about—” I lower my voice and whisper, “Her little smoking habit.”

  “Oh, that!” Marves says. “How do you know about that?” he asks.

  “I’m an investigator. That’s my job. I figure things out.”

  “I’m actually kind of impressed,” Marve says snidely. “I thought you were a total joke of an investigator. I didn’t really think you’d find anything out.”

  I place my hands on my hips. “Total joke?” I repeat. Then, “You know what? I don’t have to take this from you. This conversation is over.”

  I spin on my heel. I’m halfway to the refreshment stand before I remember that I also wanted to ask Marve about the death of Fred’s partner. But he has insulted me so badly that I don’t think I can stomach going back to talk to him more.

  I need some space from that man.

  And a cookie.

  And a cup of coffee.

  Yes, cookies and coffee will help to repair my damaged ego.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I walk towards the picnic table. Marley is standing behind it, alone.

  Annie and Fred have wandered off together towards the tennis court. They’re standing at the edge of the court watching the game. Occasionally they look at each other and share a few words or laugh. I can tell that Annie is having a good time.

  “I cannot believe that guy!” I say, as I reach Marley’s side. I reach for a cookie and take a big bite out of it. With my mouth still full, I say, “He just called me a joke of a PI!”

  Who can remember manners when they’ve just been insulted? Not this girl, that’s for sure.

  “Who did?” Marley asks.

  “That arrogant, self-centered camera man Marve, that’s who!” I say. I take another giant bite of my cookie and get more heated up while I chew. Joke of a private investigator! That’s what he called me! Even though the temperatures are in the teens tonight, I feel my blood boiling.

  “Did you say something to make him act defensively? Did you insult him first?” Marley asked.

  “Me?” I ask, placing my free hand on my chest. “Insult someone?” I shake my head. “No. I was the queen of tact. I graciously questioned him about Janice’s murder.”

  Marley laughs. “Gracious isn’t exactly a word that describes you, Penny,” she says. Then, “You want some coffee?”

  “Sure,” I mumble.

  “Check out Annie and Fred,” Marley says while pouring out hot coffee from a carafe. She hands me the cup. “They’re really hitting it off.”

  Marley hands me the cup of coffee, and I sip it while we watch Annie and Fred for a minute or two. It’s clear from their body language that they are enjoying each other’s company.

  “You know how Annie said that she wished she could talk to Walter about dating again?” I ask.

  Marley nods. “Sure. She wants to make sure that he’s okay with it. I personally think that Walter would want his wife to be as happy as possible as she lives out her years here on earth. Of course he would want her to have a relationship with another man, if that’s what would make her happy.”

  “Totally,” I say. “He was such a nice guy, Walter. And head over heels in love with Annie. She was his whole world.”

  “They were a sweet couple,” Marley says. “And I can understand why Annie wants to ask him if he’s okay with her dating again. I mean, in a weird way it makes sense.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” I say. “Do you... do you think Annie’s actually going to be able to reach Walter?” I ask. My voice is quiet. “With a séance, or whatever she was doing. You know... with the black candles and the sage and all that?”

  “You’re talking about the séance she did when she contacted Fred,” Marley says. She’s poured herself a cup of coffee, and she sips it thoughtfully after she speaks.

  I nod.

  For some reason, I feel suddenly nervous to hear Marley’s answer.

  Does my best friend believe that it’s possible to contact the dead?

  Do I believe it?

  Marley looks sideways at me. I think she can tell that her answer means a lot to me. I keep my eyes trained on Annie and Fred.

  “You're thinking about your mom, aren’t you Penny?” Marley asks softly.

  Unexpectedly, tears start prickling my eyelids. I squeeze my lips together as I nod.

  I do not want to cry. Not here. Not now. For one thing, the tears would freeze on my eyelashes and cheeks which would be a nuisance if not downright painful. For another, I have a killer to catch, for goodness sake.

  Marley side-steps over so that she’s right next to me. She loops her arm around my shoulders.

  “You know, Penny,” she says. “Wherever your mom is, it’s a good place. She’s at peace there.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask.

  “I feel it,” Marley says.

  “If—if there’s a way to reach her, do you think I should try?” I ask.

  Marley is quiet as she thinks about this. “Do you want to?” she asks at last.

  I nod. “I want to tell her that I love her,” I say.

  “She knows that,” Marley says, rubbing her hand up and down on my upper arm. The motion warms me up. It’s then that I realize I’ve been shivering. “Whether you contact her or not,” Marley says, “I’m here to tell you that she knows, Penny.”

  I pull off my mitten and use my finger to wipe the bottom of my lids.

  “I told Annie that I would talk to Max, you know, about ... death,” I say. “I told Annie that I’d ask him about it. He has a Ph.D. in all things magical, after all. If he knows so much about the other realms, maybe he also knows about where people from this realm go when they die.”

  “Maybe he does,” Marley says.

  “I—I haven’t asked him yet,” I admit. “I could have today. He came over and we talked, but—but I didn’t because... I’m scared.”

  “That’s okay,” Marley says. “Some of this stuff scares me too. I think we should just take it one day... and one spell at a time. Maybe now is the right time for Annie to explore life after death, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right time for all of us.”

  I nod. “Okay,” I say.

  “If and when you’re supposed to look for your mom, you’ll know,” Marley says. “I think you’ll feel it.”

  I nod. For some reason, her words make me feel relieved. I reach my arms around Marley’s waist and give her a hug. “How did you get to be so wise?” I ask. “You’re in your twenties like me! How come I didn’t think of any of that?”

  Marley laughs. “My grandmother always told me I had an old soul. Maybe I do.” She shrugs. “You feel better?”

  “A lot,” I say. I’m so relieved to have spoken my fears out loud that I actually laugh. “Sorry for bugging you with that,” I say.

  “You aren’t bugging me,” she says. “If you don’t feel comfortable asking Max about life after death, I’m sure Annie will understand.”

  “I think I’m okay with it now,” I say. “Somehow, knowing that I don’t have to try to contact my mom right away helps. I can just ask Max with the aim of getting information for Annie.”

  “Perfect,” Marley says. Then she points to the court. “Looks like Boris and Boleslava won!” she says.

  Indeed, the game has ended and Boris and Boleslava are hugging happily. Pat is patting Camille’s back. Camille shakes her head sorrowfully.

  I know that the game will pit Beth and Henry up against Fred and Marve. I watch Boris and Boleslava exit the court. I need to talk to Boris again, and this time I’m going to get the truth from him. No matter what.

  Is it hard for a five foot six, twenty-seven-year-old with no muscle definition to intimidate a six and a half foot hunk of muscles?

  Yes, it really, truly is.

  But I know that I can do it. I just need to use my brain.

  I need to strategize. I need to think.

  I run through the events of the evening
in my head. Janice went upstairs to use the bathroom. Fred and Marve lingered outside. Beth went upstairs after Janice and snuck into the guest room to smoke.

  That left Boris at the entryway. Well, Boris and Blueberry Muffin.

  But Boris didn’t suspect that the yippy little chihuahua could communicate. So Boris pretty much thought he was alone. Boris saw Beth’s bag, just sitting there on the floor. He reached in and took the trophy out.

  Then what?

  Did he run upstairs, barge into the bathroom, and whack Janice over the head?

  Or did something else happen?

  How in the world am I going to find out?

  Boris already told me his version of the story. He claims that he didn’t take the trophy. He says that he started up the stairs, but then came back down.

  If he lied about taking the trophy, is he also lying about the fact that he came back downstairs before getting all the way to the top?

  I sip my coffee, hoping that the caffeine will give me an idea. It does. Zing!! I know one way to make Boris talk.

  When Beth told me the truth about her smoking habit, it was because she was aware that I already knew. She didn’t bother hiding it from me because I had already seen the cigarette. She couldn’t hide it, so she spilled everything—even the bit about Marve blackmailing her.

  So, why couldn’t I do the same thing with Boris?

  Only this time, I’ll be pretending. I’ll pretend that I saw him take the trophy out of Beth’s bag.

  What do I have to lose? Once he’s confessing to taking the trophy, he’ll go on to tell me the rest of the events.

  At least, that’s what I’m hoping.

  “Boris,” I say, trying my best to sound intimidating. He’s standing by the refreshment stand. Marley has just passed him a bottle of water and he’s twisting the top off. Boleslava, at his side, is reaching for a brownie. She freezes as I speak.

  “I need a word with you,” I say authoritatively. Not ‘I’d like a word with you’, or ‘could I have a word please?’. I’m desperate to sound like someone Boris should take commands from.

  “No,” Boris says.

  Hmm. That didn’t work.

  “Please, could I have a word with you?” I ask.

  “What you want with my Boris?” Boleslava asks. “He talked to you yesterday.”

  “I’m drinking water,” Boris says. “Celebrating good game.”

  “Yes, yes,” I say. “Congratulations on your game. Well done. You really... swung that racket well.” What does one say to great tennis players? I’m not sure.

  My compliment seems to land. Boris smiles slightly. “Yes. Some good hits,” he says.

  He takes a swig of his water.

  “You can drink your water while I talk to you,” I say. “I think it would be best if we had this conversation in private.”

  “No,” Boris says. “What you have to say to me, you can say in front of my wife, too.”

  “Alright,” I say. “Boris, you lied to me yesterday. You said that you didn’t take the trophy out of Beth’s bag but I know that you did. What’s more, I have proof that you did.” So, maybe I don’t exactly have proof. But I need to get this information, so I have to say that I do. I don’t like to lie, but if it will help me get to the truth, it’s worth it.

  I continue. “I have video footage of you taking that trophy. Do you understand that the trophy is a murder weapon?”

  “Ha!” Boris says. “You silly, silly girl. I was not taking that trophy so that I could kill Janice. Why would I kill Janice?”

  “Because....you were in love with her?” I say.

  “Oh! Ho, ho. You think you know about being in love?”

  Umm. He’s got me there.

  I clear my throat. “Well, perhaps very little. I’m only twenty-seven, and I’ve had a kind of weird, rocky love life so far. Maybe I haven’t been the best person to be in a relationship with. I mean, Chris and I had some ups and downs and ultimately—” I shake my head, clearing away the nervous need to review my relationship history with this giant spirit athlete, who is now looking down on me with an amused smile on his lips.

  “I did not love Janice,” Boris says.

  “Who says my husband loved the skinny Judge?” Boleslava demands.

  “I—I heard it,” I say, with a minor stutter. These two make me nervous. Especially when Boleslava shoots daggers at me with her eyes. She’s wearing even heavier eyeliner tonight than last night. The effect is quite sinister. “I don’t know. I thought it might be true.”

  Boris almost shouts his response to this. “Rumors!” he says. “All rumors! All lies. I love Boleslava, my wife. I did not have love for Janice. I did not kill Janice!”

  “Then why did you take the trophy out of Beth’s bag?” I ask.

  “I have to hold the trophy to know what it feels like to hold it!” Boris shouts. “I have to feel it. To build up the excitement about it. Like a hound. You know the dog smells what it needs to track. Yes?”

  I nod slowly and then groan, “So you’re saying you just took the trophy out so that you could hold it for a minute, and imagine what it would be like to win?”

  “Yes!” Boris says.

  “Great!” I say sarcastically. “What did you do with it once you were done sniffing it—or whatever?”

  Boris laughs, “I put it back, of course.” He takes a gulp of his water triumphantly. Once he swallows, he says, “You see? Your evidence means nothing.”

  He’s got me there. Even if I did have proof that Boris took the trophy out of Beth’s bag, now that proof would be worth nothing.

  The worst part is that I didn’t even have any proof to begin with.

  Boleslava grins as she speaks to her husband. “Let us go eat in peace,” she says.

  “Come.”

  She piles several more cookies on her plate and then leads Boris away from the table.

  “Ugh,” I say aloud.

  Annie holds up a plate of spice cake. “Not to worry, dear,” she says. “There are still four games left in this wonderful second day of Walterdon. We’ll get to the bottom of this case by the time the winner is chosen!”

  “I like your optimism, Annie,” I say. “But the clue about Boris taking the trophy was one of the best leads we had. Now we’re back to square one.”

  Cora, who has been walking Blueberry Muffin around the park, approaches us just in time to overhear my words. “What’s so bad about square one?” she asks. “I love the beginning of things, when everything is new and fresh.” She’s using that dreamy, pregnancy-hormone flooded tone again.

  “The problem with being back at square one right now is that we’re running out of time!” I say with urgency, and I have to admit, perhaps a bit of panic. My bloodstream is definitely devoid of relaxing hormones. I feel like a big, zappy ball of nerves. Maybe it’s all the caffeine. I am flapping my arms a little bit too, which is never a good sign.

  Annie speaks up. “Now, don’t panic Penny,” she says.

  “I’m not panicking!” I shout, flapping my arms harder.

  Shoot. I’m panicking, aren’t I?

  I force myself to hold my arms at my sides. “I just want to know who killed Janice!” I say.

  “Take a deep breath,” Cora advises me.

  “It’s too freaking cold for deep breaths!” I say.

  Marley laughs.

  Cora continues smiling serenely. “Maybe you could try taking a walk around the park. That’s what Blueberry Muffin and I just did, and it was very calming. The trees look so nice in the moonlight.”

  I wanted to shout out, ‘I don’t want to take a freaking walk around the park! I want to solve this case!’ but I bite my tongue. Yelling at my witchy sisters isn’t going to help anything.

  While I’m biting my tongue, Marley says. “Penny, tell us the suspect list again.”

  “Well, on the top of the list was Boris and Beth. Beth has an alibi, and Boris here...,” I point over my shoulder to where the tall black-haired spirit
is standing talking with his wife, “Has just given a pretty darn good reason for being with the trophy. Unless he’s lying to us, that leaves Fred and Marve.”

  “It wasn’t Fred,” Annie says with certainty. “He’s just too friendly, funny, handsome... kind! Oh my goodness, is he ever kind. And handsome. Did I already say handsome?”

  “Annie,” Marley says. “I didn’t go to school for fighting crime or anything, but I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as being ‘too handsome to commit murder’.”

  “There’s not?” Annie asks. She frowns. “Well, that’s too bad.”

  “Marley’s right,” I say. “Fred remains on the list. And so does Marve.”

  Marley speaks next. “Penny, wasn’t Marve just pretty rude to you? Maybe he was defensive because he was hiding something.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe he’s just a greedy, entertainment-industry jerk.”

  Annie points a finger in the air. “Now, ‘greedy jerk’ sounds like someone who would commit murder,” she says.

  “Possibly...” I say. “But how are we going to prove it? Marve did go into the house a few minutes before Fred. He would have had time to run upstairs and kill Janice. But—did he? Or, did he just walk into the house and head straight for the kitchen like everyone else?”

  “Let’s think about it while we watch the next game,” Annie says. “Fred’s playing! Coffee refill, anyone?”

  As it turns out, we all want a coffee refill. With cake and coffees in hand, we all crowd along the sidelines of the court. Though I do my best to think of ways to trick Fred or Marve into confessing, I come up miserably blank.

  I watch the ball bounce back and forth, my mind goes over each and every clue that I’ve acquired. Marve said that he was going to become a part owner of W-SPORT. That sounds like a pretty significant promotion to me. Could that have something to do with all of this? But what?

  The last game turns out to be a real nail-biter. Apparently, Boris’s trick of holding onto the trophy to get a feel for it wasn’t a productive one. He and Boleslava are eliminated from the tournament right before the final match. Camille and Pat also get eliminated. Of course, that means that the final match is between the reigning champs, Beth and Henry, and Annie’s favorite team, Fred and Marve.