Magic & Mystery: A Cozy Mystery Sampler

by Sara Bourgeois

  I needed to call Cameron.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As I turned the knob to get back into the apartment, I told myself that I’d call Cameron first thing in the morning. My thoughts distracted me from the fact that the doorknob was so cold that it hurt my hand when I touched it. I yanked back and examined the pink frost bite on my palm.

  Not only had the metal injured my skin, but the door also wouldn't open. I knocked on the chilled wood and called out to John to let me in, but my request was met with the muffled sound of him crying out in pain. Then, I heard the sounds of a struggle and Tut hissing at something.

  My first instinct was to pound on the door or try forcing it open, but I knew that wouldn’t do any good. Instead, I pulled out my phone and called Cameron.

  “Sammy, it’s three a.m.” He said groggily into the phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Three a.m.? No. It’s only coming up on one.” I said and took the phone away from my ear so I could look at the clock.

  Sure enough, it was three in the morning. How long had I been standing at the door? Two hours had vanished, and the house was completely silent.

  “Sammy, are you there?” Cameron asked urgently “What’s wrong?”

  I told him everything as fast as I could speak and then begged for his help. He said he’d be over as quickly as he could, and Cameron said if there was any part of me that believed in God, I should start praying now.

  He showed up what felt like a few seconds later, but I knew that was impossible. I’d lost time again. Whatever this thing was, it had a greater hold on me than I’d imagined. I wondered how long I’d been walking around thinking that I was an observer when I was actually a participant in it’s game.

  I stood up and walked out to meet Cameron as he got out of his car. The sound of a hand slapping the glass in one of the upstairs windows caught our attention. It was John. He had his palm on the glass and a look of abject terror on his face.

  Suddenly, something yanked him back from our view, and I heard him scream. I strode across my yard towards John’s truck after I’d found a new source of strength inside of me. I wasn’t going to sit around being frightened or drinking my problems away. I realized it was time to fight.

  “Where are you going?” Cameron asked.

  “I’m getting a sledge hammer out of John’s truck. I’ll get into that house one way or another.”

  “Sam, look,” Cameron said as the front door gently popped open. “We should get some more people here. We need more people to pray over this place.”

  “You can stand out here and wait for people to come pray, but I’m going in. I won’t leave John in there.” I said and marched past him towards the front door.

  Once I was inside the house, I started up the stairs. We’d seen John in my bedroom window, so that was the first place I intended to look. Tut came scrambling down the stairs and hid under my sofa.

  Whatever the spirit was, the cat wanted nothing to do with it. I didn’t have the luxury.

  The steps under my feet felt like they were made of clay. It took an enormous amount of effort to pick my legs up and navigate up the staircase. Halfway up, I felt like I needed to sit down and rest. My lungs burned, and sweat ran down my temples to my cheeks.

  At that rate, I was never going to make it up the stairs. Every step was exponentially harder than the one before it. I heard a creek behind me, and when I turned, the old woman from the other side of the house was at the bottom of the staircase. Her skeletal smile was even more menacing because her teeth looked like they’d been filed into razor sharp points. She chomped at me and then began to climb up towards me on all fours.

  “A little help, please,” I said and looked up towards the ceiling.

  I’m not sure when I became a believer, but it was sometime between when I saw John’s hand pressed against the glass of my window and the current moment. The deep hatred in the old woman’s eyes and the mechanical way she crawled up the steps had me convinced that she wasn’t a ghost.

  Whatever it was, it was pure evil, and I needed help.

  My plea was answered, and a weight lifted off me. It wasn’t gone, though. Something else helped me carry the burden. I looked to my side and next to me was an ethereal creature. I couldn’t see specific features, but the light emanating from it was warm and comforting. Apparently, there had been an angel at my side the entire time watching over me. When I needed help, all I’d had to do was ask.

  We made it to the second floor, and I looked in my room. It was empty, so I went to the spare room. The bed was standing up on its side blocking the closet door.

  “Sammy? Is that you?” I heard the muffled voice from inside the closet followed by the squeal of a guinea pig.

  Bless John’s heart, he still had a hold of the little guy. I rushed across the room and tried to pull the bed down, but it would budge. There was a thumping and scraping in the hallway as the demon made its way toward me.

  The light appeared next to me and easily pulled the bed down. I opened the door and pulled John into my arms.

  We turned and watched the light move across the room. I assumed it was going to the hall to dispatch of the evil spirit, but something else caught my attention.

  The sound of dozens of voices singing Wings of a Snow White Dove outside of the house rose into the night. Cameron must have reached out to a local church, and they’d gotten out of bed and come to our aid in the middle of the night.

  Cameron’s voice boomed outside of the bedroom door.

  “You are cast out unclean spirit. You have no dominion here.”

  A flash of brilliant white light blinded me, and then the air in the house shifted. The feeling of peace that had emanated from the angel filled the atmosphere around us. I could no longer see him, but I knew that my guardian wasn’t far.

  Epilogue

  You’d have thought that I’d move out of the Overwatch house after everything that happened, but none of the evil that I’d brought into the house remained. So, there was no reason to leave.

  John wouldn’t hear of me living there alone, but by that point, I was more than happy to let him move in. He took the spare bedroom as his own, and both of us quit drinking. The angel’s light had touched us, and there’d been a fundamental shift in our priorities. Marriage, family, and hard work had always been important to John, but after that night, he’d been on a mission. John almost had me convinced as well. So much so that if he’d popped the question, he’d most likely get a yes.

  I’d been sober for several months by the time I graduated, and I’d also lost Cameron. After that night, he distanced himself from me, and no amount of pleading would get him to return my calls. I don’t know what happened to make him turn his back on me, but he left with the church people that morning after he’d cast out the demon.

  I was alright. I had John who was my best friend in the world, and on track to become so much more. Riley and Tanner would still hang out with us even though we wouldn’t party with them anymore. It was different, but things change.

  Oh, and I had Tut and Herbert. Herbert’s the guinea pig. I told John we didn’t have to keep him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Apparently, he’d had a guinea pig as a pet for ten years. He’d gotten it from his mom for his eighth birthday, and the little guy had died a couple of months before John left for college. So, Herbert was part of our little household.

  I got a call from Becky a couple of months later, and apparently, the man who rented the other apartment had died. His family had no intention of keeping the place, and the owner had decided to sell.

  The chance to buy the entire house was extended to me before the house was put on the market. John and I talked it over, and we decided to bite. Between our jobs, we’d had more than enough to buy the place at the steal of a price the owner had asked.

  Once we graduated, we’d knock down the dividing wall and restore the house. Without the demon, the Overwatch house was a dream come true.

  The last day of sch
ool came around, and I saw Cameron leaving class. He’d transferred out of the humanities class we had together, so I was a little surprised to see him.

  “Cameron,” I called out and hurried over to him.

  “Oh hello, Samantha.” He said.

  “How are you?” I asked. “I never see you anymore.”

  “I’m good. Things are good.”

  “What are you up to? Do you want to go get a coffee?”

  “No, I’ve got to go.” He said. “My last class is over, and I’m leaving for Texas.”

  “Texas?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got great news. I’ve been hired as an associate pastor at my old church.”

  “You’re going to be a preacher? You were against organized religion the last time we talked about it. You said that there was a demon of religion that distorted God.” I couldn’t believe what he was telling me.

  “Things change, Samantha.” It was then that I comprehended that his voice was a bit off. “After that night, I could see things differently. Anyway, I’ve got to go.”

  He started to walk away before I could say anything. Cameron stopped halfway to the parking lot. I thought for a moment that maybe he’d been joking. Perhaps he was going to come back and tell me what had really been going on.

  Cameron turned, and plastered across his face was the creepiest smile I’d ever seen. The look on his face made my stomach turn.

  “Hey, Sammy.” He called.

  “Yeah?” I shouted back.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  The Rake and the Researcher

  Blurb

  Lara

  When Lara Tyler came to Ash Road to research the estate of one of the town's richest residents, she didn't expect to find so many people with the motive to thieve and murder.

  Lara took the case because it sounded open and shut, but she quickly realized that secrets lurked around every corner of the picturesque hamlet.

  Brody

  At first, Brody O'Malley came off as untrustworthy and a bit rakish, but the town archivist was also gorgeous and charming. Hope bloomed in Lara that she was wrong about Brody as she found herself more and more attracted to him. But was she making a grave mistake?

  There's mystery, mayhem, and murder afoot in the tiny town of Ash Road. Will Lara be able to solve the crime and help restore peace? Or, will she find herself six feet under in before justice can be served?

  Chapter One

  Lara

  I looked around the quaint town of Ash Road after stepping off the bus. I’d been stuck on the smelly, hot behemoth for three days because the agency that found me work had fallen through on the rental car they’d promised. My car was still at a shop in the last town I’d worked in, and I’d had to leave it behind. The mayor of this town needed someone fast, and he’d been willing to pay a premium fee for my quick arrival.

  I’d decided that a bus would be an interesting way to travel from the West Coast to the heart of the Midwest. What a dumb decision that had been. When you hear horror stories about bus trips, make sure you believe them.

  My first stop was to walk the three blocks to the bed-and-breakfast that would serve as my home during my stay. Ash Road was too small to have any regular hotels, and I’m sure that the residents of the sleepy village had never heard of corporate apartments.

  At least I’d had the sense to wear comfortable shoes. After all, who did I have to impress around here? A little bit of my arrogance about small towns and their residents melted away during my walk from the bus stop to the inn.

  Ash Road hadn’t turned out to be what I’d expected at all. The streets were lined with grand old Victorian mansions surrounded by perfect picket fences that contained manicured lawns. Oh, and the flowers were like something from another world. I’d been all over the country, and all over the world, and I can’t remember a place that had such an abundance of colorful blooms. Every color in the rainbow burst forth from the ground, flowering shrubs, and pots of all shapes and sizes.

  When I had been about to pass the ice cream shop that sat next to the old-timey barber shop, I looked at my watch and decided that I most definitely had time for a scoop.

  Or two.

  The bell over the ice cream parlor door rang merrily as I walked in. A girl dressed in a bubblegum pink uniform dress looked up from her magazine. She had bright blonde hair piled up on top of her head in a messy bun and pink lip gloss almost the exact shade of her dress.

  “Welcome to Stan’s Ice Cream Parlor,” she said cheerfully. “You must be the genealogist.”

  I chuckled. “I’m the genealogist, but that’s okay. It’s a mouthful,” I said as I walked over and stood in front of the ice cream case.

  “Whatever that is, sugar. I’ll leave that stuff to you. I just scoop the ice cream and make the shakes,” she said good-naturedly. I liked her already.

  “I’m Lara Tyler. I’ll be staying at the bed-and-breakfast for a few days,” I said.

  “I know,” she said and laughed when the look of confusion washed over my face. “Sugar, this is a small town. We already know more about you than your mama. I’m Sylvie, by the way. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  I’d walked into the place looking for a scoop of pistachio, but when I saw the house-made pralines and cream, I knew I had to try it. Not knowing when I’d have time to come back, I let myself order a double.

  Either I’d come in during ice cream rush hour or word had spread that the new girl in town was at Stan’s Ice Cream Parlor because five minutes after I arrived, the place was packed.

  “Come back anytime. You’re great for business,” Sylvie called after me when I left. I guess that was my answer.

  The woman sitting behind the desk at the B&B looked up at me when I walked in. The inside of the Magnolia and Willow Inn took my breath away. The outside had been distinctly southern in appearance with its sunny yellow siding, red shingled roof, and dark purple hurricane shutters.

  The receptionist was seated behind a giant mahogany desk, complete with leather-bound guest book and antique phone. In her hand was a tablet that she’d appeared to be reading from when I walked in.

  I looked around at my surroundings. There was a grand staircase that led to the second floor to my right behind the receptionist. On the left was a set of gorgeous French doors that opened into what I assumed was the breakfast area. Every inch of the hard wood gleamed as if someone had spent the entire day polishing it, and little pops of red and cerulean blue in the form of artwork and flowers kept the place from looking too dark.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Tyler. Step right up and I’ll get you checked in,” the woman said with a warm smile.

  I didn’t know if I should be impressed or unnerved that she knew who I was with no introduction. “Wow, you guys sure are on top of things around here,” I said, and then thought better of my manners. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m afraid I don’t have the pleasure of your name.”

  “I’m Becca Donaldson. Owner and proprietor of the inn,” she said and stood to extend her hand to me.

  I shook her hand and Becca sat back down at her desk. She pushed the giant book a few inches and tapped her pen next to an empty spot in the register.

  “Just sign right here. The rest of your information has already been filled out.” Becca said, and I scribbled my name next to my handwritten personal information.

  “Do you really keep all of your records in this book?” The idea was cringeworthy to someone like me. Sure, that’s how it was done in the old days, but now it seemed like such a huge risk. All of your precious data could be wiped out in a flood or fire. It seemed like a silly chance to take when there is virtually unlimited cloud storage available for cheap.

  “Heavens no.” She said and smiled even wider. “The book just helps set the atmosphere. I mean, all of my signatures are in here, but I do have a computer with records in the back office. I just keep that out of sight.” I breathed an audible sigh of relief and Becca chuckled. “I
suppose in your line of work, keeping paper records in a book in this day and age would be no less than a mortal sin.”

  “Something like that,” I said thoughtfully.

  “Well, let me show you to your room,” Becca said and got out of her chair again. “Let me go in the back and grab the key. A year ago, I upgraded to those key card things the hotels use. Up until then, I’d used regular old keys, but my insurance company had a fit. They were going to double my rates if I didn’t install what they deemed better safety measures. I keep the key machine in the back for the same reason I keep the computer back there.”

  After Becca returned with two room keys, she led me up the stairs and down a long hallway to the last room. My home for the next couple of weeks was in the back of the house, and I learned as soon as I walked in that I had a breathtaking view of the inn’s gardens. The giant picture window opposite the entry door allowed me to see the perfectly sculpted and manicured grounds, and thanks to the numerous weeping willow trees flanking both sides of the house, the perfect amount of light gently streamed into my room.

  “Wow,” was all I could manage.

  “Yeah, you can’t find rooms like this at those fancy city hotels,” she said.

  “No, you can’t.” I walked to the window and looked down at the lavender plants lining a cobblestone walkway that led out to a small pond and what I assumed was a hand-carved gazebo.

  “The mayor insisted that I put you in my nicest room, and here it is. Don’t put too much bubble bath in the tub if you’re going to turn the jets on or else we’ll have a suds explosion. I’ve cleaned that up more than once,” she said and laughed. “Breakfast is from six in the morning until ten every day. If you’ve got something special you want me to make, just let me know. Otherwise, the weekly menu is on the coffee table. Call me if you need anything.”

  I briefly wondered why the mayor would care what room I stayed in, but then I remembered that he’s the person who hired me through the agency. Perhaps it was them that said I’d need deluxe accommodations and he’d just passed the message on to Becca.