by Cindy Stark
She would be careful around him, though.
“She’s resting,” Cora said with a fair amount of annoyance in her voice.
“Awful thing, that accident this afternoon. I’m glad she’s okay. If Peter hadn’t stopped me, I might have been victim number three for the day.”
“Or Hazel could have been, too.” Cora’s implication that it was John’s fault that Hazel had been in the vehicle and therefore part of the accident came through loud and clear.
“Exactly.” He sighed, obviously missing her point. “We can thank God we’re okay.”
“Amen,” Cora agreed, bringing a small smile to Hazel’s face, knowing that wasn’t a word she typically used.
A long pause ensued and then John released a heavy sigh. “Come on, Cora. I’m just doing my job. She was with Father Christopher moments before he died, and he didn’t pass from natural causes.”
More silence, and Hazel wondered if Cora was giving him the raised eyebrow, I-don’t-care look, or if she’d chosen the more severe, narrow-eyed, I’m-likely-to-hurt-you look that she sometimes used on unruly customers. She’d like to think it was the latter.
“Don’t make me be a jerk, Cora. Just because I’m questioning her doesn’t mean I think she’s guilty. Heck, I like Hazel. A lot. But maybe she saw something, you know? She was right there.”
Hazel groaned as she sat up and placed the ice pack on a nearby table. “I’m coming, John.”
Everything ached. If she hadn’t tensed during the impact, she would have been just fine. But…hindsight. And really, she doubted there were many who could have gone with the flow and stayed relaxed in that same situation.
He gave her a sheepish grin as she approached. “Sorry, Hazel. You know I don’t like to do this.” Friendliness remained his main emotion, but she sensed something darker lurking beneath.
She gave him a brief nod. “I’ll go willingly if you can promise me ibuprofen and a caffeine-infused drink once we get there.”
She should have thought earlier to pull out the muscle salve she’d created. She’d definitely use it as soon as she was back home.
He smiled and held out his arm. “Deal.”
She turned to Cora. “I’ll call you when I’m finished, okay?”
Cora cast a nasty glance at John and then turned to Hazel. “You’d better. I can come right back over, too, if you need me.”
“I’ll be fine. But thank you.”
John held the door for them before he stepped out and closed it behind him.
Hazel hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Mr. Kitty since she’d come home, and she was glad he hadn’t chosen that moment to make an appearance. She supposed she needed to give him credit for being smarter than she’d first thought.
Hazel clicked her seatbelt into place as John climbed into the driver’s seat of what appeared to be Peter’s car. “Chief let you take his vehicle?”
He buckled up and started the engine. “Yeah. Mine’s not drivable.”
No kidding. Part of her wished she could get another look at both cars now that fear and adrenaline no longer clouded her brain. “I’m guessing you’ve identified the driver of the other vehicle. Can you tell me who it was?”
Sadness dimmed his aura, and he put the car in drive. “Karen Bernard. Something of a loner. Worked in Salem and kept to herself for the most part. Never saw her at church.”
Hazel shifted a sideways glance toward him. “You never see me there, either.”
He grinned. “I’ve noticed. Doesn’t mean you won’t at some point, though.”
She wanted to argue that, yeah, it probably did, but now wasn’t the time. “I heard a couple of people blame today’s tragedies on a curse.”
“The May Day Curse.”
She waited for a snicker or hint of doubt, but none came. “Do you believe it’s true?”
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “It seems crazy to think such a thing could be true, but we have at least one unexplained death on the exact date as the curse, which has apparently happened in the past, and yes, I do believe the evil witches in Stonebridge’s past have cursed our town in other ways, so why not this one, too? That’s why I believe it’s important to not let them nest here again.”
Nest? She crinkled her forehead. “You make it sound like an infestation.” Which horrified her more than a little.
“If we let them take over, that’s what it will be.” He pulled in front of the police station and killed the engine. “Don’t worry, Hazel. I know that what happened this afternoon was scary…for both of us, but we’ll keep you safe.”
She fought not to roll her eyes in disgust.
“Even as we speak, Timothy is searching the library records. He seems to think there might be something in one of them that can prove who’s a witch and who isn’t. He thought holy water and maybe something else. I’m sure he’ll let us know as soon as he finds it.”
Timothy Franklin had become more of a thorn in her side than she’d thought possible. “If he’s so smart, why doesn’t he already know?” After all, he was an expert on witches.
John snorted. “Good point.” He opened his door, and she didn’t wait for him to get hers. Together, they walked up the steps into the police station.
Margaret in reception was almost unrecognizable wearing her hair pinned up with a chopstick, pale makeup and bright red lips. Her red silk kimono with intricate black and gold designs looked incredible, if a little out of place. On a different day, Hazel would have been beyond jealous of its luxuriant beauty.
Margaret caught her gaze as they approached and shifted an unhappy expression toward John. “Officer Bartles.”
His shoulders slumped. “Geez, Margaret. Would you all lighten up? We have to interrogate her.”
“Interrogate?” Margaret challenged. “You mean question, right?”
He waved an impatient hand. “Yes, Margaret. That’s what I meant. Which room is open?”
“The first one. When you’re done interrogating poor Hazel, equally poor Lucy is waiting in the next one.”
John snatched a yellow notepad from the corner of Margaret’s desk and then led the way to the interview room. Hazel glanced toward Peter’s empty office as they walked.
Once in the room, John closed the door behind them. “Have a seat.”
Hazel warily claimed a blue, formed-plastic chair on one side of the plain, utilitarian table. When John placed the pad on the table between them and sat opposite her, all moisture in her mouth evaporated.
She glanced toward the one-way glass and searched the atmosphere for Peter’s essence, but she couldn’t sense him.
John cleared his throat and drew her attention. “I only have a few questions for you, Hazel.”
She nodded.
“How well did you know Father Christopher?”
She shrugged. “Not at all really. I met him a few days ago when he coerced Cora into joining the Chowder Chowdown. You showed up just after that to sign up for your wife to bring her cake.”
His brows shot up. “Coerced? Did Cora have problems with him?”
“No. Of course not. I just meant that he’d pressured her. You know, using the town’s fear of witches and saying if she supported the church she wouldn’t have to worry.”
“Does she support the church?”
Her answers seemed to be a futile grasp on a very slippery slope. She realized she could answer honestly and cost her friend and herself a ton of trouble, or she could lie. “Of course, she does, John. She mentioned to me not long ago that her business had been struggling, so I’m sure she’s working more Sundays, and that’s probably why she hasn’t been in attendance.”
He narrowed his gaze. “What about you? Did you have issues with Father Christopher? Do you believe in God?”
They were hardly the same thing.
She forced an embarrassed smile. “You know, new girl to town, bad experience with my previous church. Lucy invited us, though, to go with her.”
His intensi
ty released, and he smiled. “That’s great. We’d love to have you join us at church. My wife keeps saying she’d like to know Peter’s girl better.”
She did manage a genuine smile then. “I’d like that, too. Cora can’t say enough good things about her.”
“She’s a real gem, my Susan. Lucky was the day she agreed to marry me.”
Hazel smiled, hoping that would be the end of their session.
“What about Lucy?” he continued. “She hasn’t been to church much for a long time, and she said some unkind things about Father Christopher while he was counseling her and her husband a while back. Apparently, she believed he’d sided with her husband unfairly.”
Hazel widened her eyes. “I really don’t know anything about that. It all happened before I moved to Stonebridge.”
He nodded. “You said you saw Lucy the day you signed up. Did she seem all right then?”
“Yeah. She was great. In fact, she was excited to share her strawberry tart with Father Christopher. Mrs. Tillens commented that it might be cheating to bribe the judge by serving him an extra big piece, but it all seemed in good fun.”
John nodded as he wrote. Then he pierced her with another sharp look, leaned back in his chair, and sighed. “I’ll be honest with you, Hazel. You and Lucy are our main suspects at this point.”
She placed her fists and elbows on the table. “That is utterly ridiculous. Based on what evidence?”
He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Father Christopher died from anaphylactic shock. Everyone knows he has a severe peanut allergy.”
“I didn’t know that,” she shot back. But she did recall him mentioning something about peanut tea.
“Lucy’s strawberry tart and your tea were the only things he’d eaten recently.”
She shook her head repeatedly. “That’s…that’s…that’s ludicrous. I didn’t do it, and I can’t believe she did. Neither of us had motive.”
“That we know of.”
She sat staring at him, speechless. Her? A prime suspect in a murder case? “What if someone is trying to frame one of us?”
He lifted his brows, seeming interested in her theory. “Do you have reason to believe someone might?”
She bit her bottom lip as she tried frantically to think up a reason. The only thing she could come up with was her heritage, but Peter and Cora were the only ones in town who knew.
She hoped.
“I don’t know, John. I just know it wasn’t me.”
The door to the interview room opened, and Peter stepped in. “I think she’s answered all your questions, John. You might want to let her know that we’re having Father Christopher’s food and drink tested to check for traces of peanut or other toxins. If she’s innocent, she has nothing to worry about.”
Officer Bartles looked as though he wanted to argue but nodded instead. “Yes. I guess we’re good. For now. Don’t leave town, Hazel.”
“John,” Peter warned.
Hazel shot him a disturbed look. “I have no reason to leave. I’m innocent.”
John nodded, and Peter gestured with a jerk of his head for her to follow him.
She didn’t look at John as she left, afraid whatever look she gave him would only make things worse for her.
Six
Peter firmly took Hazel’s hand and guided her toward the doors leading out of the police station. The feel of his strong fingers wrapped possessively around hers did wonders for her weary spirit.
“I’m headed home for the day,” he said to Margaret.
She flashed Hazel a big grin. “Yes, sir. Have a good evening.”
“It’s got to be better than today,” he mumbled.
After that, he remained silent until they were both settled in his truck with her cook-off supplies still hanging out in the truck bed. “I can’t believe that guy.” Anger broke with each of his syllables. “Who does he think he is?”
The ferocity of his tone made her shiver. It also warmed her insides. She liked to think she was a strong, independent woman, but she did like knowing her man would fight for her. “He was probably just trying to do his job.” Though she didn’t really believe that, either.
“He’s going to be lucky if he has a job when this is all said and done. The second the lab clears your name, he’s going to be scrubbing toilets.”
She tugged one of his rigid hands from the steering wheel and twined her fingers between his. “Thank you.”
He cast a quick glance in her direction and then heaved a sigh. “What a nightmare. It’s bad enough we’re investigating two deaths. Bartles doesn’t need to be dragging you into the middle of it.”
“How long does it take the lab to test?”
He slowed and then parked in front of her house. “Not long for initial testing. I had two of my men take the items to the state lab to avoid all possible suggestions of tampering. I want this over and without any chance of nasty, untrue rumors pointed in your direction.”
She and Peter might have their share of problems, but she couldn’t have picked a more decent guy. Err…allowed him to pick her, that was. “Thank you for watching out for me. I can’t imagine how big this nightmare might be without you on my side.”
He shut off the engine and shifted in his seat to fully look at her. “I’m doing this for you, but not only you. I want this investigation handled properly, without the silliness of the May Day Curse or inept officers messing it up.”
She tilted her head, surprised by his vehemence. “Does that mean you don’t believe in the curse?”
His eyes looked harder than green aventurines. “I believe there’s a logical reason behind both of the deaths today. I can’t say Karen Bernard’s wasn’t an accident, but some crazy curse didn’t force her to crash into Bartle’s vehicle.”
As much as she wondered if her long-ago grandmother might have had something to do with the incidents today, she liked Peter’s version of events much better. “I hope you find the answers soon.”
“Me, too. Let’s get you inside. I’ll drop off the stuff in the back of my truck at your shop tomorrow morning.”
She relaxed against the seat and watched him walk around the front of the truck to open her door. He held out a hand to help her out. She smiled when he kept his fingers wrapped tight around hers as they walked to the front door.
Once inside, she dropped the house keys on the table near the door and kicked off her shoes. Every part of her was exhausted. “John promised me ibuprofen and caffeine if I went to the station with him, and he never followed through.” She said it in a teasing tone though she wished she’d had the forethought to remind him. She might be feeling a lot better now.
Peter grunted his disappointment. “Another black mark against him. This might very well be the worst day in his career.”
She placed a hand on his cheek. “Don’t be too hard on him. He’s been a good officer, otherwise, right? Maybe he just needs more training.”
He pulled her tight against him, and she reveled in the feel of his body heat soaking into hers. “I’d tell you what he needs, but my thoughts aren’t meant for a lady’s ears.”
She grinned at him and tugged his head toward hers. “Come here.”
He captured her lips and suddenly all was right with the world again. She let him kiss away her worries, never intending to stop him.
When he pulled away, she sighed at her loss.
“I don’t think you should have caffeine this late at night. It will keep you up, and you obviously need your sleep. You’ll likely feel worse in the morning.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Do you have any muscle relaxers?”
She shook her head.
He gave her a stern look. “You should have gone to the doctor like I suggested.”
She frowned. “I wasn’t hurting this bad earlier. I’ll rub on some of my salve like I used on you, and that will help.”
His lips curved into a grin. “That stuff is amazing. Made with magic?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. It
’s all herbal.”
He pondered for a moment and then nodded. “Tell me where it is. I’ll get it and pay back the favor.”
She caught his gaze with a quizzical one of her own. He had to realize what the feel of his strong hands on her bare skin would do to her, didn’t he? Then again, he’d probably enjoy that very much.
Still, she wasn’t dumb enough to resist something that would help her feel tons better. “Top shelf of my medicine cabinet. White jar with the blue lid.”
She followed him down the hall and opened the door to her bedroom as he stepped into the bathroom. “Give me a moment, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”
She moved to her dresser where she pulled out a tank top and flannel bottoms that she wore to lounge around the house. He couldn’t very well rub her shoulders in the blouse she currently wore, and she wasn’t about to take off her shirt like he had.
Back in the living room, she found him waiting next to the couch. “Sit here and face the kitchen.”
She did as he asked, sitting with her back against the armrest, giving him full access. A shiver raced over her before he ever touched her skin. She realized it was only a massage, but other than kissing and hugging, it was the most intimate they’d been.
She involuntarily gasped as his fingers connected with her shoulders and slid her straps down. She swore her skin sizzled where he touched.
“You okay?”
She nodded as he pressed and rubbed her neck. “Yeah. Just…” She didn’t bother to finish her sentence but dropped her chin to her chest instead, hoping she didn’t start purring like Mr. Kitty. Well, maybe he wasn’t the best reference for purring, but he had that one time.
“Let me know if I push too hard,” he murmured.
She relaxed as his hands warmed and stretched her stiff muscles. The feel of his skin on hers lulled her into a sleepy state, and she closed her eyes to focus solely on his touch.
“Hazel?” Peter’s voice was awfully close to her ear, and she opened her eyes with a start.