Midsummer Night's Mayhem: A Sister Witches Mystery

by Lauren Quick

  Derek had brewed up a pot of coffee and left her a note, saying he’d be back later, so she had the place to herself, or so she thought. With a coffee mug clutched tightly in hand, Clover walked out onto the back porch and wasn’t a bit surprised to find Juniper already on the job for the day. What else could she possibly be looking for? A small army of witches and wizards had probed her yard all day yesterday, the air still buzzing with magical residue from all the specialized spells they’d cast.

  “Good morning,” Clover called and the assistant deputy walked over to her. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks. Got to stay focused. Caffeine makes me jittery. I’m high-strung enough as is.” Her wand was clutched in her hand at the ready.

  “How’s the investigation going?” Clover asked. “Any news you can share?”

  “I wanted to let you know the sheriff has put me on point, and I’ll be heading up the investigation for now under his supervision, of course.” A barely suppressed smile played on her lips.

  “Is this a promotion?”

  “In a way. I’ve finished all my courses and done my hours of assistance work. Now I need to be tested, and since I was the first witch on the scene it makes sense. The sheriff feels I’m ready. But don’t worry, he’ll be watching me like a hawk.”

  “I’m not worried. You’ll be great.” And obsessively diligent, Clover thought. Just what she needed: a by-the-book sheriff and an ambitious assistant deputy trying to prove herself by snooping around her house. She sighed. This wasn’t about her; it was about finding Oliver’s killer—the lurking darkness, as Rosemary called it. “We haven’t had a murder in the Meadowlands for decades. Everyone’s pretty spooked.”

  “Oh, we know. Messages have been flooding the station since yesterday. You should also know that Sheriff Gardener has given me three days to investigate everyone at the party until he uses the warrant.” She rested her hand on her cocked hip. “You got lucky.”

  “That’s a relief for now, I guess.” The knot in her stomach loosened, slightly. The reprieve gave her a few days at least. “What made him change his mind?”

  “Strategy. With no clear motive, you aren’t the prime suspect. We’re focusing on more pertinent evidence.” She squared her shoulders. “But trust me, he will serve the warrant. So whatever secret you have, you’d better be prepared to share it.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Clover said under her breath and took a gulp of coffee.

  “What was that?” Juniper asked with a good-natured smirk.

  “I said it’s kind of him to give me extra time. I know I’m pushing him, but what’s in my closet won’t help your investigation.”

  “Actually, I think it’s the logical thing to do, since we have so many suspects to check out from the party. Plus, the sheriff has a soft spot for your sister, and deep down he doesn’t think you’re a murderer, but rules are rules. In his eyes, you’re a suspect until you aren’t.”

  Clover walked down the back steps, before she realized the obvious. “If you’re supposed to be interviewing suspects from the party, what are you doing in my yard this morning?”

  “Very observant. I came to get a guest list, which Derek already told me is practically the whole town.”

  Strange that Juniper came all this way for a guest list, which she could have sent a messenger to pick up. “He’s right. Is that all you came for?” Clover probed. “That doesn’t answer why you’re in my yard this morning after all the work you and your team did yesterday.”

  Juniper stiffened. “I really can’t talk specifics about the investigation.”

  Clover considered the investigation from the deputy’s perspective. Once Juniper knew the cause of death, she’d probably need to search for evidence to support the cause—like a weapon. What evidence could be still in the yard? Had they missed something, or had something changed?

  “Are you looking for a specific kind of weapon?” she asked, realizing it was probably futile and it was, since Juniper shook her head, lips sealed. Clover sensed she was on the right track through, and ideas bounced around her mind.

  Oliver hadn’t been physically hurt that she could tell, so the weapon wasn’t an obvious one. The she remembered the swab of his mouth and his glowing lips. “He ingested something, right?” Clover eyed Juniper relentlessly, trying to get a response. Her thoughts raced, puzzle pieces floating into place. Then suddenly the murder weapon became obvious to her. “Poisoning,” she whispered the word and knew exactly why Juniper was in her yard, or more specifically, her garden.

  Clover set her cup down in the grass and took off up the stone pathway to her garden that was divided into small sections—flowers, vegetables, mossy pathways, and fragrant nooks with sitting areas. When she reached the white picket fence, she saw two officers trampling through her tender plants with their wands raised, casting glowing purple-hued identification spells. Not surprising, they couldn’t identify the plants by sight alone.

  “You could have asked me,” Clover said when Juniper reached her side. “Maybe I can help.”

  “Now you want to help.” Juniper smirked.

  “If it keeps you from trampling my garden.” She shrugged. “What was it? The poison?” Curiosity bloomed inside her.

  “You know I can’t tell you anything.” Juniper’s expression was unflinching.

  “I know you don’t understand, but I do want to find Oliver’s killer.”

  “Why not leave it up to us? Why are you getting involved?” Juniper turned the sharp gaze back on her.

  “Oliver didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, and neither did I. I’m doing this for both of us.” Whether it sounded selfish or not, it was the truth.

  “And the closet. Don’t forget the closet,” Juniper said sarcastically.

  A sweaty young officer hurried up to Juniper. “We didn’t find any belladonna,” he blurted out and then his eyes darted from Juniper to Clover and he realized his mistake. “Sorry.”

  Juniper gave an exasperated sigh. “Well, keep at it. I’m not satisfied yet.”

  A shiver went up Clover’s spine. “That’s a terrible way to die.”

  Belladonna was also known as deadly nightshade. The lethal dose of poison would have completely shut down Oliver’s system, rendering him sick and helpless. The plant was deadly, but not entirely uncommon. In decades past, witches gifted in the healing arts, who knew how to handle it, occasionally used the herb as a medicine, but in Clover’s opinion, only the foolish used it anymore since there were more modern and safer remedies. In the wrong hands it was a potent poison. “Are you sure Oliver wasn’t using it medicinally?”

  Juniper unlatched the garden gate. “I think we’ve said enough. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

  “You’re not going to find any belladonna in there,” Clover said. “I don’t grow any poisonous plants.”

  “That might be so, but it doesn’t mean we aren’t going to look.” Juniper nodded and joined the other officers.

  Clover had to get moving. At least now she knew a little bit more than she had when she woke up—someone had poisoned one of her party guests—but the how and why still lingered. She always considered poison to be the coward’s murder weapon. Today was not going to be an easy day. First thing she needed to do was get her hands on a homemade pie.

  Clover pulled at the hem of her dress with one hand while balancing a blueberry pie in the other. The black dress was tight and riding up in the back. She rarely wore black and the one black dress she owned had been a lot bigger the last time she tried it on. It must have shrunk in the wash. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Oliver Yearling’s house. His son’s hovercraft and a string of other vehicles were parked out front. Clover believed in tradition and wanted to give her condolences to Austin.

  A frazzle
d young witch with frizzy blonde hair and wearing a black mini dress swung open the door and didn’t wait to greet her before motioning her inside. “Austin, another witch is here!” she called over her shoulder. A sleek cat howled and dashed out the front door. The witch rolled her eyes. “Cocoa, come back here. You just let out Oliver’s familiar.”

  “Sorry,” Clover said, though technically it wasn’t her fault Cocoa made a break for it. “I’m Clover Mayhem. His neighbor.”

  The witch’s eyes went wide as her gaze lowered, regarding the pie with disdain. “Austin’s in the living room. It’s that way.” She motioned with her head and scooped the pie right out of Clover’s hands. “There are refreshments in the dining room,” she said holding the pie as far away from her body as her skinny arms would allow as she carried it into the kitchen.

  Clover had been in the elegant house a long time ago before Oliver moved in and knew the basic layout. She followed the rise and fall of voices down the hall and into a formal living room where Austin Yearling was surrounded by a group of witches all dressed in black. Clover wasn’t surprised that a pack of mourners had already gathered like a flock of curious blackbirds, wanting to pay their respects. News of the poisoning was surely on everyone’s tongue. Look how easily she’d found out.

  Witches took mourning seriously. That coupled with their love of gossip and the murder, and the place would be packed solid by the afternoon. Gatherings were important. There was strength in numbers, and in Everland the motto of a coven of one was all about forming supportive community bonds. And getting the dirty details firsthand never hurt.

  Everyone stopped and stared when Clover walked in. The silence was brutal, but it was quickly filled with equally disturbing whispers. She caught snippets—Mayhem, curse, nightshade, raucous party where he was killed, and her particular favorite, weird sisters. Gossip was one thing, but she hadn’t anticipated that she would be the main subject. It felt like she was being pecked by a flock of hens. It wasn’t her fault Oliver died at her party. A hot wash of embarrassment flushed her cheeks. She’d gone from party hostess to pariah in a matter of days.

  Austin sat in a high-backed chair by a window. He wore an expensive black suit, which looked overly formal for summer. He was short and thin like his father, but not nearly as stern looking. He had done well for himself. His persuasion was numbers, and he worked in Stargazer City doing investment banking. The fact Austin visited his father twice a week only made this sadder. They’d been close. They’d had each other, Oliver being a widower and Austin an only child. And now from everything she’d heard, Austin, who was single, had no family left.

  “My condolences,” Clover said and extended her hand. “I’m so sorry about your father’s passing.”

  “Thank you,” he said. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he seemed not to remember her at first glance.

  “I live next door,” she prompted.

  “Ms. Mayhem.” His eyes blinked rapidly. “Thank you for coming. My father always enjoyed your solstice party each year.”

  “I’m glad he enjoyed himself.” Up until someone poisoned him. Talk about an awkward moment for the two of them. “Your father will be missed.” A bead of sweat rolled down her back. The room felt stifling. There were too many witches crowded into the formal living room. Someone really needed to crack a window or perform an icy cooling spell.

  “I don’t know about others, but I will miss him greatly. I realize my father was a difficult wizard. Sheriff Gardener and Assistant Deputy White paid me a visit yesterday after viewing the scene next door.” His jaw tensed. “They don’t know how it happened.”

  Clucks and whispers rose in the background. Clover pulled nervously at her dress. She suddenly doubted herself for coming. She wanted to pay her respects, maybe do a little snooping, but she didn’t want to make it worse for Austin. More grief was the last thing she wanted.

  “It’s a terribly sad predicament. I’ll do whatever I can to help the sheriff with his investigation.” She swallowed. Technically she wasn’t doing everything she could, but she was trying, and seeing Austin only fueled her into doing more to help.

  The witch with frizzy blond hair, who’d answered the door, returned with two additional witches in tow. “Sorry to interrupt.” She glared at Clover. “But the Snow sisters are here to offer their condolences. May I introduce Dovy and Cookie.”

  A waft of perfume filled the room, making Clover’s eyes water. Two older witches draped in gauzy black gowns and dripping in black glass beaded necklaces floated into the room, literally, using a basic levitation spell. A grand entrance to be sure.

  Besides being heavily scented, the two witches wore thick makeup, waxy red lipstick, and spidery false eyelashes. Clover was surprised they could hold their wands steady with their talon-length lacquered fingernails. They immediately began to coo and purr over poor, dear Austin. Dovy shoved Clover out of her way with a sharp elbow.

  Clover took the hint and made her way into the dining room. The table was covered in casseroles, platters of cold cuts, cheese, and vegetables. Desserts crowded one end. Her pie was nowhere to be seen. After Oliver’s untimely death at her party, the frizzy witch probably thought it was brimming with nightshade and wanted to keep it far from the guests. Clover bit into a carrot and listened to a pair of witches clucking away in the hall.

  “I hear her sister has a shop called The Potion Garden. Maybe she has a poison garden in her backyard. You know those Mayhem sisters, trouble always follows in their wake.”

  “None of them is married, no children, either. Something’s just not right with them. Even their mother left them for ten years. What kind of witch would do that?”

  “A smart one.” Cackles rose in unison.

  Clover rolled her eyes. She’d heard it all before, but the sting never truly went away. She strolled out of the dining room and went to the kitchen in search of her pie, which was crammed into a corner with a dishtowel over it. At least it wasn’t in the trash. She cut two wedges, placed them neatly on pretty china plates, grabbed a couple of forks, and headed back to Austin. Listening to hurtful gossip was getting her nowhere. It was time to go to the source and see what she could dig up about the victim and his acquaintances, in a causal and caring manner, of course.

  “I absolutely adored your father,” Cookie Snow cooed. “He was such an important wizard in our little neck of the woods.” She smiled, her teeth yellow as parchment.

  “Everyone adored Oliver,” Dovy laid it on thick. “He had a strong persuasion, such a talented horticulturist. What will happen to his grand labyrinth? I do hope you maintain his pride and joy. As you know, witches and wizards come from miles around to see it each year. It would be a shame to lose it.”

  Austin gave them an exhausted smile. “I’ll certainly do my best.”

  Clover handed Austin a plate and pulled a chair up next to him. “Would you like a piece of pie? It’s blueberry.”

  “Thank you. It’s my favorite.” He drove his fork into the tender crust and shoveled a big bite into his mouth. The crowd sucked in a mortified gasp as he hungrily shoveled more pie into his mouth. Really, she thought. Did they really think she’d poison her neighbor and his son in two days? The Mayhem curse wasn’t that bad. Talk about drama witches.

  “Lucky guess. Everyone loves blueberry.” Clover smiled and took a bite of her pie.

  “As I was saying, the labyrinth is legendary.” Dovy tried to wedge herself back into the conversation. “It’s been around since you were a boy.”

  Oliver’s persuasion had been in horticulture, making him a plant mage and a garden wizard. After he retired, he moved to the Meadowlands to focus on his magic and new creation—an enchanted labyrinth. Clover had invited Oliver to her party mostly out of courtesy, but also because she wanted to attend the yearly reveal of the labyrinth. Being an amateur gardener herself, Clover relishe
d the chance to wander around his magnificent gardens, instead of just drooling over her property line.

  Every summer Oliver opened the labyrinth up to the public and allowed visitors to explore his grounds and the maze garden. The labyrinth was an impressive hedge maze that also included trees, fountains, and a few bridges. The interior hedges were carved into decorative shapes with plants and flowers woven throughout, which would have been an accomplishment for any wizard, but Oliver had taken the maze further by including magical enchantments and illusions. Navigating the labyrinth turned into a game of tricks, clues, and mild dangers. From what Clover knew, only a handful of witches and wizards had ever made it all the way through and that was after attempting it many times. The maze was a local enigma, nearly impossible to crack.

  “Yes, I know the labyrinth well. I saw it every day as a child and continue to see it every time I look out the window,” Austin said. “That maze meant everything to him.” His brow furrowed.

  “It’s a tough memory.” Cookie patted his shoulder and the two witches retreated, levitating over to the rest of the group, dragging their long black skirts behind them.

  “Is Felicity here?” Clover asked and glanced around the room, not seeing the witch who was so concerned about Oliver the day before.

  “No. Why would she be?” Austin asked with an air of annoyance.

  “I figured since she worked for your father at one time, she’d want to pay her respects.” Clover set her fork down. Had she read Felicity wrong? The poor witch had seemed utterly shattered yesterday morning with the news of Oliver’s death.

  “Well, she isn’t here. She hasn’t worked for my family in years.” With a grimace, he set his plate on a side table, no longer interested in finishing his pie.

  If there was tension between the Yearlings and Felicity, then why was she so worried about him the morning of his death? Something was going on. Clover shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She excused herself and headed back to the kitchen where she dropped her plate off in the sink. She stepped out on the back stoop for a little fresh air.