Felonies and Felines: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 4)

by Raven Snow

  "She'll pick you up at noon here."

  "She knows I live here?" The dismay in my voice was a palpable fourth person in the room.

  His fingers brushing a loose hair behind my ear sent shivers down my spine. "She's going to love you; don't worry."

  When he was gone, Cooper asked, "Who’s going to love you?"

  "No one," I said quickly. "Why aren't you dressed for school?"

  "It's Saturday."

  My lips twitched despite my anxiety. "Nice try."

  I drove him to school after making him a lunch that consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a bag of chips. Anything else would've probably required a stove, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd attempted to use one of those, though I was pretty sure the fire department had to be involved.

  Shuddering, I thought of Wyatt's mom coming over to see the house burned down. It wouldn't be a great impression, but it'd probably be a pretty accurate picture of my parenting and homemaking skills. Then again, I wasn't planning on donning an apron and baking all day now that I lived with Wyatt.

  Noon came about while I was trying to find one article of clothing that wasn't tie-dye or neon. I was coming up almost empty, except for jeans, but I didn't think those would fly with the older women. The southern ladies of Waresville did not wear dirty, ripped jeans to a luncheon with their friends. God, I was going to stick out of that crowd like a sore thumb.

  The doorbell rang, and Wyatt's mother was on the other side when I opened it. Her brown hair— that looked just like Wyatt's and Cooper's— was up in a nice bun, and she was wearing tasteful slacks. I wasn't sure where one acquired nice pants like that, but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to find them by continuing to do all my shopping at resale shops.

  I'd settled on a dress that was the perfect length on anyone else, but on me, it was just this side of scandalous. The smile Nancy gave me could have peeled paint, and I winced. This was going to be a long day.

  We didn't talk much on the drive over to the library, nor on the walk into one of the private meeting rooms. Mostly, Nancy talked about all of Wyatt's many achievements in the army and in his career— as if I didn't know about every single one of them. She was glowing with pride, but she didn't fool me for a second about her motives for telling me all of this. She had a myriad of other sons she could've bragged about too, but she stuck to building Wyatt up and subtly tearing me down.

  There were about a dozen other women there, most of whom I recognized even if I didn't know their names. One familiar face was a sight for sore eyes, and I rushed over to the older, Spanish lady, wrapping my arms around her in a hug.

  "Mrs. Cruz! I didn't know you'd be here."

  When I'd first moved to town, Mrs. Cruz had been the only one to welcome me warmly to Waresville. In all fairness, I'd been little more than a troubled young woman, running away from her problems just as fast as she could. The way I dressed didn't help public opinion, either.

  Mrs. Cruz, though, hadn't seemed to care. She'd brought me a muffin basket, invited me over to dinner constantly, and gave me her hardworking daughter to work in my office. I'd been a little hesitant about a teenager handling the filing, but Amber was plenty competent for her age.

  "I come every week," she said, but she seemed a little distracted.

  I ended up sitting between Mrs. Cruz and Nancy, opposite the door. This gave me a front seat view for when the late-comer came rushing through the door, looking way too dapper for someone who'd been in a hurry.

  Alicia, Wyatt's new partner, came and sat on Nancy's other side, greeting her warmly. "Thank you so much for inviting me to this."

  "No trouble," Wyatt's mom said, smiling for real now. "It'll be a pleasure to have you. I'm so glad my son has finally found someone suitable to partner up with— the past ones have been disasters."

  Though I knew she was talking about police business— kind of— I still ground my teeth a little bit. The woman may have been Wyatt's mother, but I hadn't felt obligated to take anyone's disrespect in a long time. I wondered if I should've just left.

  Mrs. Cruz rested a hand on my knee, leaning in to whisper so only I could hear her words. "Nancy's not so bad. Just very controlling. Give her a chance to warm up to you."

  I crossed my arms, trying not to pout and thinking that Wyatt was pretty lucky my parents were dead.

  Even if Nancy had told me the name of the book and given me time to read it, I would’ve given that piece of “literature” a hard pass. One by one, the women around me pulled out a book with a shirtless man on the cover. My face heated up immediately, and I became very interested in my shoes.

  I had no issue with a little smut, nor was I very shy or modest— despite my mother’s best efforts. Still, I wasn’t going to sit there and talk about dong size and Horatio’s heaving pecs with my boyfriend’s mother. That was all kinds of cruel and unusual. There was probably something in the constitution about this situation. I wondered if these ladies would’ve excused me to make a call to my senator.

  Apparently, Alicia had gotten her invitation earlier than I had— not hard to do. She was well-versed on the material, and all of the old hags seemed to lap up everything she said. It was a rare day that had me being the quiet one.

  “How’s Amber?” I whispered to Mrs. Cruz.

  She shot me an amused glance, but her expression quickly became grim. “I don’t like this Ace boy. He’s making my baby into a hooligan.”

  “It helps if you call him Edward— takes away a lot of his power.”

  Completely ignoring the looks we were getting, Mrs. Cruz grasped my arm. “Is it true what they say? That he’s a warlock?”

  Usually, people with magic were just like everyday citizens in Waresville. After all, their asylum had been the reason for the founding of the town. Lately though, there’d been a rash of magic-related crime, and public opinion was drastically turning away from witches and warlocks. I was a little wary that Waresville might forget where its main revenue came from in the panic.

  Well, as wary as I ever got.

  I liked Mrs. Cruz a lot, and I wasn’t even disillusioned as to why; she was a little bit like my mother hen. But I wasn’t sure I should tell her the truth about Edward. For his safety and the safety of her sanity.

  “He’s a punk, and it’s a phase,” I said gently. “Amber’s too smart to let hormones drive her actions for long. Just hang in there.”

  I felt a little bad for saying that, especially because here I was, way past my teen years, and still letting hormones drag me along by the ear. I was like Peter Pan or one of the lost boys: forever young at heart. Unlike Peter Pan, though, I’d found an eye crease the other day. It was all downhill from here.

  Nancy and Alicia embraced at the door, smiling like old bosom buddies. I guess porn is a real bonding force. That, or the woman just didn’t like me. It was probably a little bit of both.

  Since I was past feeling hurt about Wyatt’s mother— for the moment, anyway— I started back toward the car, but stopped short when I overheard the conversation from two women in the book club.

  “…about Hardy? I never would have believed it.”

  “I still don’t. The man’s born and raised.” That, in Waresville, was like a badge of honor. “Plus, I heard there was a lot of damage. How would a man with severe arthritis do that?”

  I always took people’s words with a grain of salt, but since I didn’t have any evidence besides the scrap of cloth— which could have come from anywhere; I wear a lot of costumes— I stored their conversation away for further reflection.

  After Nancy dropped me off with a cordial goodbye, I ran straight into the house and into Wyatt's arms. He seemed a little surprised, probably because I was supposed to be mad at him, but he wrapped me up tight after only a second's hesitation. Like always, he smelled fresh and minty, which made me feel like some unwashed urchin, but the heat he gave me was too irresistible to pull away from.

  "How was book club?"

  "A lot like
going to a strip club with the guys."

  He pulled back slightly, looking down at me. "And you'd know a lot about that, would you?"

  I just smiled. For a time, before I'd really been old enough to do it legally, I'd worked as a stripper. I'd been strapped for cash and on my own since my mother's death when I was sixteen. There was only so much magic can get you— and that list didn't include food or rent. I'd never told Wyatt about it, though he knew a lot about my past.

  "Did you do a background check on me?"

  "Please," he said, "I do background checks on everyone." A pause. "We don't have to talk about it."

  One of the many things I love about Wyatt is his ability to let anything from the past slide. If I wanted to confide, he'd listen. If not, he'd find out on his own and keep quiet about it. Another great quality he had was the ability to be mad at the circumstances and not let it flow over into being mad at the person forced into the circumstances.

  I broke away from him, heading into the kitchen to see if there was any pizza. "Stripping wasn't so bad. I wore about the same amount of clothes as I do at the Wheel most of the time." It'd taught me to be comfortable in my skin, if nothing else.

  He chewed a bite of cereal very carefully, not rushing to answer. "You'll excuse me if I ask that you stick with the roller skating."

  Playing with his hair a bit, I rested my hip against his. "Sure you don't want a private show?"

  "If that's what it takes to get it out of your system," he said with mock severity.

  "Get anything from Hardy yet?"

  He shook his head. "Just keeps saying he doesn't know how this happened. Doesn't exactly deny doing it, but..."

  "Are you keeping him in lock-up?"

  "Yeah, and my boss is playing around with the idea of charging him with the crime. For now, we've just got him for trespassing."

  Pressing my lips to his jaw, I relished in the rough feel of stubble. "What do you think?"

  He shuddered. "I think you better keep your lips to yourself if you wanna have a conversation about Hardy's innocence."

  I pulled back, giving him a cheeky grin. "You think he's innocent too?"

  "I think something's going on— your kind of something." A wistful look invaded his eye. "Maybe, it won't even be dangerous this time."

  "Well, if I'm going up against guys like Hardy, I like my chances. Unless he gets me with his walker— those things are steel."

  "Any suspects?"

  "Maybe Amber," I said, forcing the words out. At his raised eyebrows, I added, "She's going through a phase."

  "I remember that."

  I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh. "You?"

  "Just because I didn't grow up in a pit−"

  "Miami."

  His grin went right to my chest, making my heart stutter. "I went through a motorcycle phase."

  Uh-oh.

  "It's an Edward Nelson phase," I told him.

  His face clouded over. "That kid's bad news. Haven't been able to get him for anything yet, but he's a repeat offender. Robberies, mostly."

  "Oh, is that all?"

  "I don't know how he'd fit in with Hardy. That old geezer's never broken the law in his life."

  "And that's saying something, since he must be pushing two-thousand."

  He slid his fingers into my back pockets, pulling me against his chest. "I'll remind you of that when you're his age with just as many wrinkles."

  "I'm getting wrinkles now," I whispered with raw horror. "Right around the eyes."

  He kissed the corners of both of my eyes, and I forgot all about wrinkles and poor, old man Hardy. What were a few wrinkles when Wyatt looked at me like that?

  "Ew." Cooper made his presence known, sliding into his chair at the kitchen table. "Can I have cereal, or are you two too busy?"

  "You can get it yourself," Wyatt said dryly, still hanging onto me.

  "Children these days are so lazy," I said. "Don't you know your father had to fight his way through dinosaurs and volcanic eruptions so he could get to school every morning?"

  "I'm not the one with wrinkles."

  Not strictly true, since he was a few years older than me. The creases around his eyes showed predominantly when he was happy. They took his face from handsome to distinguished and devastating. And he damn well knew it.

  I moved away from Wyatt with difficulty and poured the kid some cereal. Since I wasn't able to do the little things like boil water, I figured I could at least provide some complex carbs and too much sugar for his nourishment. Maybe I'd stunt his growth, and he'd stay with me forever. After all, very few people are romantically interested in a four foot man who can't even pour his own cereal.

  Wyatt's phone rang, and he answered briskly. After a moment, he hung up, looking incredulous. "There's been another break-in over at Melanie Gross's magic shop."

  I held up my hands in front of me. "I have an alibi."

  "Won't be necessary," he said, pulling on his shoes. "They found Janet Wiser at the scene of the crime— money stuffed in her pockets."

  Cooper perked up. "Chase Wiser's mom?"

  Janet Wiser was one of the elite housewives of Waresville. She— like her son, who was in Cooper's grade— walked around with her nose in the air and her designer bag on display. Apart from hubris, she was a very unlikable individual, especially when you got in her way. I'd had the displeasure of being in that position when I'd taken over as the director for Cooper's play— a job Janet had wanted.

  "Janet Wiser doesn't need money," I said, secretly thrilled at the prospect of seeing her behind bars.

  Wyatt nodded. "That's what she's saying. Like with Hardy, she claims to have no idea why she did this."

  "Spicing things up a bit?" I asked hopefully.

  Sending me a quelling, if not amused, look, he said, "You can't believe one and not the other."

  "Rats." I grabbed my sandals. "Come on, Cooper, we're going to see Janet in the pokey."

  Chapter Six

  Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn't have imagined the sight that I saw before me. Janet was behind bars in a little cell in the back of the police station. Her normally smooth hair stuck up in several places, and she was covered from head to toe in some foul-smelling, orange gunk. It looked to be seeping into her pores, becoming a permanent part of her.

  Now, if only the woman beside me could join her.

  "It's a security spell," Melanie said, noticing my appreciation of the goop. "I had to up my measures after you broke into my house."

  While I waited for Wyatt to get back from talking with his boss, Melanie threw suspicious looks between Janet and me. It seemed she now had two people to hate in this town. Wasn't this quite the little triangle of dislike?

  "You!" Janet shook the bars a little, glaring at me. "You have something to do with this."

  "So, you're sticking with the clueless story, then?" I asked, smiling brightly. "That'll hold up in court."

  "Shut up," Melanie snapped. "If you don't stop looking so happy about all of this, I'll drop charges."

  That was just vindictive.

  Still, in case she was serious, I changed the subject. "Oliver really wants his doll back."

  A sneer that did nothing to enhance her looks graced her face. "Then maybe Oliver should get out of the habit of sleeping with people and not calling."

  Normally, I would've been in agreement with that statement, but since it was coming from Melanie's mouth, I rejected it immediately. Oliver could be a little insensitive, but the man still had wild oats to sow— and more power to him. He'd settle down someday. Besides, I didn't really know if you could classify Melanie as a person.

  "What do you want with it, anyway?"

  "I don't want it; I just don't want him to have it." With that, she turned on her heel and headed out toward the parking lot. I didn't remember seeing her car, and I wondered if she was flying home under the power of her pure evil. She could probably go cross-country that way.

  Cooper passed her on the
way in, eyes going wide at whatever expression he saw on Melanie's face. His expression changed completely when he saw all the cells.

  "Cool! Dad never let me back here before."

  Uh-oh. I wondered if I'd broken some parent law not to take your kids to jail. Then again, if he was mine now, maybe I made the law— at least partially. And I didn't want a sissy kid that couldn't even hold his own for a few hours in lock-up. That was a real life skill right there.

  "Here," I said, pushing him into an empty cell and closing the door behind him, "for educational purposes."

  He gripped the bars, a goofy grin still on his face. "Did you ask my dad if you could lock me in here?"

  "Sure. He said it was all right to beat you a little, too. Just so long as there aren't any marks where people can see."

  I cracked my knuckles. “This is what happens when you get on the wrong side of the law.”

  Cooper was exploring his cell, not even bothering to conceal his delight. “It’s not so bad.”

  Shrugging, I said, “I guess there are worse things. They feed you in here, at least.”

  Wyatt stopped short at the door, taking in the whole scene with extreme patience. “Why is my son behind bars?”

  “It’s not so bad in here, Dad,” Cooper said. “Harper said they feed you.”

  Getting the keys, he unlocked the doors. Cooper didn’t seem ready to leave, but Wyatt grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him out, shooting me a look.

  “You’re a bad influence, Miss Beck.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my temple, but then ruined it by smacking me on the butt.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Good way to lose a hand.”

  “Might be worth it.”

  By the time we got home after Wyatt had finished his paperwork, the light was fading from the sky. That didn’t stop us from seeing that the front door had been left wide open.

  “You lock that before we left?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he said grimly, pulling out his gun from a shoulder holster. “Harper and Cooper, stay in the car.”

  I was out a millisecond after him. “Cooper, stay in the car.”