Better Than Hex (Spellbound Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 5)

by Annabel Chase

  Astrid pushed open the door to the ice cream shop and a bell jingled. The place was empty except for George. He stood behind the counter reading the Spellbound Gazette. He was easily seven feet tall with a body covered in white fur. He reminded me of the abominable snowman from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer movie.

  He set the paper down on the counter when we approached. “Hey there, Astrid. Sorry, I guess it's Sheriff Astrid now. Congrats on that promotion, by the way.”

  “Thanks, George. What time do you open?”

  George glanced at the clock on the wall. “Another hour, but I get the sense you two aren't here for the ice cream.”

  “What makes you say that?” Astrid asked.

  George smiled and I noticed how perfectly square his teeth were. Not a meat eater then. “You’re wearing your ‘official business face.’” He glanced at me. “You must be the new lawyer. Gareth's replacement.”

  “Emma Hart,” I said, and held out my hand. He shook it and I was surprised by the softness of the skin on his hand. The top end was covered in white fur, but the palm was smooth.

  “We're here to talk to you about Ed Doyle,” Astrid said.

  George's furry forehead lifted. “The building inspector? I heard he fell off a ladder during a job.” He shook his head. “It's a real shame. He was a nice fella.”

  Astrid cocked her head. “You think so? It didn't bother you when he cited you for code violations last month?”

  George looked taken aback. “Well, I was surprised. As far as I knew, everything was up to code.”

  “I heard you had to close the shop for a few days until the repairs could be made,” Astrid said. “You must've lost some business.”

  “Of course I lost business. The weather’s been a few degrees warmer. Folks want their ice cream and water ice.”

  Astrid leaned forward. “That must've really pissed you off.”

  “I was more annoyed than angry, if that's what you're asking.” George glanced from Astrid to me. “You don't think I had anything to do with Ed’s death, do you? He fell off a ladder.”

  “He fell off a ladder because someone tampered with one of the rungs,” Astrid explained.

  George's blue eyes widened. “The satyr was murdered?”

  “It seems so,” Astrid said.

  George whistled. “Holy icebergs. I wasn't expecting to hear that. Is it possible that the ladder was simply faulty?”

  “Not based on the evidence,” Astrid said. “When was the last time you saw Ed?”

  George scratched his furry face. “Gosh, I don't think I've seen him since his final visit here to sign off on the repairs.”

  “And you haven't seen his jalopy anywhere?” she persisted. “It's pretty obvious with all of the tools and the ladder on the top.”

  George shook his head. “If I saw it, then it didn't register. Then again, I wasn't looking for him. Once we were up and running, I can't say I thought about him again.”

  “So you weren’t holding a grudge?” Astrid asked.

  “Absolutely not,” George replied. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I gave him a few coupons for free water ice.”

  “Thanks for your time, George,” Astrid said.

  “No problem. Can I interest you ladies in anything on the menu?” he asked. “I’ve got blueberry tart water ice that’s out of this world.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a scoop of Pixie Rainbow,” Astrid said.

  George broke into a broad smile. “I should have known. I don’t think you’ve ever ordered anything else.” He looked at me. “And for you, Miss Lawyer?”

  “It’s all new to me,” I said. And it looked amazing. Every flavor seemed to burst with wonderful possibility. “What do you recommend?”

  George tapped his furry fingers on the counter. “I’m always coming up with new flavors and trying them out. I’m experimenting with a burstberry blend if you’d like to try it.”

  I chewed my lip, debating. “Do you have anything with chocolate? I’m partial to chocolate ice cream, but I’d like to try something different.”

  George lit up. “I have the perfect thing.” He touched the large menu on the wall behind his head. “Sorceress on a Stick. It’s like a Fudgsicle-style ice cream with ribbons of caramel.”

  “Why is it called Sorceress on a Stick?” I asked.

  “Because you eat off a stick instead of a cone and the ice cream is dark, like her magic.”

  I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. “I think I’ll try the Unicorn’s Horn.” It was vanilla ice cream coated in white chocolate on a popsicle stick.

  “That’s a good choice, too,” George said. He scooped Astrid’s cup first and then took care of my order.

  When Astrid reached into her pocket, he waved her off. “I have to pay, George, or there’s an appearance of impropriety.”

  “Fine, just pay for yours,” he relented. “But not Emma’s. There’s no impropriety there.”

  Astrid handed him a few coins.

  “Thanks, George,” I said, licking away happily. “This is delicious.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Let me know if you have any more questions about Ed. I’m sorry I wasn’t very helpful.”

  “You were helpful, George,” Astrid reassured him. “Anyone who answers my questions honestly is helpful.”

  George smiled. “Good luck with the investigation.”

  “Thanks,” Astrid said.

  I tried to say goodbye, but my mouth was too full of ice cream. No matter. After tasting this delicious concoction, I knew I’d be back.

  Chapter 5

  The invitation did not arrive by owl. Instead it came via Elf Express, with an elf dressed as a footman, arriving in a Cinderella-style carriage. If this was how Elsa chose to deliver the invitations for the engagement party, I could only imagine what the wedding would be like.

  Oh, I guess they’re too good for an owl, Sedgwick complained. He was perched on the porch overhang, observing the spectacle.

  I’m surprised to be getting an invitation at all, I said. Since Mayor Knightsbridge was footing the bill, though, I suspected she played a role in my inclusion. She was as eager to end this engagement as I was.

  I stood on the front step below, awaiting the footman's arrival.

  “Good morning, Henry,” I said, as he climbed down from the carriage. “I imagine you’re quite busy today. Must have a lot of invitations to deliver.”

  Henry mustered a smile, twitching in his uncomfortable and ridiculous outfit. He blew the pink plume away from his forehead and tried to focus on me.

  “She’s paying us double, so I can’t complain.” He handed me the invitation. It was, unsurprisingly, the most decadent invitation I'd ever seen. The paper was dusted with gold and silver and the calligraphy was the most fabulous scrawl imaginable. No left-handed resident was responsible for that work of art.

  “Word of advice,” Henry said. “Stand back a little when you open it. Otherwise, you’ll be in for a big surprise.” He gave me a wave and started back to his carriage.

  “Would you like to come in for a drink?” I offered.

  “I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got heaps more to deliver. It's the party of the season, apparently.” He started the carriage and disappeared down the road.

  I took Henry's advice and held the invitation at arm’s length when I opened it. A white dove flew out, sprinkling fairy dust as it shot upward and disappeared into the sky.

  Sedgwick groaned. Money doesn't buy you class.

  The party was to be held at the Mayor's Mansion next Friday at eight. It definitely seemed like it was going to be a grand affair.

  At least you can bring a date, Sedgwick observed.

  He was right. The envelope was addressed to Miss Emma Hart and Guest.

  You should have Demetrius escort you, Sedgwick said. Daniel will hate that.

  “I wish Gareth could come,” I said. “Or maybe it would be better to go alone.”

  Only if you want to spend the evening c
rying in a corner, Sedgwick said. Which I wouldn't put past you.

  I folded the invitation and retreated into the house. “You're probably right. I'll have to think about it.”

  And you’ll need an amazing dress, Sedgwick said. He perched on the banister.

  “Since when do you care whether I look good?” I asked.

  It isn’t so much that I care, Sedgwick said. I only want to put Daniel and Elsa in their place. The more amazing you look, the more likely that is to happen.

  “You only want revenge because they chose not to use an owl for delivery,” I chastised him.

  Or maybe I don’t want to see you wallow in self-pity for the next decade. Your nighttime crying keeps me awake.

  I became slightly self-conscious at the thought of Sedgwick listening to me cry at night. “I’m sorry, Sedgwick. Sometimes I can’t help it. I start thinking…”

  Don’t start thinking now or the waterworks will erupt, he interjected.

  I glanced around the empty foyer. “Have you seen Gareth? I would've thought he'd come running at the sight of a bedazzled carriage out front.”

  He mentioned something about trying to materialize in the country club, Sedgwick said.

  That explained it. I was glad Gareth seemed to have found a purpose. It was better than having him sulking around the house all day.

  I headed upstairs and left the invitation on my bedroom dresser. I didn't want to decide right away. Part of me was convinced I should just stay home—that I would find the whole ordeal too painful.

  Gareth drifted into the room, startling me.

  “Gareth,” I cried. “You can't sneak up on a person like that.”

  “You already know you have a ghost,” he said. “It's not like I can make loud footsteps. Not yet anyway.”

  I sat down on the bed and my shoulders sagged. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

  He spotted the invitation on the dresser and went over to investigate. “What's this?”

  “You missed the spectacle,” I said. “It's the invitation to Daniel and Elsa’s engagement party.”

  He whistled. “I best start practicing now to materialize in the Mayor's Mansion.”

  “I would love it if you could,” I said. “Did you have any luck with the country club?”

  He beamed. “I did, actually. It was quite liberating. I made it to the golf course, but not inside the building.”

  “That's wonderful,” I said. “The golf course is somewhere you used to spend a lot of time.”

  “Aye,” Gareth agreed. “And I was able to watch a game. I must admit, it's a wee bit fun mocking the players when they can't hear you.”

  “I take it your friends weren’t playing.” Gareth’s vampire friends tended to play golf at night.

  “No, 'twas a group of werewolves. To be honest, I didn't realize they played golf. It seems far too civilized a sport for them. No disrespect intended.”

  “Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I hope your lucky streak continues. I would love it if you could show up at the Mayor's Mansion. That way if I don't attend, you can report back to me.”

  Gareth inclined his head. “You think you might not go?”

  “I haven't decided yet. I think it might be too hard for me.”

  “Since when does Emma Hart shrink from a challenge? That’s not the annoying and plucky roommate I know.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Shouldn’t you be ready to go by now?” Gareth asked.

  I blinked. “I hardly think so. The party isn’t today.”

  “Not the party. Markos. You mentioned having lunch with him today.”

  I smacked my forehead. “I almost forgot.” I dashed into the bathroom and inspected my face in the mirror. “Zit City. I need to make myself presentable before he gets here.” I touched the angry pimple on my cheek. There had to be a spell to eliminate it.

  “The time for miracles has long since passed,” Gareth called from the bedroom.

  “It’s a miracle I put up with you,” I shot back, just as the wind chimes sounded. “Crap on a stick.”

  Markos and I enjoyed a pleasant lunch at Toadstools. In truth, I was grateful for any meal that I didn’t have to make. Cooking was not my forte, as Gareth liked to point out.

  “How would you like a tour of the new headquarters?” Markos asked, as we returned to his jalopy. “You didn’t exactly get the best impression last time.”

  “I would love that,” I said. “Your designs are amazing. Everywhere I go in town, someone points out one of your masterpieces.”

  Markos seemed humbled by the praise. “The residents here have been very supportive of me. For that I am eternally grateful.”

  Markos was such a great guy. Everyone liked him and he seemed to like everyone in return. It was refreshing. I knew a guy like Markos in high school called Ron. Everyone called him the mayor, even the teachers. He seemed to unite people by the sheer force of his kind and effervescent personality. I wondered what Ron was doing now. I’d skipped my five-year reunion because I’d been buried in work at the time. I hadn’t been disappointed to miss it because high school had been an okay experience. Not ideal but not terrible. I had to imagine Ron was in his element in social situations. A genuine extrovert.

  “What’s the latest with the case?” Markos asked. We walked through the familiar lobby and I found myself admiring the endless ceiling all over again.

  “Ha,” I replied. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

  “I heard you’ve been working with Astrid.”

  “Only when her sister is unavailable,” I said. I didn’t want to mention the particulars of their difficult relationship. Astrid really wanted Britta to succeed as deputy, so we needed to give her time to get into the swing of things.

  Markos grinned. “You’ve seen the lobby and the kitchen. Would you like to see my office this time?”

  “Lead on,” I said.

  We took what appeared to be a freestanding elevator to the top floor. I studied the glass enclosure, trying to figure out how it operated. Markos noticed my interest.

  “Pixie dust,” he admitted sheepishly. “I didn't say that I don't use any magic in my buildings.”

  The doors opened and we stepped into an enormous room with wall-to-wall windows on all four sides that provided a panoramic view of the town. I ran to the nearest window to admire the scene below.

  “Wow. What an amazing space. This whole floor is your office?”

  “Mostly mine,” he said. “Nellie is on this floor, too.” He paused to listen. “In fact, she's here now.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I can hear her talking to herself. She does it all the time.”

  “My grandfather was like that,” I said. He talked to the television, talked to his crossword puzzles, talked to himself about where he’d left his glasses (usually on his head). “I guess Nellie isn’t such a good listener if she’s always talking, huh?”

  Markos chuckled. “She's an excellent office manager, that's for sure. Come on, I'll introduce you.”

  We walked to the corner of the room where a small area was carved out for the office manager with a desk and several filing cabinets. The nymph glanced up from a document when we entered the room. “Oh, I didn't hear anyone come up.”

  Markos grinned at me. “You were saying?”

  “You know I’m hard of hearing.” Although Nellie glared at him, I could tell that it was good-natured and part of their dynamic.

  “Nellie Granger, this is Emma Hart,” Markos said.

  Nellie looked me up and down. “Finally we meet. The gods know I have to hear your name often enough. I hope you said yes to the engagement party. Markos has been talking about it nonstop.”

  Markos held up a finger. “Ahem, Nellie.”

  Nellie froze. “Oh, you haven’t asked her yet, have you? Oops.”

  Markos turned to me. “I was planning to ask you over lunch, but I got distracted.”

  “By what?” I aske
d.

  Nellie gave a high-pitched laugh. “By you, of course.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “I hadn’t decided on my reply.”

  “There’s no need,” Markos said. “I told them I was bringing a guest. May as well be you, right?”

  I hesitated. As much as it pained me, I hated to miss a special event in Daniel’s life. With Markos by my side, it might be easier to cope.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go together. As friends, of course.”

  Markos beamed. “Of course.”

  “Thank the gods,” Nellie said. “Now I can stop hearing about it.”

  I walked over to peer out of her window. “What’s your view?”

  “The parking lot,” Nellie said tartly. “Only the best for the office manager.”

  “Now Nellie,” Markos said. “You know if you bother to look beyond the parking lot, you can see all the way to Swan Lake.”

  “It’s lovely,” I said. “With a view like that, you must be inspired all day.”

  “Inspired to stab myself in the heart with this quill,” Nellie replied. “These reports are a mess.”

  “Numbers don’t match again?” Markos queried.

  Nellie shook her head. “I’m trying to reconcile them, but it will take time.”

  “You can’t reconcile what isn’t there,” Markos said. “At some point, we need to accept that there might be a problem.”

  Nellie placed her palms flat on the desk. “Leave it with me, boss. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  He patted her on the back. “I know you will, Nellie.” He motioned for me to follow. “Come on, Emma. I’ll show you my view.”

  “I think we both know the view you’re interested in,” Nellie muttered under her breath.

  I stifled a laugh. They reminded me of a nephew and his ornery aunt.

  Markos’s view was far more impressive. It was almost as expansive as the view from Curse Cliff. “I’ve always found a good view inspiring,” I said.

  “Me too,” Markos agreed. “I do my best thinking when I’m staring out the window.”

  “Were you a daydreamer as a child?” I asked.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Still am.”