Curses & Cupcakes (A Stella Storm Cozy Witch Mystery Book 1)

by Amy Casey

  Peter nodded. “I don’t know who took it. I don’t know where it went. But all I know is that I didn’t do what you think I did. I didn’t kill Krissy. I wouldn’t kill Krissy.”

  “And Pedro?”

  “Pedro?”

  “Daryl. Whatever he’s called. Biker guy.”

  “Oh,” Peter said, as if mulling it over. “Him. Yeah. He was… interesting.”

  I was curious about how he said that. “Interesting in what way?”

  “Happens in fours, that’s what he said. Happens in fours. Talking to himself. The void. No entry.”

  “Wait. What was that?”

  “It isn’t a triangle. It’s a square. And the square needs closing. No entry.”

  I felt shivers creep up my arms when I heard Peter say these words. No entry. Just like it was written on the back of the photograph. And all this talk of it being a square, not a triangle.

  Did that mean there were four people in danger? Four corners of a square, and then done?

  “Why would Pedro have an interest in Krissy?” I asked.

  Peter shook his head. I could see his eyes fading now, like concentration was waning. “He was taking a photograph of her because she told him about what she’d seen. She confided in him. He was doing an investigation. A paranormal investigation and… and he couldn’t finish it because someone finished him before he had the chance. But he kept saying the same thing. He kept repeating it. The square must close. The square must close. It has to.”

  I heard him speaking to himself, and I knew the serum was wearing off. I wasn’t going to get anything else from him, not anytime soon.

  But I had enough. I had what I needed to know.

  And yet I still felt so far away from the truth.

  I lifted my hand. Pressed it against his forehead. Then I muttered a few magic words.

  “You won’t remember anything. You’ll wake up and think you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

  And with that, I saw Peter’s eyes close.

  I saw him start to fall back, so with the magic I had, I eased him down onto his sofa, down to rest.

  And as he lay there, I waited a few moments, completely still.

  I felt like I’d learned so much.

  But at the same time, I felt like I’d learned so little. Like there was so much more to learn.

  But one thing was for sure.

  Nothing in this case was as it seemed.

  And that had only furthered my resolve to get to the bottom of all of this, once and for all.

  Chapter 31

  I had no real need to visit the local library to do research. Did anyone with a computer, really? You know, you still see these movies and television shows where the characters go into libraries to find things out when they could just pop a laptop on their knee and learn everything they need to learn.

  But you know, it was funny how strong a cliché could pull at you.

  So I found myself in the local library, sitting over a load of old Goosridge documents; the librarian, Olga, by my side.

  Olga was a young woman who was so attractive she actually made me feel slightly envious. Jet black hair, soft features, and a sexy voice I wished I could embody myself.

  She was by my side, looking down at the old files: local newspapers from the history of Goosridge. Most of them had gone orange and dusty.

  “So is there a reason you want to look at these, or…?”

  I cleared my throat. In my right hand, I had my main source of research: my phone. I’d spent some time researching into what Peter had told me, further to what Pedro had told me before he died—the thing about the square being closed.

  And I’d found a load of old talk about ritual killings. About a demonic entity who returned to earth every seventy-seven years.

  So for some reason, out of curiosity, I’d found myself looking at the papers from seventy-seven years ago, caught up in a web of conspiracy that I knew most likely was going to be far from the truth.

  “These pages from all this time ago. Is there any chance you could, like, figure out which of the headlines could be useful ahead of time?”

  Olga looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Without magic?” she said, as if magic wasn’t really a thing at all. “Impossible. You’ve got quite a search on your hands.”

  She turned and walked away, unwilling to help. And I found myself stuck with a stash of old newspapers, all of which I knew I’d have to wade through to get to the truth.

  I couldn’t let any slide. I had to take every one with individual sincerity.

  I couldn’t miss a thing.

  I got to it. Started reading all of the old local papers, one by one. Mostly it was inane stuff. Certain residents reaching certain milestone ages. People winning gardening competitions. Blah, blah, blah, a whole load of rubbish.

  And the more I read, the more I started to doubt whether this chase for information was a good thing after all. I mean, I’d heard all this stuff about a demonic presence returning after seventy-seven years. But I couldn’t know that the killings were limited to this location. Who was to say they weren’t just at a random place in the globe? If so, there was no way I could ever hope to find the truth.

  It had to be limited to this location. It just had to be for me to stand any hope at all.

  I kept on turning the pages anyway, knowing it was likely in vain.

  But as I got towards the end, I saw something.

  Something that made my body go numb.

  It was a headline from September 7, 1941.

  GIRL FOUND DEAD, DRASTIC CIRCUMSTANCES.

  My hands started shaking as I read through more of the article.

  A girl was today found dead in horrific fashion, indescribable on the pages of this newspaper…

  I turned to the next paper. And then the next.

  And then I saw another.

  SECOND GIRL CONFIRMED DEAD AS KILLINGS CONTINUE.

  There were more. A third. Another girl.

  And as I progressed even more, I found a fourth.

  After that…

  SCIENTIST MARTY WILKINSON CHARGED WITH MURDERS.

  I read some more of the article. There was talk of a local scientist who had been blamed for the murders.

  But the more I looked into his backstory, his history, it didn’t seem to add up. There were all kinds of articles online protesting his innocence, outlining how he couldn’t have been the killer because there were various elements of the case that didn’t add up.

  But for whatever reason, when Marty Wilkinson was arrested, that was it.

  No more stories.

  Nothing.

  The square.

  The square was closed.

  I looked further through the paper for a sign that the killer had been caught. But there was nothing. It was as if the killings hadn’t happened at all, like they drifted into irrelevance as soon as they stopped.

  I looked back at the four newspapers. The “indescribable” aspect must surely have been the stab-wounds.

  But there was something different about this case.

  There were four women killed in the historic case.

  This time, a woman and a man.

  I knew it might just be coincidence. But I thought of how out of character it was that Pedro had fallen; that he was the first one.

  I wondered if perhaps there was more to him after all. That even though his life had ended, there were plenty more questions to be answered where he was concerned.

  I felt like I was getting somewhere. Felt like, even though I was reluctant to believe in ritual and mysticism, that there really was something in this line of enquiry.

  I went to look back at the papers when I saw Olga standing over me.

  A smile was spread across her face.

  And outside, I could hear sirens.

  “What is it?” I said, scraping back my chair, realising I must’ve drifted off in the mass of information.

  Her smile widened. “The killer,” she said. “The one
who killed that poor girl and man. They’ve got him. The police have got him.”

  Chapter 32

  The second I heard the sirens, I knew I had to find out what was happening.

  I rushed outside the library, out into the cold, frosty outdoor air. I could see other people gathered on the streets, all of them entranced by the presence of the police cars as they pulled up outside the station. I could see people standing at their windows, staring out. The small town entranced by the development in the case.

  But nobody as much as I was.

  Nobody as eager to understand the full truth as I was.

  I rushed further outside the library, out onto the pavement, towards the road. I felt myself hovering rather carelessly, and I knew that if someone were intuitive enough, they’d see me.

  But at the same time, I knew nobody would be looking at me right now. Everybody would be too transfixed by the very thing I was transfixed by.

  I just had to know. I had to know who they were taking into custody.

  I had to know the truth.

  I started to rush across the road, towards the cars, towards the crowds.

  And then I heard a horn blast.

  I looked to my right.

  Someone had almost flown into me.

  I lifted my hand, waved at them in apology—only half-heartedly, mind. They should’ve been watching where they were driving, after all.

  I carried on heading across the road. The police cars were still there, still stationary. It didn’t look like anyone had stepped out of them. It wasn’t clear who the suspect was, not yet.

  But it would be. Soon, it would be.

  And I had to be ready to learn the truth.

  I pushed my way through the crowds. I could hear people tutting at me, people complaining that I was being too rough. People who I was supposed to be friendly with. People who respected me as “nice Stella from Witchy Delights.”

  Well if there was any time to break from that image, it was now.

  Image didn’t matter much when there was truth to uncover.

  I kept on pushing through the crowd. And the further I got through it, the more I was tempted to just use an immediate dose of magic to blast myself to the front—or even into the police car.

  But I had to keep my composure. I had to retain my cool. I had to take this steadily, step by step.

  I pushed further and further. The longer I went, the more I felt like time was running out. The more I felt like my chance of seeing who was being arrested for the murders of Krissy and Pedro was going to slip by me, and I wasn’t going to get my own sense of closure on the case after all.

  And then I reached the front.

  I saw the police car.

  I saw the back door being opened by the officers.

  I saw the legs stepping out, and then…

  A person stepped in front of me.

  Blocked me completely.

  When I shuffled to get past them, they moved so my view was still blocked.

  I gritted my teeth, started to lose my composure. “Do you mind moving?” I said.

  “Yes,” the voice replied. “Yes, I do.”

  I recognised the voice.

  And when I looked up, I knew why I recognised that voice.

  It was Steve.

  DI Steve Burke.

  “So,” he said. “Fancy seeing you right here leaving a trail of fallen people behind you.”

  I looked back. Realised I might’ve pushed a few people a bit too hard when I saw them lying on the ground. Shit.

  “I just… I hear you’ve got someone—”

  “We have,” Steve said. “And you’ll find out exactly who it is. In due course, like everyone else.”

  I tried to peek my head to one side, to look around him.

  He was just as quick as I was to block me.

  “It’s time to go, Stella,” he said. “You’re already too deep into this. Don’t push yourself even further. Remember that.”

  I listened to the commotion as the person was dragged away. I listened to the creaking of the police station door as it opened and then slammed closed again.

  I listened to my heart racing in my chest, and I knew I’d come so close to the truth, whatever the truth was.

  But as I stood here with the crowd, at the same time I knew I was just as out of the loop as the rest of this mob.

  I took a deep breath.

  Sighed.

  But as much as Steve wanted me to leave, I knew this wasn’t something I was just walking away from.

  I wasn’t giving up without a fight.

  Chapter 33

  An ordinary person might’ve turned away. They might’ve abided the law, done exactly what the detective inspector told them, especially a detective inspector who was keeping a very close eye on them for whatever reason.

  But if you think I’m an ordinary person at this stage, then you’re clearly not following closely enough.

  I’d gone back home. Thrown together a few ingredients for a quick invisibility run. I was exhausted, no doubt about it. My magic was teetering on the brink.

  But I needed to know the truth.

  And I was going to exhaust it, to use it to the max.

  If there was any time to use it to its absolute full capacity, it was surely now.

  I took a deep breath, said a few words and steadied my focus as I approached the police station. The crowds had depleted. The cars outside had disappeared. But I knew that inside that station, the suspect would be in there. The culprit would be in there.

  And knowing who it was would give me my closure.

  Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it’d open up a whole new line of investigation.

  Whatever it did, it was something I needed to know. Something I needed to understand and get to the bottom of—fast.

  I held my breath as I approached the doors of the station and immediately cast my invisibility. I didn’t have the time or energy to go weightless too, so I had to just take the proper routes. At least I couldn’t accidentally get myself locked into a cell or stuck in the middle of a solid wall or something.

  I waited for someone to open the door and sneaked through before it could close. After that, I found myself in the main area of the police station. It was dead, always. Nothing much to report.

  Which meant I had to be extra quiet.

  I crept over towards the interview room. It was lucky that I’d been questioned there, really, because at least it meant I knew where it was.

  I reached the door that led to it when I heard a cough to my left.

  I looked up.

  The big, chubby man sitting at the desk was looking right at me.

  For a moment, I stalled. Came to a complete halt.

  Could he see me? Was he looking right at me?

  Then I saw him look the other way, and my nerves relaxed.

  I took another breath. Of course he couldn’t see me. Nobody could. Sure, my invisibility might be weak and flimsy, but it was still working—at least I hoped.

  I had to get on with this.

  I had to get to the interview rooms, or the holding cells, or wherever the suspect was being held.

  And I had to do it fast.

  I went down the corridor towards the interview rooms. I found myself crouching as I approached the windows, as if the people in there would be able to look right at me.

  But as I passed, I realised there was nobody in there. No suspects, anyway.

  Just DI Steve Burke and another couple of police officers. Leaning over a few papers. Talking to one another.

  I kept on going down the corridor. The holding cells were up ahead. If I could get to them, I could see who it was. I could learn the truth.

  Then I heard the door open behind me, the voices, and I stopped.

  I looked over my shoulder.

  Steve was walking my way.

  The other two officers were walking my way.

  “We start by asking him about where he was that night,” Steve said. “And wh
y there was a trace of him at both of the crime scenes. Not to mention where those traces of Valerian and Hemlock in his kitchen came from.”

  Him.

  So that much was confirmed.

  Then the further they walked, the closer they got to me, the more still I grew. The more my focus waned. They were going to find me. They were going to see me. They were going to look right at me, and my invisibility was going to be broken.

  “And then we ask why he hasn’t been completely honest with us until now. Why Krissy’s necklace—the one she always wore—is in his house. And why he’s suddenly just decided to be… truthful.”

  They were just a matter of metres from me now. So close to me. I held my breath. My heart pounded. I felt like I was so close to the truth, and yet so far at the same time.

  “Why he’s suddenly just decided to be… truthful.”

  I hoped that didn’t mean what I feared it meant.

  They stepped right by me and I stepped to one side.

  I saw Steve lift his head. I saw him turn in my direction, like he’d sensed a shift in the air.

  Then he carried on walking.

  He pushed open the door to the interrogation rooms.

  I went to sneak in there.

  But it was too late.

  I could see the outline of my hands.

  I had to get out of here. Fast.

  But just before I left, I saw something.

  I saw it, clear as day.

  The piece of paper in DI Steve Burke’s hand.

  The photograph on it. The mugshot.

  And right then, everything came together.

  One second Steve was there, then he stepped through the door towards the holding cells and he was gone.

  But what I’d seen wasn’t gone. It wasn’t gone at all.

  The photograph was of Peter.

  Peter was the suspect.

  Krissy’s boyfriend was the culprit.

  But I knew he wasn’t the killer.

  Something had gone terribly wrong.

  Chapter 34

  I knew what the wise thing to do would’ve been after my invisibility faded in the police station. It would’ve been to get out of there. To get as far away as possible so I couldn’t be linked there in any way.