Hell of a Witch (Crypt Witch Cozy Mystery Series Book 2)

by K. E. O'Connor

  Wiggles instantly pounced on the angel cake and scoffed it down.

  Dazielle launched another two cakes in the air. One landed squarely on my forehead. The other Wiggles caught in an impressive acrobatic display as he leaped into the air and twisted to ensure the cake landed in his mouth.

  I wiped frosting off my forehead before turning and stalking away. Dazielle had just sealed her fate. There was no way I would tell the angels anything I found out after this.

  “That’s more like it.” Wiggles licked his chops. “Frosted angel cakes are the perfect tonic to bran muffins.”

  “Not when they’re being slung at me as missiles.”

  “If you bend down, I’ll get that frosting out of your hair,” Wiggles said.

  “We can’t stand for that,” Granny Dottie said. “You show those angels a thing or two.”

  “Don’t worry. I will. One thing I know for sure, Auntie Queenie isn’t going to be involved in this. I won’t let the angels bother her.”

  I’d show everybody how incompetent Angel Force really was by solving this murder myself.

  Chapter 7

  I’d taken the previous evening off from figuring out who’d killed Nick and worked through my anger issues with the dumb angels. I’d taken a shift at Cloven Hoof behind the bar, done some paperwork, and then turned in for the night, still angry at Dazielle but no longer cursing her name.

  I sat at the breakfast table in my apartment with Wiggles, enjoying a huge mug of tea as my thoughts returned to the body in the cemetery. “Okay, Wiggles, we have three suspects. The whining girlfriend, Rachel.”

  “Who is having the dead guy’s baby,” Wiggles said.

  “That’s right. The rival journalist, James.”

  “Who sounds like a scumbag and needs looking at.”

  “Agreed. And then, unfortunately, we have Auntie Queenie.”

  “Who can’t be involved,” Wiggles said.

  “Of course she can’t, but we need to give her a heads-up as to what’s going on. There’s no way she’d want to bump off a journalist. I can’t imagine her threatening Nick. If he’d poked around the cemetery too much, she might have given him a friendly warning, but that would be it.”

  I needed to get Auntie Queenie out of the picture fast, so I could focus on the real suspects. I downed my tea, shoved on my boots, and headed over with Wiggles to Mom’s for breakfast. I needed to find out how Auntie Queenie was implicated in this and stop Angel Force from hassling her.

  Mom pulled open the door on my first knock, almost as if she’d been expecting me. She hugged me and ushered Wiggles and me into the kitchen. Glasses of green slime sat on the table. Granny Dottie, Grandpa Lucius, and Auntie Queenie all sat there, staring unhappily at the full glasses.

  “Is this a new spell you’re trying?” I stared at the sludge.

  “No, I’ve got everyone on a health kick,” Mom said. “We all overindulged at the solstice. I hear these green smoothies are a health elixir. You have one every day in place of your normal waffles or pancakes. It does wonders for the complexion and unclogs the arteries.”

  “It might do wonders for the complexion if you smear it on as a facemask,” Auntie Queenie said glumly. “That is not going anywhere near my mouth.”

  “It tastes much better than it looks.” Mom took a swig from her own glass. I saw her try hard not to grimace. “Maybe it needs a little something.”

  “Like tipping down the drain?” Granny Dottie thumped a fist on the table. “I want my usual pancakes.”

  “I’ll add some banana next time,” Mom said. “That will take the edge off the green taste.”

  “It will still taste like pond water,” Granny Dottie said.

  I settled at the table and waved away the offer of a glass of green sludge. Granny Dottie looked knowingly at me and inclined her head toward Auntie Queenie.

  Mom sighed as she collected the glasses. “I don’t know how any of you are still alive; you eat so many pancakes.”

  “Your pancakes are a health food,” Granny Dottie said. “They give me something worth getting out of bed for every morning. If you serve me that green goo every day, I’ll wither away and have no reason to live.”

  “Of course you won’t wither away,” Mom said. “Tempest, have you had breakfast yet?”

  “Not yet. Pancakes would be great.”

  She shook her head as she pulled flour from the cupboard. “It looks like I’m outnumbered. Pancakes it is. But we will try green smoothies again.”

  “No we won’t,” Granny Dottie muttered.

  I grinned at her. “Have you been contacted by Angel Force?” I asked Auntie Queenie.

  “I’ve not seen any angels since they were at the cemetery yesterday,” Auntie Queenie said. “They were a right pain in the behind. They cleared out late afternoon. I was glad to see the back of them, racing around pretending like they knew what they were doing and leaving bits of white feathers everywhere. It looks like someone had a pillow fight around the gravestones.”

  “They left thanks to Tempest,” Granny Dottie said. “She put in a good word with her new boss.”

  “You’re working at Angel Force?” Mom turned and stared at me. “I never figured you for that sort of job.”

  “I’m definitely not working there. You need to be an actual angel to work there. As you can see, I have no wings and do not fart angel dust.”

  “Well, you are working with them in an official capacity,” Granny Dottie said. “Tempest has a lot of influence with the angels.”

  “I have no influence. I’m doing them a favor because they’re running around not knowing how to handle their workload. Dazielle asked me to assist with Nick’s murder.”

  “As I told you to do.” Mom heated oil in a pan and whisked pancake batter.

  “Yes, but we’ve hit a problem.” I glanced at Auntie Queenie. There was no getting around this. I had to tell her she was a suspect. “Dazielle has a source, who suggests Auntie Queenie could be involved in Nick’s murder.”

  Auntie Queenie’s head shot up. “The very nerve of those angels. As if I’d do such a thing.”

  “I don’t think for a second you did. But did you spend any time with the journalists yesterday?”

  Auntie Queenie toyed with her fork. “Well, I did take the dead journalist and a couple of others around the cemetery. The demons were quiet, and I was at a loose end, so I showed them around and told them a few stories.”

  “What kind of stories?” I asked, noticing how Auntie Queenie didn’t want to look me in the eye.

  “Oh, you know, the usual sort of make believe that gets these journalists hot under the collar. None of the truth.”

  “Go on.”

  “I might have told them there were a few ghosts around, and if you turned up at a certain time of night, they’d see a ghost with glowing eyes.” Auntie Queenie still refused to look at me.

  “What else?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I was teasing them.”

  “What did you tease them about?”

  “Just that there were rumors of creatures, who breathed fire, lurking around with long claws.”

  I groaned. “You told them there were demons in the cemetery.”

  “I didn’t use the actual word demon. I simply described one type of demon we occasionally meet. They were fascinated. Although, there was one journalist, a snooty looking guy with lovely dark, wavy hair. He was cynical. He kept asking questions and trying to trip me up and make me look silly. I soon put him in his place.”

  “That must be James,” I said. “I need to speak to him. He didn’t believe you when you told them about ghosts and demons?”

  “Not a bit of it. He kept making snide little comments and trying to be funny. But the other one, the dead one, he lapped it up. He was into it and knew a surprising amount about magic. He was very open-minded.”

  “How long did you spend with Nick yesterday?”

  “He was there for a good couple of hours. He took lots of pict
ures and asked plenty of questions. He came by late afternoon.”

  “You didn’t threaten him? Dazielle reckons someone overheard you making threats to Nick. They must have been the kind of threats that suggested you’d kill him.”

  “What’s this?” Uncle Kenny stumbled through the back door, a strip of fresh willow bark in his hand and a huge basket of lavender over one arm. “Who’s killing whom?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, Kenny,” Auntie Queenie said. “Someone’s got their wires crossed.”

  “Queenie’s in trouble with the angels,” Mom said.

  “Not again.” Uncle Kenny wiped sweat from his brow, his dark brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Is this about you threatening to sacrifice those journalists to demons?” He laughed as he shook off his jacket and placed the willow bark in the sink.

  My jaw dropped, and I glared at Auntie Queenie. “Say that again?”

  “Well, I’m sure it was a joke.” Uncle Kenny’s grin faded as he looked around the room, realizing he’d put his foot in it. “I’m sure it was nothing.”

  “Sit down and spill everything you know,” I said to him.

  Uncle Kenny cleared his throat, and his gaze turned apologetic as he looked at Queenie. “It’s just that, well, they were a bit full of themselves. Queenie thought it would be amusing to have fun with them. She meant nothing by it, but she did suggest letting out a demon who likes to sacrifice humans.”

  I dropped my head into my hands. “That’s what Dazielle’s source must have heard.”

  “Now, Kenny, that’s not strictly true,” Auntie Queenie said quickly. “The journalists were asking a lot of questions, and I got concerned they knew too much. And Nick was a lovely young man until he started asking about a mythical ring.”

  I raised my head from my hands. “I’ve heard mention of this before. What did he tell you about it?”

  “Not a lot that was useful. He said he’d found a couple of letters that a great aunt kept. They had information about a ring that was supposed to hold great power. Whoever held the ring was able to influence other people.”

  “That sounds like mind control magic,” Mom said as she flipped over the pancakes. “That’s powerful. There aren’t many people who can do that. Or control it.”

  “Is there any truth to this ring?” I asked Auntie Queenie.

  “It’s hard to say. There are stories of power being contained in certain objects. Certainly, things like crystals, stones, and metallic items can be infused with magic. It’s possible Nick read about this ring, and it once existed.”

  “Not anymore?”

  “All of those objects have been collected a long time ago. They’re too dangerous and unpredictable to be in the hands of most people, whether they have magic or not. Our forest guardian looks after them.”

  I nodded. Willow Tree Falls forest was not just a place to take a lovely walk; it was a great place to conceal magic artifacts that caused more trouble than they were worth.

  “Since Nick’s got residual magic, could his family have been involved with the collection of this object? Perhaps a distant relative kept it, and that’s what he’s after.”

  “Remind me of his surname,” Auntie Queenie said.

  “Saunders. Was there a family who lived here with that name?”

  “There have been a few,” Auntie Queenie said. “He could be connected to the Saunders who used to live at the end of the lane.”

  “I shouldn’t think so. They were gentle witches. They spent most of their time communing inside the stone circle. They’d have had no interest in getting their hands on such power.” Mom dished out the pancakes and sat at the table to join us.

  “I remember reading about a Saunders family who ran the Ancient Imp before Petra’s family took over,” Granny Dottie said.

  “Yes, but again, they were your average hedge witches. They gained their powers from being surrounded by trees and plants, just like us,” Mom said.

  “Oh, if my memory is behaving itself, I know who Nick’s family was,” Granny Dottie spoke around a mouthful of pancake. “They were chased out of Willow Tree Falls.”

  “What got them chased out?” I asked. You had to do something serious to get evicted from the village.

  Granny Dottie jabbed a piece of pancake with her fork. “I won’t go into the details while we’re eating, but it involves sacrifice. They would bring in non-magicals and use their blood to make the stone circle stronger. They believed the power of the stones could be enhanced and they could channel its energy into them.”

  Mom nodded. “That was long before my time, but I have heard stories about this family. They collected magic artifacts. Surely, all the items they’d collected have been destroyed.”

  “Maybe not all of them,” I said.

  “You’re sure Nick had no idea he had magic?” Mom asked.

  “He was clueless,” I said. “When his family left, they must have started mixing with non-magicals and diluted their magic over the generations.”

  “It happens,” Auntie Queenie said. “Some of those non-magicals are jolly cute.”

  I wrinkled my nose. I hadn’t met a cute one yet. “Anyway, that could be the reason Nick was killed.” The thought didn’t sit well with me. If he’d been killed because of old ties to Willow Tree Falls, that potentially implicated everyone living here who knew the family. If someone figured out what Nick was looking for, they’d want to make sure he didn’t get it.

  “Can you imagine a non-magical having access to that much power?” Auntie Queenie’s gaze turned worried.

  “It wouldn’t end well,” Mom said. “It could destroy the non-magical. At the very least, send them mad.”

  “They wouldn’t even know how to use it,” Granny Dottie said. “Just having it in their possession would alter them, though. Items like that often have a malevolent influence. They subtly twist the owner to their will.”

  “If this ring is real, we need to find it,” I said.

  “And in doing so, you’ll likely find the killer,” Mom said. “If someone killed Nick for this ring, they could still be in possession of it.”

  “One thing I know for sure,” Granny Dottie said. “We can discount Queenie from being involved in this. She’d never want to use such a magical item.”

  Auntie Queenie shifted in her seat. “I wouldn’t mind giving it a go. It could be fun.”

  I raised my eyebrows and glared at her. “That almost sounds like a confession. You need to be careful what you say. Dazielle has you in her sights.”

  “Oh, she’s all hot air and feathers. Dazielle can’t seriously think I had anything to do with this.”

  “You’re on her suspect list, but you’re not on mine, so long as you’re being truthful.”

  She shuffled around in her seat again and ate some pancake. “I am. I suggest you try that other journalist. He was too smooth for my liking. He was always eavesdropping on Nick’s conversation and trying to get a new angle. He is not an honorable man. He even leered at my chest a couple of times.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m speaking to him next. If he was tailing Nick that closely, he would have overheard him mentioning this ring or perhaps if he’d planned to meet someone who knew something about it. He could lead us straight to the killer.”

  “Be careful,” Mom said. “He could also be the killer.”

  I studied Auntie Queenie carefully. She still wouldn’t meet my gaze as she focused on her pancakes. What was she hiding? There was something she was keeping to herself about Nick. I was absolutely sure she hadn’t killed him, but she was feeling guilty about something.

  I could stay here and quiz her more, but all I’d get was the silent treatment, or I could go talk to other genuine suspects and see what I could shake free. I needed to get out there and start talking to people. Watching Auntie Queenie look shifty was getting me nowhere.

  I hopped up from my seat once my plate was cleared. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom.”

  “Anytime. Where are you off to now?
”

  “To speak to that other journalist before he leaves Willow Tree Falls.”

  “Take care,” she cautioned.

  “Tempest can always blast him on his smooth butt if he causes her any trouble,” Granny Dottie said.

  I shook my head at her. “How do you know he has a smooth butt?”

  She tutted. “Everything about that man is smooth. I bet he waxes. I bet there’s not a hair on his body beneath those expensive shirts. And he smelt like he used a lot of talc. I bet he waxes and then stands in a cloud of baby talc to cool his sore bits.”

  I looked at Mom and grimaced. How was I going to get that image out of my head when speaking to James?

  “Ignore her. I never know what she’s talking about half the time.” Mom glared at Granny Dottie. “I told you those pancakes are no good for you. You’re on green smoothies for the rest of the week.”

  I hurried away as an argument started over green smoothies versus pancakes. I loved my family, but sometimes, I was tempted to let Frank loose on them. The things they argued about were never-ending. It came with a side order of love and affection and excellent food, but a witch has her limits.

  Wiggles looked up at me as we crept out the front door before anyone noticed us leaving. “Is it time to sniff out a slimy journalist?”

  “Yep, get your sniff on. Let’s see what he knows about Nick’s murder.”

  Chapter 8

  I headed back to Tabitha’s hotel to see if James was staying there. She confirmed he was a guest but had gone out early that morning and had not yet returned.

  As I was heading back along the main street to see if I could spot James, Axel strolled out of Mystic Mushroom with a pizza box in his hand. I felt a little guilty. Rhett had warned me Axel was out of control last night, and in the mess of the murder and partying too hard, it had slipped my mind.

  Axel grinned as he saw me. “How’s it going?” he asked, his teeth gleaming against his perma-tan.

  “Fine. Is that a late breakfast or an early lunch?”

  “I guess you could call it brunch. I had a late one last night.”