Murder on the Dance Floor: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 5)

by Raven Snow

  “Uh, sure.”

  My input apparently wasn’t necessary, and he kept going. “We met up a couple years after high school, and everything just… clicked. I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.”

  “What happened?”

  “Those stupid gas stations. I was obsessed.” He flicked a stray piece of rice across the table. “Han got laid off from her job at the University, and I barely noticed—too busy building an empire.”

  “Success can do strange things to people who’ve never had anything,” I said, not really talking about Hannah and Connor anymore. “Sometimes, you just want to forget everything from before even existed. Like you were never that person.”

  Connor nodded like everything I was saying was gospel. “I love her, but I was still a nobody when we first met and still a nobody after in her eyes.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. For one, I hadn’t been around either of them long enough to pass judgment. For another, my thoughts, as usual, were consumed by Wyatt.

  My phone rang, and I answered it without looking, hoping it was the man of my dreams. Well, I was half right.

  “Harper, you’ve got to come home. Now,” Cooper said quietly into the speaker.

  “Did my gran offer you an apple again?” I asked, sitting back in my chair and grinning despite myself. “Always say no. Remember the fairy tale.”

  I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “My grandma won’t leave me alone. This is the fifth batch of cookies we’ve made together.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “They’re raisin.”

  “The woman must be stopped.”

  He asked, “Are you almost done with your case yet? I miss you.”

  That little charmer could melt my heart with both hands tied behind his back—just like his father. Immediately, I missed him too. Not once this week had I come down to breakfast to see Wyatt and Cooper eating that disgusting chocolate cereal that they loved, both giving Whale the occasional scratch behind the ears.

  “I’ll be finished real soon; I promise,” I said. “Or I’ll kill Connor myself and get back to you anyway.”

  “You’ve gotta stop promising people you’ll kill me,” Connor said when I hung up. “It’s not good for the family image.”

  “The family image took a sharp dive after your mother got arrested for running down the highway naked—again.”

  “She liked to feel the wind on her skin.”

  Since we were still about where we started, Con and I headed back to the school. Most of the ride, I was looking out the window, thinking about Vic. I missed her presence on this case, even though she’d only been gone a couple hours. If high school me would have heard that thought, she would’ve slapped the hell out of me.

  Suzy was buzzing around the gym again, looking very put-out by Hannah, who was now sitting and drinking at one of the tables Suzy was setting up. Her frizzy hair was a little lopsided, and there were chunks of unmentionables in it.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Con asked, going all dreamy-eyed on me.

  “Uh, sure,” I said, not really knowing if my input was necessary here.

  I didn’t want to intrude where I hadn’t been invited, even though that’s half of my usual MO. Hannah and Connor obviously still seemed to be hung up on each other, but as much as I wanted my cousin happy, I couldn’t, in good conscience, set him up with a possible murderer.

  While I was pondering whether or not to tell Con to pull his head out from where the sun didn’t shine, Hannah lumbered over to us with two glasses of punch from one of the batches on the times. Apparently, Suzy was trying out a couple of different flavors and seeing how they went with the ambiance.

  Half of the red liquid was gone by the time she reached us, sloshed on the floor or down her front. She handed us each a glass, leaning in to whisper with the stench of alcohol repugnant on her breath.

  “I spiked it. Enjoy.”

  I looked at Conner as she stumbled away, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged, taking a swig, and said, “Hannah hates to drink alone.”

  I followed his lead, taking a big gulp and swallowing past the burn.

  Suzy, looking over and seeing that we were in the process of getting tanked, frowned. She put her hands on her shapely hips and asked, “Are you two going to help or just sit there?”

  “Sit here,” we said in unison. Grinning, I raised a toast to our shared laziness. Suzy shook her head and went back to furiously planning.

  “What’s with you and the cop?” he asked after a long moment of drinking.

  “I love him, but I’m messing it all up,” I said bluntly.

  “Yeah, Becks have a way of doing that. Maybe you should just sex him up a little. Always worked for Hannah.”

  “You’re a charming man, cousin of mine.”

  We both took another big drink, the sting less now that we were feeling a little buzzed. Before I could swallow, however, my throat seemed to seize around the liquid. It hardened in my passage, feeling like dry ice against sensitive flesh.

  Springing to my seat, I made the choking signal while black dots formed in my vision. No help came from Connor, however, because he was doing the same dance as me, his face turning red and then blue from lack of oxygen.

  While strong, relaxingly familiar hands wrapped around me from behind, I watched Con fall to the floor, grasping at his throat. Wyatt squeezed the life out of me, almost cracking my ribs in the process, and the shard of frozen liquid shot out of me like a cannon ball.

  I sank to the ground as he went to Connor, giving him the same treatment. Unlike with me, my cousin was unconscious, his body limp and unresponsive. Still, he started breathing again as soon as his airway was cleared.

  Then, Wyatt was next to me again, kneeling and brushing the hair away from my eyes. “I’m glad I took a lunch break,” he said, probably meaning to come off flippant, but his voice trembled, breaking slightly on the word glad.

  Someone was on the phone calling 911, because Connor was still on the ground. Poking him slightly, my eyes watered without my permission.

  When the words finally came to me, they were hoarse, like someone had scraped the skin off my esophagus. “He’s gonna be okay, right?”

  The ambulance came and hauled my cousin away, refusing to let Wyatt or I ride along. Unlike in Waresville, we weren’t on first names with the EMTs. While they raced off, I left a message on Con’s phone to call me as soon as he woke up. Hopefully he could decipher what my voice was saying.

  “Miami has not been good to you this visit,” Wyatt said, insisting on taking me back to the hotel when I would’ve stayed and interrogated some people.

  When we got there, I immediately made him call Cooper on the computer, so even if I couldn’t really participate, I could watch the two of them talking. Sometime in between Cooper telling us about his English project and Wyatt confirming he hadn’t found Pot Pete yet, I fell asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  The last rays of sunshine were fading from the gold and red comforter when my eyelids next cracked open. For a moment, the surroundings were nothing alike, I thought I was back in Waresville, safe in bed with Wyatt. Cooper would be right next door, sleeping in his immaculately clean room, and we’d all be waking up for breakfast soon.

  At least the in bed with Wyatt part was true. Remembering that he was still mad at me, I shook him with a little more force than necessary. He rolled onto his back, blinking up at me with sleep in his eyes and his suit still on.

  “My mom died when I was sixteen,” I told him, sounding like a chain smoker. “She worked like a dog her whole life and just got hit by a drunk driver coming home one night.”

  When he would have said something, I stopped him. “She left behind enough for a month’s rent, but if it hadn’t been for the job I got stripping, and magic, I wouldn’t be here now. I was alone and angry, and I made a lot of mistakes trying to survive. I can name each of them individually, or you could just look at my rap sheet
.”

  “A long and interesting read, I’m sure,” he said lightly.

  I laughed for a second, but it hurt worse than the initial choking, so I stopped. “It really is. In the interest of continuing our relationship, maybe you shouldn’t see it.”

  He frowned at me, but before he could say anything, I asked, “Have you heard anything about Connor?”

  Pursing his lips at my change of subject, he said, “He called just after you went to sleep. Nothing seriously wrong, and he was hoping to check himself out in a few hours.”

  “Does he need a ride?”

  “No, he said his ex-wife offered.” Wyatt snorted. “She must be a lot nicer than my ex.”

  “There are third world dictators a lot nicer than your ex.” I flopped back down onto the bed, groaning. “Trust Con to call one of the people trying to kill him to pick him up at the hospital.”

  “Another good piece of news came through while you were asleep, if you’re interested,” Wyatt called from the bathroom.

  “I should sleep more often. What is it?”

  Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Wyatt raced me to answer it, pulling out his gun and peering through the hole. He rolled his eyes and stepped back, heading into the bathroom to finish freshening up.

  “Your good news is at the door.”

  I smiled after him, knowing he couldn’t see. It was better off he didn’t know what his backside and intriguing nature did to me.

  Not being as paranoid as Wyatt, I didn’t pull out my gun to answer the door—also because I didn’t have one. Vic stood on the other side, looking rosy-cheeked and not at all like she might’ve dropped the soap during her stint in the big house. I was happy she could’ve been spared the whole jail experience.

  “Wyatt, quick,” I said loudly. “Get your gun; someone’s trying to rob us.”

  “That one’s probably going to follow me around for a while,” she said, coming inside and sitting on my side of the bed.

  “You’ll have the reputation as the worst burglar they’ve ever heard of,” I agreed. “How’d you escape the pokey?”

  She grinned. “They let me go.”

  Tapping my chin, I frowned. “Funny. They never just let me go. Miami PD has gotten soft in my absence.”

  “Well, apparently someone forgot to read me my Miranda rights, so they had to.”

  “Ah, that sounds more like the local law enforcement I know and love.”

  Vic leaned forward, shooting furtive looks toward the bathroom Wyatt was hiding in. “So, what’s next? Do we try for Hannah’s house again?”

  “Your jail experience must have been much plushier than mine. No, we’re not breaking into Hannah’s house. I know where she found out about the will, so there’s no leak.”

  “What’s left, then?”

  “Divide and conquer,” I said, picking up my purse from atop the TV. “Rattle some cages.”

  “In other words,” Wyatt said, emerging from the bathroom and looking far more put together than I ever had in my lifetime. “She’s going to go annoy people until someone snaps and tries to kill the two of you.”

  “Hey, handsome,” Vic said, leaning back on the bed. “Did they tell you about my time behind bars? I’m a bad girl.”

  He kissed me on the forehead before moving around to grab his keys and wallet. “You two were meant for each other.”

  When the door closed behind him, Vic and I stared at it for a moment in silence. I was wondering if we were all right now that I’d done a little sharing. Vic was probably still hoping Wyatt’s fine butt would walk back in.

  “That boy gives me heart palpitations.”

  “Get in the car,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  We took our time going down the stairs, as we were planning on running all over town tonight. I wasn’t sure what would fall out of the branches when we shook the tree, but I was hoping for a would-be murderer with a confession taped to his or her forehead.

  Sitting back in Vic’s car, I waited for her to turn the key and for the engine to roar to life. Instead, eyes closed, I heard a series of clicks and curses. I heaved a big sigh, knowing those sounds all too well.

  “How’s it going over there, buddy?”

  Her smile was bashful. “I think I may have left the lights on.”

  “You realize your worth to me as a sidekick is reduced to negative numbers if you don’t have transportation.”

  “Take the bus?”

  The bus smelled like old people and stale chicken. Vic and I ended up standing, holding onto those handles for dear life as Rhonda the Driver took us for a breakneck ride around the city. She even did a little bit of tour guiding, pointing out (over the loud speaker) where her cousin played basketball and where she’d seen Tom Hanks that one time.

  One man in a trench coat, his bare calves showing, leaned close to me. Looking me up and down, he asked, “You wanna see something cool?”

  I considered him for a moment and then shrugged. “All right.”

  He opened up his trench coat, giving Vic, me, and the whole bus an eyeful. He and his pale body exited at the next stop, skipping down the street like a kid who’d just gotten an ice cream cone.

  “I might pick that man up a thesaurus,” I told Vic. “Cool and small are not synonyms.”

  “Honey, all men have that condition. It made my ex think three inches was actually six.”

  We got out at the Mustang, breathing in the smells of cheap pizza—the best kind—and gasoline. Like I’d hoped, I could see Jack was behind the counter, lazily flipping through a women’s magazine. Probably trying to figure out if he was an autumn or a summer.

  His eyes bulged and a vein in his forehead looked like it might burst when Vic and I walked through the front door, accompanied by a cheerful bell. Vic was immediately lured away by the doughnuts, but I stayed to stare down my old friend.

  “What are you two doing here?” He looked desperately at the clock. “You can’t keep following me.”

  Vic decided to take an interest in that. “We’re like that Hepatitis; you can never get rid of us.” She turned to me. “How was that for banter?”

  “Your heart is in the right place, but the execution needs work.”

  Jack came around the counter, looking more scared and anxious than anything else. Pushing us toward the door, he started begging us to leave. Personally, I hadn’t thought we smelled that bad. Maybe not minty fresh, but this was ridiculous.

  Then, the reason for Jack’s worry became apparent, because in walked a little girl with flowers in her hair. She was accompanied by an older woman in a suit, who looked at this place like she’d walked into a garbage dump. The Mustang was my childhood, and only I had the right to look down on it.

  “Selena,” Jack said in a pained voice, shaking the woman’s hand.

  She turned her nose up, but the little girl didn’t have the same hang-ups. Crying, “Daddy,” she launched herself into Jack’s arms. What had always been a sallow, shadowy face lit up, and he twirled his daughter around, laughing with her. Selena watched the show with apathetic eyes.

  “Who are you?” she asked after a moment. “Friends of Jack?”

  Vic and I exchanged a look. “Uh, yeah.”

  She sniffed. “No doubt criminals and deadbeats yourselves then.”

  Ouch. Jack flinched slightly, but went on with giving his daughter the royal tour. She was enraptured by all the funny smells and bugs, grinning from ear to ear. It was pretty cute.

  After about twenty minutes, the older woman cleared her throat. “Time to go, Angel.”

  The little girl pouted, asking to stay for just a few more minutes. Jack looked like he wanted to do the same, but he smiled sadly instead, hugging the girl like it might be the last time he ever saw her. Beside me, Vic blew her nose loudly.

  “I’ll see you soon, Angel,” he said, holding the door open, and then watching them disappear. He stayed in the window long after the two had gone from sight.

  “She’s beautiful,”
Vic said, her voice wet. “Do you get to see her often?”

  He turned back around, surprised to find us there, but after a moment, his expression hardened a bit. “No. She lives with her grandmother, and the grandmother thinks I’m a loser.”

  Vic stomped her foot, now fully invested in the man she’d been threatening a few minutes ago. “Maybe somebody should pull the stick from her you-know-where.”

  Sighing, he stepped back to his post behind the desk, letting his head fall onto the dirty counter. “She’s right. I am a loser. I can’t even to afford to live on my own. How am I supposed to get my little girl back if I don’t have a house?”

  “That why you’ve been stealing from Connor?” I asked a little coldly.

  I was sympathetic to his case, and lord knows I’d fallen on hard times and done the wrong thing. Still, he was a suspect, and I didn’t want him to relax around me. If he was on his toes, I was doing my job right.

  He looked up, his eyes slightly red and full of confliction. “I didn’t want to do that to Con. It’s just… she’s my everything, you know?”

  Thinking of Cooper and Wyatt’s smiling faces side by side, I said, “I do know.”

  “But why steal?” Vic asked. “I’m sure Connor would have given you money if you asked. I mean, you’re in the will, after all.”

  “What will?”

  Vic and I had another one of our meaningful glances. Jack wasn’t that great of liar, and unless I was losing my touch at knowing the difference, we might have just lost one of our key suspects.

  “He’s leaving you the gas stations—someday,” I told him. “You’d be able to support your daughter and more on that alone.”

  I watched his face carefully for signs of deceit. His eyes widened, surprised. When they returned to their normal width, Jack promptly burst into tears—and not the manly kind. Vic, unable to stop herself, cried right along with him, and I was left the only stable one in the room. It was a rare day that didn’t bring some surprise.

  “He’s… the best… man… I’ve ever known,” Jack blubbered. “I love him like a brother.”

  I patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, while Vic cried on mine. It was a very wet affair, and I wasn’t sure what exactly I’d done to deserve it. After all, wasn’t I here doing a good deed?