Twice Hexed_A Paranormal Cozy Mystery

by Cindy Stark

  The front door opened and slammed shut again, bringing with it a cold whip of blustery air.

  Hazel, along with everyone else in the café, turned to the stranger who’d walked through the door. He unwound the scarf from his head to reveal a middle-aged, round face. A thick layer of scruff covered his chin, and he looked like he hadn’t showered or combed his hair for days.

  “Welcome to Cora’s Café,” Cora called. “Have a seat, and I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  He lifted his chin in appreciation and smiled as he approached the counter. “Actually, I’m not in town for long. A coffee to go would be great. Throw in a muffin if you have one.”

  “You’re planning to drive out of town right away?” Cora shot a glance at the clock over her shoulder. “You do realize you’ve picked a heck of a day to visit our little town. A big storm is looming on the horizon.”

  One of the older men sitting at the counter swiveled his gaze around, his bright blue eyes a contrast to his sallow and wrinkled skin. “Ought to listen to the lady,” he warned.

  Cora smiled at the older man before returning her gaze to the stranger. “You might reconsider renting a room at the motel because you’ll likely be stuck here overnight.”

  “I’ve got four-wheel drive,” the stranger said, his Jersey accent strong. “I’ll be fine. Besides, my business here won’t take long, and then I’ll be back on the road.”

  Cora poured coffee in a to-go container. “Trust me. Unless you’re prepared to be stranded on the road for a couple of days, you should get a room. You won’t regret it.”

  He nodded but didn’t verbalize his agreement, and Hazel suspected he wasn’t a man who listened to reason. “I’m looking for Dotty Fingleton. I stopped by her house, and her housekeeper said I could find her here.”

  Dotty rotated her frosted-blond head around until she was looking at them over the back of her booth. “I’m Dotty Fingleton. Why would you be looking for me?”

  The man cleared his throat and strode forward. The card he dug from his pocket and presented to her looked like it had ridden around in his jeans for quite some time. “Arnie James. Antique dealer out of Boston. I have a client who wanted me to contact you to see if you’d be interested in selling the King’s Pearls.”

  Dotty dropped the card on the table and brought a hand to her throat. “The pearls? How could someone even know that I have them?”

  “I can’t discuss the details, but I’ll just say I’m very good at what I do.”

  “Good at accosting women in public so you can take their jewels?” Her voice had risen several octaves.

  “Dotty,” her sister cautioned. “Don’t let him upset you. The poor man hasn’t accosted you. He only asked a question.”

  “Yeah, Mom,” Sophie added, flicking her gaze between her mother and the man. “You don’t have to freak out.”

  Dotty focused on her sister for a long moment and then released a large exhale. “Who exactly is this client who knows about my necklace?”

  The stranger snorted. “Forgive me for saying so, but the location of the pearls given to your family by King William all those years ago isn’t exactly black ops intelligence.” The man puffed out his chest as he inhaled. “Specialized research led me in the right direction, followed by a few well-placed phone calls.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.” Dotty’s voice had regained its nervous quality. “Who is your client?”

  His half-hearted attempt at an apologetic smile failed. “My client wishes to remain anonymous.”

  “Then you can leave.” Dotty jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the front door.

  He widened his eyes as though her response surprised him. “You haven’t even heard my offer yet. Come on. It’s five figures.”

  She eyed him with a cold stare. “I don’t care what you’re offering. Those pearls have been in my family for hundreds of years, and they will continue to stay that way. When I die, they will go to my daughter and then her daughter.”

  Sophie smiled smugly.

  “Why?” His question held a whining quality. “You probably have them buried in a safe where no one ever sees them. What good are they there? Passed down from generation to generation like a burden that must be carried because the one before you did the same. Why don’t you sell them to someone who really wants them? Someone who will take pleasure from them every day? You can take the money and buy yourself something nice.”

  Dotty snorted in disbelief. “Cora? Do you have this man’s coffee and muffin ready? Because he’s leaving.”

  Cora flicked a wide-eyed glance at Hazel, and she returned the gesture. “Coming right up.”

  The disappointed man headed toward the counter and paid for his food, but he stopped at their table again before leaving. “Call me if you change your mind.”

  Dotty turned her face from him. “Rest assured. I won’t.”

  For several moments after the man had exited, no one in the café said a word.

  Finally, Dotty released an exaggerated huff. “The nerve of some people.”

  “Right?” Sophie added. “Like he can just waltz in and take my inheritance from me?”

  June shook her head. “I think you made a big deal out of nothing. He was only asking a question.”

  Just like that, the sisters were arguing again.

  Cora watched them for a few seconds before turning her gaze to Hazel. “Nothing much changes around here.”

  Hazel grinned. “One of the things I love about Stonebridge.”

  Not long after, Hazel said her goodbyes, and she left with a package of Cora’s amazing snickerdoodles and chocolate chip cookies tucked safely under her arm. As she forced open the door and stepped out, she smiled. She might be in for a heck of a storm, but she’d have no one in her store to eat the cookies.

  She’d told Gretta to stay home, knowing business would be light and they’d be closing early, so Hazel wouldn’t even have her assistant to help her devour them.

  The Blessed Mother knew she wouldn’t waste something so delicious.

  If she couldn’t eat them all, which was unlikely, she could freeze them for later.

  She lowered her head against the blowing snow and headed down the cobblestone sidewalk toward her shop.

  Several steps later, she barreled straight into a hard body.

  Three

  Instead of flying backward from the impact, strong arms wrapped around Hazel and held her steady. She lifted her gaze, not at all surprised at who she’d literally run into.

  “Whoa, there.” Police Chief Peter Parrish chuckled as she stared into his engaging green eyes and cursed her luck. He was as tempting and as bad for her as Cora’s cookies.

  Her heartbeat danced to a crazy tune as she stepped back, creating a safe distance between them. She recalled they’d had a similar incident once at the grocery store and narrowed her eyes. “You did that on purpose.”

  “Did not,” he countered. “A snowflake fluttered into my eye, and I was blinking when you crashed into me. If I’d been a light pole, you’d be splayed on the sidewalk with splitting headache.”

  A man in uniform always caught her attention, but Peter was no ordinary officer. He exuded confidence and charisma. The brilliant mind behind those sexy eyes might be more attractive to her than the muscled package he came in. “Of course, you had lightning quick reflexes to catch me before I fell.” All in all, he was as dangerous as they came. At least to her.

  He shrugged, his smile warming every inch of her. “What can I say? It’s one of my many fine traits.”

  She nodded, trying to glare, but failed to keep a smile from her lips. “I’m sure.”

  “Hey.” He turned and faced the direction she’d been walking. “You know a big storm is coming. You should be inside where you’re safe, so I don’t have to worry.”

  She gave him a sideways glance and fluttered her lashes. “You would worry about me?”

  “Stop that,” he warned, his teasing laced with a hint
of seriousness. “You know I do.”

  She did, in fact, know that very thing.

  As much as she tried to ignore whatever was blossoming between them, or hide it from everyone around them when she couldn’t manage that, Peter had been clear he was in pursuit of her. She’d been the one to hold him back, to keep him at a safe distance that wouldn’t endanger her heart, and therefore endanger her life.

  Unfortunately, she sort of sucked at it.

  She exhaled and shook her head in fake exasperation, acknowledging that she did know he cared without having to speak it. Then she began to walk toward her shop. “Don’t worry. I’m headed back to work right now.”

  He followed, of course. “I meant safe inside your home. Not your shop.”

  She glanced about the deserted street. At least there wouldn’t be many out today who would see them and add fuel to the gossip already circulating around town about the two of them. Heck, rumors of their once non-existent relationship had begun before there was anything to talk about. In a town that small, it didn’t matter. If there wasn’t an interesting story to spread, people made up stuff.

  Which was quite possibly how her many-times-over, great grandmother had ended up at the bottom of a lake with her pockets stuffed with stones more than three hundred years ago. The town’s historic rumors were much worse than the current ones embellishing her love life.

  Hazel had tried many times to imagine and empathize with the horrors Clarabelle must have endured, but she still found it hard to conceive that residents of a quiet, pretty town such as Stonebridge could turn that vicious.

  She shook off her oppressive thoughts. “I need to do a few things first, and then I’ll go home,” she told Peter. “I promise to leave well before the storm hits.”

  “Okay.”

  She stopped in front of her store and turned to him. “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, I’ll wait.”

  Her pulse kicked into a higher gear, and she lifted her keys and unlocked her shop. “I don’t need you to wait. I’m a big girl, capable of finding my way home.”

  He pushed open the door for her. “I know. It’s for my sake, not yours.”

  He indicated she should enter, and when she did, he followed her inside. He inhaled deeply. “It always smells so good in here.”

  Tiny bubbles of happiness erupted inside her. “Thank you.”

  He rubbed his hands together and blew into them. “It’s really cold out there. I don’t suppose you have water heated for tea.”

  She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Hot water in the pot. You know where it is.”

  “But I like it better when you make it.” He grinned.

  “I need to finish up so I can get home before the storm. If you want some, you’re on your own today.” She thrust the box of cookies until it bumped his chest. “Take these, too.” She knew she’d regret it later, but it was for the best.

  “What are they?” He lifted the lid. “Oh, dang. From Cora’s?”

  “Mmm-hmm…” She headed into the backroom to put away the herbs she’d been working with earlier. She stuffed lavender into a bag and sealed it and then covered the canister of imported Asian black tea.

  She placed both on a shelf and turned, and let out a squeal of surprise when she found Peter standing a short distance away. “Did you have to scare me like that?”

  He held a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in his hand and a smile on his face as he chewed and then swallowed. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “You’ve got that right.” She swept the remnants of her work from that morning into a little trash can and then headed toward him.

  When he didn’t move out of the doorway so she could pass, she looked up at him expectantly.

  “You should let me watch you work one day. This room is fascinating. I’d like to see what you do with everything. How you come up with ideas for teas that make them taste good.”

  No good witch worth her cauldron let anyone but the most trusted individuals watch her work. She might want to trust Peter, but she knew in her heart she couldn’t. “Uh…no.” She shook her head.

  “Why not? Are you afraid I’ll see you cast a spell or something?”

  Her insides froze, and she pushed against his chest, forcing him to move. “Funny.” Except he’d hit the nail right on the head.

  She gathered invoices and tucked them into a drawer. “How many of these storms have you weathered? Are they really that bad?”

  “As long as I can remember except for the few years I’d moved away from Stonebridge. Trust me, they can be brutal.”

  “So, you grew up here?”

  “Yep.”

  Which meant he’d had a lifetime of brainwashing by the town who feared her kind.

  “Loved playing in the river and riding my bike wherever I wanted. I’d hoped to raise my kids here.”

  And he wanted kids. Or at least he had with his previous wife. She highly doubted he’d want witch blood in those children.

  Too many instances had showed her repeatedly that, as much as her energy blended well with his, he wasn’t the man for her.

  She turned off the teapot, took a quick glance around, and then focused on him, forcing a smile. “I think that’s it. Everything’s put away. I just need to turn off the lights.”

  “Don’t forget the cookies.”

  She snorted, happy to embrace something besides her fears. “Let me sneak a snickerdoodle, and then why don’t you take the rest to the station? I’m sure everyone who’s working during the next twelve hours will appreciate them.”

  She hated to let them go, but if she took them home, she knew she’d eat every single one of them. He handed one to her, and she wrapped it in a napkin and tucked it in her purse.

  Peter stopped at the front door while she turned off the lights, and then she faced him. They stood only inches apart, and though the storm had begun to rage outside, her little corner of the world was quite cozy. “Ready?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “When are you going to let me take you to dinner?”

  She chuckled at his tenacity and shook her head. “Never.”

  “You let me hold your hand in the woods.”

  Which had been the first step down a slippery slope. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “It was nice,” he countered.

  She sighed. She couldn’t argue with that. “I should get home.”

  “Okay, but like it or not, I’m seeing you safely there.”

  “Fine.” Even if she said no, he’d follow her.

  The walk to her house was short but cold and snowy. Peter didn’t stick around after she unlocked her door since he needed to be at the station, but he made Hazel promise she’d call if she needed anything. So, she promised even if she didn’t mean it.

  As Peter headed back toward Main Street, a flash of burnt orange streaked across the road in front of her house and darted beneath her car. She squinted, trying to see better through the thickly falling snow. She gasped. It looked like the cat who’d hung around Clarabelle’s old home. But that couldn’t be.

  If it was, that meant he would have traveled clear across town to find her, and she couldn’t fathom why he would be at her house when he had a perfectly good place to hunker down for the storm. She knew for a fact he could get in and out of that house.

  She waited until Peter was far enough away that he couldn’t hear her. “Here, kitty-kitty,” she called. Regardless of whether or not it was the same crazed animal, she couldn’t leave the poor thing out in the cold. She’d survive sheltering with it for a few days.

  A few seconds later, familiar green eyes and a pink nose peeked from beneath the car.

  No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

  She was surprised, and yet, she wasn’t.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed. “Did you follow me home?”

  The thought that he might be stalking her left her uneasy.

  The sassy cat released a long, multi-toned yow
l that seemed an awful lot like it was berating her.

  She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t understand a word…er, a meow of what you said.”

  The cat repeated the caterwaul.

  “Say it however many times you like. I’m still not going to understand.”

  Let me in.

  A disembodied voice whispered through the wintry air.

  Or was it a feeling and not actual words? Voices in her head?

  Second thoughts of leaving the cat out in the cold crossed her mind now that she knew it was him. The last time they’d been alone together, he’d caused her to fall down the stairs.

  And find the ancient book of spells.

  As though that made everything okay.

  She glared at him for a few moments as frosty air froze her nose. Then she groaned. “Fine. Get in here.”

  The cat dashed from beneath the car and between her legs into the house. She closed the door, locking out the storm, and turned. The sly cat had vanished.

  “This should be fun,” she grumbled as she set off to find him. They’d likely endure days of torture before either of them could leave.

  Four

  Cora’s prediction of a two-day white out was spot on. Hazel had stayed snug in her little house, keeping an eye out for the mysterious cat who mostly remained in hiding.

  Howling winds had accompanied massive amounts of snow. All activities in Stonebridge had screeched to a halt while the town paid its yearly penance for drowning witches all those years ago. As an earth witch, she knew storms and the damage they brought were a necessary part of nature, but she’d never liked the screeching of the trees as they battled the elements. This time was no different.

  She hoped Peter and his officers had stayed warm.

  Funny how legends and lore built over time, becoming interesting stories to tell kids and tourists, but little truth likely remained.

  She preferred to believe the town suffered a nasty storm the winter after they’d committed their vicious deeds. And like residents were still wont to do, they blamed everything that went wrong on the poor witches who’d been unlucky enough to choose Stonebridge as a home, including her long-ago grandmother, Clarabelle Foster Hardy.