by Vella Day
The Mystery of The Pink Aura
A Witch’s Cove Mystery
Book 3
Vella Day
The Mystery of The Pink Aura
Copyright © 2020 by Vella Day
Kindle Edition
www.velladay.com
[email protected]
Cover Art by Jaycee DeLorenzo
Edited by Rebecca Cartee and Carol Adcock-Bezzo
Published in the United States of America
E-book ISBN: 978-1-951430-08-5
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief questions embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Recipes
Excerpt from Sleuthing In The Pink
Other Books by the Author
About the Author
A psychic vision. Missing contestants. A witch and her pink iguana sidekick.
Witch’s Cove, the idyllic Florida beach town, is finally getting their long-awaited deputy. The problem is that no one can dig up anything on him—good or bad—and that sets off alarms for the gossip queens.
Hi, I’m Glinda Goodall, the amateur sleuth who works at the Tiki Hut Grill. The sheriff works hard and deserves good help, but is the new deputy, Nash Solano, really who he says he is? The day after he arrives, chaos descends on the town—as in, two contestants in a regional dog show go missing shortly after a psychic sees a mysterious pink aura around them.
The sheriff has been good to me and my talking pink iguana. So naturally, I have to investigate—both the deputy and the missing competitors. As is always the case, things never go as planned.
If you want to learn more, stop by the Tiki Hut Grill and give Iggy and me a hand in solving this crazy mystery.
Chapter One
If this is the first book in the series for you, or you need a refresher, check out my website for who is who (scroll down).
Penny Carsted, my coworker and best friend, rushed up to me and tugged on my sleeve, clearly needing my attention. “Glinda, did you hear?”
I set the full sugar shaker down on the side table in the Tiki Hut Grill where we both waitressed and faced her. Despite her out loud squeal, my heart didn’t race, because I knew everything was a big deal to Penny. It was one of the many reasons why I adored her. “Hear what?”
“We have a new deputy!”
Okay, I hadn’t expected that announcement, and I will admit my pulse actually jumped. “It’s about time. What do we know about him?” I asked, letting my never-ending curiosity get the best of me.
I assumed the new addition to the sheriff’s department was male, because the Witch’s Cove city council was responsible for hiring this person. And, well, let’s say our beloved rulers were basically a good old boys club.
Why did I care? I had recently unofficially worked with Sheriff Steve Rocker on a case that involved the murdered nephew of one of our very own, and I wanted to make sure the city council hired someone who would be an asset. At least, that was what I told myself.
Why did I assume Penny would know about our new deputy? Easy. Even on the day of his arrival, the whole town would have learned if he was married—did or did not have kids—what his favorite foods were, and what his shirt size was. The last statistic might seem strange to the average person, but the five gossip queens of Witch’s Cove were all single, and it wouldn’t be unkind of me to say that four of the five had a roaming eye. It wasn’t just me who thought that. All of them would readily admit it too, especially Dolly Andrews, the owner of the Spellbound Grill.
My sixty-three-year-old Aunt Fern was the exception. She claimed she wasn’t looking for a man, but I think if the right person came along, she might change her mind. While I now had the ability to see her husband’s ghost, I think Uncle Harold would want her to be happy too.
“What do I know?” Penny asked, finally answering me. “Nothing, nada, zilch, and that is the problem. What is happening to this town?”
I chuckled to cover up my embarrassment that I hadn’t heard even that much. “You have no information other than he’s arrived?”
“No, and to make matters worse, I ran into Dolly, and she only knew that he came into town late last night. Apparently, there are no stats on him—including what his name is.”
Wow. That was a first. Clearly, these women were slacking. “Let’s ask Aunt Fern,” I suggested. A person couldn’t sneeze in town without everyone learning about it—in part because my nosy aunt had a direct line to the sheriff’s grandmother, Pearl Dillsmith, who happened to be the receptionist at the sheriff’s department. I figured that intel was as good as anyone could get. Pearl would have met this newcomer and hopefully would have told her friends all about him already.
If the information flow was ever slow in coming from her gossipy friends, my aunt, who owned the Tiki Hut Grill, would hear about it from someone in her restaurant.
At the moment, she was working the checkout counter. Since she wasn’t helping anyone, both Penny and I went up to her.
“Hey, Aunt Fern.” Needing to make a bit of small talk first to grease the wheel so to speak, I peeked over the counter to see if her newly adopted cat, Aimee, was keeping her company. She was not, and that concerned me a bit. “Is Aimee with Iggy?”
Iggy was my familiar—a very chatty pink iguana—who considered himself a sleuth. As ridiculous as that might sound, he did have a knack for finding useful information.
“I doubt it. I think they had another fight.”
“I hadn’t heard about it.” Why was I being left out of everything? My heart ached for my poor familiar. Iggy really liked Aimee. Even though this new arrival had only recently been given the magical power of speech, she was still a cat—one who gave affection only when she saw fit. “What can you tell me about the new deputy?” I asked.
My aunt’s eyes suddenly brightened. It was because she loved being the disseminator of gossip. “According to Pearl, he is quite the looker. Dark haired, olive skinned, and he has the bluest eyes she’s even seen.”
Considering Pearl was in her late seventies, I’m not so sure I could trust her description. “Apart from his dashing good looks, what do we know about him?”
“He’s from Montana.”
That was a far cry from Florida. “Then I don’t blame him for wanting a change of scenery.” That wasn’t quite the information I was looking for, but it was better than nothing.
“What else, Fern?” Penny asked. “Does this handsome stranger have a name?”
A blank look crossed her face. “You know, I don’t think Pearl mentioned it. I think the sheriff came in when she was giving me the deets, but don’t you worry, I’ll find out what I can and let you two know.”
>
Penny smiled. “Thanks.”
I motioned to Penny that we get out of the way of the customer who had just walked up with his bill and credit card in hand.
“Did you teach her to say deets?” I whispered as I guided us back to the condiment table.
“Yes. If she’s ever going to attract a man, she needs to sound hip.”
I barked out a short laugh. “My aunt isn’t looking to date.”
Penny waved a hand. “Everyone is looking.”
There was no use arguing with her. We had been friends for three years, and once Penny made up her mind, there was no changing it. I might have pressed the issue, but I had the feeling my aunt enjoyed the hip-speak lessons.
Just as I was about to speculate on this new Montana cowboy, the front doors flew open, and I swear a whole busload of people rushed in. My aunt thanked the customer at the counter and then hustled over to the newcomers to find tables for all of them. She didn’t need to tell us it was time to move into action. We knew the drill.
As I spun around to get back to work, my pink tiara shifted on my head and nearly fell off. Why was I wearing cheap plastic headgear? Simple. All employees were required to wear a costume. Aunt Fern had believed it would help draw in the tourists, and she had been right. Without a doubt, business had picked up ever since we had started dressing up for work.
Why a pink tiara, you might ask? My mother was a Wizard of Oz fanatic, which was why she named me Glinda. It made sense too since I am a witch—albeit not a great one—and we live in the south. Even though I was teased a lot growing up for having that name, I eventually grew to like it, mostly because the movie witch always wore pink—my favorite color.
“Glinda!” my aunt called. “Tables one, four, and seven are waiting.”
Daydreaming was my worst flaw—or rather one of my worst. “On my way.”
I loved being a waitress, but only when I had the time to chat with the customers. Today, however, would not give me that rush since there wouldn’t be time to make any sort of connection. I strode over to table one. I’d never seen this couple before, so I suspected they were tourists.
“Hey, there. I’m Glinda. Are you here for our sandy beaches and brilliant sunshine?” I asked with practiced perfection.
“Not this time. We might take a dip in the Gulf, but we came for the dog show.”
How could I have forgotten about that big event? It was the first annual agility dog training competition in Witch’s Cove. “Are you showing a dog?”
She chuckled. “Oh, no. We have a mutt who rarely follows directions, unless it’s time to eat or go for a walk. But we love him to death.” The woman, who was in her mid-forties, had bright purple hair streaked with pretty blue and green highlights. “I wish we could afford one of those agility dogs, but those pooches are too expensive for our blood.”
“I hear ya.” About not being able to afford a show dog, that is. I could never have a dog. Iggy would tease the poor pup to death. Not only that, my familiar wasn’t big on competing for my affection. “I look forward to checking out the show after work. It should be fun. What can I get you?” I couldn’t afford to dawdle today.
After they ordered, I headed over to my next table. This was a family of four who were also here for the dog show, but these were competitors. “Our dog won in Delmar, so he’s ready to compete in this Master Class competition,” the mother said.
“That’s amazing.” I’d heard that the original site for the show had to cancel for some reason, though I had no idea this show was at that level. “What kind of dog is he?”
“Snookums is a Papillon.”
Snookums? I shouldn’t be one to judge. Maybe it was why I gave Iggy a boring name—or so he reminded me all of the time. I didn’t want to admit I’d never heard of that breed. “I wish you luck.”
“Thanks.”
I really needed to find out more about this event. I’d been so busy trying to solve the mystery of who killed Morgan Oliver last month, that I hadn’t kept up on current events. I had heard that Eleanor Aldrich was in charge of this dog event and that it was supposed to bring in a lot of revenue to the town. I just never took the time to find out the details. I’d have to ask Iggy tonight what he knew. Between him and his no-longer girlfriend—the talking cat—they might know.
“What can I get you?” I asked.
After poring over the menu, they finally ordered. Before I took the order at my third table, I dropped the first two requests off at the kitchen. While I was happy for Aunt Fern and her bottom line, having only Penny with me to handle all ten inside tables was hectic at best. I was sure the two outside patio servers had it just as bad though.
As I approached table seven, I glanced over at Penny, who seemed more stressed than I was. She was already a bit high-strung, probably because she had to raise a seven-year-old mostly by herself. Her ex-husband did help by taking and picking up Tommy at school.
The forty-five to fifty-year-old gentleman at my table was wearing a pair of navy blue slacks and a well-pressed white shirt with gold cuff-links. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen this kind of attire during the hot summer months—especially in here. His nails were polished and his eyebrows manscaped. Most people probably didn’t notice those kind of details, but wild hair randomly jutting above a person’s eyes disturbed me.
Since the man had placed the many-paged menu on the table and looked up, I figured he was ready.
“Hi there, I’m Glinda, what can I get you?” He didn’t look like the type who desired a conversation.
“A coffee with a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon and a dollop of cream—but don’t overdo it. And some real sugar, please. I don’t use that fake stuff.” He tugged on his long sleeves, probably to show off that he had money. “I’ll have the baked fish. Please ask the chef not to dry it out.”
He was a piece of work, but I’d met worse. “Sure thing. Are you here for the dog show?” I’d learned that this influx of folks all seemed to have come for that.
“Yes. My Mittens is one of the contestants. He’s a Border Collie. Keep an eye on him. He’s a winner.” I couldn’t decide if he actually smiled or if he had gas.
“I can’t wait.” Or not.
There was something off-putting about this man, but why should it matter? I’d promised myself that I was finished with sticking my nose in where it didn’t belong.
As I scurried to the kitchen to drop off his request, my aunt motioned me over. “Yes?”
“Table six needs more coffee, and table nine says the food is cold,” my aunt said, sounding as stressed as I felt.
“I’ll take care of it.” I waved the orders to show her I wasn’t slacking.
I started working here three years ago, right after I decided that being a middle school math teacher wasn’t for me. During that time, I don’t remember it ever being this packed, especially in the middle of July when it rained pretty much every day.
Someone should have warned us that this many people would descend for this dog show. Who knew they were so popular?
For the next hour and a half until my shift ended, it was non-stop work. Not that I didn’t appreciate the tips, but I couldn’t chat with anyone since I was either taking orders or running food to the tables.
By the time the next set of servers showed up, I was tired, but not too tired to check out the new deputy.
It wasn’t so much that I liked to snoop—or had an inner drive to meddle—but it was that I cared about our sheriff and wanted to make sure he was getting the help he deserved. Steve Rocker had only arrived in town seven weeks ago, but I’d quickly figured out he was one of the good guys. With the addition of this new deputy, Witch’s Cove now had two newcomers.
I smiled. Steve Rocker had come a long way since his arrival. At first, he’d been skeptical about my ability to determine the cause of death by waving a pink crystal over the deceased’s body, but eventually he stopped thinking of me as some crazy lady who considered herself a witch. Now, I t
hink he sees me as a necessary evil.
After refilling the salt and pepper shakers once more, I clocked out. Since I lived in one of the two apartments above the restaurant, I ran upstairs to my place. Iggy, my familiar, was on his usual rattan stool looking out at the beach and the slightly overcast sky.
“A lot of people here for the dog show?” he asked without turning around. “It sounded loud downstairs.”
I lifted off my crown. “You have no idea.” I explained about the dog show. “From what I gathered, it’s two days of agility training and then the show itself. Good thing I have tomorrow off so I can check it out.” Penny had asked if I’d work Sunday for her. In exchange, she’d work tomorrow for me. It was a win-win solution. “I’m too old to be working three days straight in this madhouse.”
Twenty-six might seem young to most, but after learning I could suddenly see ghosts, I hadn’t slept well. I needed a break.
After entering my bedroom, I changed out of my witch costume. I then pulled on a pair of dark pink shorts, a sleeveless rose top, and my pink sandals. If I didn’t make it clear before, I like pink. In fact, I only wear pink.
After checking my wardrobe choice in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable, I returned to the living room. And no, I wasn’t thinking about impressing our hot newcomer by putting on one of my better outfits.
Iggy turned around and hopped down from his stool. “Don’t we look pretty.”
I doubted it was a compliment. “I just changed into shorts.”
“Uh-huh. I bet you’re going to check out the new deputy, aren’t you?” he asked in a teasingly sing-song voice.
How did everyone know about him but me? “What do you know?”
“Do you have any arugula leaves? I’m hungry.”
Answer avoidance was a sure sign he was trying to exchange information for food. “I have to bribe you for information now? I thought we were partners.”
Iggy had the decency to look away. A few seconds later, he looked back at me—or rather his eyes that were located on the side of his head faced me. I knew how to out stare him though.