Murder's a Witch: A Beechwood Harbor Magic Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Magic Mysteries Book 1)

by Danielle Garrett

  At the sink, I went to work prepping and cleaning the herbs and plant materials that I’d collected. A large, garden window looked out over the property and my mind drifted to thinking about the relief I’d felt when Adam’s beast had barreled out through the treeline and tackled Gary. I’d never been much for the damsel in distress role, but if there was one person I wanted to have my back, it was Adam. My skin flushed as I replayed his valiant role in the events from the night. The way he’d bared his teeth and growled when Gary insulted me. How he’d been willing to battle an ancient gargoyle to defend me. He’d risked his own life. For me.

  I sighed. “What now, Holly?”

  I didn’t have an answer to my own question. Adam was clearly interested in me. But he was such a shameless flirt it was hard to tell if he was just interested because I was one of the few females in town that hadn’t immediately fallen for his charm. My heart fluttered again, thinking back to the way he’d looked at me from across the table and the way his thumb had brushed over the back of my hand.

  His words came back to me, echoing through my mind like a whisper, “I’ll always be there for you, Holly.”

  “I really need to work on an anti-blushing spell,” I muttered to myself. I shook off thoughts of Adam and his chocolate brown eyes and the lines that formed around his mouth when he smiled…

  “Focus!”

  I momentarily debated stinging myself with a blast of magic.

  I gathered the supplies in my hands and took everything to the stove. I set the cutting board filled with freshly chopped herbs to one side and conjured a flame under my kettle. While the kettle heated, I opened the cupboards and decided what to add to create a base for the potion itself. I absently hummed a song as I set to work, adding ingredients carefully, cautiously tallying things up in my head as I went along. The trick would be making it effective in getting Gretta to talk, while balancing out the sleeping agent that would make her too drowsy to carry on a conversation.

  Halfway through, I stepped away from the stove to let the kettle simmer. Something was off. The feeling in my gut was telling me there was something I was missing. With a sigh, I came to grips with what I needed to do next.

  I removed the Larkspur from around my neck, dropped into a kitchen chair, and popped the locket open. The foggy coating on the small mirror cleared and the figure waiting on the other side came into sharp focus. “Hello, Grandmother Honeysuckle,” I said, smiling warmly.

  “Who are you?”

  Bat wings. I figured since we had spoken so recently we wouldn’t have to go through this again. Apparently that wasn’t how the magic worked. After a few minutes, I got Honeysuckle on track and moved on to asking my questions. “Great-grandmother Honeysuckle, what would you add to a tension tamer potion to make it have a truth telling effect?”

  Her wrinkled face crumpled in thought. “Why not make a Truth Be Told potion? Much more effective than messing with coltsfoot and cedar ash.”

  I nodded and nibbled on my bottom lip. A bubble burst in the kettle and stole my attention for a moment. “Yes, I know, but if that wasn’t an option…?”

  “What are you up to, young lady?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

  This was a mistake.

  Mistake of not, I needed answers. I dragged in a sigh, and then said, “I’m in the middle of a murder investigation, Grandmother.”

  “Are you still working with those SPA people? Make them get you the potion.”

  “No, Grandmother. It’s a human murder investigation.” I pressed my eyes shut, waiting for the berating to begin. Good witches weren’t supposed to attract attention. They were to fly under the radar of humans.

  To my surprise, Honeysuckle chuckled. My eyes popped open and found her smiling at me. “I knew you had some spunk, Holly Boldt! You’re just like your mother!”

  I didn’t want to think about my mother. It hurt too much. I drew in a deep breath and continued, “Can you help me? I need to get the murderer to confess so that my friend won’t be mistakenly arrested in her place.”

  Honeysuckle nodded. “Yes, yes, dear. Of course I can help.”

  Relief flooded through me. Another heat pocket burst and I hopped up from my place at the table to go investigate. I gawked at the contents of the kettle which had turned a violent shade of green. Normally, my tension tamer tea had a transparent green tinge to it. Like a green tea. This was something else entirely…

  “Grandmother, look.” I flipped the locket around so that she could see into the kettle. As she investigated, I rattled off everything I had added, and the amounts of each ingredient.

  I turned the locket around and found that she was still smiling. “Add some peppermint.”

  I turned up my nose at the idea. I had the feeling I’d smelled enough peppermint to last me a few centuries. But I did as she said, after finding a pinch of dried peppermint leaves in a jar from the tea cabinet.

  “Stir three times, clockwise, of course.” I did as she said and marveled as the green shifted, evening out to more or less what I had expected. “Then go out to the greenhouse and get the leaf of the Heartsong. As you well know, the Heartsong has to be harvested at midnight, but the leaves can be gathered at any time and has a similar, yet gentler, effect as the blossom itself.”

  “Really?”

  Grandmother Honeysuckle arched a thin brow at me. “Don’t question me, girl. Go get the leaf. Chop it fine and add it one piece at a time. Stir three times, counter, this time. Then you’ll have what you need.”

  I peered over the side of the kettle, still shocked at how easily Honeysuckle had solved my problem. Maybe it was worth going through the trouble to contact her more often. I smiled and turned my attention back to her figure in the locket. “Thank you, Great-grandmother. You have no idea how much I needed your help!”

  She puffed out her chest with pride. “Of course, dear. Now, be warned, the potion will not last you nearly as long as the Truth Be Told. You’ll need to work quickly to get your confession and it’s very important that you get it right the first time. If you dose someone with any potion containing Heartsong more than once, you’ll scramble their brains for good.”

  I winced. “I thought that was just a scare tactic the professors used to keep us from making it at the academy.”

  “No, my girl. It’s very real. Especially, with humans. Frail little things that they are.”

  I stifled a laugh. Grandmother Honeysuckle was of the generation that kept segregated from humans entirely. These days, the havens allowed all supernaturals to interact with humans, and most found it to be a very beneficial change as it opened entirely new ways of life, and perhaps more importantly, commerce.

  “Thank you again.”

  She gave a nod. “Goodbye, dear. And good luck.”

  I closed the locket softly, checked the kettle once more, and then raced out to collect the Heartsong leaf. By the time I completed Honeysuckle’s instructions, the potion was clear, with barely a hint of the green color. I bottled up the batch, figuring that if it worked as expected, it might come in handy. I labeled it Loose Lips and slipped a small vial of the potion into my jeans pocket before I finished cleaning up my work space.

  With the potion ready, there was just one more thing I needed to secure in order to pull off my plan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “OKAY, YOU WANNA run that all by me again?”

  “Nick!” I sighed. “I’m asking for your help in getting a confession from Peg’s murderer.”

  I’d waited until eight o’clock before going downtown to an old log cabin that had been converted into a small professional building. The squat, square structure was home to the town’s dentist, accountant, and now, Beechwood Harbor’s very own private investigator. I had originally set out for Nick’s condo building, using the address listed on his glossy business card, but as I was crossing through town, I spotted him carting a hand truck along the sidewalk and then through the front doors of the small complex. Only then, did I notice t
hat the sign out front had been changed to include his name.

  I’d followed him to his new office, in the back corner of the home. Nick jumped about a foot in the air when I knocked on his door but he ushered me in right away and even dragged in a vinyl chair from the hallway for me to sit in, explaining that most of his furniture hadn’t arrived yet. So far, all he had set up was a card table that seemed to serve as his desk, another vinyl chair parked behind it in lieu of a proper office chair, and a stack of cardboard boxes lined up along the wall.

  I leaned forward in the uncomfortably stiff chair and locked my eyes with Nick’s. “I know that Gretta killed Peg. I just need help proving it. Now, I’m not a big shot investigator, but I figure that the best way to prove her guilt is to get a taped confession.”

  Nick pinched his brows together as though it was physically causing him pain to try and figure out what I was talking about. “I get that part, and you’re right, a taped confession would be pretty hard to ignore. But what I’m having a real hard time understanding, is the part where you came to the conclusion that Gretta is the killer. I mean, she’s a nice old lady with a flower shop.”

  I snorted. “First of all, it’s a gardening supply shop. And secondly, you obviously haven’t been exposed to the particular breed of delightful that is Gretta McCoy. She is far from being a nice old lady.”

  He held up a hand. “Okay, that aside, you still haven’t given me the full story,” he countered. He placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, eager for the tale. “Last time we talked, you were convinced it was Phillip Tanner. Why the sudden change? Tell me why you think it was her.”

  Bat wings. There was no way I could explain it to him and not sound insane. But I needed him to believe me.

  “There was a witness…” I started, treading carefully onto some seriously thin ice.

  Nick frowned. “Police Chief Lincoln never mentioned a witness.”

  “I know.” I licked my lips, nervously. “They didn’t come forward to the police.”

  “But they talked to you?” Nick raised an eyebrow.

  I nodded. “They told me that they heard Gretta and Peg arguing, which, if you don’t know, was pretty much a daily occurrence. But this was different. Peg slapped Gretta somewhere in the middle of things. Gretta took a bottle of peppermint syrup and swung at Peg. When she missed, Peg ran for her life, but Gretta got her in the back of the head. You know the rest…”

  Nick nodded. His expression unreadable.

  “Nick, come on.” I tapped my nails impatiently on the desk. “You know that I just want to solve this thing. What would be my motive for making all of this up?”

  “You want your friend’s name cleared. Isn’t that the only reason you’re involved at all?”

  Bats. He had a point there. Okay, time for a new tactic. I leaned forward and gave him my best smile. “Just imagine what it would be like if you’re the one who goes to the police with the killer’s confession on tape! You’ll have an in with them. Big time! I mean, they’d pretty much have to take your investigation chops seriously after that, wouldn’t they?”

  Nick nodded slowly, turning over my statement. He sat back in his chair, his eyes flashing at me every couple of seconds. I tried to button my lips and let him process. I could taste it. He was about to crack and give in to my wacky plan.

  “Nick…”

  “Okay, fine! Let’s say I buy this. How are you going to get Gretta to talk? From the sound of things, you two aren’t exactly best friends.”

  I shrugged. “She barely knows me.”

  “Okay…and…?” he prompted. “That doesn’t exactly help our cause.”

  “You know a lot about killers, right?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say a lot. But yes, I took some criminal psychology courses.”

  “Perfect!” I clapped my hands together. “Okay, when someone kills someone else, they have remorse. Usually, right?”

  “I would imagine…” He eyed me, unsure of where I was headed.

  “Okay. So if someone—say a neutral third party—started asking question, they might be able to unravel the truth. I could tap into Gretta’s emotions over the murder.”

  Nick shook his head. “But how, Holly?”

  I sighed. It was time to play my last card.

  “You know what, maybe this was a mistake.” I pushed up from the hard chair. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Nick. I wanted your help with this because you have a connection with the police. But if you’re too busy moving and all that, I understand.”

  “Holly!” He jumped to his feet as I started for the door. “Wait!”

  I paused at the door. With a smile, I turned around to face Nick. He raked a hand through his unruly hair. “I’ll go with you. Okay?”

  “And you’ll record the whole conversation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great! Let’s go!”

  He studied me for a long moment, as though realizing he just played right into my hand. He sighed and grabbed the jacket draped over the back of his makeshift office chair. He shrugged into it and then crossed over to retrieve something from one of the boxes stacked along the wall. He held up a small button and clipped it onto the cuff of his jacket. “This thing should do the trick. It’s actually a microphone. I have an app on my phone that will record whatever it picks up. I’ll start recording right before we walk in.”

  I marveled at the small button. There was no way Gretta—or anyone else—would know what we were up to. I smiled at Nick. “It’s perfect!”

  “I just hope you’re right about this.”

  “I am.”

  He gave me a weary look but held out his hand toward the door. “Lead the way.”

  “That’s our first stop,” I said, pointing at Siren’s Song, when we arrived at the Old Town Harbor Shoppes. Nick, with a puzzled expression, went ahead and pulled open the door for me. I slipped inside and he followed. Cassie was at the counter, picking at the bottom half of a banana nut muffin, staring into space with a distracted expression on her delicate face. She didn’t even look up at the sound of the bell on the front door.

  We approached the counter and she finally looked up. She straightened at the sight of Nick and me and ran her fingers over her apron.

  I gave her a small smile. “Hey, Cass. How’s it going?”

  “Sorry,” she said, continuing to brush away crumbs from her front and then the counter. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

  “Don’t worry about it. This is Nick, you remember him?”

  “Yes. Hello, Nick. Can I get you something to drink?” She gave him the best smile she could muster.

  Nick glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I nodded and he shifted his attention over to Cassie. “A large mocha, please.”

  “Sure thing. You, Holls?”

  “A large Kona and then a medium caramel latte with an extra pump of vanilla.”

  Cassie raised her brows at me as she wrote the order in permanent marker down the side of the signature ocean blue cups. “That’s Gretta’s drink, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “I wanted to talk to her about something. I figured a coffee would butter her up.”

  Cassie was still looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Trust me, Cass.”

  “Okay,” she replied, stretching out the word. She turned away and started making the drinks we’d ordered.

  “Is Phillip still here?” I asked, craning to peek down the dim hallway into the back room.

  Cassie glanced over and shook her head. “No. He called first thing and said he won’t be in until tomorrow. I’m not sure why. If you ask me, the sooner we get him back to Idaho, the better. He’s scaring away the regulars.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s just…gruff. You know how our customers are. They prefer a softer touch.”

  I nodded. That was definitely true. Phillip was about as cozy as a drill sergeant wrapped in a fleece blanket.

  “Well, we just have to convince
him that we have things under control here and he’ll leave. Then you’ll be my boss!” I wiggled my eyebrows at her and she laughed softly. It was nice to see her smile.

  “Your boss?” Nick interjected, leaning against the counter.

  Cassie slid his drink over to him. She left the lid off, to showcase her fancy whipped cream swirls and liberal sprinkling of chocolate shavings. I ducked my chin and smirked. “Getting fancy, huh?”

  “Hey, now,” she playfully narrowed her eyes at me. “I might not be all creative with the latte art, but I am a whiz when it comes to whipped cream.”

  “Really?” Nick’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. I elbowed him in the ribs. He laughed off my jab and took his drink. “It’s very nice. Thank you, Cassie.”

  She smiled and went to make Gretta’s drink. “Phillip Tanner is the new owner of Siren’s Song but he doesn’t live here,” she started, unaware that Nick knew more about Mr. Tanner than probably anyone else in Beechwood Harbor. “He’s going back to Idaho soon and I’ll be the manager here.”

  “Aha. Well, congratulations. That must be exciting.”

  She shrugged but couldn’t hide her smile. It was a big deal for her, especially if the promotion included a pay raise.

  Within a few minutes, we had the three drinks, and headed out after paying and saying goodbye to Cassie. Once outside, Nick looked over at me. “She’s the one that Chief Lincoln has pegged for the murder?”

  I nodded. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  All I knew was that she wouldn’t be for too much longer. Before leaving Siren’s Song, I’d slipped over to the coffee bar to doctor up my own drink and had dumped the entire vial of makeshift truth potion into Gretta’s cup.

  I drew in a deep breath. This had to work.

  We stopped outside of Gretta’s shop and Nick pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans. He tapped at the screen and I sipped at my coffee. Nothing to see here, folks.