Werewolves of Waresville: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 7)

by Raven Snow

  Half of what she said was foreign to me, but I sort of got that she wasn't talking about physical vision, like the kind that came with eyes. I shifted, uncomfortable with the rabbit hole we'd gone down together. I didn't have to worry about prolonging my squeamish moment, because Gran hung up after that, not saying a word of good-bye, no curiosity about my out of the blue question.

  Sometimes, it was really hard to believe we were related.

  "I don't know if I can get you out," I told Biscuit, not quite meeting his eyes.

  "I understand," he said instantly. "You tried your best."

  But I hadn't tried my best. Not yet, at least.

  Taking a step back, I reached down deep inside myself, drawing on the power that was always there. The magic I'd felt was too complex for me to unravel—like a knot that had been conservatively tied a million times. But maybe there was another way.

  Without much ceremony, I drew a good amount of power and threw it at the cage, being careful to keep it away from Biscuit. It exploded against the bars with the biggest bang I'd ever heard in my life. The energy between the two magics expanded, pushing everything back.

  Next thing I knew, I was airborne. My body was weightless for a moment before I slammed back down on the ground. Hard. The air was knocked out of me, and I lay there, gasping for breath. It was all I could do to get to a sitting position, my body more drained of magic energy than it ever had been before.

  The cage wasn't even scratched.

  Biscuit made a comforting noise and started to change back. I think the excitement had been a little much when he was in his least favorite form. Watching him didn't seem to bother me much this time, because the moisture in my eyes made it hard to really see anything.

  Once he was furry again, I struggled to my feet and stroked his coat a little. He leaned into me, looking at me like I had all the answers in the world.

  "I'm going to get you out of here."

  I just didn't know how right then.

  A crunch sounded behind me, and I whirled, prepared to draw on power I didn't have to protect the both of us. Instead of one of the pack standing before me, it was Kline. I froze, staring at him. His face was devoid of color, and his eyes were wide and wild. Just one look into those eyes, and I didn't have to ask how much of that he'd seen.

  He glanced between me and Biscuit, taking a step back. I raised my hand to tell him to stop, to try and explain the facts to someone who'd just had his world tilted on an axis. But before I could even complete the movement, he turned around and ran back through the forest, away from me. I didn't have the strength to catch him.

  "That went well," I said to Biscuit. "I'm zero for five billion today."

  I left the clearing, heading back for the road, hoping I could improve on that score. Oliver's car was thankfully still waiting for me. I didn't even want to think what kind of curse he would've put on me if I'd let it get stolen.

  I supposed the existences of witches and werewolves was going to go into Kline's report. I could probably expect men in hazmat suits to show up any minute and haul me away for experiments like the not fun kind of probing. I just had to hope he didn't know about anyone else in town. Supernatural folk, namely Gran, wouldn't take too kindly to their secrets being out in the open. It was one thing for Waresville citizens and tourists who didn't really believe. We didn't need the FBI in on it too.

  Thankfully, Wyatt's car was gone when I went back to the Victorian. He hadn't specifically forbidden me from coming back, but I didn't think space counted as sharing the same bed. I grabbed a couple of clothes from my wardrobe, hesitating on the way out of the bedroom. After a moment of thought, I snatched one of our guns from the bedside table. I wasn't sure if it would kill a werewolf, but it was better than fists.

  I stomped down the stairs not bothering to be quiet because I didn't think anyone was there. Fishing around in the kitchen drawers, I found James Niddle's credit card after getting about a dozen splinters.

  When I turned around, Cooper was standing just a few feet in front of me, and I visibly jumped. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

  "It's Saturday."

  "What, no extra credit?"

  He didn't smile. "You didn't come home last night. My dad was really worried." Scuffing his shoe against the floor, he said, "Then, he was really mad."

  Cooper nodded to a stretch of wall near the front door. For the first time, I noticed there was a fist shaped hole in the dry wall. My eyes widened. Wyatt was the least violent, most level-headed person I knew. I sagged a little bit, feeling more than an inkling of shame.

  "Your dad and I are going through some stuff right now."

  Cooper glanced at my clothes, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "Are you moving out?"

  "Without my wigs?" I said lightly. "Have you lost your mind?"

  It wasn't really an answer to his question, because I didn't know how to answer it. I didn't want to leave by any means; the thought made my chest heavy to the point of pain. But if Wyatt wanted me gone, I was gone.

  I grabbed Cooper and squeezed the daylights out of him, ruffling his hair until it was so messy he looked like a street urchin. "You're my favorite person in the whole world, Cooper Bennett. And no matter what, I'm still gonna need you to clean the men's bathroom every other week."

  I left then, before it could get mushy, and I hoped it wasn't the last time I'd be back in that house. Especially, because I'd left my entire DVD collection behind. That was twenty years in the making.

  Sitting in Oliver's car for a bit, I played absently with the credit card in my hand. Preferring cash, I didn't know the first thing about them. To be honest, they made me a little paranoid. Where was this invisible money? Why couldn't I see and touch it?

  I couldn't help feeling that the key to the mystery was on this card. But how did I get it to tell me its secrets? I was out of magic—not that I even knew a spell that could help—and I was out of resources.

  Well, almost.

  Chapter Nine

  I turned the car around and headed to the police station. I didn't see Wyatt's car here either, which worried me as much as it comforted me. It'd be far more pleasant talking to Wyatt, but that wouldn't be fair. If I couldn't respect him enough to honor his wishes, I shouldn't marry him. And for once in the past couple of weeks, I was sure I wanted to marry him.

  Justina hissed at me on the way in, but that was the least of my worries. I stopped once I’d reached the office area, scrunching up my face in disgust. It was the weekend, so hardly any people were here. In fact, the whole area was deserted except for two notable exceptions. And those exceptions were locking lips.

  It was like watching two pigs fighting for the biggest scrap. Stupefied, I stood there and watched my best friend make out with the man who I’d gladly see thrown over the edge of a cliff. Or maybe run over by a bus. It would be a momentous occasion, and I needed more time to plan it out.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, feeling vaguely nauseated, but when Kosher’s meaty hand started to creep up Vic’s skirt, I cleared my throat meaningfully. Like two naughty children caught going at the cookies, they jumped apart and assumed an innocent position. The whole effect was ruined by Vic’s red face, misplaced skirt, and the fact that Kosher’s pants were significantly shorter than they’d been a minute ago.

  “I’d say I was surprised, but disgusted is really the word I’m looking for,” I drawled.

  If possible, Vic’s face got redder.

  “In the police station, Vic? Really? Color me impressed.”

  “Cut the crap, Beck,” Kosher growled at me. “Why are you here?”

  I hesitated for a half a second, and then I produced the credit card. Kosher's eyes locked onto it before snatching it out of my hands.

  "Where did you get this?" he gritted out.

  His eyes kept flickering to the back where they kept the jail cells. He was transparent in how badly he wanted to lock me up. It'd almost become a bit of a fetish for him, I'd say.


  "Found it."

  "Tampering with evidence is against the law," he said gleefully.

  I smiled, showing teeth. "I just handed you evidence that can help you find the killer. Don't bite the hand that feeds you."

  "What sound advice," he said, slipping the credit card into his pocket. "You can leave now."

  "I need to know your findings."

  "Unfortunately, I'm not inclined to tell you. Run along."

  I looked over at Vic, but she looked away. I wasn’t going to get any help from her corner, but I hadn’t really expected any. Apart from the fact that she and Kosher were involved, he was her boss. This was a new job, and I knew she wanted to do well. So I really had no one but myself to blame.

  Cursing myself up and down the wall, I resisted the urge to bang my head in. Of course, Kosher would take the credit card for himself. This case could finally get him promoted to detective. Not only that, this was a prime opportunity to get me back for, well, everything. I must be off my game or just desperate and at the end of my rope.

  I needed that card back, so I drew on a little of my old skills. Letting myself bump into Kosher as he passed, my fingers slipped into and out of his pocket in a fraction of a second. The movement was as smooth as it'd been ten years ago, and a slight smile graced my face. Well, if this whole business owner thing didn't work out, I had options.

  I ran from the police station just as fast as my legs could carry me without attracting suspicion. Once I was back in the car, I deflated a little bit. If Kosher wouldn't run it for me, who would? I knew who I'd normally go to, but he was off the market. Vic was too new at being a cop to really be of any use.

  Well, if the law failed me, I supposed I'd just have to resort to other methods.

  Driving over to Hardy's with a conflicted conscious, I wasn't sure if my idea was the right move. Over the years, I'd observed a lot of things about the people around me, filing them away for future use. Just because I'd never asked about Jeb's past, didn't mean I didn't have any ideas as to what it involved.

  But I'd always sworn to myself I'd never put him in an uncomfortable position about it. Was the situation dire enough to go back on that promise? I thought of Biscuit's trusting eyes, and I nodded to myself, stepping on the accelerator.

  Jeb was manning the desk as usual, looking like some hulking barbarian. I handed over the card, and he frowned.

  "Are you buying something, Miss Harper?"

  "I need you to get the recent purchase history off this card without letting anyone know what you're up to," I said quietly. "This is one of those uncomfortable, personal favors that you can say no to. I won't hold it against you. But know that I wouldn't ask this of you without a good reason."

  But I would be out of options.

  His lips looked white with tension, but he nodded his head. "I'll email the log to you."

  "I have email?"

  "It's that page that's always open on the office computer."

  "Oh," I said. "I never use that thing."

  He heaved a put upon sigh and showed me out. I immediately went over to the Funky Wheel and tried to figure out this email thing. Apparently, I was a very popular person. Even the Mattress King wanted to talk to me. His letter was all about lowered prices, and I saved that for later reflection.

  I didn’t have to wait long for the email from Jeb to come in. More than a little miffed, I wondered why he couldn’t have just printed this all off for me. When I opened the file, I saw why.

  James Niddle was a big spender. Not only that, he seemed to have bought every trinket he could get his hands on from here to China. I stared at the never-ending list for a moment and then set my head down on the desk.

  After a good long second of feeling sorry for myself, I got to work. After all, two people were dead, and, surely that wasn’t as bad as going through this list of purchases for some kind of clue to who killed the guy.

  The first thing I noticed was the last transaction. Unlike the others, this wasn’t a purchase at all, but a withdrawal of a couple hundred dollars on the day he died. It probably wasn’t sizable enough to alert anyone looking into his finances, but it made me think. As far as I could tell, James Niddle did everything in credit, not cash. He was like the anti-Harper.

  The next thing I noticed about the withdrawal was the time. The M.E. had only been able to narrow Niddle’s time of death to about an hour window in the early hours of the morning. This transaction took place during that hour.

  “Either this was the last thing Niddle ever did,” I said to myself, “Or he wasn’t the one making the withdrawal.”

  Which begged the question—though it had never been far from my mind—how did Biscuit get the card? I knew Biscuit hadn’t taken the cash. For one, he’d have had to change into a human, and he hated that. For another, I would’ve noticed a big wad of bills lying around, and Biscuit didn’t need cash, anyway. I did everything for him—including poop patrol.

  Putting that mystery aside, I thought about the possibility of the killer using Niddle's card to withdraw cash. The ATMs in town had cameras, though that didn't exactly help me. The footage was sent directly to the corporate headquarters digitally. There'd be no tapes for me to get ahold of, and without a warrant or something, I couldn't just sweet talk my way in like usual. Not useful for finding the killer, but it'd do in a pinch for evidence after the fact, if I had need of it.

  I refocused in on the list, scanning it as thoroughly as I could. I was a couple hundred entries in when my mind drifted towards the possibility of a drinking game. Every time Niddle bought a keychain, I'd do a shot of bleach. Then, when I joined Niddle and Mason, the second victim, in the afterlife, they could just tell me who killed them, and my curiosity would be sated.

  After a demoralizing amount of time, my eyes stumbled over a big purchase, as in a couple hundred dollars in one go. Apart from rent and groceries, Niddle didn't spend that kind of money. Frowning at the company name, I looked them up and dialed.

  "Jarrett's Fine Jewelry Store, Linda speaking."

  "Hello," I said, transforming my voice into something a bit more nasally. I put a good measure of misery into the word, and I could hear the woman on the other line pause.

  "Is everything alright, ma'am?"

  Then, I promptly burst into tears. I could hear Linda's alarm through the phone, and I smiled through my sniffles. She comforted me as best she could, telling me foolish things like "it'll be alright." How could she know that?

  When she asked what was wrong, though, I saw my opportunity.

  "It's my husband," I wailed. "He's cheating on me with that hussy down the road."

  She made a consoling sound. "How can you be sure?"

  "A woman knows!"

  "Maybe you shouldn't jump to conclusions," she said kindly. "I'm sure your husband loves you very much."

  It's the burden of retail workers to be everyone's therapist. I was never happier about that than I was now.

  "You could help me," I gasped. "His name's James Niddle. If you tell me what he bought, I'll know for sure. He's always been the jewelry type."

  Her silence told me she was unsure about whether or not she should do this, but I tacked on a heartfelt "please," and she relented.

  I could hear her fingers tapping over the keys through the phone, and I tried not to tap my foot in impatience. Yelling at the help wouldn't get me the information any faster and it might not get me it at all.

  "I only have one purchase for a James Niddle," she said slowly, unsure if she was delivering good news or bad. "It was for a diamond necklace."

  I breathed a sigh of relief, though my mind was already whirling in a different direction. "Oh, thank you! You've saved my marriage!"

  With a click, I hastily ended the call. Getting up to pace, I kept thinking back to the necklace my mother-in-law was wearing. It'd reminded me of something, something I'd filed away for later reflection and had misplaced in my mind. God, I needed a better organizing system.

  In my mind's e
ye, I saw disco lights flashing off a glinting diamond which was wrapped around someone's throat. As clear as if it were happening right now, my vision zoomed out, and I could see the face of the person that was playing absently with the necklace.

  Felly.

  She turned to smile at me in my memory. "It's colder where I'm from. Less people too."

  Kind of like Missouri where James Niddle was from. There weren't enough people living in that state for it to be a coincidence they were both from there. And a diamond necklace wasn't something you bought for a friend.

  As they say, it's always the spouses.

  Chapter Ten

  I equipped myself with the gun and a change of clothes. Something didn't feel right, though, as I got ready for battle. Something was missing and not just information-wise. Honestly, I had more at this point in the investigation than I normally have. But something was bugging me.

  A couple was walking hand in hand when I stepped outside, heading for the car. They giggled and locked lips, looking blissfully happy. I knew that look. Up until a couple of hours ago, I'd worn that look everywhere.

  I wanted that look back.

  Jumping in the car, I dialed up Vic. She answered after a few rings, saying a breathless, "Hello?"

  "Get off Kosher and get over to my house. I need you to watch Cooper for a couple of hours."

  "Why can't Wyatt do it?"

  "He and I have plans."

  Wyatt, probably hearing the noisy engine in Oliver's car a mile away, was waiting for me on the steps. Despite the chilly weather, he was barefoot, only wearing a t-shirt and jeans. In fact, his outfit perfectly matched mine.

  When I got out of the car, his arms crossed over his chest, and his face closed off. It stung a little, but I wouldn't let that deter me. I was going to make things right between us, and he was just going to sit there and take it.

  "What are you doing here, Harper?"