Beewitched

by Hannah Reed

  “But you made the right decision. You seem so much happier since he moved in.”

  Which was true. Hunter is a fine man, and yes, I had made the right decision to have him move in. But one day at a time, I tell myself. The two of us need a little more time.

  “So what’s going on with Patti?” Holly asked, changing the subject, which was a relief because I was starting to think I might still have residual issues from disastrous marriage number one.

  It was then that I thought I heard movement on the stairs. Was Hunter up? But then Ben walked in and greeted me with a knee lick. “She’s still avoiding me,” I said, letting Ben outside. “Hasn’t even been in the store, hasn’t stopped at the house. In fact, now that I think about it, she hasn’t been slinking around in the shadows spying, either. Or at least, not that I’ve been aware of. Maybe she’s gotten better at it.”

  “That’s not like her not to sneak around.”

  “I know, right? But get this, it turns out she’s deathly afraid of the witches and witchcraft. She’s the one who called Johnny Jay about the ritual. It’s obvious she really believes in all that stuff.” I walked over to a window and peered through the dark. “I see a light on in her lookout tower,” I told my sister. “Probably plotting against the new neighbor.”

  Patti has a room in her upstairs set up with all kinds of surveillance equipment. When she isn’t snooping on the neighbors, she surfs the Internet for bits and pieces of our private lives to put together haphazardly and then present as facts through the gossip mill. Patti isn’t the town darling, that’s for sure. By now, she would know about the murder, so it was only a matter of time before she resurfaced, once more back in my life.

  “I’ll have to make peace with her,” I said. “And find out how much she knows about the witches and the murder.”

  Right after we hung up, I heard a masculine throat clearing coming from the vicinity of the stairs. Hunter walked out into the light, and judging by the expression on his face, he’d heard some of my conversation with my sister. But how much?

  “So . . .” he began. Any sentence that begins with “so” has the potential for trouble. “What a surprise. You’re getting involved in this case, which is exactly where you don’t belong.” I gave him a cheesy grin. I would have edited the conversation if I’d known he was listening. What a sneak!

  “I could point out that I’ve helped solve a few cases along the way.” He couldn’t deny it. I’d been in the right place (or wrong place, depending upon the point of view) at the right time on more than one occasion.

  “And you can’t even blame Patti Dwyre this time like you usually do,” he said. “Even she knows when to stay out of the way.”

  “That remains to be seen,” I shot back. “Besides, I thought you’d be proud of me. I can spy for you, find out where all the witches were when Rosina was murdered.”

  Hunter had his arms crossed. Not a good sign. “That’s my job,” he said. “I’ve interviewed each of them.”

  “And what did they say?”

  “I have nothing more to divulge. You and I aren’t partners . . .” He saw my face darken. Or maybe it was the dagger eyes I was giving him, those little slits that mean I’m getting ticked off. “In a professional sense, I meant.” He took my hand. “Look, I just don’t want to see you hurt. A murderer is still on the loose.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “If you need incentive, I can go into graphic, gory details about what a knife like that does to a body.”

  I tried not to gulp. “You’re starting to sound like Johnny Jay.” That reminded me. “The coven had a knife during their ritual. Lucinda was waving it around in the air, calling on who-knows-what. Was it her knife? She did it, didn’t she?”

  “You don’t give up, do you?” Hunter sighed, deep and heavy. Good, I was winning. I could tell by that sigh. He went on, “Jackson has the body and the knife, which had been left at the crime scene. The women acknowledge that the knife belongs to them, but they also claim it went missing at some point during the night.” Jackson Davis was the local medical examiner. He and I go way back, and we’ve helped each other out in the past. Or rather, he’s helped me.

  “The knife did vanish,” I said, going into a brief overview of my involvement. “Lucinda had it one minute, but it was nowhere in sight when they all went swimming. And it’s not like they could’ve been hiding it anywhere.”

  “Promise me you’ll stay away from that whole bunch from now on.”

  “I’d feel safer,” I said, avoiding making any promises, “if you’d answer my phone calls. You know I don’t call to chitchat when you’re working.”

  “You want me to keep my phone on?”

  “Yes!”

  “So . . .”—here we went again with the so—“. . . Ben and I are on surveillance. Let’s just pretend for a moment we have a violent suspect involved. Maybe he’s armed, but I’m not sure. We’re about to make an arrest. And just then, my phone rings. Now he’s alerted to our presence, and the danger has intensified for me and Ben as well.”

  “Then put it on vibrate.”

  “I sometimes hear yours when it vibrates. I wouldn’t risk it.”

  Visions of my man and our best canine friend in serious danger did it. “Since you put it that way, I guess I can learn to live with being ignored. But what about Johnny Jay? You have to get rid of him. And what happened with Aurora?”

  “He questioned both of you without passing it by me first. I made sure she was released.”

  “And Johnny’s out, right?”

  Hunter really knows how to shut me up when he wants to. And right now, he wanted to. I was relieved that he hadn’t brought up the first part of my conversation with Holly. Hunter wasn’t a dodger; he liked to face things head-on, so if he’d heard the part about how agreeing to let him live with me was so traumatic, he would have brought it up. I’d have to be much more careful in the future.

  We never did get back to the subject of the chief and covens.

  Twelve

  Friday morning arrived cool, crisp, and sunny. Hunter was still sleeping, and I left him that way, quietly tiptoeing out of the bedroom. I was relieved to discover that the rash I’d suffered because of the pine tree had faded and stopped itching. While I was making coffee, Stanley Peck called my cell phone with an offer. “How about I open up this morning, take your place today, and give you a much-needed break from responsibility?”

  Bless the ground that man walked on. “Yes, thank you, you are an absolute peach,” I told him, signing off with an improved outlook. It was going to be a great day.

  I went outside to check on my honeybees, who were lounging, too, inside their hives, waiting for the day to warm up enough to launch in search of what might be their last quest for nectar before cold weather grounded them until spring.

  Looking up at Patti’s window from my hives, I caught a flash of motion. Even with a murder and these weird visitors in town, life had been much less stressful without her around creating fireworks. Then I felt guilty for thinking that, because the woman didn’t have any other friends and considered me her best friend. As annoying as she could be at times, I couldn’t wish her away forever. Not that that was an option for the future anyway. From past experience, I knew that eventually Patti would show up out of the blue and go back to sticking to me like duct tape.

  Dy came over as I finished checking the hives and finding them healthy and in good working order.

  “Hey,” I greeted her, moving toward the door. “Come on inside. I have a hot cup of coffee with your name on it.”

  Once we were settled at the kitchen table with steaming cups in front of us, I asked, “How well did you know Rosina?”

  “Pretty well. She was one of the original members. Lucinda, Rosina, me, we’re the only three left from the original group. Or rather were before Rosina died. Now it’s only Lucinda
and me. Most of the original thirteen left in the past year.”

  “Why the high turnover?” I asked.

  Dy considered before answering. “When we originally formed the coven, we all agreed to certain terms, especially that it was unethical to manipulate others with our magic. That was a hard-and-fast rule. Our intention toward others is what colors us one way or the other.”

  “As in black or white.”

  Dy nodded, and I noticed that she had tensed up along the way, a scowl etched on her face. She seemed edgy, nervous, not at all the same cheerful woman I’d met two days ago. “Exactly. And Lucinda has been moving into decidedly gray areas, going places with her craft that concern me.”

  “In what way?”

  “It’s hard to describe to someone from the outside, but sometimes there’s a fine line between a curse and a charm.”

  I held my tongue (for once). I could see her point—both were intended to manipulate others, or at least to control circumstances and outcomes. Who got to decide where that fine line was? “How did Rosina feel about the new direction?” I asked.

  “She had concerns and voiced them in private, among the three of us. I felt caught in the middle. But eventually Rosina usually gave in and went along with whatever Lucinda decided. I and most of the others couldn’t agree. One of the reasons I moved out here was to make a clean break. Apparently, I didn’t go far enough away.”

  I had a flash of insight regarding the conversation I’d overheard between Dy and Greg that night beside the fire. He’d encouraged her to be patient, said they would leave her alone soon enough, go back where they came from. Now it made sense.

  There could only be one queen bee, and this coven had three who had been duking it out for the supreme position. With Rosina dead and Dy moving on, Lucinda would be the only one left to rule the workers. Sort of like a beehive and the reigning queen. There could be only one.

  After Dy went home, I sat and pondered the situation. My impulsive, quick-to-judge side was suspicious of Lucinda, mainly because I hadn’t liked her from the moment I met her. There was something dark about her, and I didn’t mean dark arts, either. She had secrets. I was sure of it.

  And what about my new neighbor? Dy was the one who had been trying to escape the coven, and she hadn’t been too happy about hosting a ritual, based on her conversation with Greg. But if she was the killer, wouldn’t she have stabbed the leader to death instead of the follower?

  What about all the rest of the coven? I hadn’t even touched the tip of the iceberg as far as the others were concerned. And there were simply too many witches to watch with the two eyes I had, so narrowing my focus was a given. Anyway, instinct told me answers to Rosina’s murder were with the original members, not the newbies. Something from their past, perhaps. I needed to look into Claudene Mason’s personal history, and a good place to start would be with Mabel’s relative, Iris, the woman who had been her girlhood friend—or victim.

  Before I could plot my day, Hunter came into the kitchen. He let Ben outside and sat down to the cup of coffee I’d poured for him. I proceeded to tell him about my recent conversation with Dy.

  “Yeah, that’s almost word for word what she said in her statement.”

  “Oh,” I said, a bit deflated.

  Hunter studied me across the table. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, “about taking you on as a partner after all. You presented a solid case, and I should be utilizing your talents.”

  My eyebrows shot up in stunned amazement, and if they could have morphed into question marks, they would have. “Partner? Really?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but with conditions.” He laid it all out on the table (figuratively, of course). “You own your own den of deceit and dubious dealings,” he said, watching with an amused grin as my eyes rolled up in my head. “Lots of rumors fly around down at The Wild Clover. Most of them are outrageously inaccurate, but occasionally you get a good one that has some validity.”

  Oh geez. Can we say patronizing? Hunter wanted me to just sit down there at the store and listen to the customers, maybe prod and poke them into relating a useful tidbit? Really?

  Sure enough . . .

  “Keep your ears open,” he went on, his tone ultra-professional and secretive, laying it on thick. “Ask questions about Claudene’s past. Absorb. You have a unique position, one I can’t fill as the detective on the case. Your customers trust you and might open up.”

  I had a better idea. Hunter could sit at the store for the day while Ben and I would hunt down bad guys. “And what will you be doing during all this espionage on my part?” How dumb does he think I am?

  “My job, as usual.”

  “So this is your partnership offer?” Can you believe the guy? “Tell me more. What’s the condition you mentioned that goes along with this amazing opportunity?”

  “You stay away from the farm. No trespassing there, no dancing around flames, nothing.”

  I couldn’t help myself, and I was miffed that he knew so much about my whereabouts on a constant basis. “You have got to be kidding! This is your deal?”

  He actually looked surprised. “I’m making concessions here. Usually my requests are for you to keep the locals from going off on tangents. I’m condoning this one. Gossip away.”

  Right before I saw nothing but red and started snorting fire, Hunter’s face relaxed and he grinned. He’d been kidding around, messing with me in that boyish way I had loved up until right this minute. He burst out laughing when he saw my expression change.

  “That wasn’t funny!” I exclaimed, really annoyed that he’d gotten the best of me. “Be serious.”

  “Okay, let’s start over,” Hunter said. “How about this—I’ll tell you everything I know, you keep me in your loop, and we’ll decide together how to proceed. How does that sound?”

  Much, much better.

  “Besides,” he said, “anybody who would strip down to nothing and wade into the thick of things to protect a friend like you did has to be really, really brave.”

  He laughed out loud. “Or,” he added, “really, really reckless and foolhardy.”

  Okay, then. I was going with “gutsy, bold, and courageous.”

  Whatever, Hunter had invited me into the inner circle.

  I was in.

  Thirteen

  “The emergency call was rerouted from Moraine to Waukesha at approximately four o’clock in the morning,” Hunter told me. “One of the camping guests found the body right inside the entrance to the corn maze. She immediately recognized the deceased as one of her group and went screaming back to camp. Everyone was alerted. Lucinda took over, rousing Al and Greg Mason and contacting the police.”

  “What was Tabitha doing up and about at that time of the night?” I asked.

  “Wandering.” He gave me a puzzled look. “But I don’t recall mentioning her name just now.”

  I kept going since Hunter hadn’t had a second cup of coffee and that was to my advantage. If I told him I’d been out at the farm asking questions, he would not be happy with me. “Johnny must’ve told me. If she was alone, then she doesn’t have an alibi.”

  Hunter looked frustrated. “Not a single one of them has an alibi that I can accept at face value, not from the time they left our neighborhood until we responded to the emergency call. A few local residents don’t have alibis, either.”

  “Aurora? It’s my fault she was even over at Dy’s. I suggested her. Aurora had never met any of them before that night.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Aurora isn’t one of our top suspects.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “In fact, it was your name as a potential suspect that came up on my radar, when the police chief asked me to identify several articles of clothing.”

  I came close to snorting coffee onto the table.

  Hunter gave me a hard stare. “Johnny Jay says y
ou denied any involvement at all, didn’t even admit to being with the witches.”

  “You know how he gets. All belligerent and accusatory. He would have locked me up.”

  “But your clothes were right there.”

  “Maybe I forgot them earlier. I do live next door. Johnny was just fishing as usual.”

  Hunter’s eyes held a certain criticism I didn’t appreciate, but I let it pass. “Anyway,” he went on, “Dyanna Crane says that she stayed home and spent the rest of the night alone. Lucinda says she was alone in her own tent. All the others shared tents and vouched for one another, but none of their claims are exactly rock-solid alibis.” He shook his head. “Women!”

  I gave him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying women are big liars?”

  “No more than men. But this bunch all claimed they were together every single minute—except then I asked them if they’d visited the restroom, and of course every one of them said yes.”

  Oh, right, potty stops, that’s true. Females are prone to that, proven repeatedly by the long lines at public restrooms. Why is that?

  “More than one of them might be involved,” I suggested.

  “You never know.”

  “I was home alone, too, but that’s only because you worked all night.”

  “And I’m almost positive you didn’t kill the woman.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  I poured more coffee for both of us, feeling for once like I was actually part of a real investigation. Finally, I was getting the respect I deserve. At least from one law enforcement official. Johnny Jay didn’t count one way or the other.

  “And the knife that was used?” I asked.

  “Jackson established that the knife found at the scene was the murder weapon. We figured as much, but the ME has to scientifically confirm even the obvious. And yes, it’s the same knife that belonged to the coven.”