Thank my Lucky Spells: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Moonlight Cove Mystery Book 3)

by Samantha Silver

  “I think it’s more like a ‘being a decent cat’ thing,” I said with a smug smile at Luna, who made an angry spitting noise in response.

  “Never! She just wouldn’t shut up the whole time I was trying to take a nap, that’s all.” Luna looked away for a moment, and I rolled my eyes.

  Then I remembered the marshmallows that were still piling themselves into the mug, and I scrambled to finish the spell as the now-towering mountain of marshmallows floated uncomfortably in the mug, a couple falling off and rolling away.

  I considered scraping them off the top, but after the kind of day it had been, I resigned to snacking on them.

  “So,” I said, facing both the cats with my mug in hand. “First of all, Lara is going to be okay.”

  Lucy immediately seemed to relax, and she approached me to rub her face on my leg as she circled around. I reached down and gave her a sympathetic scratch, and Luna visibly twitched while keeping herself from zipping forward to get between me and Lucy.

  “I visited her in the hospital. She’s still recovering, but she’s not in critical condition. The nursing staff is good people, and I promise they’re taking good care of her.”

  Lucy came up to Luna and seemed to sniff her on the face, and Luna looked up to me. “She wants to know whether strangers were trying to get in and take pictures.”

  “Paparazzi? Yeah, there was a guy there, but the nurses were good about keeping that on lockdown,” I said as I made progress through my marshmallows and finally caught a glimpse of hot cocoa through the layers. The sugar was already picking me up, at least. “I might have had a hand in keeping him off her, but I’ll deny it in court.”

  “She killed him,” Luna told Lucy confidently, and I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that those words seemed to make Lucy happier.

  “No, I didn’t.” I wanted that on the record, then continued. “I’ll keep checking in on her and make sure you’re the first to know when she wakes up and can have visitors. They know Lara has a familiar, and they know where you’re staying,” I told Lucy.

  There was some more cat communication, and a few moments later, Luna translated for me.

  “She says under normal circumstances, something something about falsifying powers of attorney and that she’d sue your house out from under you, but given the circumstances, she’ll let it slide this time.”

  “Thanks, I’d rather not deal with Cat Court,” I said. “In all seriousness, though, do you know of anyone at all who might want to hurt Lara? Or anyone who had any kind of dispute, any reason to be upset at her?”

  Luna listened to Lucy for a few moments, then gave a low growl and flicked her tail.

  “Hey, I can always stop translating.” I arched an eyebrow at Luna.“She says no, and that since moving to this new town, literally everyone has been incredibly nice and welcoming except me.”

  “Well, she’s not wrong,” I said, and Luna gave me a flat look before bopping me on the calf with her paw.

  “Alright, so you don’t know about anyone who might have a reason to hurt her, and the two of you are basically never apart, so you know better than anyone else,” I mused thoughtfully to Lucy between sips of cocoa.

  “Oh, I see what you’re getting at,” Luna said, narrowing her eyes at Lucy. “You think she did it, huh?”

  I stared at Luna. “Yeah, I’m sure an eight-pound cat had no trouble hitting her owner over the head with a wine bottle.”

  “I’m sure she’s got some opposable thumbs somewhere under all that fur,” Luna said suspiciously, earning herself a hiss from Lucy that was well-deserved, in my opinion.

  “Okay, you two, I really don’t want a second murder on my hands,” I said with a groan. “Lucy, what about Arianna, the other human who’s been around a lot, helping out Lara? Do you know anything about her or any trouble she’s been in lately?”

  Lucy seemed to think for a moment before turning to Luna, who in turn translated for me.

  “Yeah, she said Arianna had an argument with her brother over the phone yesterday.”

  My eyes widened, and I nearly jumped out of my chair. “Wait, just yesterday? Her brother Jackson?”

  “She says yes,” Luna clarified.

  “I was just talking to him,” I thought out loud, pacing around the kitchen. “He seemed really broken up about everything, and he was swearing that nobody would have had any reason to kill Arianna.”

  I finished my mug of chocolate and made my way to the window, putting a hand to my chin. The cats jumped up on the counter and watched me with interest.

  “He was suggesting that Lara was the real target, and that Arianna was just in the way or something. But I thought that didn’t make sense, because the two were found in completely different rooms from one another. There was no sign of a struggle like that. And if Arianna was the real target after all, then trying to pin Lara as the main victim would be easy to believe, since she’s so famous, and it would be the perfect cover for trying to throw someone off the trail of Arianna’s murderer.”

  I paused and put my hands on my hips, fidgeting anxiously. “Lucy, do you know what they were arguing about, exactly?”

  Luna peered at her for a few moments before answering.

  “No, she wasn’t paying that much attention, because Lara could hear them arguing too and was petting her to keep her distracted. It’s good for stress relief. You could take a leaf out of her book, you know,” Luna added pointedly.

  I narrowed my eyes at Luna, but I relented and reached over to scratch her behind the ears.

  “Better.”

  “So her brother was upset. If it was about something serious, it could be a motive, but it might just as well have been an argument about something silly.”

  “Lucy says she knows who might know,” Luna said proudly, standing up and flicking her tail. “Arianna’s best friends with another human who hangs around sometimes. She’s an artsy kind of person. She lives in that really colorful house with the ugly sculpture thing outside.”

  I laughed; I was pretty sure I knew exactly what house Luna was talking about. “It’s not that ugly. It’s just... postmodern.”

  “Okay, well if you’re going to be remodeling this place, make a note to keep any postmodern stuff out of it, thank you very much,” Luna said with a flick of her tail.

  “I know what house you mean. I’ll go see if she’s home and have a talk with her. Will you two be okay here?”

  Luna and Lucy exchanged glances, and I felt a little tension in the air.

  “Oh, come on, you’ve been fine all morning.”

  “Yeah, but that was when we thought Lara might be in really serious trouble,” Luna said. “It’s like, familiar code, or whatever. That’s important stuff. Now she’s just, I don’t know, a fluffy guest. An annoying, fluffy guest.”

  “Well, treat your fluffy guest like I treat my guests,” I said firmly, giving Luna a look as I washed my mug and got my coat back on. “If I come back here and find that you’ve locked her in the freezer or something, you’ll be the next prime suspect.”

  “To be fair, I would pin it on you,” Luna said, licking her paw proudly.

  I sighed as I was already halfway out the door, ignoring Lucy and shutting the door behind me.

  Maybe Cat Court would be a nice break from all this nonsense.

  Chapter 7

  Hopping onto my broom once more, I zoomed off down the street toward The Magic Bean. It was a hub of activity this afternoon, a center of the community and, of course, the focal point of the ever-churning rumor mill. It was a small cafe, more like a hole in the wall than an opulent restaurant, but it had exactly the kind of kitschy, quaint charm that Moonlight Cove folks tended to appreciate.

  When I arrived, the cafe was already packed full of patrons, which wasn’t surprising given the new, juicy gossip I was sure was making the rounds. I opened the door and was hit with the pleasant hum of scattered conversations and laughter. The Bean was a happy place, and the ambiance
was always so comforting to me, even when it was crazy busy like today. Though, to be honest, it was almost always crazy busy. It was just that good.

  As I got in line at the counter, Elisa noticed me and waved. She had Gareth, a fairly recent hire, working the register while she arranged freshly-baked sweet rolls in the display case. Poor Gareth was being run ragged, but he looked considerably less terrified than he had a month ago, so I supposed he was finally settling into his hectic job. I knew Elisa was probably a little bit feisty as a boss, since she was a perfectionist who never cracked under pressure. She expected a lot of the people around her, but she also had the benefit of being older sister to Bella, who was the total opposite. Bella folded and crumpled under pressure, which was why she worked in the back with the yeast and the flour and the sugar instead of with other people. Gareth appeared to fall somewhere in the middle. It made me smile to see him doing well.

  Once I made my way to the counter, Gareth recognized me and brightened up a little, even blushing slightly. I saw Elisa cast a bemused glance our way and I put two and two together. It appeared that her new cashier might have had a little bit of a crush on me. Awkward. But then again, he was just a kid, probably barely eighteen. At that age, everything was awkward. I decided to cut him a break and pretend everything was normal.

  “Hey Gareth,” I said lightly, giving him a smile.

  “Hi, Miss Mani,” he replied, his voice cracking a little. Oh, poor guy.

  “Artemis or Arti is fine, kiddo,” I told him graciously. “Can I get a lavender cappuccino and a ginger-lemon scone, please?”

  “Ooh, mixin’ it up, I see!” Elisa said. “Not your usual order.”

  “What can I say? I’m a wild card,” I laughed, handing my money to Gareth. As he handed back my change, I could see that his hand was ever so slightly shaking, and he dropped a few coins on the counter with a loud clinking noise.

  “Oh no,” he muttered, “I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine! No big deal, really,” I reassured him, scooping up the coins and dropping them in the tip box. His cheeks were flushing bright pink by now and I couldn’t think of any way to relieve the poor kid of his embarrassment. Oh, to be eighteen and awkward and crazy again. I wouldn’t relive that age for anything.

  “Th-Thank you,” he mumbled, smiling at me gratefully.

  “No problem, Gareth. Thanks,” I told him with a smile. Elisa came around the counter and joined me at the little two-person table nearest by. I sipped my cappuccino while she gave me a giggly grin.

  “That kid is a mess, but we love him,” she said in an undertone, genuine fondness in her voice. “He keeps asking me about you, but he always calls you Miss Mani. It’s so weird, right? Being old enough to have kids call you ‘Miss’? Makes me feel ancient.”

  “I know,” I agreed, wrinkling my nose. “Sometimes I still feel like a teenager trying to figure out how to be an adult, and then as soon as I actually interact with real teenagers I feel like I’m a senior citizen.”

  “Totally.”

  “So, Elisa,” I said, leaning closer. “You heard anything interesting about, you know?” I let my voice trail off, not wanting anyone nearby to overhear the topic of our conversation and listen in.

  “Actually, yes!” she whispered, glancing around quickly. “Earlier this morning, Xander Forsetti came by.”

  “And? What did he say?” I asked, taking a huge bite of my ginger-lemon scone. I had a strong feeling that Elisa was about to give me the kind of clue that would make me rush out of here in a hurry, and I wanted to finish my food and coffee first.

  “The cops are convinced that Lara Lancaster was the true target, not Arianna. Apparently, that poor girl was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she explained, shrugging. “I think that’s sadder, somehow.”

  My heart raced. The cops had it all wrong, I just knew it. The crime scene didn’t point to Lara being the main target. The evidence just didn’t fit that version of events. I hurriedly finished off my scone so quickly that Elisa looked at me and laughed.

  “Do you want a take-out cup for the rest of that coffee?”

  I nodded, my mouth full of scone. She hopped up and poured my coffee into a magical biodegradable cup. After use, you only had to snap your fingers at it and it would poof into a tiny pile of dead leaves - wonderful for the soil.

  “Thanks, El!” I said cheerily, hopping up with my coffee and all but dashing out the door.

  “Bye, Miss Mani!” I heard Gareth call out as the door closed with a jingle.

  I climbed atop my broom, holding on with one hand while sipping from my cup, zooming off down the street. I knew where I needed to go. Lucy had suggested Arianna’s best friend might be a person of interest, and I happened to know that the person who lived in the cottage with the weird structure out the front was Bridget Gersemmi, a local artist with a sculpting workshop. She was one of the youngest and most accomplished artists in town. I hadn’t put her name to the face at first, but now it dawned on me that I had seen her and her work before. Moonlight Cove was home to a thriving little artistic community, holding multiple art-centered festivals every year. This month, December, there was a Christmas-themed art festival, in which local artists and even non-local magical artists came from far and wide to peddle their impressive wares. It was a favorite for Christmas shoppers, picking up unique, handmade gifts for their loved ones. A couple of years in a row now my own mother had maintained a vendor stall at the Christmas market, selling the various forms of art she dabbled in. Pottery, crochet, embroidery, painting - even glass-blowing one year, much to my father’s dismay.

  But last year, at the Christmas market, my mother came home grumbling about how her little clay sculptures didn’t sell quite as well as she has hoped, since there was a hardcore competitor stealing her business, as she so kindly put it. That competitor was Bridget Gersemmi.

  She was young and fresh, a new face in the Christmas market, but her works were widely popular. My mom was a pretty good sculptor for an amateur, but she still couldn’t quite compete with the likes of Bridget, who was pretty much a sculpting prodigy. My mother had been so jealous and annoyed that she kept urging me to somehow sabotage Bridget’s works at the Christmas market, until she realized that Bridget was hardly even my age, and then she just felt guilty. In fact, by the end of the market, my mom had purchased one of Bridget’s sculptures, a small bust of a famous witch called Eudalia Sparks, who just happened to be one of Mom’s personal heroes. So Bridget had managed to win over even my mother, who was admittedly one of the most stubborn and competitive people I knew.

  As I flew up to the cul-de-sac where Bridget’s home and workshop were located, my heart gave a little jolt. There was already someone here: Chief Forsetti.

  “Beat me to it,” I murmured, wondering if I should hide or something. I had a feeling Xander wouldn’t be too pleased to see me hanging around, considering how many times he’d warned me to stay out of police business in the past. But just as I was preparing to make a run for it and hide behind a tree in someone’s front yard, he looked over and did a double take. His face fell into an expression of annoyance and I gave him a sheepish grin and wave. Holding his broom in his hand, he made his way toward me. I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks go pink. Oh, goodness. Just one look from Xander, and suddenly I was just as awkward as Gareth at the coffee shop.

  “I don’t think I even need to ask what you’re doing here,” Xander sighed, ruffling a hand back through his hair. “You’re following clues just like I am. Except that in my case, it is my job to do so, and in your case, you’re just being nosy.”

  “Hey, I take offense to that,” I replied, folding my arms over my chest. “I’m not nosy, I just can’t rest until I get answers. That’s all.”

  “That is basically the dictionary definition of ‘nosy,’ Artemis,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me. There was almost, almost a hint of humor in his voice. “So, I assume you’re here to talk to Bridget Gersemmi.
”

  “No,” I quipped. “Maybe. Yes. But actually, I’m glad I ran into you.”

  “Oh, really? And why might that be?” Xander asked, an amused smile dancing on his lips.

  “Well, I wanted to tell you that I think you’re on the wrong track. I think your assessment of the crime scene was off, and now you’re focusing on the wrong evidence. Nothing about that crime scene indicated that Lara Lancaster was the number one target of the attack, and I don’t understand why you don’t see that. Besides, if you think Arianna was just an unfortunate casualty of an attack not meant for her, then why are you interviewing her friend, anyway?” I said, without thinking twice about the fact that I, a total novice and armchair investigator, was literally telling a police officer how to do his own job.

  I gulped back my fear and stood my ground. Well, the cat was out of the bag now. I had best get prepared to be scratched.

  Xander stared at me for a long moment, his eyes sizing me up. His sense of calm was almost worse than anger. He was too calm. Too quiet. I wanted to punch him in the shoulder or slap him across the face, anything to get him talking again.

  Finally, he replied, and it wasn’t at all what I expected.

  “I agree.”

  “Look, I have my reasons for why I think-” I began, stopping short as I realized what he’d actually said to me. “Wait. What? You agree?”

  Xander nodded. “Yes. I do understand that nothing in that crime scene pointed toward Miss Lancaster being the main target. I have a feeling you and I are following the exact same train of logic.”

  “Then why did you tell Elisa you’re pursuing that line of inquiry?” I asked, confused.

  “Because sometimes it’s better to keep the public in the dark about what’s really going on. The idea that Miss Lancaster was the target is an easier pill for the locals to swallow. She’s not a local, she’s famous, she’s wealthy, she’s beautiful. Everyone wants to believe this crime happened because of her,” he explained coolly. “And for the sake of our investigation, it’s easier to just let them think that. Keeps the crazies out of our way to pursue the actual clues. Not to mention it allows the real killer to relax in thinking they’re getting away with it.”