by Lily Webb
Heists and Homicides
Magic & Mystery Book Four
Lily Webb
Copyright © 2019 by Lily Webb
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Previously in Moon Grove…
Heists & Homicides
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Covens and Coffins Excerpt
The Magic & Mystery Series
About the Author
Previously in Moon Grove…
Alchemy and Arson Re-Cap
After defying the Moon Grove Council’s wishes and sneaking her Grandmother into the magical town on one of the most dangerous nights of the year, Zoe Clarke was in deep trouble.
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But it only got worse when the home of one of the Council’s members went up in flames and Zoe found herself standing in the ashes.
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Thanks to the help of friends old and new, including a vampire photographer, Zoe put out the killer’s fire and made sure they’d never be able to hurt anyone in Moon Grove again — but Zoe’s troubles never seem to stop.
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Now, her Grandmother is moving to Moon Grove. Feeling the financial strain, Zoe turns to the Bank of Moon Grove for a loan to build a new house…
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… And she’s about to discover the true cost of doing business.
Though each book in the series stands alone, the series is stronger when read together.
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Other Books in the Magic and Mystery Series:
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1. Broomsticks and Burials
2. Spellbooks and Stakings
3. Alchemy and Arson
5. Covens and Coffins
6. Voodoo and Vanishings
Heists & Homicides
Magic & Mystery Book Four
Chapter One
Attn Zoe Clarke: The Bank of Moon Grove is in big trouble. Percy Thornheart knows why.
I’d pushed back from my desk to leave the Moon Grove Messenger and my work behind for the day when both my computer and my cell phone dinged at the same time. I sat staring at the cursor flashing on my screen, unable to process what I’d read. How could a magical bank be in trouble? And who was Percy Thornheart?
Had it not been for the anonymous tip line the Messenger had set up over the weekend thanks to a recent string of arsons, I wouldn’t have bothered checking my p-mail — but thank Lilith I had. At first I was skeptical anyone would send us something worth pursuing, but boy, was I wrong.
I must have read the message six times before I wrapped my head around it. I closed the p-mail and locked my computer to shut out any prying eyes until I figured out what to do with the information. If anyone would know, it was Mitch Harris, the werewolf editor-in-chief of the Messenger, so I pocketed my phone to show him the message.
It was well after five o’clock and most of the rest of the staff had already gone home while I finished up my last story for the following day’s issue — which was all the same because it meant I didn’t have to dodge magically flying objects in the newsroom for once on the way to Mitch’s office.
I knocked lightly on Mitch’s cracked door.
“Come in,” he growled, and I stepped through to find him stroking his tangled forest of a beard while he stared at his computer screen. Thick, wiry hair curled out from under the edges of the plaid sleeves he’d rolled up his forearms.
“Hey, Zoe, I’m reading over your story about the arsons before I approve it for publication. You did a great job,” Mitch said.
“Do you mean on the story itself or catching the arsonists in the first place?” I asked.
“Both, actually. Are you outta here for the night?”
“Well, I thought I was, but I guess the universe has other plans,” I said. Mitch raised an eyebrow at me and gestured for me to sit down in the chair across from him.
“Something on your mind?”
“Yeah. What do you know about the Bank of Moon Grove?” I asked as I sank down into the lumpy chair and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I hadn’t realized how tired I was until then. Chasing stories and murderers had a way of draining people, evidently.
“Not much. No one really does, why?” Mitch asked.
“I was about to shut down my computer when I got this message from the tip line,” I said and tapped to open the message on my phone. I held it out for Mitch to read and the second of his eyebrows crept up to meet the first in the center of his forehead.
“How weird,” Mitch said as he leaned back in his chair, which groaned underneath his shifting weight. “But it’s not unbelievable. This isn’t the first I’ve heard of problems at the bank.”
“And you had no one look into it?”
“It’s not that easy, believe me,” Mitch said. “The Bank of Moon Grove is famous for its secrecy and all the protective spells cast on it. Even if we wanted to get insider information about the place, we couldn’t. They don’t grant interviews, ever, but even if they did, it wouldn’t matter because they force their employees to take a magically binding vow of secrecy.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got a mind reader on staff now, isn’t it?” I asked.
“I hadn’t thought about that until now,” Mitch said, his expression clouded. Maybe my telepathic abilities were more of a blessing than a curse.
“You think the story has legs?” I asked.
“No idea, frankly,” Mitch said. “That’s the downside to anonymous tip lines, they always lead to some amount of tomfoolery. It could easily be someone trying to lead us down a rabbit hole.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I dunno, whoever sent this message sounded sure,” I said. “And they specifically addressed it to me. That makes me think it’s someone who knows what they’re talking about.”
“Really? It only makes me more skeptical,” Mitch said. “Everyone in this town knows you can read minds and how much you love a juicy story. It sounds like bait.”
“Could be, but I think I might head there soon anyway, so I guess I could poke around if you wanted me to,” I said. Even if Mitch said no, I had no intention of leaving the story alone — if for no other reason than I wanted to know more about the bank and whoever had sent the tip.
“What are you going there for? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking,” Mitch said.
“Buying a house isn’t cheap,” I sighed.
“So you’re serious about that?” Mitch asked.
“Why not? I can’t live with Flora forever, as much as I love her,” I said. Flora Gemwood was another of my coworkers who worked in the editing department at the Messenger. I’d been sharing a house with the fairy since I�
��d moved to Moon Grove two months ago.
“More than that, I can’t leave my grandmother with Raina much longer,” I said. “I think they’ve really hit it off with each other, but I don’t know how I feel about that.” Somehow, my deeply southern and traditional grandmother buddying up to the Headmistress of the magical school I attended didn’t seem like a good thing.
Grandma Elle had recently moved to Moon Grove, and though I loved having her around, I wasn’t as thrilled about finding a place for the two of us to share.
“I understand. I can’t blame you there,” Mitch said. “In any case, I guess it can’t hurt to ask a few questions to see what thoughts you can scare up. Though honestly, it’d be a surprise if you overheard anything useful. Even if the bank’s really in financial trouble, the staff’s sure to have their guard up, especially around you.”
He had a point. No bank could stay in business for long if its clients knew the money they’d deposited for safekeeping was in jeopardy.
“What do you make of the part about Percy Thornheart?” I asked.
“He inherited the bank from his father, Ignus, a few years back. Percy has a reputation, that’s for sure,” Mitch said, shaking his head.
“Do I wanna know?”
“It’s nothing too scandalous. He likes to live large,” Mitch said. “I’ve heard he’s a regular at the new Stubbe’s Palace Casino and he’s gambled himself into some dicey situations in the past.”
“That’s not a crime I guess, but don’t you think a compulsive gambler running a bank is a recipe for disaster?” I asked. Maybe whoever sent the p-mail really knew something about Percy.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Mitch said with a shrug. “But as far as I know, he’s done nothing illegal.”
“As far as you know,” I said, and Mitch smirked.
“True. All right, you convinced me. I think you should look into this,” Mitch said. “Worst-case scenario, if the tip turns out to be bogus at least we’ll know to ignore any others about the bank.”
“Cool, I’ll head there first thing in the morning then,” I said as I stood to leave.
“Keep your head on straight,” Mitch said. “I’m still not sure this isn’t a trap.”
“Roger, boss,” I said though I didn’t fully agree.
Since solving the murder of Councilwoman Circe Woods, news in Moon Grove had been slow — so what could anyone want to distract me from?
“See you tomorrow. Don’t work too hard,” I said and walked out of Mitch’s office. He mumbled something after me but it didn’t register.
Back at my desk, I shut down my computer and gathered up my things. Surprisingly enough, there weren’t any messages from Grandma Elle or anyone else waiting for me on my phone. Maybe Grandma had entertained herself — though I hoped that didn’t mean she’d gotten into any trouble.
My mind raced with possibilities as I walked the few blocks home. Despite what Mitch said, I wondered if whoever sent the tip about Percy Thornheart and the Bank of Moon Grove knew something no one else did — but if so, what? More importantly, how?
Mitch was right to be suspicious, not least of all due to my reputation for rushing into a story head first — but my desire to scratch at the truth was like a fresh mosquito bite, red and inflamed.
I reached Flora’s house in the Fairy’s Quarter of Moon Grove before I realized it and stepped through the front door to find Grandma Elle sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in hand.
“Well, look with the black cat done dragged in,” Grandma clucked at me as she pet Luna, my talking coal-black cat, who sat curled and purring in Grandma’s lap.
“That’s not funny,” Luna said, staring up at Grandma with narrowed eyes.
“Hey, Gram, what are you doing here?” I asked as I closed the door behind me and tossed my things on the couch.
“I invited her over for dinner,” Flora called from the kitchen where she was busy cooking yet again.
“Nice of you to tell me now,” I called back.
“That’s how it is, Sugar?” Grandma asked. “I can mosey right on outta here if you don’t want me.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You know I’m playing,” I said and went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine too.
“Atta girl,” Grandma called after me.
In the kitchen, Flora hunched over something steaming on the stove. She swirled a spatula inside with one hand and waved the other at the spice rack behind her. A container of an herb I didn’t recognize drifted out and across the kitchen into her hand, and she shook it into the pot.
“Whaddya got going on here?” I asked.
“Boiled potatoes with dill. I’m serving it with a vegetable pot roast,” Flora said.
“Smells and sounds delicious,” I said. “Anything I can do to help?”
“No need, but thanks. Go take a load off and entertain your grandmother for me,” Flora said.
“That’s easier said than done,” I said.
“Hey, I heard that,” Grandma called from the living room and Flora chuckled.
“That’s not her first glass of wine, is it?” I whispered.
“Yes it is, and I heard that too,” Grandma said. Sighing, I went to the small table by the stove and turned over one of the wine glasses that someone had set next to the bottle. I filled it halfway and joined Grandma in the living room.
“Did you buy this?” I asked as I swirled the liquid around in the glass to aerate it.
“Sure did. Well, more accurately I lifted it from Raina’s kitchen, but I don’t reckon she’ll mind too much,” Grandma said and winked.
“I can’t trust you with anything, can I?” I asked through a smile.
“Nope, not a darn thing,” Grandma said.
“Well, at least you two have that in common,” Luna said as she hopped down from Grandma’s lap and stretched. Her electric blue eyes winked at me as she blinked away the last dredges of sleep.
“Hilarious,” I said and sat down on the couch beside Grandma. “So, what’s the occasion?”
“What do you mean?” Grandma asked.
“All this. Flora loves to cook, but she rarely has company,” I said.
“Can’t I have a nice dinner with my granddaughter and her friend without it meanin’ something?” Grandma scoffed, but I was onto her.
“I think you’re up to something,” I said.
“There you go again, being one of them there skeptics,” Grandma said and sipped her wine.
“What can I say? It’s in my job description,” I said with a shrug.” So, whatever it is you’re buttering me up for, spill it.”
“Wow, thanks for the warm welcome, Sugar,” Grandma said. “You know, the universe ain’t out to get you.”
“Sure feels that way sometimes,” I said, thinking back to the anonymous tip about the bank and all the other shenanigans I’d lived through since moving to Moon Grove. Grandma opened her mouth to say otherwise, but Flora interrupted her from the kitchen to tell us dinner was ready.
“Saved by the dinner bell,” I said, and Grandma smiled. Together, we walked into the kitchen and found Flora surrounded by floating plates and silverware. The dishes zoomed to the stove where the vegetables lifted themselves onto their smooth surfaces, and with a wave of her hand Flora ordered it all to the table.
“Have a seat, I’ll take care of everything,” Flora said.
She had that right — . I had to hand it to her; she had a better grip on her magic than most people I knew, including me — not that that took much. I sat down in front of one of the steaming plates of food and waited for Grandma and Flora to join me.
“Why do I feel you’re about to tell me something I’m not gonna like?” I asked Grandma, and she laughed.
“All right, all right, fine, have it your way,” Grandma said. “Look, I been thinkin’ ‘bout it and I dunno if it’s such a smart idea to go sellin’ the farm yet.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. We’d already agreed to
sell our family farm back in Lumberton after Grandma joined me in Moon Grove.
“Wait, does that mean you’re not moving here after all the—”
“Slow down, Sugar, it ain’t like that,” Grandma interrupted and reached for my hand. “It’s just, well, since we put two ’n two together ‘bout your folks, I think it might be smarter to keep the farm in case they come lookin’ for us.”
Her words took the air out of my lungs. For most of my life, Grandma Elle had told me my parents died in a car crash when I was too young to remember much about them — but we’d recently discovered that might not be true.
According to Grandma’s version of events, my mother and father had gone missing without a trace one night while she was babysitting me. They left nothing behind except for a wand the police found in the car they’d apparently abandoned — and a million unanswered questions.
“Sugar?” Grandma asked gently, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts and back to the pile of steaming vegetables in front of me.
“Sorry,” I said, blinking furiously to keep from floating away again. “Yeah, right, sure, I think that’s a good idea.”
“You’re not just sayin’ that?” Grandma asked.