It's All Sixes

by Cindy Stark

  She wanted to hear more about the wife. “Did Scooter’s wife have some sort of a relationship with Isaac?”

  He snorted. “For as ugly as my brother was, he had a way with women. He chased her like a dog on a duck until he had her convinced she couldn’t be happy without him. Once he had her in bed, he lost interest and sent her home to her husband. I guess the poor gal couldn’t bear what she’d done and took her life.”

  Hazel placed a hand over her mouth and shook her head. “That breaks my heart.”

  “I say good on whoever removed my brother from this earth and spared us his continued presence.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. Though she never believed murder was a good option, it sounded like many would be better off without him around. Except his mother, it seemed.

  He leaned forward and placed his teacup on the table. “Enough of my brother. Let’s talk positive energy flow instead.”

  She gifted him with a warm smile. “Yes, of course. That’s why you’re here after all.”

  Ten

  Hazel entered her kitchen and flipped the light switch with her elbow, casting light into the darker corners. Remnants of sunlight still lingered outside, but she’d need to be able to read Clarabelle’s book to complete the spell that would protect her house.

  She set four plain glass jars she’d pulled from her storage boxes onto the counter. After that, she removed a large jar of lavender blossoms, a bag of white rice, and the box of sea salt. Happiness warmed her veins as she snagged kitchen scissors from the drawer and stepped outside her back door.

  This was the kind of spell she loved. The Blessed Mother’s gifts were meant to enhance all their lives. No blood needed. Only pure, wonderful ingredients.

  She knelt next to the basil plants that had miraculously survived the heatwave. Come to think of it, most of the plants in the garden at Clarabelle’s house had done well. Must be some sort of protection spell her grandmother had placed on her gardens all those years ago after she’d realized the consequences of their spell.

  Hazel snipped stems, releasing one of her most favorite fragrances. Unfortunately, basil’s delicious scent also made her crave lasagna or spaghetti and meatballs.

  When she had an amount that she figured was equal to three handfuls, she stood and reentered the house.

  She stuffed the basil into one of the glass jars. “For cleansing, banishing negative energy, and protection.”

  The three handfuls of lavender in the next jar would purify and bring peace to the house. “Maybe this will help you, Clarabelle,” she said to the air.

  Clarabelle hadn’t been present for most of the week, and Hazel couldn’t help but wonder where she went when she wasn’t around. Maybe ghosts slept. Maybe Clarabelle was blissfully resting in one giant nap.

  She imagined time didn’t pass the same in the other world.

  Three handfuls of salt went in the third jar. “Also, for protection,” she whispered.

  A knock on her front door made her jump, and she spilled some of the salt. “Great.”

  She left the mess and hurried to the other room to open the door for Peter. When she found herself face-to-face with him, all traces of her annoyance at him for the salt spill vanished. “Good evening, Chief Parrish. What brings you to my doorstep this evening?”

  He chuckled. “Good evening, Miss Hardy. I confess a certain lady has bewitched me, and I cannot stay away.”

  He paused for a second and then relaxed his stance. “Also, you invited me.”

  She grinned and stepped forward to kiss his sweet lips. “That I did. Come in.”

  She moved from the door, and he followed her inside. She returned to the kitchen with him beside her. “What took you so long?”

  He blew out a quick breath. “Heck of a day. That’s what.”

  She strode to the fridge. “Have a seat. I have some sweet tea with honey and a roast beef sandwich from Cora’s waiting for you.”

  He dropped into a chair with a grin. “Good thing I decided to follow my gut all those months ago when I had my eye on you. You were determined to ignore me, but I knew you were special.”

  She set the plated sandwich in front of him. “Did you now? How can you be so sure?”

  He placed a hand on his heart. “That’s how.”

  She smiled and shook her head as though he’d said the craziest thing, but inside she ate up every word, soaked up every sparkle from his gorgeous green eyes. “You’re such a nerd.”

  He bit into the sandwich while she poured iced tea into his glass. “Yeah,” he said around a mouthful. “But I’m your nerd.”

  Happiness flitted through her like excited hummingbirds.

  She should probably let things be concerning the case for at least a few minutes, but she was dying to pass along her information. “Edmond Egginton came to my shop earlier and did a Feng Shui consultation.”

  He snorted. “Feng Shui, huh?”

  “Don’t laugh. The practice has many fine qualities that can enhance one’s life. Much like witchcraft.”

  He widened his eyes and nodded, though Hazel wasn’t convinced of his sincerity. “I stand corrected. And what did you learn from Mr. Egginton?”

  A giddy feeling washed over her. “I learned that Anya is in line to receive some money from Isaac’s insurance policy.”

  “I heard that today, too. Three hundred thousand dollars.”

  She knew what was coming next. “And now you think that makes her look even guiltier, right?”

  “You can’t deny that, Hazel. After her stunt the other day, we’ve recommended she seek counseling to help with her…unstable moments.”

  “Why don’t you just arrest her, then?”

  “Not enough evidence yet. So far, the lab hasn’t been able to pick up any prints off the gun. It was either wiped clean, or they were destroyed from being in the water for so long.”

  “It’s too bad your guys didn’t find it sooner.”

  He shrugged. “We’re a small force, and there’s a lot of land around this area to cover. They’d done a quick search but had begun focusing on the woods around your houses.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. If only they had a crystal ball that could work.

  He sighed, and his gaze turned serious. “Bad news, though. The gun was registered to Anya.”

  Hazel placed a hand across her stomach as though his words were a physical blow. “No.”

  He nodded. “She said Isaac told her he’d disposed of it years ago when she decided she didn’t like them around. So, either he lied to her, or she’s lying to us.”

  Hazel wanted to keep believing in the woman, but so many things made it hard to still do so.

  At least, she had another option for him to consider. “I learned something interesting from Edmond that you might want to have your detectives research further before you convict her.”

  He lifted questioning brows as he chewed.

  “Look up a man named Scooter Maccarino. He was a business associate of Edmond’s. Apparently, Isaac stole money from Scooter and had an affair with his wife. She later committed suicide. Sounds like a good motive for murder if you ask me.”

  Peter studied her. “You’re still convinced of her innocence?”

  “I realize more and more evidence is pointing toward her, but I can’t make myself believe it. At least not until we check out these other avenues. Also, I’m going to do some digging on the internet myself, but you should look for a quacky doctor in Boston with the last name of Beidleman.”

  He snorted. “Quacky doctor? You mean one that doesn’t use accepted practices, like, say, witches?”

  “Don’t give me that, Chief Parrish. There’s a huge difference there. One is highly suspect, and one would be accepted if people could open their hearts and minds.”

  He nodded in concession. “Okay, you’re right. I apologize if I offended.”

  Dang, she loved that man. “Don’t worry, officer. I know your heart well enough to know you’d have a hard time offendin
g me.”

  He smiled in relief.

  She left the pitcher of tea on the table and reclaimed her space in front of the counter. She scooped up the spilled salt and poured half into her other hand. With her back to the sink, she tossed both handfuls into the basin.

  Peter laughed. “What are you doing?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Spilled the salt, and I can never remember which shoulder you’re supposed to throw it over to avoid bad luck.”

  “It’s your left shoulder.”

  She glanced to him with a narrowed gaze. “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m smart.”

  “And I’m not?” she countered.

  He grinned. “You’re smart and beautiful and all the good things in life.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. You are smart.”

  He winked and gestured toward her spell in process. “What ya got going on there?”

  She gave him a proud smile. “Protection spell. I know your men are keeping an extra eye on the house, but I’ll feel better with it in place.”

  She reached into the bag of rice and added three handfuls to the remaining jar. “The others are for protection and peace. This wards off bad spirits and brings luck.”

  “I’ll take some of that for sure. Can you package it up for me?”

  “Well, actually, this is for home protection. One jar is placed in each of the four corners of the house before sunrise. That doesn’t exactly work on a person.”

  “But…” She held up a finger. “I can find one that will. I’d feel better if you were protected, too. You have a scary job.”

  He snorted. “If you call bird poop on the uniform and spilled coffee scary.”

  She pulled a glass from the cupboard and joined him at the table. “I’m guessing there’s a story behind those two things.”

  “Bird pooped on me as I walked out the door this morning. Great way to start the day. Then Margaret spilled a cup of hot coffee across my desk and onto my lap. I’m lucky it had to roll across my desk before it hit me, or it would have burned.”

  Hazel snorted. “That doesn’t sound lucky at all to me.”

  “Then, as I was walking back from the hardware store right before lunch, Mrs. Tillens took a corner too sharp, going way too fast, and almost hit me. If she hadn’t been so distraught, I would have ticketed her.”

  That caught her attention. “Wait. All of this happened before lunch?”

  He nodded. “Got some bad juju hanging around me today.”

  She narrowed her gaze. Or someone had hexed him. If she found out Victor was behind the antics, he’d know her wrath. He might think she was still the docile little earth witch she’d been in Boston, but he’d soon learn otherwise.

  Still, she didn’t need Peter worrying about that. “Sounds like a protection spell would be perfect. Can’t have those crazy old ladies running you down.”

  She stood long enough to retrieve Clarabelle’s spell book and began thumbing through the pages.

  Mate Protection.

  She stopped and glanced down the page. Also, not a blood spell. “Here. This looks like a good one. It’s called Mate Protection.”

  He nodded with approval. “Sounds appropriate. Are you going to cut me? Because that…what did you call it…altar knife was wicked.”

  She gasped and then chuckled. “No, dear sir. I’m not going to cut you.”

  She scanned the page again. “All I’ll need from you is a piece of hair.”

  “So, this is a boring one, then?”

  “No,” she said with a laugh. “This will protect you. I’d say that’s not boring at all.”

  She stood, bent near his head and plucked a hair.

  He caught her arm and pulled her closer until he could reach her lips. His were smooth and soft, and sent her heart racing.

  “Ow,” he whispered and released her.

  “For being a big, strong police chief, you’re a big baby.”

  He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Dang straight, I am.”

  She grinned. “Finish your sandwich. I’ll be right back.”

  She headed to her bedroom and pulled out the suitcase that held some of her secret supplies. She sorted through things until she found a tiny bottle with a stopper and one of her beeswax candles. In the desk near her bedroom window, she slid out a drawer, opened a small binder that held various sizes of parchment, and selected a small one.

  When she returned and set her supplies on the table, Peter regarded her with interest. “Where do you get all this stuff?”

  She shrugged. “Basic needs. Any good witch worth her cauldron will have these on hand.”

  His gaze grew distracted, and she knew he must be wondering if he’d found any of these types of items around the house when he’d lived with Sarah. She would guess they’d been there and had been hiding in plain sight.

  Hazel created a fair bit of noise when she took her chair, hoping to draw his attention. She lit the candle and then cleared her throat, “First, I draw a circle and then write your name in the middle.”

  He watched with interest as she did.

  She placed the small strand of his hair over his name. “This goes here, and then...”

  She waited a few more seconds until the candle’s flame had melted a decent-sized puddle of wax. She poured that over the center and set the candle to the left of the parchment. “A little dab to hold your hair in place, and we wait for it to cool.”

  He drew his brows together. “This seems pretty simple.”

  She snorted. “Lots of things about magic are simple. Especially ones that are designed with good intentions.”

  “But not blood spells?”

  Hearing those words drew a shiver from her. “I’m still working my way through those and trying not to let them scare me.”

  He nodded his understanding, and she was grateful that he didn’t pressure her for more information or try to convince her she should or shouldn’t mess with them.

  When the wax seemed sufficiently dry, she drew her finger around the circle in a clockwise direction. “See my love. Hear my plea. Let the heavens and fates watch over him for me. Protect him from harm. Keep him safe. Always bring him home to my heart and this place. These things I ask of thee. Grant my request, so mote it be.”

  He remained quiet for several long moments, respecting the reverence she’d created. She took his hand and closed her eyes, reveling in the creation of new threads in their tapestry.

  When she opened her eyes a minute later, she found that he’d closed his as well.

  She softly blew out the candle, and he opened his eyes to her. “Thank you,” he said in a gentle voice that tugged at her heart.

  She smiled, absorbing the warm feeling that coursed through her. She’d remember this moment for years to come. “You are very welcome.”

  Eleven

  Hazel approached Gretchen’s door with an even mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She was eager to know Gretchen’s reaction to certain information Anya and Edmond had told her.

  But, on the other hand, she wanted to respect Gretchen’s time to grieve. The only consolation she could give for her prying into her life was that discovering Isaac’s killer would bring the poor mother some peace. And if Anya was the killer, Hazel really needed to know for her peace of mind as well as for justice.

  She shifted the tin of her tea she’d brought and the cookies she’d picked up at Cora’s before heading out, exhaled and knocked.

  Gretchen opened the door a few moments later and managed a sad smile when her gaze fell on Hazel. The skin seemed to sag on her face, but she was dressed in regular clothes. That was a good sign.

  “Hi Gretchen. Just wanted to stop by to check on you and drop off your tea delivery. Also, I brought some of Cora’s cookies.”

  The woman stepped back to allow Hazel to enter. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

  She eyed the cookies, and Hazel held the pink baker’s box out to her. “I made sure she put s
ome cherry macaroons in there, too.”

  Gretchen almost managed a chuckle. “You know those are my favorite.”

  Hazel reached out and hugged Gretchen with one arm. “Mine, too. Are you up for visitors? If not, I won’t be offended.”

  She gestured toward the couch with a tilt of her head. “No, no. Please come in. I haven’t felt like going out and facing everyone, but this house has become a prison of sorts. Edmond rarely stops by, and I’m left with the demons in my head.”

  Hazel waited until they were settled on the couch before she spoke again. “Speaking of Edmond, I asked him to do a consultation for my shop. He really does have a brilliant mind concerning energy flow and how to appeal to my clients.”

  Gretchen drew her brows together as though surprised and confused by Hazel’s declaration. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad he’s doing well.”

  She nodded. “You should be proud of him. Not everyone has the mind or temperament for that sort of work. He’ll be coming back in a couple of weeks to discuss the changes I’ve implemented and offer follow up suggestions. He’s really a pleasant man.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “So was my Isaac. The best. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  Confirmation of favoritism. She sighed. If only the woman could have appreciated both of her sons. “I’m sure he was. I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet him.”

  She shook her head. “You never had the opportunity, did you? He was long gone, moved to Boston by the time you arrived in town. And as long as that witch Anya lived here, he was reluctant to return because he didn’t want to run in to her.”

  Hazel winced. She really wished people wouldn’t use that word with such negative connotations.

  “Are you planning a service for Isaac?”

  Gretchen sniffed and nodded. “When this mess is over, and Anya is behind bars.”

  Hazel paused a moment to allow Gretchen to gather her feelings.

  When she felt it was appropriate, she continued with her questions. “Edmond mentioned a man named Scooter Maccarino and wondered if he might have had something to do with Isaac’s death.”