Potions Eleven: A Paranormal Witch Cozy (Fair Witch Sisters Mysteries Book 2)

by Christy Murphy

  Mom had magicked up a television set for us to monitor the news for information, and Didi was searching online. Our godparents and parents had left us alone to solve this case, but the consensus was that we shouldn't sacrifice our reputation for the sake of our client.

  Didi had a professional integrity that I admired. So I stood with my sister, even though, to be honest, I was a little scared.

  "Can you explain to me why we're looking for new stories about grave robbing?" Jason asked.

  "I told you," I said, "Those kids that stole the Book of Spells are trying to dig up those remains to make the spells work."

  "And how do they know that?" Jason asked.

  "Don't know," Didi said, not looking up from her computer.

  Jason went back to flipping through the channels, trying to find local news stories covering the grave robbing.

  "I found something!" Didi said.

  I walked over to Didi at the table and read over her shoulder. "It only says that some vandals got into the cemetery."

  "Of course that's all they said," Jason said. "If you were a cemetery, would you want it to get out that you allowed the bones of a loved one to be stolen?"

  "We don't know if it's the bones they want," Didi said. "But I get what you mean."

  "This doesn't give us much to go on," I said. "Why don't we just steal the book back?"

  "That's a great idea!" Jason said, turning off the television and putting down the new remote control. "It'll be like a heist."

  A heist! I liked the way that sounded.

  "Or we could just go over to his parents' house and demand they return the book," Didi said.

  "How do you prove that it's yours?" Jason asked.

  I saw where Didi was going with this, but knowing that my push hadn't worked on the bratty kid, I didn't expect that the Beverly Hills parents would do anything. Not to play into stereotypes, but sometimes for the more wealthy families in Beverly Hills, fair play doesn't seem to be as big of a deal as it is to Didi.

  "Deeds," I said. "If the parents say no, then what do we do? Our cover will be even more blown than what I did before."

  "What did you do before?" Jason asked.

  I ignored him. "If we just go in and steal the book back, they'll have no idea who did it. It's not like they can report something they stole as stolen property."

  Didi hesitated and then looked up something on her computer.

  "Reverse lookup says the house on Laurel, where we saw Damien carrying the book, is owned by a Dashiell and Alison March. We should go over there and see what kind of security they have in place."

  Yes! The heist was afoot!

  Didi parked downhill from the March house, and the four of us, Mom, Didi, Jason, and me, got out of the car.

  "Don't you think we should be doing this at night?" I said to Didi. It was hot.

  "We want them to be at work," Didi said.

  "Do you think we look too obvious walking up this street?" Jason asked. "You know what they say. Nobody walks in LA."

  "This is a rich neighborhood, but not that rich of a neighborhood. And this house looks like it's on the Valley side," Mom said.

  "What difference does being in the Valley make?" I asked.

  "Most of the kids who go to Beverly Hills Prep live in Beverly Hills," Mom said.

  "What do you think that means?" Didi asked.

  "That this kid might be a product of divorce, or the poor kid at a rich school," Mom said.

  "Well, he hangs with a bunch of rich kids," I said.

  "That makes them more dangerous," Mom said. "It's like this whole witchcraft thing is his way of compensating for feeling like he's less than his friends."

  I remember feeling like that when Didi and I attended Beverly Hills High. If I'd known about magic then, would I have tried to use it to my advantage in high school? Absolutely.

  "I feel like we should have a munitions expert," Jason said. "And a magic carpet, because walking up this sidewalk sucks."

  "It's not even a sidewalk," Mom said. "I had to make this."

  "You can magic us up a sidewalk, but you can't fly us up on a magic carpet?" Jason asked.

  "I'm a witch, not some crazed genie. And besides, I've ridden on magic carpets, and it's not as much fun as you think. They're enchanted magic, and they'll follow you, swooping around like a giant, dust-ridden fly. There's a reason why even witches own cars," Mom said.

  "What about the broom?" I asked.

  "That's some weird stuff that has nothing to do with witchcraft and everything to do with being on drugs," Mom said.

  "Really?" I asked.

  "You can look it up on the Internet," Mom said.

  Jason whipped out his phone. "Darn. I can't get reception on the stupid mountain."

  "There it is," Didi said, pointing out the house to Jason and Mom.

  "Yeah, he isn't as rich as his friends," Jason said.

  The house was not shabby by any means, and the address did make it worth about ten times its actual value. But I understood what Jason meant. The house needed a coat of paint. It looked like it was only two bedrooms, and the driveway was cracked.

  "So what do we need to know?" Mom asked.

  "We try to get a look at the type of security system they may have, if they have a dog, if anyone's home, that kind of thing. Two of us can keep a look out, and the other two can walk up to the door."

  "They don't have a dog, they don't have a security alarm, and they're home right now," Mom said.

  "Did you just magic that?" I asked.

  "Of course," Mom said. "So do we go in and get the book now?"

  "I figured the kid might have brought it to school," Didi said. "Do you know the book's in the house?"

  "Yeah," Mom said. "It's in there. Let's go get it." Without waiting for us to say anything, Mom walked up the driveway, headed for the front door.

  The three of us rushed after her, and Didi took the lead.

  "Mom," she whispered. "I don't think this is a good idea."

  "I've cloaked us," Mom said. "You don't have to whisper. No one can hear or see us."

  "Really?" Jason asked.

  "What part of me being magic do not understand?" Mom asked. "Even if this was Harry Potter, you have the invisibility cloak."

  Mom opened the front door.

  "So you unlocked it with magic just now?" I asked.

  "I could have, but it was unlocked," Mom said.

  "That doesn't seem right," Didi said.

  "Maybe they were expecting the maid service," Mom said, stepping inside the house.

  We followed her, and I realized why she thought that. The place was obviously dusty, and bit messy.

  "Wow! This looks like Hoarders meets Roseanne," Jason said.

  "It's not that bad," I said.

  "It's pretty bad," Didi said.

  Maybe I didn't have the best taste.

  "What's that smell?" Mom asked as she headed down the hallway.

  "I don't smell anything," I called after her.

  Me neither," Didi said. I turned to Jason. He shook his head.

  "But it's pretty dark in here," I said.

  "No it's not," Didi said.

  "Is there like a big tree shading all these windows?" I squinted.

  "Joy, are you okay?" Didi asked.

  "Now that you mention it, I do feel queasy."

  "I found the book here in the bedroom!" Mom yelled from a room down the hall.

  Didi, Jason, and I rushed down the hall.

  "But beware, I found something else, too," she added.

  I peered through the doorway. Mom was holding the Book of Spells, and Damien was dead on the floor.

  The four of us left the house and headed down the hill. Didi had triple checked Damien's pulse, to be sure. But in my gut, I knew he was dead the moment I saw him.

  Now, I knew what the darkness in the house was--the lingering presence of death. That was why it'd seemed so dark at Good Fortune when Frankie's colleague died.

 
"Well, that was as much fun as I thought it would be," Jason said after we were a few houses down. No one could hear us because of Mom's spell, but I knew why he'd waited. It somehow seemed disrespectful to talk around the body.

  "I agree with that," I said.

  Didi stopped. "I think we're far enough away from the scene to gather our thoughts."

  "What thoughts?" Jason said. "The magic killed him and we have the book. And now we go do something that's way more fun."

  "Did magic kill him, Mom?" I asked.

  "I don't know."

  "Can a person die from doing magic wrong?" Didi asked.

  "Maybe," Mom said with a shrug. "Some mortals do magic, and they don't die. But I suppose anything is possible. People die choking on food. So, maybe."

  That wasn't the answer that Didi had been looking for.

  "Although," Mom added after thinking some more, "Sometimes mortals who do magic sort of lure... not the best magical beings to them, and those beings kill them. So in that way, someone could die from doing magic."

  "Now this is getting interesting," Jason said.

  "Do you think this was murder?" Didi asked.

  Mom shrugged. "That's none of our business. Your job is to get the book and clear your reputation. Whatever he was up to with whoever it was, it has nothing to do with us."

  A car sped by.

  "We're still cloaked, right?" Didi asked.

  "Yeah," Mom said. "Why?"

  Didi motioned with her head for us all to look at the car. It turned right into the driveway of Damien's house. Didi started walking back toward the house to see what was going on. We all followed her.

  "That doesn't look like the car of someone going to a prep school," Jason said as we walked.

  "I've got that same car," I said to Jason. "You said you liked it."

  Didi stopped just short of the driveway.

  A woman jumped out of the Honda and screamed "Damien!" Her voice sounded panicked.

  My gut dropped.

  The woman dashed to the door with her keys in her hand. She'd obviously expected the front door to be locked. Didi and I traded a look. We all watched in silence as she rushed into the house. She had to be Damien's mom.

  "I didn't think this could get worse when we found him, but it just did," Jason said.

  Can’t Fight this Feeling

  We watched as the police and the coroner took away the body. We'd stood watching from our cloaked bubble for at least an hour. People from the neighborhood had surrounded the scene to see what had happened.

  "Deeds, we should go. There's nothing we can do," I said as one of the police cars drove away.

  She shook her head no.

  "There's a yogurt place at the bottom of the hill after the post office," Mom said. "You two can meet Jason and me there when you're finished."

  "You can go with them, pal," Didi said.

  "I'll stay." I could tell something was bothering my sister. I wanted to be here in case she needed me.

  With all the emergency and police vehicles, Laurel had been reduced to just one lane. A traffic cop was waving people along, but traffic had mounted. I didn't even want to imagine how far it was backed up.

  A man in an expensive-looking suit came running from the other side of the hill.

  "Sir," one of the police officers said.

  "That's my ex-wife. Something's happened to our son," he said. "I've been trying to get here for over an hour."

  "Dashiell!" the woman called out to him.

  "Alison!" he called back, pushing past the officer, and rushing over to her.

  Yup. They were definitely Damien's parents.

  "What's going on, for crying out loud?" he asked when he reached her.

  In between his profanity laced questions, Alison told Dashiell that she'd gotten a call from Damien while she was at work. He'd sounded like he was upset, but then he'd hung up. She'd tried calling him but he wouldn't pick up. So she rushed home and found him on the floor of his bedroom.

  "They say it's a suicide, but why would he call for help and then do it?" she cried.

  "I knew something like this would happen," Dashiell said.

  "Then why didn't you do something to stop it?"

  "This is no time for your hysterics, Alison."

  "What do you mean? Our son is dead!"

  "And this wouldn't have happened if I had custody instead of you. He was here all alone."

  "I had to work, because someone refused to pay child support!"

  "Where's Katie?" Dashiell asked.

  "At daycare. Where else?"

  "I'll go pick her up," he said.

  "Oh no you don't. My sister is already on her way."

  "You're unfit. Our son's suicide is proof of that."

  "How dare you! You're not taking away my daughter!" Alison said, beating on his chest.

  A police officer came over. "Calm down, ma'am."

  "I could have you arrested for assault," Dashiell said.

  "Go ahead! But don't blame this on me!" she shouted back at him. "This is all your fault. You and your new Angelina Jolie wannabe girlfriend!"

  "Enough! Leave her out of this!" Dashiell growled as he stormed off. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

  One of the police officers tried to stop him, but he told him that he could talk to his lawyer.

  "We need to help her," Didi said.

  "Pal, I don't know if we can doing anything--especially if it's a suicide."

  Didi shook her head. "When he said that he and his girlfriend had nothing to do with it, he was lying."

  I looked at my watch. We still had about a half-hour before we met Evelyn. That gave me a little more time to work on this bill. We'd managed to solve this case in well under $10,000 worth of time. Perhaps there was some additional work we could do for her, like a security analysis on her house or something.

  "Do you think we should write up a report for Evelyn like we do for the trademark cases?" I asked Didi.

  "What?" Didi said, her eyes locked on her screen. My sister had been quiet all morning.

  "Do think we should write a report?"

  "She probably doesn't want a written record, but we can offer to write something up and send it to her later," Didi mumbled, still staring at her computer.

  I got up to get another cup of coffee, but it was really just an excuse to spy on what Didi was doing at her computer.

  "Did you want a cup of coffee?" I asked from the kitchen.

  "No," Didi said without even looking up from her screen.

  I took the long way around the dining room table we'd set up as our "office" so I could spy. She was doing research on Dashiell March.

  "We talked about this," I said to Didi.

  "Something isn't right," she said.

  "I know you're right about that, but just like I can't save everyone from dying, I don't think we're supposed to solve every death. And besides, according to the news, it was a suicide."

  There'd been a story on the local news about Damien March's death. Apparently he posted a suicide letter to one of his social media accounts. Most of his friends had written it off as just him acting depressed, because he'd often talked about death in his social circles, but now they wished they'd recognized it as a cry for help. Poppy, Scarlet, and the mysterious male student hadn't been interviewed.

  "Is it ethical to work on a case when we don't have a client?" I asked.

  Didi exhaled and looked up from her laptop at me. "Only if I use certain databases. And it's a gray area."

  "Are you using one of those gray area databases?"

  She sighed without answering, but I knew that meant she was.

  "So if you're going to offer to write up a report, can I tell Evelyn I'll send the bill later, too?" I asked.

  "Sure, whatever you want," she said.

  "What are the fees that you get charged for those database searches? Like for the license plate and the reverse lookups on the addresses," I asked. "I need to itemize those expenses in here. Do
you think it would be unethical to mark those up?"

  "Lawyers do that all the time," Didi said, staring at her computer again. "You can check our credit card account for the subscription costs. I can't remember how much offhand."

  Well, that didn't mean it was ethical per se, but if it was common practice I'd definitely do the same.

  A part of me wondered if she would have voiced more concern over the bill if she wasn't distracted. But the truth was, I didn't want to give back most of the ten grand retainer. It was like every time we tried to make some money, we ended up giving most of it back. Was it possible that we were just too good at being private investigators?

  I continued to work on it and wondered if I could bill for the amount of time that I took putting together the bill.

  "We'd better get going," I said about fifteen minutes before the meeting. "Just in case she's early."

  "She won't be early," Didi said, still staring at her computer.

  "Deeds," I said. "We need to get centered before this meeting."

  Didi looked up at me, annoyed.

  "This isn't like you," I said.

  "You're right," she said, closing her laptop. "Something else is going on. I just know it."

  We exited The Cove and headed to the private tea room.

  "Is it time?" Jason asked.

  "You want to meet with Evelyn?" Didi asked. He'd expressed his dislike for her several times in the last few days.

  "I'm part of the team, and I was there for the final retrieval of the book," Jason said.

  "I should be billing for his man-hours, right?" I asked.

  "And your Mom's, too," Jason said.

  "Right," I said, smiling.

  "Should I expect a paycheck?" Jason asked.

  "From Mom," I said. "You're on salary."

  Jason laughed and headed to the kitchen to bring some tea to be polite and just in case somebody peeked in on us, and then the three of us waited.

  Evelyn popped in ten minutes late. And by popped in, I mean she pulled a Bewitched and appeared right in front of us. It made Jason visibly jump. He almost spilled his tea.

  "Sorry," she said. "I didn't want to deal with paparazzi."

  I got the vibe Evelyn was showing off. And for someone not wanting to deal with the paparazzi, she sure was dressed to the nines. She was dressed in what I'd call glamour-goth. Long, black Morticia Addams-style dress with a black pearl necklace, and a diamond tiara crowning a mess of her wild, curly black hair. Our goth thieves would've been envious.