David got deadly quiet, his eyes full of rage.
“I’m right, aren’t I? You did it, didn’t you? You killed her,” Meg said.
Finally, David couldn’t take it anymore. He erupted in a fury. “Yeah, I did it. I killed her, and you’re next.”
David then lunged at Meg, reaching out to strangle her.
Little did he know that she had cast a super strength spell shortly before arriving. That gave her all the power she needed to stop him cold and throw him to the ground. While David scrambled to get up off the gravel, Connor came out from his hiding place beside the house with his gun drawn.
“Freeze,” Connor said.
David saw the gun pointed at him and knew there was no escape. Faced with that sobering realization, he started to have an emotional breakdown, blurting out his true feelings.
“I was drawn to her because she was a free spirit. She had an open mind and an experimental soul. After spending twenty years married to a woman who cared more about her cats than her husband, that was refreshing. I fell for Hope, hard and fast. Then, just as I told my wife I wanted to leave her, Hope revealed to me that she wasn’t interested in getting tied down to another long-term relationship. She was just getting out of a marriage and wanted to see what the universe had in store for her. It was then that I lost it. I had given up so much to be with Hope--my marriage, my life, everything. Yet, after the sacrifices I’d made for her, she just tossed what we had aside and broke it off. I couldn’t let her get away with that,” David explained.
“It looks like you’re the one who won’t get away with it. Let’s see what good that free spirit of yours does you in jail,” she replied.
Meg then shook her head, completely disgusted.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Take him away, boys,” Connor said.
Two police deputies hauled David away and loaded him into the back of a squad car. That left Meg and Connor with a moment alone together.
As Connor and Meg’s relationship had evolved, so had his reaction to her crack sleuthing abilities. In the beginning, he had a hard time believing the first murder case she’d solved was nothing more than a fluke. After all, he was a hardened, ten-year veteran of the city beat while she was a donut shop manager. With each subsequent case under her belt, her innate detective skills were becoming impossible to ignore.
That didn’t mean some professional detectives didn’t try to chock it all up to luck. That’s why Connor was so unique. With him, his ego didn’t come first. What mattered most to him was that the case got solved, not that he had to be the one to do the solving. That little distinction made all the difference to Meg, especially as she wanted to relax after cracking a case, not massage a fragile ego.
Much to Meg’s delight, Connor’s ego was nowhere to be found. Instead, he breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t alone. Meg was just as happy for this case to be closed. The sooner they could put this case behind them and return to a sense of normalcy, the better.
Never mind that they’d just lived through the fourth murder within Enchanted Bay city limits in the last seventeen months, or that things most likely never return to the safe and sound days of yore. During times like this, it was important to appreciate the moments of quiet before danger found its way back into town.
“You did it again,” Connor remarked.
She corrected him. “We did it.”
“I’m not one of those guys that can’t give credit where it’s due. Trust me, you deserve all the kudos in the world.”
Meg enjoyed the appreciation, even if she wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. Her family’s secretive nature made her shy away from ever basking in the spotlight for too long, even around her boyfriend. That was true here as well. She found herself deflecting with a joke.
“Let’s just say we’re a crime-fighting team that’s not to be trifled with,” she replied.
“I’ll take that. Although, in that case, who would be the sidekick?”
“Here I thought you were about to make a joke about not wanting to wear spandex.”
“That too.”
She smiled. “Duly noted.”
“Superheroes make some highly questionable clothing choices,” he joked.
“Wow, fashion faux pas. That’s one conversation I never thought I’d be having with my boyfriend. What’s next, talking about shoe sales?”
He stared her down. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late. Visions of high heels are already dancing in my head.”
Connor tried to steer the conversation out of the clouds and bring it back down to Earth. “In all seriousness, I’m so glad you’re in my life.”
Meg had a different take. “Really? You’re going back to being serious so soon? Haven’t we spent enough time with doom and his partner-in-crime gloom recently? I say, let’s burn off more steam.”
“No argument here.”
“I hope not. Arguing is overrated anyway.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She smiled. “A girlfriend can never hear that enough.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Anyway, I just want you to know I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Wait a minute. Does that mean you think I’m the sidekick in this equation?”
She changed the subject. “All I care about is this case is solved.”
He called her out. “That’s a slick little non-answer. I expect that kind of evasion from a suspect, but not from you.”
Meg gazed into his eyes. “Hey, we all have our strong points.”
“I know what yours are.”
“I hope you’re not about to say baking donuts.”
“Now you’re making me hungry,” he said.
“You’re right. All this investigating has worked up a serious appetite.”
“I know exactly what would hit the spot.”
“Please don’t say donuts.”
“But eating donuts is the detective way,” he joked.
She laughed.
“I was just messing around with you. I think we should go get that Chinese food we were talking about yesterday. I have a feeling your fortune cookie will have some good news for you this time.”
Meg found her mind drifting elsewhere. “Mmm, dumplings.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Connor replied.
She then went back to a loose thread in their conversation. “By the way, you didn’t tell me what my strong point is.”
“That’s easy. You always know how to make me smile, and with a job like mine, I can use all the smiles I can get,” Connor revealed.
Meg gave him a big grin.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
With the killer behind bars, Meg had the closure she was looking for. The same could not be said for her mother. Beth Walton had the peace of mind in knowing her friend’s murderer had been brought to justice, but that didn’t change the fact that she had a Hope Riddle-sized hole in her life. Even more, that was a void that could never truly be filled. She’d never had a friend like Hope before.
It should have been no surprise then that the grieving process was different than with the friends and family members she’d lost in the past. The usual somber affair didn’t seem appropriate in honoring her friend’s memory. Hope was a free spirit, a firecracker, the kind of woman that believed in getting the most out of life.
Given that, Beth decided the best way to say goodbye to her friend was to drive out to the vineyards and do the very wine tasting they’d planned to do before Hope was killed. That’s how Beth and Meg found themselves sitting on the patio of a vineyard staring at the rolling hills lined with rows of grape vines as the sun slowly set in the distance.
Beth looked out wistfully, before tearing up.
“Mom, are you ok?” Meg asked.
Beth wiped her eyes and nodded. “I was just thinking about Hope.”
Meg grimaced. “Maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea.”
Beth shook her h
ead. “No. It’s what she would have wanted.”
“Ok. Well, just know I’m here for you if you need me.”
“Thanks, dear.” Beth then lifted her glass and switched gears. “I’d like to propose a toast.”
Meg pressed her glass against her mothers. “A toast.”
“To a friend who reminded me that life is meant to be lived, that each day is precious, and that time is something that should never be wasted.”
Meg nodded. “To Hope, rest in peace.”
Beth laughed. “Are you kidding? There’s no rest for the rambunctious. Since you caught her killer, I’ll bet she’s having a ball in the afterlife right now.”
Meg stared up at the sky. “Here’s hoping.”
“Now, in honor of Hope’s spirit, how about another glass of wine?” Beth suggested.
Meg smiled. “You can’t go wrong with cabernet.”
The End.
The Nuts And Bolts of Murder
Chapter One
Meg Walton was having the kind of night she wouldn’t soon forget. To most people, it was just an ordinary Friday evening. To her, it was a great reminder of how special her relationship was with her boyfriend, Connor Smith. Here they were, a year and a half into their relationship, and the honeymoon phase was far from over. For the magic between them to not have faded away even slightly at this point was a stunning achievement, and one she didn’t take for granted. After all, as a real-life witch, she knew a thing or two about magic.
Meg and Connor were just returning from a night on the town when she became lost in thought. As Connor walked her back to her front door, he noticed her head was in the clouds and tried to bring Meg back down to Earth.
“Is everything all right?” Connor asked.
Meg’s attention shifted from her inner monologue to her boyfriend. “That’s the thing; everything is wonderful.”
Connor looked relieved. “It’s good to hear that. You had me worried there for a second.”
“Although, I have to admit, I do have one complaint.”
“What’s that?”
“Every day, it’s getting harder to say goodbye to you.”
Connor had a correction for her. “It’s not goodbye; it’s goodnight. I’ll be seeing you again tomorrow.”
“Let me tell you, it can’t come soon enough.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“In the meantime, thanks for another magical evening.”
“My pleasure,” he replied.
Connor leaned in and gave Meg a long, deep kiss. His lips tasted just as sweet as ever. So much so that she didn’t want the kiss to end. It was just as magical as any spell she could cast. That was saying a lot, considering the spells at her disposal.
When Connor finally pulled back from the kiss, Meg’s knees were weak.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Connor said.
She smiled and nodded. “Until then, sweet dreams.”
“Trust me, they’ll be as sweet as can be.”
Connor got into his car and drove away.
Meg lingered on her front step, caught up thinking about her feelings for him. She was in such a daze that she didn’t even notice her neighbor, Walter Newman, addressing her as he moved to his garage from his front patio.
“I remember those days,” Walter said.
Meg pulled her head out of the clouds and turned to Walter with her eyebrows raised.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Walter was a tall, athletic man in his mid-fifties with short black hair and hazel eyes. To Meg, it wasn’t so much his physical features that stood out. Walter was a new neighbor, and ever since he’d moved onto the street, the thing that had struck her the most about him was the unmistakable look of sadness and regret in his eyes. That was understandable, given his circumstances.
At the same time, tonight was different. Instead of the usual sorrowful expression on his face, a wistful, nostalgic look was present now. That was a welcome change of pace.
“The honeymoon days. The kind you wish would never end. You’re still in the thick of them,” he said.
“Guilty as charged,” she replied.
“I hope you realize how lucky you are.”
“I do.”
“Good, because it’s these moments you need to cherish. Especially since nothing lasts forever,” Walter said.
There it was. Meg had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it always seemed to with Walter. That was true tonight as well. She didn’t blame him. He couldn’t seem to help it. If anything, Walter made for a sobering cautionary tale of what could go wrong in a relationship.
Until recently, Walter’s life was quite enviable. He was the owner of the Discount Dachshund, a grocery store so successful that he was in the process of opening a second location across town. He was married, had one son, two houses, two cars, and few complaints. Then, in one moment, his whole life came crashing down.
It turned out Walter had been having an affair with his produce manager at work. When his wife found out, she kicked him out of the house and began divorce proceedings. That’s when he became Meg’s neighbor, moving into his former rental property while the details of the divorce got sorted out in court.
Walter had tried his best to win his wife Tabitha back, breaking things off with his mistress in the process, but Tabitha had no interest in reconciling. She had designs on raking him over the coals for every dollar he was worth. Meg didn’t blame her. If Connor ever cheated on her, she’d never be able to get over it. Hopefully, nothing as dubious as that would ever happen.
As for Walter, he definitely saw the error in his ways, but was unable to repair the damage that had already been done. That’s where the sorrow in his eyes came from, the yearning to change what was already set in stone.
Unable to alter the events of his past, it was fitting that when he returned home from work at the grocery store, he spent most of his time in his garage, working on restoring a treasured vintage car he’d picked up recently.
That’s what he appeared to be doing tonight, before seeing Connor and Meg triggered an impromptu trip down memory lane. In the few months he’d been Meg’s neighbor, he’d doled out plenty of unsolicited advice, most of it centered on how she could sidestep the follies that had tripped up his own life. She heeded his warnings. Although, tonight she wished the conversation would stay firmly in sweet territory rather than heading down a sour path.
“Trust me, I appreciate how lucky Connor and I are,” Meg said.
“Good. Don’t ever forget it. I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone,” Walter replied.
Even given his usual beat down nature, he seemed particularly troubled tonight. Had it been a particularly tough day?
“Mr. Newman, are you doing all right?”
He snickered. “Of course not. I’m in the middle of a divorce. My life is miserable.”
Meg didn’t expect that level of dour candor. “It there anything in particular that you want to talk about?”
He was quick to shake his head and deflect. “No. I just want to drink it off and work on my car.”
She made one last attempt to get him to open up. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’m positive. But thanks anyway.”
Walter’s mouth may have been saying no, but his eyes were practically screaming out for help. At the same time, he was a grown man. If he didn’t want to talk, Meg couldn’t force him too. After all, men weren’t exactly known for being eager to talk about their emotions. So while Walter headed to his garage to tinker with his classic car and drown his sorrow in a few cans of beer, Meg headed inside her house to have some sweet dreams about her boyfriend.
Chapter Two
The next morning started off earlier and more abruptly than Meg wanted. It was a shame, not only because it was insufferably early, but also because she’d been having a particularly sweet dream about Connor that had now been put on hold suddenly. The culprit was the furry alarm clock otherwise known as her talking bla
ck cat, Penelope.
“Morning, sunshine. Rise and shine,” Penelope yelled.
Most of the time, Meg was happy to have a talking cat. This wasn’t one of them. It was too late to turn back now. She had cast the spell that transferred her grandmother’s soul into the body of a cat just like Penelope had requested and was now being repaid for her kindness with a rude, pre-dawn wake-up call.
Meg wished she could shrug it off, but Penelope was too persistent to be ignored. Even worse, unlike a real clock, she had no snooze button. The real problem was how Penelope insisted on waking her up at cat o’clock, which was unofficially defined as one hour earlier than Meg ever wanted to get up on any given day.
“The sun isn’t even up yet. Why should I be?” Meg protested.
“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time arguing. We both know I’m going to get what I want, so why don’t you save us both some aggravation by feeding me now?” Penelope replied.
It was too early in the morning for that kind of feline bravado. As a matter of fact, in Meg’s mind, it was too early for any cat or human to be awake. Unfortunately, Penelope didn’t care what Meg thought.
While caught up in a grumpy daze, Meg felt like casting a muting spell that would take Penelope’s voice away temporarily so she could get in another hour of shut eye.
Before she had the chance to, Penelope cut her off. “Don’t even think of muting me. I have claws, and I’m not afraid to use them to poke you with.”
It was then that Meg knew she was fighting a losing battle. She groaned, resigned to defeat. “Fine, I’ll feed you.”
“My taste buds thank you. Bring on the breakfast buffet.”
Meg sat up in bed and got ready to cast a spell. Penelope could pull her from a dead sleep, but she wasn’t going to get her out of bed. Meg took the lazy way out, calling on her magical witch powers to do the leg work. After all, what was the point of being a witch if she couldn’t use that to her advantage?
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