Witch Cozy Mystery Nine Book Set

by Amelia Morgan

  Gary interrupted her this time. “I think I know where you’re going with this conversation and I’m going to stop you right there. I didn’t have anything to do with Denise’s death.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It sure is. I didn’t even know that she was dead until you told me.”

  “If that’s the case then do you have an alibi for last night?” Meg asked.

  “Why would I need one?”

  “Because you’re a suspect in her murder.”

  “That’s outrageous.”

  “I disagree. She broke up with you shortly before her death. And you know what they say about a lover scorned—”

  “Do I look scorned to you?” Gary tried to muster the calmest facial expression possible.

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Meg said.

  He shook his head. “Not in this case.”

  “You never did answer my question.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you have an alibi for the time of the murder?”

  “I already told you, I didn’t kill Denise.”

  “Then prove it. Where were you between nine and ten o’clock last night?” Meg asked.

  “I was here,” he said.

  “Doing what?”

  “Watching the baseball game on TV.”

  “Was anyone with you?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “No. It was just me.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “Look. You asked me the question and I answered it. Now, will you leave me alone?” Gary said.

  Meg shook her head. “Not yet.”

  Gary threw out his arms. “What more do you want from me?”

  “I want to talk about Pamela Hutton for a moment,” Meg said.

  “Instead of talking about her, you should be talking to her,” Gary said.

  “Why? Because she’s a witch?” Meg said.

  His forehead wrinkled. “No. Because she had a motive for wanting Denise dead.” He squinted at Meg. “Why would you say that she’s a witch?”

  “Wait. Are you telling me that you don’t know about Pamela being a witch?”

  Gary looked at Meg like she had two heads. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, what are you, crazy? Witches don’t exist.”

  Meg quietly took a moment to let Gary’s words sink in.

  “Is that so?” she said.

  “You really are crazy. First you accuse me of murder and then you say that Pamela is a witch. What are you going to say next?” Gary asked.

  “How about this?” Meg replied. “Don’t go leaving town.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Meg’s conversation with Gary had left her with far more questions than answers. She had a feeling that Pamela Hutton possessed those answers, so she headed over to her place next.

  Meg was usually pretty fearless when it came to interviewing suspects. But Pamela was different. If she truly was a witch, she could be just as powerful as Meg, or even more so. Meg would have to be extra careful.

  After driving over to Hazel Street, Meg parked in the driveway of Pamela’s blue Victorian-style house. Before getting out of her car, Meg cast a refresher spell to continue to project the illusion that she was wearing a police uniform.

  Meg took a few deep breaths then approached Pamela’s front door. When she stepped onto Pamela’s porch, a wooden floorboard creaked under Meg’s foot. The sound scared her half to death.

  Meg looked down, realized there was nothing to freak out over, and composed herself.

  She knocked on the door. A few moments later, Pamela opened up.

  Meg introduced herself and explained that she was there to ask Pamela some questions.

  The voluptuous, hazel-eyed thirty-three-year-old brunette stared intensely into Meg’s eyes.

  At first, the conversation went smoothly enough. But when Meg revealed to Pamela that Denise had been murdered, Pamela immediately jumped on the defensive.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and I didn’t kill her,” Pamela said.

  “I didn’t say you did,” Meg replied.

  “That’s why you came over here, though, isn’t it? Because you think I might have murdered her,” Pamela said.

  Meg’s pulse began to race. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a confrontation with a possible witch.

  “I just came here to ask you some questions is all,” Meg said.

  Pamela kept forcing the issue. “About Denise’s murder.”

  “Yes.”

  Pamela folded her arms. “Let me guess. Gary threw me under the bus.”

  “All I care about is the facts. Not who pointed fingers at whom.”

  “Let me tell you something. You can’t listen to anything that my scumbag ex-boyfriend said.”

  “Why is that?” Meg said.

  “Isn’t it obvious? Because he’s just trying to take the spotlight off of himself.”

  “Speaking of the spotlight, it’s currently on you, so why don’t you just let me get to my questions?”

  “I already told you. I didn’t kill Denise. Why don’t you believe me?”

  “Give me a reason to.”

  Pamela stared at Meg, looking her up and down.

  “You’re not really a cop, are you?” Pamela replied.

  “Of course I am. Why would you think otherwise?” Meg said.

  Pamela whispered an incantation under her breath that counteracted Meg’s uniform spell. Suddenly, the illusion of Meg wearing a police uniform completely dissipated.

  Uh-oh.

  Pamela truly was a witch. And a powerful one, at that.

  Pamela folded her arms. “You were saying?”

  Meg’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe it. You’re a witch.”

  “Like you should talk. That was a good spell. You almost fooled me, but not quite,” Pamela said.

  Meg’s muscles tensed up. She had a defensive spell at the ready in case Pamela attacked her.

  “You can relax,” Pamela said.

  “Not likely,” Meg replied.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Pamela said.

  “Why should I believe you?” Meg asked.

  Pamela took a seat on her couch. “Because I mean you no harm.”

  “You can say that all you want, but you’re going to have to do more to convince me.”

  “Whether you believe it or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a good witch. I come in peace,” Pamela said.

  “Oh yeah? Answer this question then. Why doesn’t Gary remember you being a witch?” Meg said.

  Pamela remained silent.

  “You wiped his memory, didn’t you?” Meg asked.

  Pamela stared at the ground. “That particular part of his memory, yes.”

  “That’s what I suspected,” Meg said. “So, you cast spells to wipe people’s memories, yet you say you’re a good witch?”

  “Not people’s memories. Just Gary’s. And I did it for my own protection,” Pamela said.

  Meg’s eyebrows knitted. “Protection?”

  “Yes. To protect my true identity from him. He only found out that I was a witch by accident. And he immediately freaked out. So, reluctantly, I wiped his memory. Whether you agree with my decision or not, I hope you can understand why I don’t want the general public knowing that I have magical powers,” Pamela said.

  Meg remained silent for a moment before finally replying, “Have you ever wiped anyone else’s memory?”

  Pamela shook her head. “No. Like I told you before, I’m a good witch. I come in peace.”

  “The jury is still out on that one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I talked to Denise,” Meg said. “And she told me that you were in a rage when you found out that Gary was dating both you and her at the same time.”

  “I admit it. I was beside myself when I discovered the truth,” Pamela said.

  “Yet you ask why I woul
d question you,” Meg said.

  “I managed to calm myself down, all right?”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “Think of it like this. If I wanted to kill Denise, I could have done so without even leaving my house. Why would I go all the way over to her business to murder her?” Pamela asked.

  Meg’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t have an answer for that.”

  “Besides, I didn’t want her dead. If anything, it was Gary I was mad at. It’s a testament to my principles that I only wiped that part of his memory. If I was truly a bad witch, I could have killed him for cheating on me. Yet, he’s still alive.”

  “Is that your way of trying to prove to me that you are a good witch? By telling me that you resisted the urge to kill Gary?”

  “What can I do to prove to you that I’m not the enemy?” Pamela’s eyes widened. “How about I help you find Denise’s killer?”

  Meg held her pointer finger up. “Not so fast. There’s still the issue of the cloud of suspicion that’s surrounding you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I have an ironclad alibi. I was at a restaurant last night eating with a number of my friends. We were there until closing. Call my friends…and the Gino’s Ristorante. They’ll tell you,” Pamela said.

  ***

  Meg made a few calls. When she got off the phone, she was suddenly staring down a different reality. So much for her suspicions about Pamela. The woman had an airtight alibi. Both of Pamela’s friends had confirmed her story. As did the restaurant manager. There was no way that Pamela had killed Denise.

  “Now do you believe me?” Pamela asked.

  Meg nodded. “Yes.”

  Pamela took a deep breath. “Look. I know we didn’t get off on the best foot, but what do you say we wipe the slate clean and start over? I think we could be good friends. Frankly, it’s a shame that we aren’t already. I mean, think of all the things that we have in common.”

  Meg bit her lip.

  Pamela waited a few seconds for Meg to respond. When she didn’t, Pamela spoke up. “I know you disapprove of me wiping part of Gary’s memory. But I only did it out of self-preservation. Growing up, my mother constantly told me that people are afraid of what they don’t understand. That society wasn’t prepared to accept the fact that witches exist. And she was right. Gary’s crazy reaction was proof of that. So I wiped his memory a little bit.”

  Meg remained silent for a few moments before replying, “I understand.”

  Pamela did a double-take. “You…you do?”

  Meg nodded. “Our mothers sound a lot alike. My mom is always urging me to stay out of the fray. To keep my powers under wraps.”

  Pamela chuckled. “Yet here you are, investigating a murder.”

  “Against my mother’s wishes. To be fair, I’m doing this because I want justice for Denise.”

  “That’s admirable of you. I hope you catch her killer.”

  “So do I,” Meg said. “Speaking of, I really should get back to my investigation.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  Meg’s nose scrunched. “But before I do, I just have to ask you, do you know any other witches?”

  Pamela shook her head. “For the longest time, I thought my mother and I were the only ones in town with magical powers.”

  “Now you can tell her that you aren’t.”

  “I wish I could.” Pamela lowered her head. “She had a heart attack a few years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Meg said.

  Pamela exhaled. “I really miss her. It’s been a lonely few years without her, believing I was the last witch in Enchanted Bay. That’s why I’m so excited to find out that you’re a witch too.”

  Meg took a deep breath. “You know, there are so many things that I would like to discuss with you. We could probably talk for days. Unfortunately, it’s just not the right time. I need to focus on this case.”

  “I hear you. Well, good luck finding whoever is responsible for this,” Pamela said.

  “Thanks,” Meg said.

  “Just know that my door is always open—if you need to talk, or if you need help.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  Pamela stared deep into Meg’s eyes.

  “Hopefully, the next time we speak it will be under better circumstances,” Pamela said.

  Chapter Twelve

  While Meg hoped that her interview with Denise’s business partner, Kaitlin Gordon, would go smoothly, the opposite proved to be the case. Things got off to a rocky start, almost from the beginning, and only got worse from there.

  The blond-haired, blue-eyed, round-faced, tall forty-two-year-old folded her arms and stared Meg down while standing in the living room of her beige ranch-style house. A laptop was open on the coffee table next to them.

  “You have to be kidding me,” Kaitlin said.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Gordon, but doing accounting work on your laptop is not an alibi,” Meg said.

  Kaitlin pointed at a file that was open on her computer. “Look at the time stamp for when I last saved that spreadsheet—nine-thirty last night.”

  “I see that.”

  “So how can you say that it isn’t an alibi?”

  “Because it’s on your laptop.”

  Kaitlin shrugged. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Laptops are incredibly portable—”

  Kaitlin cut Meg off. “Meaning?”

  “That you could have saved that file anywhere in town if you had the laptop with you.”

  “I hope you’re not implying that I could have brought my laptop with me to the scene of a murder.”

  “I’m not implying anything,” Meg said. “I’m just saying that your laptop is not an alibi.”

  “Then I don’t know what else to tell you.”

  “I can think of a few more things,” Meg replied.

  “I’m sure you can. But the only thing that matters is that I didn’t kill Denise.”

  “I wish I could believe you.”

  “You can believe me. You just choose not to because you’re being ridiculous.”

  “No. This is just standard procedure. You have no alibi for the time of the murder, but you have plenty of motive.”

  Kaitlin shook her head. “No. Scott Mueller is the one who has plenty of motive.”

  “Kaitlin, don’t try to deflect. I’m not done with you yet.”

  “I’m just saying, Scott is the person you should really be talking to right now.”

  “I will speak to Scott, but I’m not quite finished here yet.”

  “Do you want to catch Denise’s killer or not? Because Scott could be getting away right now,” Kaitlin said.

  “All right. I’ll bite. Why do I so desperately need to talk to Scott Mueller?” Meg asked.

  “Because Denise recently fired him.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “She caught him stealing from the business.”

  “How much did he take?”

  “Enough to fire him over. We’re talking over a thousand dollars,” Kaitlin said.

  “Thank you for the tip,” Meg said.

  “See. That’s why you need to go talk to him.”

  “Like I said, I will—when I’m done with you.”

  “But we are done.”

  Meg shook her head. “Not quite. I told you, there are still some matters to discuss with you.”

  “And I told you I had nothing to do with this.”

  “I heard you. But getting back to the heart of the issue, you have no alibi, yet ample motive.”

  “I don’t think ample is the right word.”

  “You were desperate to sell the business and cash out, but Denise kept blocking the sale. You can squabble with me over my word choices all you want, but you sure had a good reason for wanting Denise dead.”

  Kaitlin scoffed. “Do you really think I would kill Denise over a little bit of money?”

  “First of all, it wasn’t a little bit of money
. From what I hear, you were in line for a huge payday. Second, money makes people do some crazy things.”

  “Not in this case.”

  “Are you going to pretend that you didn’t have the most to gain from her death? With her gone, you now have control of the business, giving you the ability to cash out. You’re going to be a rich woman,” Meg said.

  “That’s just how things turned out. I certainly didn’t plan this,” Kaitlin said.

  “That’s debatable.”

  “To you, maybe,” Kaitlin said. “Look. I get it. I know how this situation looks. But remember, looks can be deceiving.”

  Meg nodded. “They can. But are they in this case?”

  “Yes.”

  “It would sure be a lot easier to believe your story if you had proof of your innocence.”

  “Hey, it’s not like you have any proof that I did anything wrong.”

  Meg opened her mouth to reply.

  Kaitlin cut her off. “And without proof, you have nothing. That’s why we’re done here.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Scott Mueller was a muscular, square-faced, thirty-eight-year-old with a goatee and black shoulder-length hair. He had a small ranch-style house on Oak Drive. Meg caught up with him in his garage, where he was tinkering with an old car that looked like it needed a lot of work if it was ever going to be street legal.

  Once again, Meg cast the police uniform spell before she approached Scott. The uniform didn’t seem to intimidate Scott in the least. Then again, Kaitlin Gordon had not flinched when she saw the uniform either.

  Even after Meg revealed to Scott that Denise had been murdered, he just looked annoyed that Meg was keeping him from his tinkering.

  “I still don’t get why you’re here,” Scott said.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Meg replied. “Denise was—”

  Scott cut her off. “Murdered. Yeah, I heard you. But why did you come here to tell me that?”

  “Because I want to ask you a few questions.”

  He shrugged. “Why?”

  Meg put her hands on her hips. “Is there a reason you are being so confrontational?”

  “Because I’m not in the mood to be hassled.”

  “Mr. Mueller, this is a murder investigation. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll answer my questions.”