Southern Belles and Spells Matchmaker Mysteries

by Amy Boyles

  Mama flicked her wrist. “Preposterous. Every witch worth her salt knows vampires can’t turn into bats. Now shoo, get inside and get dressed.”

  My thoughts suddenly shifted from the kiss to Mama and the dead bouquet. “Have you seen Rose?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Here I am!” Rose strode down the hall behind us toting Pig with her. My great-aunt grinned widely. “Just got in from the store. Do you need something, Charming?”

  “Oh, no. I was just wondering if you were around.”

  “Well, okay. I’ll be in the kitchen preparing supper. We’re having leg of lamb. It’ll take all day to cook.”

  I rubbed my lips together. “Sounds good. What are you going to be doing?” I directed to Mama.

  She shrugged. “I just spoke to the local water witches about joining their little afternoon soiree at the waterfall. I might do that.”

  I nodded. “You should. You definitely should.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to get rid of me?”

  I feigned innocence. “Me? I would never do that.”

  “You’re up to something.”

  “I am not.”

  Mama stared at me for another second before announcing she was going to her room to get ready for the waterfall. “I have to find the perfect outfit. Something that can get wet but is practical.”

  “Sounds like you need a swimsuit.”

  Mama scoffed. “As if, daughter. I don’t wear spandex on this skin. How horrible. I’ll find something.”

  As soon as she disappeared, I scampered into the kitchen. “Rose,” I whispered in a desperate tone.

  “What is it?” she said as loudly as a deaf person at a rock concert.

  I gestured for her to keep her voice down. “I discovered something today.”

  “What’s that?”

  I leaned in and placed my lips to her ear. “Mama placed a pile of dead roses on Frankie’s doorstep.”

  Rose blanched. “Why would she do that?”

  I shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me that. If she placed the roses with a nasty note, do you think she could have…”

  “What?”

  “You know.” I dragged my finger across my neck. “That.”

  Confusion filled Rose’s face. “What?”

  I rolled my eyes. How much more obvious could I be? “You know.”

  “No. What?”

  Frustrated, I blurted out, “Killed Frankie. Do you think she killed Frankie?”

  “Why on earth would I have killed Frankie?”

  Mama’s voice from behind me made every muscle in my body ball up into a hard knot. I groaned. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

  “Well, the two of y’all apparently learned how to whisper in a hailstorm.”

  I slowly pivoted to see Mama in the doorway wearing a fitted jumpsuit. It was pink, of course. She folded her arms and scowled.

  “What is all this nonsense?”

  I pointed my finger at her nose. “You left Frankie a pile of dead roses, that’s what.”

  She sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You did it, Mama. Just admit it. You left the bouquet for Frankie.”

  She stared at me a good long moment, her aqua eyes full of suspicion before saying, “And what if I did?”

  I raked my fingers down my face. “Well, for one thing, it ties you to her. It could possibly tie you to Frankie’s murder.”

  Mama smacked her lips. “And what if I did? What if it was me that killed Frankie Firewalker?”

  My eyes widened. I glanced at Rose.

  She set the raw leg of lamb into a roasting pan. “Oh dear. If you did that, then we have a big problem.”

  You could say that again.

  Chapter 20

  Mama grabbed a towel and smacked my shoulder. “Of course I didn’t kill Frankie. I did send her the roses, but I didn’t kill her. She was a horrible person.

  “Besides,” A burning heart dripping red stuff that looked like blood popped into existence. “Frankie sent me this first.”

  “Ew.” The thing was revolting. “That’s horrible.”

  A self-satisfied smirk settled on Mama’s face. “That’s what I thought. So I sent her the flowers in retaliation.”

  “With those disgusting cockroaches?”

  My mother shuddered. “What cockroaches? I didn’t do anything with cockroaches.” She pressed a finger to her chin in thought. “But that would have been a great idea. Too bad I didn’t consider it.”

  “Wait. You didn’t add the cockroaches?”

  “No,” she said flatly. “And I’m surprised you would even suggest I touch such a foul creature.”

  That was strange. “Were there any cockroaches around when you placed the bouquet at her door?”

  “How would I know? I sent them by magic.”

  “So you didn’t set them there in person. That’s weird, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  Rose placed the leg of lamb in the warm oven. “It doesn’t change what?”

  “Well unfortunately, half the town thinks Mama was Frankie’s worst enemy.”

  Mama scoffed. “Trust me. She had worse enemies than me.”

  I folded my arms and leaned against the wall. “If Thorne discovers you sent those flowers, he’s going to haul you in for questioning. In fact, he’s going to do it anyway.”

  Fear sparked in her eyes. “How long have you known this?”

  Eugene chose that exact moment to float into the room. “Oh, she’s known for at least a day or two. Maybe more.”

  “Only one day,” I snapped. “And I didn’t tell you because I asked Thorne to give it more time. I thought maybe if I could find the killer, we could spare you the humiliation of being dragged down to the station and questioned.”

  “Hmm. If you’d told me earlier, perhaps I could have helped you find whoever did this terrible thing.”

  “With all due respect, everyone’s pointing the finger at you, so I’m not sure what to say.”

  Mama clapped her hands. “It’s time for a group discussion. If we’re to figure out who did this and keep me off the suspect list, I need to know what you know. Now,” she added sternly.

  I raked my fingers through my hair. “I know Tex was only doing the show for the exposure, Vic Little used to love Frankie until she broke his heart and Watts Pugh is devastated that she’s dead.”

  “Real or fake devastation?” Mama asked.

  I tipped my head from side to side. “Hard to say. Could be real. Could be fake. Either way it was definitely over-the-top.”

  She poked the air with authority. “We’ll start there.” Mama’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Anyone who’s horribly upset that Frankie is dead is immediately suspicious in my book. Were you able to get into his house?”

  “No.” I rolled my eyes. “We can’t go around breaking into people’s houses when they’re not there.”

  She grimaced. “You’re right.” Mama drummed her fingers on the counter. “But perhaps we don’t have to. Maybe we can just sort of invite ourselves into his home while he’s there and take a look around.”

  Rose clapped her hands. “Oh, I love that idea. How’re we going to manage that?”

  I folded my arms and shot her a stern look. “Yeah. On what pretense will we be able to just slip on in and take a tour?”

  “Let me think about that one,” Mama said. “It may not be as easy to do as I originally hoped.”

  A ridiculous idea flared in my mind. “What if—and this is a big what if—we pretended to be raising money for a foundation for Frankie, or a monument or something, and we were going around seeing who could donate.”

  Rose inhaled. “And then when Watts starts to open his checkbook, we say we’re looking for objects to donate—like valuables in his home, and we tour the home while we’re talking to him.”

  “What if Pig gets loose while we’re in there?” I added.<
br />
  “And Broom starts sweeping,” Mama said.

  “What if I turn on my flames?” Eugene chimed.

  “No,” the three of us said in unison.

  “We don’t want the place to burn to the ground,” I explained. “We only want to get a good look, see if there’s anything funny about it.”

  “Like what?” Eugene asked.

  I hiked a shoulder. “I don’t know. Like he has an aquarium full of cockroaches or maybe a book on how to electrocute someone with magic while they’re in a hot tub.”

  “Wouldn’t that be perfect?” Mama said. “But I’m sure it’s too much to wish for.”

  “You never know.” Rose pulled out a cutting board and started chopping vegetables. “One time I ran across a book titled How to Use Squirrels to Send You Back in Time.”

  “So it was a book about time traveling?” I asked.

  “Oh no,” Rose said. “It was more about how to cook squirrels than anything to do with time.”

  I frowned. “Then why the title?”

  She chopped a large carrot in two. “I think the author just named it that so people would buy the book. I don’t really know, but it had a few great recipes.”

  And so that’s how life with Rose went. I was about to comment on how the entire scenario was ridiculous when the doorbell rang.

  “Who could that be?” I said.

  Mama sat on a chair and snapped a newspaper into existence. “I’m sure I don’t know. Find out for us, won’t you, Charming?”

  “Sure,” I said snidely. I mean, was I her servant or something? “Let me get rid of whoever’s at the door and then we can go over our plan about Watts.”

  “Sounds perfect,” she said.

  I exited the kitchen to the front door. I opened it, being sure to cover myself a bit better than I had earlier.

  Thorne stood there. Again. I quickly shut the door behind me and stepped onto the porch to give us privacy.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He cocked a brow. “Better question is, why aren’t you dressed yet?”

  I glanced down at my robe. “I’ve been busy. You back for another kiss?” I joked, not-joked.

  He shook his head. “Is your mother home?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I need to speak to her.”

  The sharpness in his voice caught me off guard. “Thorne, you promised you wouldn’t do anything.”

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Things have changed. I need to speak to her.”

  “Okay.” I opened the door and led him into the kitchen. “Here she is.”

  Thorne nodded. “Glinda. Rose.”

  Mama settled her paper on the table. “Thorne. Is everything okay?”

  His jaw twitched. “I’m afraid not. Glinda, I need you to come with me.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I have to ask you some questions about Frankie Firewalker.”

  She rose. “Sure. Let me just get my purse.”

  “There’s no time,” he said. “I have a car waiting.”

  I squeezed his bicep. “Thorne. What’s the rush?”

  “Like I told you,” he said through clenched teeth. “Things have changed. Glinda, you need to come with me. Now. It would be better for you if you do it quickly, without haste.”

  Mama blanched and nodded dumbly. “Of course. Whatever you want, Officer.”

  Thorne escorted her down the hall. My stomach tied into knots. Once she was outside, Thorne’s deputies appeared out of nowhere and led her to the car.

  I pulled Thorne aside. “What’s going on?”

  “All I can say is that we received a tip.” He crossed his hands in the air, gesturing for me not to ask any more questions.

  “A tip?” I murmured in disbelief. “Impossible. Maybe they meant someone else.”

  Thorne didn’t respond to that. “I have to go.”

  “How long will you keep her?”

  He scowled. “Until I know the truth.”

  Thorne slid into a vehicle and didn’t look back. Mama, on the other hand, stared out her window at me and mouthed Watts.

  Right. If I was going to clear my mother’s name, I needed to get cracking, and I had to do it sooner rather than later.

  As in, now.

  Chapter 21

  “Mr. Pugh, I’m so glad you’re home.”

  Rose, Pig, Broom, Eugene and I all stood on Watts Pugh’s front porch.

  He shot me a cockeyed look full of suspicion. “Yes?”

  I cleared my throat, preparing to explain the brilliant plan we’d come up with. My nerves were at an all-time high. I could practically hear my heart thundering in my chest as I stared at the beady-eyed man.

  “Well, my great-aunt and I are putting together a memorial to help us all remember Frankie Firewalker. Since you felt so strongly about her, we thought you might want to donate.”

  Watts smoothed his hair. “How much are you looking for?”

  Rose elbowed me. “You see, Mr. Pugh, we’re not exactly looking for money. We were thinking more along the lines of actual physical objects you could donate. Things that might in an artistic fashion house the spirit of Frankie.”

  “Er,” he said, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, for instance,” Rose explained, “what if you owned a match? That might resemble Frankie in spirit. That’s just the sort of thing we’re looking for.”

  His voice dripped with skepticism. “A match?”

  She shooed him out of the way. “Sometimes it’s just best if we take a look ourselves, see what you’ve got that may or may not work. Do you mind?”

  But she was already inside. Before Watts could protest, I brushed past him and joined her in the living room. Broom and Pig joined us. Eugene was already around my neck. So, lucky me.

  Watts started to sputter. “This really isn’t a good ti—”

  Rose patted his cheek. “Now, now. Don’t you worry. We won’t be long, will we, Charming?”

  But I was already down the hall. I pointed to a red vase on a table. “What do you think of this, Rose? Does this say ‘Frankie’ to you?”

  She pretended to consider it. “Possibly. But we really need to see more personality in the memorial.” She turned to Watts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “My bedroom?” he spat. “You must be joking.” Watts flared out his arms. “Now, ladies. I appreciate what you’re doing, but this isn’t the time. I’m in mourning.”

  Rose winked at Pig. The swine bit Broom on the bristles, and Broom reared back and started chasing Pig, swatting at it.

  “Oh dear,” Rose exclaimed. “Look what’s happened now! Broom! Pig! Don’t break anything!”

  “What?” Watts whirled around to see what the commotion was all about. As soon as he laid eyes on Broom, the object threw itself at Watts and started smacking him on the rear end.

  “What—in—heaven’s—name?”

  But there was no answer to Watts’s question because at that point Broom had him running around the living room doing his best to stop the swatting.

  He shouted at Rose. “Can’t you call this thing off?”

  But Rose was busy walking down the hall. “Sorry, but once that broom gets started, it’s hard to stop him.”

  Broom was brilliant. The bristled end poked at Watts, keeping him cornered on one end of the living room. Whenever Watts tried to get around it, Broom went back to his beating attack, forcing Watts to cover his face.

  Which meant Watts couldn’t exactly see what we were doing.

  “Take the doors at the end of the hall,” Rose whispered to me. “I’ll stay up front and I’ll be loud so that Watts thinks we’re both together.”

  “Got it.”

  “Look at this delightful keychain with a pineapple on it,” Rose announced. “That might be good for the memorial.”

  “Take it!” Watts sounded exhausted. “You can have anything you want. Just get this broom off me.”
/>   At that point I was all the way on the other side of the ranch-style house. There were three doors at the end of a hall. I started at the first one and found a bathroom. Nothing of interest there.

  Then I moved on to the door beside it. I glanced back toward the living room and saw Watts had his back to me. Broom had him spread-eagled against a fake palm tree.

  “What does it want?” Watts screeched.

  “For us to find the right article,” Rose answered.

  “Well hurry. This broom is violating my physical being!”

  No time to dillydally. I turned the knob and found a nondescript guest bedroom. A picture of flying ducks sat above the bed, and a dusty chest of drawers rested against the wall.

  Quick as mercury I riffled through the drawers looking for something, anything that would lead the investigation back to Watts. Surely the man was hiding something.

  But where would I find it?

  There was simply something completely false about the depth of his mourning for Frankie. He was either a highly emotional person or simply lying about his sadness for the woman. I mean, he hardly knew her. How could he have suffered so much loss with her death?

  The drawers revealed absolutely zilch. Nothing else to pilfer in that room so I headed to the last door.

  “Take whatever you want,” Watts shouted.

  Rose picked up an antique bowl. “My mother used to have one just like this.”

  Watts glanced around Broom. “Except that. You can’t have that.”

  Broom had let up, but Pig raced between Watts’s legs. Surprised, Watts threw up his hands and landed on the floor. Broom then tried to sweep Watts up, but there was no dustpan around to sweep him into, so Broom seem satisfied to simply slap his bristles against Watts’s backside.

  Which was when I took my chance. I opened the last door, shut it quickly behind me and threw myself against it, pressing my back to the wood.

  “Would you look at that?” Eugene whistled. “Bingo!”

  The room was dark with black-out curtains drawn tight. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, which I think was too long for Eugene.

  “Don’t you see it?”

  “Don’t I see what?” I snapped. “It’s dark in here.”

  “Take me off.”

  I pulled the skull from around my neck. It hovered in the air before bursting into flames.