Homicide and Hot Tubs

by Annabel Chase

  Homicide and Hot Tubs

  A Divine Place supernatural cozy mystery, Book 2

  Annabel Chase

  Red Palm Press LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Also by Annabel Chase

  Chapter One

  “Does my butt look big in this dress?” I asked. I craned my neck to examine my backside in the mirror.

  “Do you want your butt to look big?” Mitzi asked.

  I glanced back at the brunette witch. “You can be honest. It’s not like I’m going to arrest you.”

  She gave me a hesitant smile. “Well, you are the head of law enforcement.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I muttered. I’d been assigned the role of marshal in Divine Place, the supernatural afterlife village where I was inexplicably now a resident. As the lone human here, I didn’t belong and yet they were powerless to get rid of me, which was pretty ironic given that I was surrounded by gods, demons, vampires, and witches.

  “I think your butt looks exactly as it should,” Mitzi said.

  “Shopping buddies should never be diplomatic.” It was clear the witch was only willing to tell me what I wanted to hear. Then again, if I’d wanted brutal honesty, I would’ve brought Jules, the scary yet sexy bartender from Bloodlust who was no holds barred. I’d met her when I was investigating my first case. She and Cole—my deputy demigod—had a history, although I wasn’t privy to the details.

  “Oh, right. I’ve never been a shopping buddy before, so it’s foreign territory.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “You’re talking to me about foreign territory?”

  Mitzi cleared her throat. “Your butt is perfectly in proportion to the rest of your body.” She smiled. “Is that better?”

  “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind a little more padding on this booty.” I met the witch’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “Is there a potion if I’m looking to go big or go home?”

  Mitzi’s laugh merged with a snort. “No, but I’m fairly certain there’s a spell. Larger bottoms were a trend a few years ago after many villagers became fascinated by a famous human family in California.” Mitzi scrunched her nose, thinking. “I don’t recall the name, but it was unusual.”

  My mouth dropped open. “The Kardashians infiltrated the afterlife too?” Man, those women were more influential than anyone realized. “You have names from every ancient civilization here and you think the name Kardashian is unusual?”

  Mitzi shrugged and perched on the edge of a comfy chair outside the dressing room. “I don’t have the best memory. Just one more reason I’ve never been a good witch.”

  I grimaced and mimicked her pathetic expression. “I’m Mitzi. I make Eeyore look like he’s high on amphetamines.”

  She hugged her knees to her chest. “No need to be mean.”

  I aimed a finger at her. “That’s not mean. Consider me your mirror and that’s my reflection of you. It’s your version of your butt looks big.”

  Mitzi rested her chin between her knees. “You try living among supernaturals for eternity, knowing you’ll never measure up to what’s expected of you.”

  I waved a dismissive hand. “Honey, I haven’t measured up to anyone’s expectations of me ever—except my stepmom’s. Anita never believed I was capable of anything beyond parallel parking and making my own simple syrup.”

  “That seems unnecessarily harsh,” Mitzi said.

  “What? Parallel parking is a necessary skill.” I turned back to the mirror. “Anita didn’t love the idea of any woman competing for my father’s affection and that included his only daughter.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “Whatever. That’s life. I was Snow White to her evil stepmother. Without the woodland creatures.” I swayed my hips from side to side, contemplating my butt. “You know what? I’m dead. What do I care, right?” I swiveled around to face the sales clerk. “I’ll take the whole kit and caboodle.”

  “Yes, Miss Worthington.” The sales clerk hurried to the counter, eager to ring up my purchases. I’d been paid the salary I’d negotiated for the marshal gig, so I had money to burn and, as it happened, an ideal excuse to shop—a forthcoming party in my honor.

  “What are you going to wear to my party?” I asked. My neighbor Gia, the goddess of good cheer, had jumped at the chance to throw me a welcoming party. To be fair, Gia is the type to throw a party if the humidity dipped below fifty percent, but I’ll take it.

  Mitzi contemplated a dress on a nearby hanger. “I don’t know. Clothes.”

  “That’s a good start.” I stepped into the dressing room to change back into my regular outfit.

  “Do you think I should wear something fancy?” Mitzi asked through the slats of the dressing room door. Great, now I’d made her paranoid. The witch was a ball of anxiety wrapped in a layer of insecurity and dipped in chocolate. At least she was sweet.

  I slipped the dress over my head and returned it to the hanger. “I think you should wear whatever’s comfortable.” I paused. “Something that also makes you look more like a sexy librarian than an actual librarian.”

  “But I’m not a librarian,” Mitzi said.

  I pulled on my T-shirt and shorts. “Exactly.” I collected my things and paid for my party dress, as well as a few other items. My entire wardrobe needed to be replaced since I’d arrived in Divine Place in a hot dog costume and an NYU T-shirt and shorts that I usually wore as pajamas.

  We left the shop and I hovered in front of the window of the adjacent storefront, eyeing an oversized handbag.

  “Did you enjoy shopping in Chipping Cheddar?” Mitzi asked. “Or is this an afterlife discovery?”

  “I used to like it, but then the internet came along and I realized that if I shopped from the comfort of my couch, I could avoid other people.” And they weren’t subjected to me, so it was a win-win.

  “It’s fairly impossible to avoid anyone. The village is too small.”

  “It doesn’t seem that small to me,” I said. Divine Place is large enough that it’s separated into two zones with a huge lake between them known as The Great Divide. Gods, demigods, and a sprinkling of other elites live in Zone 1 and supernaturals like werewolves and witches live in Zone 2. I was given a house in Zone 1 because, as the only human, there was concern for my safety, which made it all the more hilarious that I was assigned to work as the first and only marshal in Divine Place. Deep down, I suspected that Hera—the president of the Homeowners Association—was only doing this as a way of getting rid of me while keeping her own hands clean. The goddess was clever and probably assumed that I’d eventually cross paths with a supernatural that would blink me out of existence and I’d cease to be her problem.

  Mitzi pressed her index finger against the glass. “Ooh, that’s a pretty frock.”

  “Frock?” I decided to roll with it. Anything to encourage Mitzi to ditch the floral dress that looked straight out of Homely Witch magazine. And don’t get me started on her socks with sandals. One look at her misguided feet and I wondered whether we were, in fact, in Hell.

  “That blue one is pretty,” Mitzi said.

  I peered through the window. “With the polka dots?”

  “Yes, isn’t it charming?”

  I took her by the arm and steered her away. “Polka dots are
never charming. No exceptions.”

  As we walked along the sidewalk, I was relieved to be under the awning and out of direct sunlight. The heat and humidity could be downright unpleasant at times. I actually found myself welcoming the three o’clock downpour each afternoon for a brief respite from the oppressive weather.

  “Hey, isn’t that Cole?” Mitzi pointed across the village square. “What’s he doing in Zone 2?” Mitzi had coaxed me across the lake for this shopping spree with the promise of a cheeseburger and fries for lunch. I hadn’t seen any cows in the vicinity, so I was hesitant to ask how these cheeseburgers were made.

  I followed her gaze to where the demigod strode across the green, looking like a hot dude on a mission. “Speaking of someone who likes to avoid others…” Thanks to Hera’s dislike of him, Cole had been assigned to work as my deputy. As the son of the recently obliterated Zeus and a mere mortal called Tana, Cole had provoked Hera’s ire by being the product of her husband’s affair. No matter that Cole couldn’t choose his parents any more than anyone else. He seemed to have his own reasons for living the monk life aside from Hera’s wrath, but I didn’t know what they were. As nosy as I was, I could also tell when someone wanted to keep their secrets, which seemed to include most villagers in Divine Place.

  “Should we get his attention?” Mitzi asked. I knew there was little chance of her shouting across the square. The witch wasn’t one to draw attention to herself or raise her voice. Both of those things were glaringly obvious within the first five minutes of meeting her in True Brew, the potions shop where she worked.

  I thought of the shiny marshal’s badge Cole had made for me and resisted a smile. “Let’s leave him be for now. I’ll see him at the party later.”

  “He’s incredibly handsome,” Mitzi said, somewhat dreamily. “A Cole sighting is usually so rare. I feel like I’ve seen him more in the past week than I have in a decade.”

  I continued to watch him undetected as he entered a shop called I Want to Rock. “What do they sell in there?”

  “Jewelry,” Mitzi said, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Do you think he’s buying you a welcome gift in there?”

  “Jewelry? I doubt it.”

  “But you said he gave you that badge. He must like you.”

  “Sure, but jewelry is another level of like.” In fact, no one had ever bought me a piece of jewelry in my entire life, not that I needed any blood diamonds. I’d watched enough documentaries about the illegal gem trade to be outraged by the exploitation. “We get along great, but that’s not the kind of relationship we have.” Not that I’d object to a sexy-time relationship with the scorching hot demigod. Of course, it was a bad idea to even contemplate getting down and dirty with my deputy. In the mortal world, I could avoid ex-boyfriends by changing my route to work or changing jobs. I could even move, which was a drastic response, but I’d done it. I didn’t have much choice about Divine Place though. For now, Cole and I were tied to each other through work and I couldn’t move if I wanted to. This was purgatory, after all. There were upsides, for sure, but I couldn’t forget the downsides too. It was a luxury version of a supernatural prison, complete with swimming pools, golf carts, and plenty of mahjong.

  “Are you ready for Burger Bar or do you want to shop more?” Mitzi asked.

  My stomach rumbled in response. Even though it had been explained to me that I no longer needed to eat now that I was dead, the villagers tended to continue with their body’s habits because it was comfortable for them. I was no exception. My mind still felt the need to eat, sleep, shower—the works—and so my body complied.

  “Do they have curly fries?” I asked. I love curly fries. And waffle fries. And seasoned fries. Okay, I pretty much love every form of fry in existence.

  “They have a selection,” Mitzi said. “You’ll see.”

  We traipsed across the green to where Burger Bar was situated between a deli and a nail salon.

  “Ooh, that reminds me that I have an appointment at the spa tomorrow,” I said. “I figure I’ll need relaxation after a night of partying.”

  “That’ll be nice,” Mitzi said. “You should ask for Amie. I haven’t been there myself, but she seems popular.”

  Despite the villagers waiting for tables in Burger Bar, we were seated immediately.

  “Did you make a reservation?” I asked, once we were settled with our menus in front of us.

  “No, why?”

  “I’m just wondering why we were seated first. We got serious side-eye from that horned family.”

  Mitzi lowered her menu as well as her voice. “Because of you, silly. You’re kind of famous.”

  When I was a kid, I’d wanted to be famous. The older I got, though, the more I realized how awful it would be to have people tracking and judging your every move. That’s what families are for.

  “Weird.” I took a look around the restaurant and realized that dozens of eyes were fixed on me. “Now I feel like I should’ve worn lipstick.”

  A man approached the table wearing a well-tailored suit and a huge smile. Based on his appearance, I had a hunch this wasn’t our waiter.

  “Sorry. No selfies while I’m eating,” I said. I imagined that’s what Angelina Jolie would say.

  “I’m Seth, the owner of Burger Bar,” he said. “I’d like to officially welcome you to Divine Place. It isn’t every day we get a human in here.”

  “Cool, thanks. Great to be here.” I wasn’t a fan of small talk, so I glanced at the menu in the hope of diverting the conversation to the burgers. “Any personal recommendations from the owner?”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t eat any of it myself thanks to chronic digestive issues.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Let’s just say I’m fecally challenged.”

  I grimaced. “Even in the afterlife? Man, sucks to be you.”

  “I still break out with pimples once a month,” Mitzi said. “I use an anti-inflammatory tonic from the shop.”

  Seth’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, I use my own homemade castor oil remedy. I tried a few potions from True Brew, but nothing helped.”

  “Maybe we can continue the digestive discussion after we eat,” I said.

  “Yes, of course,” Seth said, with an awkward laugh. “I understand you’re from Maryland, so perhaps the Philly cheesesteak burger would appeal to you. That’s a regional delicacy, I believe?”

  “Wow. Yes, it certainly is. Does that come with Cheez Whiz or real cheese?” As a Chipping Cheddar resident known for its cheese heritage, I knew I should eschew Cheez Whiz, but I had a weakness for overly processed foods that looked like they’d been shipped from the home planet of our alien overlords.

  “Whatever you’d like,” he said. “And how would you like it prepared? You strike me as a medium well.”

  “You know your customers,” I said. I closed the menu and set it on the table. “A quick question about the beef.” It was sort of the way I felt about the making of sausage—I both did and didn’t want to know the truth. “Explain to me how there are burgers when I don’t see cows anywhere. How is there meat on any menu in Divine Place?”

  “I forget how strange this must all be for you,” Mitzi interjected. “There’s no need to worry. The burgers are just like the ones you remember.”

  “But how?”

  “How is there sunlight when we’re not actually on earth?” Seth asked. “How do we draw breath when there’s no oxygen?”

  “And how does my hair still get frizzy from the humidity?” I added.

  Seth tapped his own dark locks that curled up at the ends. “I understand completely. My hair hasn’t looked good a single day since I died.”

  “Can’t you find a good styling product?” I asked.

  Seth dragged a hand through his thick hair. “I wish. Nothing seems to work. Just one of the disadvantages here. If I’d made it to the next level, I’m sure my hair wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “I heard there’s no humidity in any of the good places,” Mitzi said.


  Seth’s expression grew wistful. “I dream of a place without humidity, where I could wear white shirts without deodorant.” He stopped talking and seemed to snap back to reality. “My humblest apologies. This isn’t appropriate mealtime conversation.”

  “Well, mine was,” I said. “You were the one who mentioned sweaty armpits.”

  “I’ll have a basket of chicken tenders, please,” Mitzi said. “No fries.”

  “And to drink?” Seth asked.

  “Do you have root beer?” I asked. It was strange, but I tended to crave root beer with a burger. My body seemed to put those two items together as a set.

  “If that’s your wish, then yes,” Seth said.

  “But it’s not on the menu,” I said.

  He smiled. “Consider the menu to be a set of guidelines.”

  “So wait. Does that mean I can get a margarita?” I asked hopefully.

  “Oh no. I’d need a liquor license for that and the HOA denies me every time I file a request.”

  “I suppose you have Madam President to thank for that,” I said.

  “Hera is very particular about to which businesses she grants licenses, and I have not met her requirements,” Seth said, a note of apology in his voice.

  “That’s only because she’s never tasted a burger before,” I said. I assumed the uptight goddess considered burgers beneath her divine palate.

  “I’d never tasted a burger before I came here,” Seth admitted. “But I wanted to find a successful niche here. For a few decades it was steak tartare and this place was called Longhorn.” He shrugged. “I try to adapt with the changing times. It can be challenging, but I make do.”

  “So you’ve been here a long time?” I asked.

  “Longer than I care to remember,” Seth said.