Murder In New York: A Paranormal Witch Cozy Mystery (A Bluebell Knopps Witch Cozy Mystery Book 6)

by Nancy McGovern

  “Very,” Bluebell said, impressed. In some ways, science had outstripped magic, she thought. As a witch, she knew a few basic spells that greatly helped in getting people to talk to her, relaxing them, as it were, but she certainly knew nothing about glass elevators that shot hundreds of stories up within a cage of steel. Still, she expected she’d need to use her magic a bit today, if only to get people to open up to her.

  “Megan and her entire family are here,” Nolan said. “This is their lawyer’s office. Cableton and Cableton are the Donnerstag’s family firm.”

  “Are they reading out the will today?” Bluebell asked.

  Nolan nodded. “Not that you’ll find any further motives. Everyone knows what the will is. Brandon and Ray, the sons, will probably get an equal share of the business, and Wendy will get a hefty monetary settlement. Megan already has a trust fund from her grandmother, and will probably get some money from her grandfather. Tiffany though, she’s the one who stands to gain the most. He might leave her all his land and his collection of rare paintings.”

  “Will the lawyers be all right with you and me attending such a private occasion?” Bluebell asked.

  “I’ve cleared it with Megan already. Her family doesn’t care,” Nolan said. “Come on now, don’t be scared.”

  Bluebell couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She’d worn a grey pantsuit with a pale blue shirt, and felt as though the relatively cheap cut of her clothes would make her stand out like a coal in a pile of diamonds. If that didn’t make her stand out, then her bright blue hair certainly would. No matter what she did to tame it, the nearly neon glow of her hair would always attract attention. Even dyeing it had never worked. The color was integral to her magic, and always came back.

  Nolan was wearing an Armani suit, and a red tie from Hermes, and looked rather like he could pose for a magazine any time he wished. He winked at Bluebell to reassure her, and then led her through two magnificent cherrywood doors.

  There was a small group gathered around leather sofas, each member with a glass of wine in their hands.

  “Nolan!” A girl broke away from the group and came running over to hug him. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  “Megan.” Nolan returned her hug, and kissed her on the forehead. Then, turning around, he introduced her to Bluebell.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Megan said, though she didn’t seem very pleased at all. In fact, as her eyes flicked over Bluebell, Bluebell got the distinct feeling that Megan didn’t like her very much.

  Nolan may have been blindly in love with Megan, but he wasn’t blind when it came to his assessment of her looks. Megan had straight blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, and clear blue eyes, rather like a summer lake. Like her famous mother, her features were delicate, rather like an elf’s, giving her an ethereal sort of beauty. Unlike her mother, however, she had thick eyebrows and a rather broad forehead, obviously inherited from her father. She also had a pair of glasses with thick black rims, and a serious expression that seemed to allow no humor to slip through. Her clothes too, though expensive, were designed to invoke a conference room, not reveal her fitness. She wore a black jacket and grey slacks, with a simple diamond pendant around her neck. This was a woman who wanted to be taken seriously, and was determined that her clothes would play the part.

  “Megan, I’m very sorry to hear of your loss,” Bluebell said.

  “Right,” Megan said, as if she didn’t believe this. Then she quickly added, “Thank you.” She’d mentally dismissed Bluebell, when Nolan prompted, “Megan, won’t you introduce Bluebell to the rest of your family?”

  Megan sighed, and said, “Now may not be the best time. The will has just been read, and we’re all rather in an uproar. I think my Uncle Ray is roaringly drunk.”

  Nolan’s eyebrows drew together. “Uncle Ray? Drunk? That doesn’t sound very like him.”

  As soon as he’d said his name, Uncle Ray appeared. He was in his mid-fifties, but his grey hair was the only sign of age on him. His face was smooth and unwrinkled, so smooth that Bluebell wondered if he’d been using some of his money on botox treatments. He wore a periwinkle pullover and herringbone trousers. A crystal glass with whiskey was in his hand. “So.” he said with a rather too broad smile. “It’s Nolan. Or shall I start calling you boss? I guess once you and Megan make it official, I’ll have to!”

  “Uncle Ray!” Megan looked embarrassed.

  “Your mother didn’t even show up,” Uncle Ray said. “Smart choice. I shouldn’t have shown up either. After all, who am I? I’m only the oldest son! My father clearly didn’t believe I was anybody to him.”

  “Uncle Ray I’m telling you—”

  With a shaky hand, Uncle Ray saluted Megan. “Hello, boss,” he said. “Hello, my new master.”

  Megan looked over at Nolan helplessly, the tears in her eyes magnified by her glasses. “Help,” she mouthed.

  “Uncle Ray, why don’t we go get you a seat.” Nolan took his hand by the elbow, and tried to drag him away, wanting to prevent a scene.

  “A seat?” Ray laughed. “Get me a seat? Why, I don’t think I’ve the money to afford it! I’m ruined! I’m ruined and it’s all Megan’s fault.”

  “I didn’t–” Megan began, only to be interrupted.

  “You didn’t what?” he demanded. “You didn’t unduly influence your senile grandfather and then murder him? I’ll have you know that I’m going to have the law upon you. The law, you hear! The police will soon get to the bottom of this fishy business. I was never happy with the explanation for his death, and now it’s all apparent. You inherited everything! How could that happen! How could this be!”

  Shoving him roughly, Nolan took Uncle Ray to a corner and angrily whispered something in his ears, while the rest of the group watched him, aghast.

  “Oh, yes,” Uncle Ray said. He nodded, and then collapsed on a chair, beginning to sob.

  “Megan murdered my father!” Ray said. “She must have! That’s the only explanation. This will is void! It’s a fake! Why on earth would my father leave everything to Megan? There’s no other explanation! She’s murdered him!”

  *****

  Chapter 6

  The Will of Kurt

  While the rest of the family was gathered around Ray, Bluebell stood in a corner examining them. Megan’s mother had not bothered to come. Her uncle Brandon was a tall, bald man with a stoic expression on his face, and was talking in a deep calming voice to Ray while Megan and Nolan stood by. As Brandon put a hand up to pat Ray’s back, Bluebell blinked. While Brandon himself was rather pale, his left hand was a deep chocolate color. The skin didn’t look normal either, but rather like dried leather.

  “The only thing more depressing than funerals are wills, aren’t they?” a woman asked.

  Bluebell thought for a minute that the young woman talking to her was just an assistant of the lawyers’, then, taking in the woman’s clothes, she immediately realized her mistake. This must be Tiffany!

  Tiffany wasn’t stunningly beautiful, or particularly striking, but she was fresh and healthy in a way that only the very young are. The glow of her young twenties skin and the clear lines of her face were attractive in their own way, and must have made Kurt fall for her. She was made all the more beautiful by her choice of clothes - a Prada dress with a string of pearls around her neck, and Jimmy Choo stilettos at her feet. Her long black hair was neatly groomed, tied into a bun on top of her head.

  “The funny thing is, I was so convinced that Kurt would be alive and well long after the rest of us were gone,” Tiffany said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  Bluebell studied her incredulously. A twenty five year old woman married to an eighty seven year old man. Could she really claim to be in love with him? Had the force of Kurt’s personality truly bowled her over? As prone as she was to believing in fairy tales, this one was too tall a tale for even Bluebell to swallow. Surely Tiffany had only married Kurt for his money.

&n
bsp; Yet Tiffany had genuine fondness in her voice as she talked about Kurt. There was genuine sadness in her eyes too. How was this possible? Perhaps, if not love, they’d had a mutual understanding, at least. As hard as Bluebell tried, she couldn’t bring herself to dislike the girl talking to her.

  “You and Kurt married recently, didn’t you?” Bluebell asked.

  “Three years ago.” Tiffany smiled. “We met on the set of Undercover Bosses. It’s a reality TV show where the owner of a business pretends to be an average worker to see what it’s like working there. At the time, I was working as a cashier in one of his stores, and Kurt was introduced to me as just another old man who’d fallen on hard times and needed a job. His cover story was that his sons had stolen his money and he was forced to come out of retirement.” Tiffany shook her head. “I felt so sorry for him that I struck up a conversation. He wasn’t very good at bagging items or ringing them up, and I would constantly be helping him.”

  Privately, Bluebell wondered if Tiffany’s help was the reason Kurt had been bungling his job. She didn’t say anything, however.

  “Well, when Kurt revealed who he was, I was quite blown away. He said he wanted to repay my kindness by taking me out for dinner, and well… everything happened really quickly after that.” Tiffany finished the last part in a rush.

  Bluebell noted the slight flush on her face. She wasn’t completely telling the truth. There was something Tiffany was hiding, and Bluebell would need to find out what.

  “I hear Ray wasn’t very pleased,” she said, deciding to change the topic for now.

  “He refused to speak to his father for two years,” Tiffany said. “Or rather, he said something extremely rude to me, refused to apologize, and was cast out by his father for two years.”

  “And Brandon?”

  “Well, Brandon was surprisingly nice to me,” Tiffany said. “But then again, as his father’s favorite, he didn’t feel I was much of a threat.”

  “Brandon was the favorite?” Bluebell was surprised.

  “Kurt always felt guilty about him. Did you see his hand?”

  “I noticed it.”

  “Well, it happened a long time ago. Kurt was on vacation with his family, and they were letting off fireworks for the Fourth of July. Brandon was scared of the fireworks, but Kurt kept insisting that he not be a coward. He taunted Brandon so much, that Brandon finally decided to let off a rocket. It backfired and Brandon was badly burnt. They had to amputate his hand from the elbow down.”

  “Oh!” Bluebell shuddered. “How horrible!”

  “I think, despite all the things Kurt did through his career to hurt people, that’s the one thing he felt guilty about. So Brandon was always spared Kurt’s wrath. Besides, he’s quite hard working. A steady sort of man. Kurt had no trouble from him, but I gather he didn’t quite think Brandon was smart enough to control the entire business. He always told me that an Empire can either be ruled by a genius or a tyrant, anyone else, even if they’re moderately smart, are bound to ruin it because they won’t have that special something.” Tiffany sighed. “I suppose Kurt was both a genius and a tyrant. It’s a wonder that he saw the same spark he had in him within Megan.”

  “Speaking of Megan, how did she and the rest of the family take your marriage to Kurt? Were they pleased?”

  Tiffany laughed. “They were much worse. At least Ray was outright rude to me and Brandon ignored me. Wendy just treated me with this kind of icy contempt that I could hardly bear. Megan was the one person who was semi-decent to me. She’d teasingly call me grandmama. We weren’t best friends or anything, but Megan was nice to me, and in that horrible house, it was nice to know I had an ally.”

  “Don’t you feel betrayed that Kurt left his entire fortune to Megan?” Bluebell asked.

  Tiffany laughed. “His entire fortune! Kurt did no such thing. He left me a few million dollars, and his entire collection of paintings. Wendy got his properties, worth about 20 million and Ray and Brandon each got 20 million dollars in various stocks and shares too. Like I said, Kurt always made it clear that Megan was the family genius. He believed in her despite the fact that she had so many ruined businesses behind her. He saw her work and believed that she’d either take the business to new heights or ruin it, and that was a gamble Kurt was willing to take. Poor Ray, as oldest son, I think he had very high expectations.”

  “Wait, Ray got a few million dollars? Why is he so unhappy, then?”

  “It’s pocket change,” Tiffany said. “To him, at least. The business, worth 25 billion dollars, all went to Megan. She’s the boss now, and that was what Ray thought he’d inherit. It’s like expecting to win the lottery and then finding out that you’ve only won a quarter.”

  “Still, 20 million dollars is a huge amount.”

  “With Ray’s lifestyle? It’ll be gone in one year,” Tiffany said. “He’s going to come begging Megan for money before very long. Poor girl.”

  “She’s just inherited 25 billion!” Bluebell said incredulously. “Surely you don’t mean that? Poor girl?!”

  Tiffany smiled. “You know, being rich gets you a lot of things, but the one thing you lose is love. It sounds like a cliche, but it’s true. There’s a point of time after which money can’t really buy you anything new, and becomes more of a burden than a privilege.”

  “So you think Megan’s going to regret this inheritance?”

  “I think so.” Tiffany nodded. “You heard Ray, he’s already planning on setting lawyers after her.”

  “With all the money involved…” Bluebell said. “Do you think it’s possible that Megan did kill Kurt like Ray is saying?”

  Tiffany took a step back, her face immediately closed off. “Who did you say you were again?” she asked.

  “A very good friend of Nolan’s,” Bluebell said. “You can tell me everything. Everything.” Willing all the magic inside her, she let the sparks come into her eyes. A little hypnotism would relax Tiffany. No mind control - mind control was impossible on most humans anyway, since their minds are too complex. What Bluebell intended to give her was just a little nudge to make her relaxed and talkative.

  As she held Tiffany’s eyes for a second, the air around them seemed to thrum with an invisible force. Tiffany’s eyes blurred for just a second, before she said, “It’s stupid of you to even think that Kurt’s family murdered him. So stupid. You see—”

  The doors flew open, and a woman marched in. Every head in the room swivelled to watch her. Privately, Bluebell gave a little sigh. Her “little nudge” would be ruined now that the subject was distracted.

  “Megan! Darling!” It was Wendy Donnerstag, darling of the paparazzi, and still the most beautiful woman in the room by a long shot. She wore a clingy black dress that showed off a body that would rival a cheerleader’s, and a rather incongruous veil with a dainty hat. Pulling it all together was an expensive silk scarf, bright red in color, standing out against the starkness of the rest of her outfit.

  “Oh, I am so broken! Broken!” Wendy collapsed on a sofa, and immediately had people hovering around her, offering her water and wine and food.

  “Nothing. I can’t eat. The very thought of food makes me sick!” Wendy said. “My father is dead, and, I’m an artist, you see… It’s his soul… his soul is gone from this world and I don’t know how I can stand it! How can you all talk about something as vulgar as money, when his very soul is missing from our lives?”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, Mother,” Megan said in a dry voice. “Because in the will, Grandfather suggested that you should leave your part of his inheritance to charity. Unless you felt you needed it, of course.”

  For a minute, Wendy’s eyes grew narrow with suspicion, and hate. Bluebell recoiled at the force in them. What mother would look at her child that way?

  “I’m joking, Mother,” Megan said. “He left you 20 million dollars.”

  “You’ve always had a very unhealthy sense of humor. Morbid, even,” Wendy murmured. “I feel quite faint. Can’
t someone turn up the air?”

  “Right away, Mother,” Megan said.

  Bluebell winced. Poor Megan! No wonder she was so determined to be nothing like her mother. Bluebell could easily imagine an entire childhood in which she had been either relegated to the shadows or marched up like a doll. Wendy was a fine actress, and an excellent socialite, but as a mother? Bluebell privately wondered whether she had been rather a bad mother.

  As she looked around the room, she wondered which of these people could have killed Kurt, if he’d been killed in the first place. They’d each inherited millions of dollars, so each had a plausible motive for killing him. But Megan had inherited far more. Had she known that she would be the sole heir of the business, and plotted to get her grandfather out of the way?

  Or had it been Ray? Had he thought that he would inherit the money, and killed Kurt, only to be devastated when he realized he had only got a small portion of what he thought he would inherit?

  What about Brandon, quiet and calm. Did he have a motive beyond the money that Bluebell didn’t know about?

  And finally, there was Wendy, Wendy who always craved attention. Could it be that she had decided to take revenge over some old slight, or perhaps, needed money badly? Was it Megan she had targeted? After all, there was that unnatural hate that had been in her eyes when Megan made her joke. Her thoughts swirling round and round, Bluebell made her way out into the hallway, deciding to splash some water on her face - perhaps that would activate her mind.

  The way to the bathroom was confusing, with three different signs pointing to a corridor, a set of stairs, and yet another corridor. As Bluebell rounded the corner, she bumped into a large man.

  “Oh! Excuse me!” she exclaimed.

  “I… I…” Xander stared down at her, his mouth opening and closing.

  “Xander?” Bluebell looked surprised. “I thought you were waiting by the car.”

  “I was. I mean, I am,” Xander said. “I was just…”

  “Wait, how did you get all the way up to the 100th floor anyway?” Bluebell asked. “Nolan told me it needs special permission.”