Third Crime's a Charm (A Farmer's Market Witch Mystery Series Book 2)

by Constance Barker

  Third Crime's a Charm

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright © 2020 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  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

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  Thanks for Reading

  Catalog of Books

  CHAPTER 1

  Spring had slipped into early summer. The Abbot Rise Farmer’s Market was enjoying a wonderful year. The crowds were uniformly constant, and the people were willing to spend money. Gone was the yellow crime tape that had surrounded Larson Hall’s pickle booth. The pickles were gone, as the enterprise was tied up in the courts, as various entities vied for control of Larson’s estate. George White, the manager of the market had found a new tenant, a glass blower who displayed some wondrous creations in all colors of glass. His name was Antonio, and he claimed to hail from Murano, an island just off Venice, where glasswork was always art. I guessed he was really from New York or Boston, but I wasn’t about to chase down the truth. Antonio always said hi and offered more than once to share a drink after the market closed. If he had been single, I might have said yes, as he did possess Italian good looks.

  Millie, who sold knitted products from Alpaca wool, was enjoying a banner year. Come fall, her sweaters would be seen all over the state. I was having a good year selling protection charms. It seemed a lot of people needed to ward off evil. And evil did exist. Tabitha, a dark witch who was suspected of murdering Larson Hall, was still on the loose. If she had moved to a foreign country, it would have been too close for comfort. Tabitha wanted an amulet, whose pieces were buried in my back yard. As long as that remained a secret, I would be almost Rise.

  “I sort of miss the crime tape,” Percy said.

  Percy was older and a wonderful friend. He wrote a blog for the local paper, and he was always on the make for good gossip...true gossip, if there was such a thing. He had a bloodhound’s nose for the juicy tidbit that would turn a so-so blog into something with pop. He hung out at the market, because a lot of people were roaming about. Where there were crowds, there were stories.

  “You don’t miss the tape,” I told him. “You miss the people who came to gape at a murder scene.”

  “You know me too well, Elle. But the odd and the surprising make for good stories. It’s not the ordinary day in the life of someone that makes a good tale. It’s the extraordinary day in the life of...”

  “So, you always tell me. Is anyone here having an extraordinary day?”

  “Besides you and me?” He chuckled.

  “Don’t tell me all your days are extraordinary,” I said. “It will make me gag.”

  “You’re becoming a bit of a skeptic,” he said. “And, at your tender age, that shouldn’t happen.”

  “I’ve been in business for some years, Percy. Skepticism comes with having to make a mortgage payment.”

  “Now, that is truly ordinary.”

  We laughed together, as David Hassens walked up to the booth.

  David Hassens had a great smile. For him, it was some kind of weapon that he wielded constantly. Although he had been married for some time, he never tired of using his smile to charm women. And he didn’t discriminate, as far as I knew. He charmed women of all ages and sizes. Rumor had it that he had a mistress in a small house on the outskirts of town, an older woman if the stories were true. Percy would probably know, but I wasn’t about to ask.

  “Hey, Elle,” David said. “I’m looking for a great bracelet for Betty.”

  “Special occasion?”

  He shook his head. What had once been a head full of blonde hair was now half bald, with the other half combed over. David was trying to deny Father Time, and like the rest of us, David was losing.

  “I’ve been bad,” David said.

  He used a little boy voice, which begged a woman to comfort him. I wasn’t about to do that.

  “Ah, a make up gift. Have something in mind?”

  “Not really, but it has to be pretty. Sentimental, if you can come up with something like that. I need to show her that she still means the world to me. I want her to allow me a mistake.”

  “Sounds like you’re really in the doghouse,” I said.

  “More than you can guess. I’ve already bought her one of those fancy Alpaca sweaters. And I added her favorite beef jerky that Brad Price sells. I’m taking her out to dinner too. I love Betty, and I want her to know it.”

  I knew Betty, who owned a flower shop and sometimes sold bouquets in the market. She was a very nice woman, without a mean bone in her body. That she had married David told me that she thought she could make him a better man. I was reminded of the old saying—“A woman marries a man, hoping she can change him. A man marries a woman, hoping she’ll never change. They’re both wrong.”

  “I have some very pretty bracelets,” I said. “I believe Betty prefers silver, correct?”

  “She does,” David said. “And she has a thing for roses. I suppose that’s why she runs a flower shop.”

  “Roses are always a good choice,” I said. “They signify beauty and fragrance. They've been sought after since the ancient Greeks and Romans. I know Betty will appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  David nodded. “Lots of roses,” he said. “Nothing is too good for her.”

  I pulled out a velvet pad and displayed several bracelets and rose charms, showing David how he could mix various charms to create a sort of hybrid rose bouquet for her wrist.

  “Elle, you’re a genius,” David said. “I never would have thought of this without your help.”

  That smile.

  I had known David long enough to understand that the smile was fake. For David, it came with the package. So did the paunch he had acquired, and the half-bloodshot light brown eyes. David wasn’t addicted to exercise. That was more than a bit obvious.

  I noticed when Percy suddenly became alert. What most people didn’t know was that Percy had superhuman hearing. He could pick up conversations a mile away. He didn’t often eavesdrop, as that was not acceptable. But his hearing came in handy, when he was working on a blog entry. And when he heard something interesting, it showed. He was like a dog whose ears suddenly popped up. I would have asked about it, had David not been standing there.

  It too
k a few minutes more to put the charms on the bracelet, all the while listening to David talk about how great things were going to be between him and Betty. I smiled and nodded, not really listening, just being polite. With David, that’s all you had to do. David would do the talking.

  I handed over the bracelet for inspection and looked beyond David. For the second time in as many months, Sheriff Deputies were moving into the market. I spotted Jason Hart, who I knew to be a panther shifter. Jason was with his new partner, a man I had met exactly once. Paul Ventura was older and within a few years of retirement. The deputies hadn’t come for a chat. Jason’s serious look told me all I needed to know.

  The deputies arrived, just as I handed over the velvet case for the bracelet and the credit card receipt. David smiled.

  “Elle, you’re a life saver,” David said.

  “Mr. Hassens,” Jason said. “A word, if you don’t mind.”

  David looked from Jason to me.

  “In private,” Jason added.

  CHAPTER 2

  I watched as Jason and Paul escorted David away from the charms and behind the booths, where their conversation would remain unheard by prying people. Little did they know that Percy’s super-hearing picked up every chuckle and question. While Percy didn’t provide a sentence-by-sentence reiteration, he did provide the highlights. Percy couldn’t hide his surprise when he told me that Jason had just informed David that his wife had been found dead in a port-a-potty at the market.

  “You’re kidding,” I said.

  Percy shook his head and held up a hand to stop me. He was working hard to get all the details. He was trying to hone in on several conversations at once.

  “This is from a couple cops. Betty Hassens was found with a plastic bag over her head. It was fastened with florist’s tape.”

  I listened, knowing I was privy to information not meant for the general public. I hoped I wouldn’t have to tell Jason about eavesdropping on the police and deputies.

  “There was a witch’s portal drawing on the floor of the port-a-potty.”

  “A witch’s portal?” I remarked. “That doesn’t sound right.”

  I knew all about witches’ portals and the special symbols often accompanying them.

  “Some special symbols on the floor with the circle. I don’t know what those symbols might be,” Percy said.

  “You know what a witch’s portal means,” I said.

  “Yes,” he answered. “Tabitha. She’s back.”

  “Or she never left, but we don’t know that.”

  “We’re pretty sure she committed murder.”

  “Yes, we are, although she never admitted it.”

  Percy held up his hand. “They’re asking David what he knows about witch portals. David doesn’t know anything about them.”

  I watched emergency personnel flood the area where the port-a-potties were located. Gawkers had already arrived, and they were staring, even as the deputies circled the area with yellow, crime tape. I had hoped I had seen the last of that when they freed up Larson Hall’s pickle booth. I should have known better. It was the year of death in the market.

  “Do you think it’s Tabitha?”

  The question came from Gus, my pet beagle and familiar. Gus was more than a pet. He was a cat transformed into a dog, and he had a way of teleporting himself short distances. When people weren’t around, he talked. He made a very good companion too. Percy and Millie as well as Jason were aware of my magical furry kid.

  “I don’t know, Gus. I had hoped we had seen the last of her.”

  “She’s like a bad habit...difficult to get rid of.”

  “Amen.”

  Percy nodded and turned to me. “I must go. I have enough for a terrific blog entry.”

  “Another scoop?” I asked.

  “Exactly. You'll gather as much information as possible? I rely upon you, Elle.”

  “Of course, Percy. I will pass along whatever I find out.”

  With a big grin, Percy hurried away. I wondered if he'd ever considered dictation as a method of writing his blog. That way, he could simply speak into his phone and have the blog waiting when he reached his desk at the paper. I told myself to bring up the subject, when Percy showed up again. And Percy would show up. He loved the market, where he could pick up conversations and tidbits for his blog and...book. I wondered if he would ever finish his novel.

  I stayed with my booth. I wasn’t all that interested in Betty’s death, even though she was an acquaintance. Jason would do his job. If Tabitha was the killer, he would soon know.

  As the hubbub waned, I put away my charms and bracelets. The market would close soon. The police were herding people away from the port-a-potties. Other vendors were closing their stands. What had started as a wonderful day was now something veiled and gray. I waited until the shoppers were gone before I headed for the vendors’ gate. I joined the others in the parking lot. No one said much. While one murder might have piqued the curiosity of the shoppers, a second murder would deter the murder groupies. It was bad for business.

  The house wasn’t as cool as I might have liked, and I wondered if my air conditioning was slowly dying. I didn’t need a major expense, and I wondered if there was some air conditioner repair spell I could use. I chuckled at my own thought. What people wouldn’t give for some sort of universal repair spell. Machine, heal thyself. It would make me a gazillion dollars. Who didn’t need a fridge, or furnace, or car that needed repair? Of course, using the spell and getting paid for it would highlight the fact that there were witches all about. I didn’t think my fellow magicals would view my repair spell kindly. Drat.

  Gus did his usual cat-made-dog act, which meant a lot of lying about. I fixed a small dinner and tallied up the day’s receipts. It was good day at the market, despite being shortened by the murder. I was pretty sure it was a murder. I didn’t think Betty had sealed the plastic bag over her head. From all accounts, suffocation was a gruesome death. I didn’t wish it on anyone. My books in order, I ate dinner and went to my workshop, where I made charms and bracelets at home. An hour of design and fabrication, and I was ready for bed. Before that, I added a tiny bit of magic to each and every charm and bracelet. Not much, not enough to make much of a difference, just a little something to make the buyer feel good about the purchase. An added benefit.

  Before bed, I made sure my protection spells were in place. No one would be coming through the doors, unless they could perform more than a wee bit of magic. That was the beauty of knowing spells. They generally led to uninterrupted sleep. Not that I had too terribly much to steal. At the tender age of twenty-five, I hadn’t had enough time to gather a lot of expensive stuff. Sleep came quickly and completely.

  Until I felt Gus jump onto the bed.

  “Someone is inside the house,” Gus whispered.

  CHAPTER 3

  I sat up in bed and stared at Gus.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bad person?”

  “Maybe.”

  I grabbed the baseball bat I kept near the bed, along with the can of mace Jason had advised me to buy. My hands trembled, and I chided myself. Nothing would be accomplished, if I was afraid. Gus jumped off the bed and trotted by my side. I hoped that Gus was wrong, but I knew better. Gus wouldn’t wake me from a sound sleep for nothing, although his sense of humor might enjoy it.

  Ready? I asked telepathically.

  Ready, Gus answered.

  I opened the door and SCREAMED.

  A dark figure stood right in front of me, and in the dark, I had no idea who it was.

  “Those won’t help you,” the figure said, referring to my weapons.

  “Tabitha,” I said. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

  “How nice to be recognized. I’m doing fine, you?” She laughed, a not very pleasant laugh.

  “You didn’t come to chat,” I said, still gripping my weapons. No matter what Tabitha said, I had the idea I could use the bat and
mace.

  “No, I came to pass along some information. I heard about Betty Hassen’s death.”

  “How?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I still have contacts in Abbot Rise.”

  “Then, you know about the witch portal?”

  “I do. While Betty had something I wanted, I did not kill her. That would've been stupid, and I don’t do stupid things. Well, not too often.” Tabitha tittered, not a pleasant sound.

  “You came in the middle of the night to tell me you didn’t kill her?”

  “Well, I can’t very well come in the middle of the day. I believe I’m still wanted by the police. While they can’t keep me in a cell, it would be a bother to be arrested and placed under constant watch. I would think you'd be happy with my discretion. If the good folks of Abbot Rise discovered witches in the midst, there would be a purge. We’re still the forbidden people.”

  “How did you get in?” I asked.

  She turned and headed for the stairs. “Have you considered how inconvenient it is to have to see people in the middle of the night? It’s positively Neanderthal. No polite people would condone it. Neither would I, if it wasn’t an absolute necessity. What a bother.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Nothing is open at this hour, and if you drop by for a glass of wine and perhaps a wedge of cheese, people look at you, as if you’re totally insane. The people you do run into are either insomniacs or whack jobs that can’t operate I the light. I tell you, Elle, it’s no way to live.”

  I followed Tabitha down the stairs to the front door. I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to tell me how she got into my house.

  “If you don’t like it,” I said. “Turn yourself in and go to trial.”

  She laughed, that hideous laugh.

  “Oh my,” Tabitha said. “That is rich. As if I would ever get a fair trial. No, my dear, I shall have to bear the burden that comes with being a night creature. Of course, there are some advantages. I don’t have to put up with all the ninnies running about during the day. There is a certain quiet in the deep night. It gives one time to think.”