by Zoe Arden
Sugar Magic Murder
Sweetland Witch Series
Zoe Arden
ReedFoster Press House
A Cozy Mystery Book
Contents
Copyright
Like my page
For You Personally
Dedication
About The Author
Personal Word from Zoe
Prologue
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Chapter One
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Chapter Two
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Chapter Three
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Chapter Four
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Chapter Five
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Chapter Six
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Chapter Seven
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Chapter Eight
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Chapter Nine
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Chapter Ten
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Chapter Eleven
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Chapter Twelve
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Chapter Thirteen
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Chapter Fourteen
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Chapter Fifteen
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Chapter Sixteen
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Chapter Seventeen
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Chapter Eighteen
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Chapter Nineteen
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Chapter Twenty
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Chapter Twenty-one
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Chapter Twenty-two
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Chapter Twenty-three
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Chapter Twenty-four
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Chapter Twenty-five
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Chapter Twenty-six
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Chapter Twenty-seven
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Chapter Twenty-eight
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Chapter Twenty-nine
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Chapter Thirty
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Chapter Thirty-one
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Chapter Thirty-two
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Chapter Thirty-three
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Chapter Thirty-four
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Chapter Thirty-five
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Chapter Thirty-six
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Chapter Thirty-seven
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Chapter Thirty-eigth
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Chapter Thirty-nine
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Chapter Forty
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Epilogue
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Preview of Next Book
Also By . ORDER OF BOOKS
For You Personally
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by
Zoe Arden
and
ReedFoster press House
All Rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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DEDICATION
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This book is specially dedicated to YOU- the reader!
First of all, I would like to thank you for picking my book and reading it.
Your interest to do so spurs me on to write even better stories, stories that will be capable in bringing us to a world of fun, mystery and suspense, albeit just for a little while.
Your support has always meant a lot to me and I hope you will continue to enjoy reading what I have written.
Thank you!
“ The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible. ”
Oscar Wilde
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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It was from reading Agatha Christie’s mystery books that inspired Zoe to write cozy mystery novels. Zoe liked the fact that cozy mysteries are able to offer readers a form of escapism that typical detective stories can’t.
Like what Marilyn Stasio, who has been the Crime columnist forThe New York TimesBook Review since the late 1980s, recently wrote: “The abiding appeal of the cozy mystery owes a lot to our collective memory, true or false, of simpler, sweeter times.” It is Zoe’s desire that her writings will evoke that nostalgic memory in all of us; those memories of the good old days.
What sets Zoe apart in her writings is her fusing of Mystery with Paranormal elements, a combination which will bring about fantasies that are intriguing and engaging. Her stories contain unexpected twists and sometimes light-hearted moments that will make one smile at Zoe’s quirkiness, fun and wittiness in her writings.
Much Love,
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PERSONAL WORD
FROM ZOE ARDEN
* * *
Hello, lovely reader!
In my stories, you will find a unique juxtaposition of mystery and paranormal themes, an attempt which I believe will be enthralling.
You will discover how a mystery case is being cracked through peeling off layers and layers of suspense and clues.
And fantastical creatures play a part in this…how can it be?
That’s for you to find out.
Thank you once again, for being such an incredible support in my writing career.
Much Love,
Prologue
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Damon Tellinger nodded his head and kept quiet. He'd learned long ago that it was better to keep your opinions to yourself when the person you were talking to was a nut.
"You understand what I'm saying," his new boss, Kip Burch, said between mouthfuls of ham sandwich. It wasn't so much a question as it was an order. You understand. Tell me that you understand.
"I understand," Damon said and nodded. His neck was beginning to ache. The control room they were in was the hub of the warehouse security system, and it was freezing in here. He didn't know how he was supposed to last an hour without turning into a popsicle, let alone the entire night.
It was the end of his second week on the job, and Burch was talking to him like it was still his first day. From what the other security guards had told him, though, Damon was getting off light. Burch had a habit of talking down to people. Damon thought the man's personality matched his looks. A large, downturned nose with close-set eyes that were ten shades of black. He looked like an oversized beetle.
"You walk the floors, but you stay out of the rooms," Burch directed. "Remember, the cameras are always watching."
Damon nodded. He didn't understand the need for such high security at a ware
house that held little more than ketchup, mustard, and a few other assorted condiments. The only thieves he could imagine breaking in were those throwing a large picnic or barbeque over the weekend. Otherwise, the place was dead.
Even during the work week, it seemed pretty uneventful around here. Workers hurried back and forth on forklifts, to conveyor belts, to the shipping room. It was steady and tedious for them, and the security work wasn't much more interesting.
There were a fewer higher up positions, those who worked directly with Mr. Burch on the business end of things. They all seemed a little scared of him, especially Mr. Jaggers. That man quivered in his boots whenever Burch was around. That was probably why Burch kept him on hand—it paid to have people who asked how high when you said jump.
The only thing Damon was sort of curious about were the rooms in the basement. He'd been told by Burch that they were off limits. Actually, he'd been told that by just about everyone. The basement had flooded some time back, and black mold was growing all over the place.
His first week at Standards Warehouse—yeah, even the name of the place was boring—he'd asked another guard, Gordie Peterman, why Burch or someone else in charge didn't just hire one of the witches or warlocks prevalent on Heavenly Haven to come in, cast a spell or two, and clear the basement out.
"It can't be that hard," Damon said. "My ex-girlfriend, Ava, could probably rid the place of mold in a few minutes." He scrunched his face up. "Well, maybe not. She's still sort of learning how to be a witch. But I bet her aunts could do it."
Gordie had looked at him, shaken his head, and leaned in to whisper, "Burch is a wizard. He could do it himself if he wanted to."
"Then why doesn't he?"
Gordie had looked around like he was afraid someone was listening. "Don't ask questions here if you want to keep this job."
That had been the end of it. Damon had gone back to keeping his head down and doing what he was told. It was an easy job. Patrol the halls, the floors, the outside. He'd always hated desk jobs, so he enjoyed all the walking involved. There were security cameras everywhere, too, which made it even easier. All he had to do was look at a monitor to see what was going on, but Burch insisted he still make foot patrols.
"Nothing beats having actual eyes on the ground," Burch had told him his first day. "Cameras can be tricked."
"So can eyes," Damon had said.
Burch had grimaced, and Damon had shut his mouth. He'd had to cut his hair to get this job, and he wasn't about to lose it now. His black, shoulder-length hair had been something he'd cultivated for years. He'd shortened it a while back when he'd started job hunting, but it wasn't short enough for Burch, who'd only agreed to hire him if he cut down to "something more suitable than a punk rocker."
Damon had refrained from pointing out that if he were going for the punk rocker look, his hair would have been dyed blue and turned up in a mohawk. Damon's look was a little more on the goth side of things, though he didn't go so far as to dress all in black and wear capes. He just liked dark colors and long hair. He couldn't help it that his skin was pale, and he looked like a vampire. No one on the island of Heavenly Haven would confuse him for a real vampire. Those guys were obvious.
Damon's apartment was more than he could currently afford, and his last job had ended when the business went under. If this didn't pan out, he was gonna have to move back in with his mother. He was almost thirty and didn't relish that idea.
Tonight would be Damon's first time doing night patrol. All the guards switched off so that no one got burned out doing overnighters. He'd be working eleven at night till seven in the morning all this week. Thankfully, the break room was stocked with plenty of coffee to help him get through it. At least he wouldn't be alone. Gordie was working the beat with him.
"Now then," Burch said, pointing one long, thick finger at him like a parent scolding their child. "Tell me what it is you're going to do tonight."
"Check the corridors; stay out of the basement."
A deep line formed across Burch's forehead. "No! I want you to check the basement, just stay out of the rooms down there. Check the hallway, the corridors. Just no rooms."
Damon hesitated, knowing he shouldn't ask but unable to help himself. "If the basement's growing black mold, won't the corridors be just as dangerous as the rooms?"
Burch squinted. "No. The halls are clear. The mold's only growing in the rooms."
Damon didn't get it. "But how are the corridors clear when the rooms aren't?"
The line in Burch's forehead deepened, and Damon kicked himself for not sticking to what he knew worked best: keep quiet and nod.
"The rooms are dark," was all Burch said, as if that explained everything.
Damon nodded and waited for Burch to continue with his spiel, but apparently, they were done. When Gordie walked in a few minutes later, Burch left the two of them alone and went home. Damon relaxed a little.
"Ready for some fun?" Gordie asked, clapping him on the back.
"Fun? Here? I thought it wasn't allowed."
Gordie laughed and shook his head. "You've got to invent stuff to do on the night shift, or you'll never make it through. The hours stretch on forever if you don't do something. You'll see."
"You mean walking around the empty corridors isn't enough to keep you entertained?"
"Oh, you're a comedian. I don't think Burch likes comedians."
"Burch doesn't like anybody."
Gordie snickered. "That's true. I doubt he was born that way though. That kind of disdain for people needs to be cultivated. He must've really worked on it as he was growing up."
One of the cameras in the corner of the room moved. It looked like it was zooming in on them.
"These cameras can't hear us, can they?" Damon asked.
Gordie shook his head. "No, but if Burch looks at them and sees us both standing here talking, he'll lose his nugget."
Damon arched an eyebrow at him. "Nugget?"
"His head," Gordie said impatiently. "Haven't you ever noticed how it resembles a chicken nugget? Kind of rough and misshapen?"
"I'll have to remember to take a closer look next time." The camera moved again.
"Come on, let's take a walk. Make it look like we're doing something."
They stepped out of the control room and onto the main floor. That's really all there was to the place. The main floor and the basement. It was a huge building though. Damon didn't know the exact square footage, but he figured it was something akin to a football field.
"How long you worked here?" Damon asked Gordie.
"Oh, gee." He scratched his head. "Going on twenty years."
Damon took another look at the man, who didn't even look forty yet. "You must've started young."
"Right out of high school."
"So, you like it here, then."
Gordie shrugged. "It has its perks, especially if Burch decides he likes you."
"What kind of perks?" Damon asked, curious.
"Bonuses, that sort of thing."
"Bonuses sound good. What do you have to do to get one of those?"
"Stay out of the way, mostly," Gordie said. "Burch likes a man who can keep his nose clean." He paused at a conveyor belt and looked around. "You want to start with the main floor or the basement?"
Damon shrugged.
Gordie said, "Okay then, you take the basement on the first round. I'll take the main. Next hour, we'll switch."
"What do I do when I'm done checking the basement?"
"Go back to the control room and watch the monitors. I'll meet you there."
Damon shivered. "You don't have a heater for that room, do you?"
"We did," Gordie said, "but Burch made us get rid of it. Afraid it would put us to sleep. But I do have something just as good." He tapped his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver flask.
"Liquor?" Damon asked, surprised. Gordie didn't seem the type to drink on the job.
"What am I, crazy? I don't want to get fired. It's soup. There'
s a microwave in the breakroom. I'll heat it up later and share some with you."
They split up, and Damon reluctantly opened the door that led from the main floor to the basement. The stairs were metal, and his shoes clanked on them as he made his way down. The basement itself was warm. Damon was surprised and thought it might not be so bad patrolling down here after all. In fact, if Gordie didn't want to do it, he'd be happy to take this floor for the rest of the night.
It was dark, with a long, narrow hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. Single, overhead light bulbs ran the length of the ceiling, one every ten feet or so. They cast strange shadows on the walls that made the place seem like something out of a horror movie. The doors that lined the hall only made the effect worse.
