Witchy Trouble

by Kate Allenton

  WITCHY

  TROUBLE

  A Hex Sister Cozy Mystery

  (Tess Venture)

  Book 2

  Kate Allenton

  Copyright © 2018 Kate Allenton

  All rights reserved.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Coastal Escape Publishing

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  TABLE OF 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 1

  Michael Stephens dug in the filing cabinet in search of Mildred Hexford’s file. He huffed out an exasperated breath and slammed the steel drawer closed. “I’m sorry, Ms. Venture. I seemed to have misplaced it.”

  “Please, call me Tess.” I drummed my fingers idly on the cushioned arm of my chair. You might be wondering who exactly Mildred Hexford was; I’d had the same question. A grandmother whom I never knew existed, one that I’d never get to meet. Why? Because she was dead.

  I didn’t know what bothered me more, the fact that the man that raised me wasn’t my father or that my mother had kept the sperm donor’s identity a secret. That was why I was here waiting for Michael Stephens, Esquire, to locate my grandmother’s file.

  He slammed the drawer of the cabinet and moved to a picture hanging on the wall. The man in the picture resembled the attorney, with exception of the clothing. There was a century or so difference. The gold plaque attached to the creepy picture read, Mitchell Stephens Senior, First US Marshal from Canapoly Falls, North Carolina.

  “I see serving the law runs in your family.”

  “Yes, well, one might think that, looking at this picture,” he mumbled as he removed it to the floor, revealing a state-of-the-art wall safe hidden behind it. “My grandfather was an interesting man, much like your grandmother. Both stubborn to a fault, never backing down.”

  “And here I thought I got my stubborn streak from my dad.”

  Mr. Stephens rested his hand on the palm reader and waited for a click before he replied. “Your father was stubborn and unique.”

  “I was referring to the man that raised me,” I answered as Mr. Stephens took a box and file out of his safe before closing it.

  He sat down at his desk, his ruddy cheeks now much brighter. “My apologies, Miss Venture. Mildred explained you didn’t know your father.”

  “You can call me Contessa or Tess. I answer to both. Did you know my father?” I asked, slightly tilting my head.

  “Yes, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I can’t tell you much. I’m bound by confidentiality in Mildred’s will.”

  I uncrossed my legs and inched forward on my seat. “My grandmother stipulated that you couldn’t talk about my father?”

  “That and much more, I’m afraid.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed as if debating the words he wanted to use. It would be useless in the end. I’d find my answers one way or another. I was good that way. He flipped the file open and entwined his fingers. “Once I go over your inheritance, you’ll understand.”

  “Okay,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “What did the woman want?”

  “This is the last living will of Mildred Hexford,” he started to read.

  “Give me the Cliff Notes,” I suggested.

  “Tess, you’re entitled to one-third of the estate once her stipulations are met.”

  “Stipulations?”

  “She stipulated that you must stay at the Hexford Inn and run it for one full year, including, but not limited to, seeing to the needs of the live-in tenants.”

  “Who’s taking care of those people now?” I asked. My grandmother had been dead for three months.

  “Your grandmother made arrangements. You’ll find she was very efficient at handling all of the details, but you needn’t worry. Your current guests won’t be much of a bother, and I’ll introduce you to them later if you agree to the rest of the stipulations.”

  Interesting. The woman couldn’t have been that bad if she’d made plans before kicking the bucket that her guests’ lives wouldn’t be bothered by her departure. Interesting, indeed. “Continue.”

  “You’re also to accommodate any and all guests in the reservations previously written in the register.” Mr. Stephens rested his hand over an oversized journal with a cracked leather binding.

  “What, she doesn’t believe in a computer?”

  “This book was her life. She didn’t trust computers. She was a bit eccentric, which you’ll soon find out.”

  “Okay, no computer, that’s fine. I brought my own and can import the reservations into my calendar, should I decide to stay.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. It’s one of her stipulations,” he added, glancing down at the document. “There will be no changes to how the inn is run nor to any structure inside the Inn or on the property itself.”

  “Was she afraid I was going to tear it down?” I asked.

  “We could only be so lucky,” he murmured, resting his hand on the box. “Inside this box is every answer to every question about the family and your father that you will ever want to know. It also contains the most prized possession of her estate and a trust in your name that will go in effect one year after you sign the agreement.”

  “Let me guess. I can’t take a peek.”

  “Not until your year is up. There are two more identical boxes, one for each of your half-sisters should they decide to stay.” Mr. Stephens rose and put the box back in the safe.

  “Wait. I have half-sisters?” That thought confused and terrified me. Maybe they’d grown up learning to use their magic. Maybe they’d known our father.

  “You have two. I can tell you that should you decide to stay the rewards will be worth it.”

  “How do you figure? I’ll be staying in a house that you seem to think should be demolished, taking care of people I don’t know, for a woman I’ve never met, and I have to make good on obligations that I have no say-so in.”

  “Your trust is worth five million dollars,” he said, hanging the picture back on the wall.

  “She’s assuming I’m here for the money?” I said, rising and clutching my purse tighter to my side.

  “Oh no, Ms. Venture, the money is just a bonus. Trust me when I tell you that the secrets hidden in that box are of much more value to you.”

  He grabbed a manila envelope out of the file and handed it to me. “You’ve had a long trip. Let’s get you settled.
It will give you time to process everything and read the extra stipulations. I’ll take you over to the inn and introduce you to the life-long residents and show you around.”

  My brows crinkled, and as if sensing my dismay, Mr. Stephens smiled brightly. “Look at the bright side. Since you were the first sister I’ve found, you’ll get your pick of rooms, but if I may be so bold, I’d suggest you not pick the doll room. Many guests have left screaming in the middle of the night.”

  “Please tell me the dolls aren’t considered a part of the structure of the inn.” Those would be the first thing to go. Creepy dolls. No thank you.

  “Oh no, Ms. Venture, she covered them in the stipulations under ‘guests.’”

  Chapter 2

  I stood outside the monstrosity and covered my gaping mouth. It wasn’t the size of the house that surprised me, considering my grandmother had run an inn. I’d expected three stories or more, and I had guessed right. The other houses on the quaint street were typical suburban homes with manicured yards. All of the homes except my Grandmother’s.

  “I understand your desire to demolish,” I said, following behind Mr. Stephens as I inched around iron statues placed strategically in the crowded yard. I circled and stared up into the emerald eyes of a metal dragon. “This thing has to be at least eight feet tall.”

  “More like thirteen,” he corrected and continued toward the porch, where wind chimes danced on the wind.

  I couldn’t help but run my hand over the warm metal scales of the dragon even while my gaze turned to the other metal animals.

  “The first one of those monstrosities appeared overnight twenty-five years ago to be exact,” he said, shoving the key into the lock. He glanced over his shoulder. “Happy birthday by the way.”

  If the metal giants hadn’t been enough of an eyesore and reason for concern, the half-clothed Greek-god marble statues perched on the wide wrap around porch just added to the element of crazy and off her rocker.

  “You mentioned eccentric, but I had no idea.”

  He grinned with his hand on the knob. “You’ll be happy to know that her interesting displays didn’t roll over into the house like many in town believe.”

  “Do they piss off the neighbors?” I asked, glancing back once more, unable to believe my eyes.

  “Oh yes. Those things were the cause of many petitions to the town council. Which reminds me, should they give you trouble, remind them about the grandfather property clause.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, meeting his gaze. With this one, I might have to agree with the locals. None of those statues, metal or marble, fit in on the quiet city street. Could it have been to keep locals from barging into her yard? Maybe she was a genius after all.

  “Mildred’s family goes back generations. She was excluded from following any new ordinances, and by relation, so are you. However, you still can’t make changes to the property due to the will stipulations. Come on. Let me show you the house.”

  I followed him inside and took a minute to get my bearings. The house was nicely furnished. A feeling of home rushed through me, and the word welcome flashed in my mind. A spell? Perhaps. Although I didn’t know enough about this family to even know if they were witches or not. It sucked that Ryder had gotten called away. The little directory of witches he carried working for the Witches Council might just come in handy in my search for answers and maybe give me some insight on some of the other locals.

  I gasped to see an unexpected ghost hovering at the top of the stairs, dressed in a gown from the 1800s. She floated down the steps to the landing and turned before fizzling out of sight.

  “That’s Gertrude. You needn’t worry about her. She’s a residual haunting,” Mr. Stephens said.

  “You can see her?” I asked.

  His cheeks tinted. “Yes, but then I’ve been here enough to experience her.”

  He led the way through the house, pointing out the massive library, office, dining room, and common area for relaxing before he led the way into the kitchen.

  Marble tile covered the floor. All of the counter spaces gleamed with white. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling. I inhaled. The scent of rosemary filled my nose. The herbs were just starting to peek from the soil in the windowsill boxes. Everything in the kitchen was immaculately clean and usable. The only oddities were an old-style broom leaning in the corner against the wall and an additional oven, an old-timey wood-burning one off in the corner. The huge black cauldron sitting on top stuck out like a baby shark swimming in a koi pond.

  I twisted the knob on the hot water and held my fingers beneath the stream waiting to see how quickly the hot water would turn on. It was out of habit from living in the cabana. I knew it took exactly five minutes for the water to heat warm enough to bathe. As I stood there staring out the window, my heart froze.

  The flaming death bubbles danced in the distance near an old brick wall. The omen was one I knew well. Death was near.

  “The lines must be rusty. I can have them checked,” Mr. Stephens said, pulling my attention to the water. The water looked rusty all right, but I didn’t think for a minute that rust was what was coming from the faucet. I held my fingers to my nose. Nope, didn’t smell anything like rust.

  I turned the faucet off and grabbed a hand towel from the rod. “Let’s go look at the well.”

  “Sure, right this way,” he said, leading the way through the double doors outside. I followed behind him to the well and leaned over the edge to get a better look into the long hole. Just as I’d thought.

  “Is the dead body a stipulation in the will?”

  Mr. Stephens’ face turned a shade of white before he looked for himself. “Oh dear.”

  He took me by the arm and hurried me back inside. “Stay here while I get the police.”

  “You think it’s wise to leave me here?” I asked, following him out the front door.

  His steps faltered, and he turned and held up a finger before hurrying out the white picket fence and across the road to another house. He banged on the door and rang the bell before the door flew open.

  A man answered, wearing a pink tutu over jeans that molded his waist and thighs. A sparkly tiara sat on his head.

  A smile twisted on my lips, and I crossed my arms. These people thought Mildred weird. It must be everyone in the whole damn town.

  The man disappeared and walked back out, only this time he had a gun in his hand and carried a little girl on his hip, following the attorney across the street and into the yard. They stomped up the stairs. He took one look at me and shoved the girl into my arms.

  His mussed caramel colored hair and unshaved face contradicted the determination in his hazel eyes.

  “Hold her while I assess the crime scene.” He took one step before turning back to the girl. “And no funny business.”

  The little girl’s freckled face and warm smile teased with mischief as she saluted him before he stomped away.

  “And you are….” I called after him.

  He and the attorney disappeared into the house, and I followed, taking the girl into the kitchen.

  “It’s okay, lady. He’s a police officer.”

  “Do all officers wear pink tutus?” I asked, turning my gaze to the girl in my arms.

  “Only when I visit. Are you a witch?”

  Her question caught me off guard, and I hadn’t even had time to answer when she answered her own question.

  “I bet you are. Mildred told me you would be. This house is haunted. I’ve only ever seen the ghost on the stairs. Can I play with Friday?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your cat, Friday. It’s a silly name, but Margaret named him that because he showed up on a Friday. She wasn’t very creative.”

  “I haven’t seen a cat.”

  “What’s your name? Are you going to the fair? If you want, you can come with me.”

  “I’m Tess.”

  “My name is Livvy Willowbrook. I don’t normally wear dresses unless I’m with King.
He seems to think I’m still five, but I’m really seven. My science project is in the fair.”

  “How nice for you,” I said, turning my gaze back to the window and giving the girl a second to breathe between questions.

  “It won first place at school. The topic is about the evolution of molecular atoms. Do you know what they are? My mom doesn’t. I had a friend help me.”

  “Breathe, kid.”

  The girl pulled in a deep breath.

  “You’re an odd duck.”

  “I get that a lot. No one understands me. Mildred told me I have an old soul, whatever that means.”

  “You knew Mildred well?”

  “Of course. I showed her how to balance her checkbook and which stocks to buy. I can help you too. I live next door. She paid me with cookies. Do you have any cookies?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve been here five minutes.”

  The girl pointed to a cookie jar. “She kept them in there.”

  “Well, she’s been gone three months. I don’t know that I’d eat anything still inside. They’re probably stale.”

  The girl smiled. “They’re never stale. She put a spell on them just for me.”

  “She was a witch?” I asked.

  “Duh. Can I have a cookie now?”

  Tess lifted the lid, and the smell of freshly baked oatmeal cookies wafted throughout the kitchen. I grabbed two and handed one to the little girl, and they both watched as the lawyer and police officer stared down into the well.

  Livvy took a bite of her cookie. “John Tidwell is down in the well.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He was staying here, and I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

  I shrugged. “He could have left.”

  “He wouldn’t have left without finding what he was looking for.”

  Chapter 3

  The police detective and Mr. Stephens walked inside. The detective took the cookie from Livvy’s hand and tossed it into the trash. “What did I tell you about taking things from strangers.”