Back Room Bookstore Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1 - 12

by Susan Harper

  “If anyone is to blame, it’s that selkie, Clowdia!” Noah shouted, slamming his fists on the table. “Leonardo wouldn’t have sought revenge against her if she had just—”

  “What?” Abigail hissed. “Married him? Let him abuse her? He’s a sick, disgusting man who you three idiots decided to align yourselves with. Look at you, Noah. You couldn’t be but seventeen years old, and you’re throwing your life away, for what? A group of wizards who just think they’re better than everyone else?”

  There was a long pause. The three boys seemed to be silently contemplating the situation they were in when, suddenly, Tork sat upright. “Wait…” he said. “The love potion… I know who did it!”

  “Bull,” Abigail muttered.

  “No, I know who killed Leopold!” Tork said. “It was an accident, I think. Well, not really, but it’s not totally his fault. The vial was full. We only put a few drops if the stuff in Leopold’s drink, but I left the vial sitting on a stone, just for a minute, but some idiot picked it up and chugged it thinking it was booze for the party! That’s when I hid the vial in the tree.”

  “Leopold went borderline crazy from just a few drops of the stuff,” Monica said. “If someone drank the entire vial…”

  “They would have gotten really jealous if anyone else was lusting after Clowdia too,” Abigail said.

  “Who drank the rest of the vial?” Monica demanded, it suddenly making sense as to why Leopold’s lab results showed very little of the potion in his system yet the vial had been almost empty.

  “He was on the Romp-A-Roo team. Tall guy? A warlock,” Tork said.

  Monica’s eyes shot open. She remembered the memorial service—the way Jonathan had been hugging on Clowdia, supposedly because he was seeking forgiveness. She thought back to the night of the party. He had been one of the only ones on the team not to accuse Clowdia of killing Leopold. “Oh my gosh,” Moncia said. “Jonathan.”

  “That’s the guy!” Tork said. “The tall warlock. I saw him chug the stuff right before Trevor and I split.”

  “Jonathan must have been out of his mind having just taken that much love potion,” Abigail said. “He and Leopold probably got into a fight over her.”

  Busby nodded in agreement in the corner. “Boys, time to go back to your cells,” he said.

  They started to stand up, but Noah remained seated, and since they were all attached at the wrists, the other two were not able to go much further. “Edmund Wallace,” Noah said suddenly, looking up at Monica. “He’s our recruiter. He’s the one who got us into Remembrance. I don’t know any other names, or I’d give them to you. I only know that Edmund is who contacted us and started giving us pamphlets and reading materials about the group. We didn’t want anyone to get hurt, honest…but Edmund, he is still recruiting kids. Kids like us. I want him to stop before anyone else winds up hurt.”

  “Thank you,” Monica said. “Now that we know, we might be able to do something about it.”

  12

  Nud and Councilwoman Imelda, an elderly witch, arrived at the station shortly after Monica’s interview with the young Remembrance recruits. Imelda stood with her arms crossed, staring at each of them. “So you let these three in to speak with possible suspects without speaking to one of your superiors first?” Imelda asked, her eyes suddenly shooting over to Busby.

  “Well…” the young warlock said. “As an authority, I thought…”

  “You are an entry-level authority,” Councilwoman Imelda said. “That was not your call to make, Mr. Busby. However, I think we can let it slide considering the information this group managed to dig up for us. He really gave you the name of his recruiter?”

  “Edmund Wallace,” Monica said. “If we can get a recruiter off the streets with their testimony, I would call that a win for sure.”

  “Most definitely,” Nud said, stomping one of his hooves slightly. “Targeting children to do your dirty work, honestly…”

  “And, speaking of dirty work, we think we know who killed Leopold,” Monica said. “But I don’t believe he intended to…”

  “Yes, Busby just informed us a moment ago,” Nud said. “Jonathan, one of the warlocks on the Wysteria Werewolves team. He chugged an entire vial of love potion with selkie hair in it. If that’s true, he’s lucky it didn’t immediately kill him. Regular love potions when taken in excess have been known to kill someone from the rush of adrenaline the infatuation causes, let alone if a selkie’s hair was mixed into the concoction.”

  “How long would it take for something like that to wear off?” Monica asked.

  “Days, I imagine,” Nud said. “He’s probably coming down now from it.”

  “That would explain why he hasn’t come to the authorities yet,” Monica said. “When his infatuation for Clowdia simmers down…”

  “The reality of what he has done will sink in,” Abigail said.

  “Councilman Grog should be arriving here soon with Deimus,” Imelda said. “A wand was recovered by our investigators from the scene, and it wasn’t Leopold’s as his was still on his person. We’re going to lay out various wands for Deimus to look at to see if he can tell us which one belongs to Jonathan.”

  “A wand lineup,” Holly said. “Interesting.”

  Grog, a large troll who looked to have a patch of moss growing out of the side of his overwhelmingly large head, entered the station alongside a very confused-looking Deimus. “What’s going on?” he demanded at once.

  Imelda waved her wand, and suddenly four wands appeared atop a nearby desk. “Can you tell us if any of these wands seem familiar to you, Deimus?” she asked.

  Monica wanted to explain to Deimus exactly what was going on, but she knew better. There was a reason the councilmembers didn’t want to let him in on what they suspected just yet—they didn’t want to affect his judgement. He approached the desk that evidently belonged to Busby and stared at the wands. He looked at them carefully for a moment before picking one up. “Yeah, actually,” he said. “This looks like Jonathan’s wand.”

  Monica’s heart sank. This seemed to be all the confirmation the room needed. Jonathan had indeed killed Leopold. Imelda sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that, Deimus,” she said, taking the wand from him. She waved her own wand, and the three remaining wands on the desk disappeared and she handed Jonathan’s off to Busby to put in their evidence locker.

  “Why? What’s going on?” Deimus demanded.

  “We have located the gentleman who drugged Leopold, but they were in police custody when he was killed,” Imelda began. “They did, however, witness Jonathan drink an entire vial of a very powerful love potion containing Clowdia’s hair. Between that and finding his wand near the creek, we have arrived at the conclusion that, under the influence of the love potion, Jonathan murdered Leopold for, at the time, he viewed him as competition for Clowdia’s affection.”

  Deimus leaned back against the desk, lowering his head and crossing his arms. “Jonathan wouldn’t kill anyone,” he said.

  “We believe he did,” Imelda said. “And we would like for you to go with us when we confront him. As you know him quite personally, we believe you might be able to get him to tell us exactly what happened.”

  Deimus was quiet for a moment. Eventually, he spoke. “No,” he said. “I’m not playing games with my teammates’ lives. I don’t believe it. Jonathan wouldn’t kill anybody.”

  “He was drugged, Deimus,” Holly said, stepping forward. “It’s not entirely his fault. The feelings he had at that time were intense. From what I understand, this love potion he was on was very dangerous. It affected him.”

  “A love potion affects your emotions,” Deimus said. “Causes infatuation and mild obsession. That on top of a selkie’s hair being the prime ingredient for this particular potion, I imagine, did make him lose himself a bit. But do you know what a love potion can’t do? It can’t control your actions, Holly. A love potion can’t turn a person into a killer.”

  “That is true,” Nud sai
d. “Though the extreme effects the love potion had on him will be taken into account during his hearing.”

  “Hearing…” Deimus grumbled. “I don’t believe it for one second! Jonathan would not hurt Leopold. They were friends. Good friends. Teammates. We’re practically a family. And to do so over Clowdia? No, we wouldn’t do this to each other.”

  “Deimus,” Monica said firmly. “Hear me out for a second, here, all right? The evidence against Jonathan is pretty intense right now. We found his wand at the scene. You just identified it yourself. We also have a witness saying he saw him take the love potion—a lot of it, in fact. There is a strong possibility that Jonathan is our killer, and if he is, he might still be under the effects of the potion. That love potion clearly is making him unsteady and dangerous. Now, would you rather go with the council to help talk him down or would you prefer to stay back and hope he doesn’t do something crazy like try to fight his way out of an arrest without a wand?”

  Deimus glared at them all for a moment, but his shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to lose another teammate.”

  “Being worried about if you’re going to have enough players to compete is hardly what’s important right now, Deimus,” Nud said.

  “That’s not what I mean!” Deimus snapped. “I just said we’re like a family, all right? The idea of Jonathan killing Leopold… It’s kind of hard to take, all right?”

  “We know,” Holly said. “And we’re sorry. A terrible thing has happened here, Deimus, but the council is asking for your help because they don’t want Jonathan to hurt himself or anyone else.”

  Deimus continued to scowl. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll help.”

  “For starters, maybe you can tell us where he’s gone off to?” Grog asked in a grumbling, troll-ish tone. “I searched his home before coming to get you. He’s not there.”

  Deimus groaned. “I don’t know… If he’s still on the love potion, I’d say he’s gone to find Clowdia, I’m sure…but if he’s coming off it now…” Deimus thought for a moment. He sighed. “If the effects of the love potion have worn off and he really did kill Leopold, I would say he’s feeling pretty guilty. So, where does a…a murderer…go when he starts feeling remorse?”

  “Maybe the Romp-A-Roo fields?” Abigail suggested. “That’s where the memorial service was held. They still got all those flowers set up. Maybe he’s visiting there?”

  “Good suggestion, Abigail,” Nud said. “Now, let’s get going. We need to find Jonathan.”

  13

  Monica, along with her friends and the council members, landed their brooms a considerable distance outside of the Romp-A-Roo stadium. If Jonathan was indeed inside as they suspected, they didn’t want to spook him. The plan was for them all to get close, hiding out behind the stands, while Deimus attempted to talk Jonathan into coming with him. Deimus looked anxious, and Monica felt simply terrible for him.

  Monica, Holly, and Abigail found a place together behind a concession stand that was not too far from the fields. They could see Jonathan from there. “Good,” Madam Warz, a councilwoman who had joined them mid-flight to the fields, said under her breath.

  Jonathan was clearly mourning. He was standing under the podium that had once been Leopold’s starting position, looking at the various flowers, candles, notes, and photographs had been placed. There was a troubled expression on his face, and Monica knew by that gaze that the love potion was wearing off or out of his system completely. It was a look of shock and realization of what he had done.

  “Go on, Deimus,” Imelda said. “See what he says. He’s got his broom on him, so we don’t want him flying off on us. All these old geezers won’t be much of a match against a Romp-A-Roo player, even with our wands, if he takes off on that.”

  Deimus nodded and walked onto the field. Monica heard him greeting Jonathan, who jumped slightly at the presence of his team captain. Monica couldn’t resist moving a bit closer; the councilmembers and authorities were far too distracted watching Deimus and Jonathan’s interaction to notice as she slipped right onto the field behind the goalie podium. It was still a considerable distance from where Deimus and Jonathan stood, but at least here she could make out their voices clearly. “You hanging in there, Jonathan?” Deimus asked.

  “Well as anyone, I suppose,” Jonathan said, his voice cracking a bit.

  “You don’t look well,” Deimus said.

  Monica peered around her hiding spot for a moment. Deimus was quite right in his statement. The man’s eyes seemed sunken in, his face was sweaty, and he was a bit shaky—not unlike a junkie fighting the symptoms of withdrawal. “Sick,” Jonathan said. “I’ve been feeling it all morning. I went to talk to Clowdia this morning, and she told me I looked like I was half-dead.”

  “You went to see Clowdia?” Deimus asked.

  “I don’t know why,” Jonathan said. “Just wanted to talk to her. She told me she thought I might have gotten infatuated by her too, and it upset her, so I left. I might have been… I guess I was… After what happened to Leopold, I can see why she had gotten so upset by me.”

  “Are you still…infatuated?” Deimus asked.

  “No,” Jonathan said, seeming even shakier now as he rubbed his eyes for a moment and then stared back down at the piles of flowers and memorial pieces. “I’ve never felt selkie infatuation before. I didn’t know it was so strong. I thought it was more like a little charm. I saw you dancing around that one time after Clowdia, and it just seemed…I don’t know…silly. Me, I feel outright sick about the whole thing.”

  “That’s because you weren’t just infatuated, Jonathan,” Deimus said. “I’ve been speaking with the authorities. That night, there were more Remembrance members at the party than we originally thought. They gave Leopold a love potion with Clowdia’s hair in it.”

  “Are you serious?” Jonathan asked. “That’s got to be…” He trailed off, and Monica could tell from where she was standing that he was recalling something important. “Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly. “I… I remember starting to feel this way… I wasn’t even looking at Clowdia when I started feeling this way! That doesn’t make sense. I remember drinking something. I thought it was spiked pumpkin juice, but it tasted really sweet.”

  “One of the Remembrance members they arrested said they saw you drink nearly the entire vial,” Deimus said. “Jonathan, that could have killed you in seconds. You need to come with me. Get looked at. Make sure everything is okay with your heart. Looking at you, you might have even had a stroke.”

  “I do feel pretty crummy,” Jonathan said.

  “You’re lucky nothing happened,” Deimus said. “You could have really hurt Clowdia or someone else. Nothing did happen, right? Right, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan’s shoulders slumped, and the man now had tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t mean to do it,” he said. “I didn’t want to do it.”

  “Do what?” Deimus asked, and Monica’s stomach lurched to see Deimus’s face so contorted—as though he was praying with every fiber of his being that his friend was not about to confess to the murder of another.

  “I’m glad you told me about the love potion,” Jonathan said, wiping his face. “It explains a lot. I’ve been sitting around all morning trying to figure out why I would…” Jonathan shook his head viciously. “I have to go…” he said and began to mount his broom, but Deimus stopped him.

  “No, you need to come with me. We need to get a potions specialist to look at you. A doctor. Make sure all of that potion is out of your system and make sure that you haven’t been permanently affected by it. Last thing I want is for you to give out on us, Jonathan.”

  Jonathan stood upright and stared at Deimus. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “My father was a physician. You think he never taught me a few spells to take care of my health? I’m the one who mended Bolt’s leg last season after that big game, you know?”

  “I know,” Deimus said. “But how are you going to do anything for yourself when your wand is in an evidence locker,
Jonathan?!”

  Jonathan froze for a moment. “My…my wand?”

  “They found it by Leopold,” Deimus said. “I know what you did, Jonathan, or at least I know what the Sorcerer’s Council thinks you did. Please, tell me that this is some sort of mistake?”

  Jonathan shook his arms out. “I wish I could take it back, Deimus,” he said. “But I’m not going to lie to your face. I killed Leopold. I used my wand to lock his arms and then pushed him into the creek. Then I went back to the party like nothing had happened. I’m disgusted by myself. You know I would never do something like that, right? Not under normal circumstances. It was the love potion.”

  “Love potions, even strong ones like what you took, can drive people to do rather insane things, Jonathan, but it can’t make you a killer,” Deimus said. “You can keep telling yourself otherwise, but it’s true. You need to come with me.”

  “You’re not taking me to a doctor, are you?” Jonathan asked.

  “I am,” Deimus said. “There’s one waiting for you at the jail. I made sure of it because I’m worried about you. I want you to be looked at as soon as possible.”

  Jonathan abruptly kicked Deimus square in the chest. Deimus landed on his back, and he took too long fumbling to get up to have his wand ready before Jonathan had mounted his broom and zipped off. Monica didn’t waste any time. She jumped on her broom and kicked off after him. She wasn’t sure what Deimus was doing because he didn’t point the wand in Jonathan’s direction but had instead sent bright red lights that went off in all directions, disappearing from view.

  Monica zipped around Jonathan, blocking him from flying too far off. “Jonathan! Listen to me! You need to come with us before someone else gets hurt.”

  Jonathan spun his broom around, and once again, Monica flew right around him—preventing him from flying off. The two of them seemed to be in a sort of standoff as they circled inside the stadium. Some of the Sorcerer’s Council members were mounting their brooms, but Deimus, for whatever reason, seemed to be telling them to wait. I doubt he has that much confidence in me to stop him, Monica thought as she squared up with Jonathan—one of the largest players on the team. He was fast and athletic, and he seemed to know his way around a broom. Monica had always considered herself a fair flyer, but if Jonathan decided to ram her, she wasn’t sure how well that would go.