Spellbinding Starters

by Annabel Chase

  “I’d had a few drinks…”

  “You don’t say.” His smile was having an effect on me—and by effect, I mean I felt compelled to throw myself across his desk and ask to see his G-string.

  “It’s my fault, really. I should have realized people would be drinking in honor of Chief O’Neill. I shouldn’t have come in uniform and expected to conduct police business. It was poor judgment.”

  “Well, now that we’ve agreed we were both at fault…” I started to pivot.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Sit down and we can have the conversation I wanted to have last night.”

  Against my better judgment, I stayed put.

  “You’re from here originally and a federal agent,” the chief said. “I thought you’d be a good resource for this case. I’m brand new, stepping into some pretty big shoes, from what I hear. She might open up more if she sees a friendly face.”

  “She who?”

  “The chief’s ex-wife, Margaret.”

  “What about Sean...Deputy Guthrie? He worked with the chief for years. He knows Margaret even better than I do.”

  “I’m getting information from him, too, but you’re the one I’d like to pump…” He averted his gaze. “To get an insider’s view.”

  Well, at least I wasn’t alone in the fool-making category. “You’ve got a thing against gingers?” I asked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. They are soulless spawns of Satan, after all.”

  Chief Fox chuckled. “Is that so? I’ll have to be on my guard around him then. Now, if I can just ask you…” He shuffled papers around the desk, looking a little lost. I understood the feeling well, having been plonked down at Pidcock’s messy desk recently.

  “About the chief’s ex-wife,” I reminded him.

  He stopped searching the papers and looked at me with relief in those sea-green eyes. “Yes, Margaret.”

  “They divorced years ago,” I said. “There’s no animosity between them.” Unlike my parents. At least Chief O’Neill and Margaret were human and couldn’t curse each other. Supernaturals had the ability to take toxic relationships to another level.

  “Did you know that she’s still listed as the beneficiary on his life insurance policy?”

  That I did not know. “Is she aware of that?”

  “If not, she’ll know soon enough,” Chief Fox said. “I’d like to get a sense of her knowledge before the lawyer gets to her.”

  “Smart. Who is the chief’s lawyer?”

  “Jayson Swift.”

  Ugh. I was surprised the chief would’ve chosen a shark like Jayson to handle his affairs.

  “I can tell by your expression that you’re not overly fond of the lawyer in question.” A grin tugged at his lips.

  “He’s not one I would choose to represent my interests.”

  “I think your interests are well represented.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  “I met some of your family last night,” he said. “Your aunt’s sweet, by the way.”

  “Great-aunt,” I said. “Aunt Thora is my grandmother’s sister.”

  “Right. She’s the one who answered the door last night when I brought you home.”

  I closed my eyes, mortified that I’d forgotten to mention it, probably because I was keen to forget the whole thing. “Thanks for that. You didn’t have to be the designated driver for me.”

  “It was a fun introduction to the residential section of town,” he said. “You gave me a running commentary on your neighbors the whole way there.”

  My mouth suddenly became dry. “Did I?”

  “Apparently, Mrs. Paulson is nosy and I should disregard everything she says. She likes to rant about fornication probably because she’s never experienced it.” He winked. “That’s a direct quote.”

  I wanted to melt into the chair. “I’m sure she’s not an eighty-year-old virgin.” Almost sure.

  “You also felt the need to mention that she was human.” He laughed.

  “Ha. Funny,” I said wanly.

  “So if you’re free, why don’t we head over to see Margaret O’Neill and you can give me running commentary on everyone we pass on the way?”

  “How about I just sit quietly and not make a fool of myself?”

  He flashed that megawatt grin. “That works too.”

  Chapter Seven

  We found Margaret O’Neill on the tennis court at the Chipping Cheddar Country Club. She was mid-match against her instructor, the athletic and attractive Lance Hardaway. I wondered whether Margaret had any inkling that she was playing against a werewolf.

  Lance sniffed the air as we approached. He cut me a curious glance when he saw me approach with Chief Fox.

  “Is that you, Eden?” Margaret huffed as she whacked the ball across the court.

  “Hi, Mrs. O’Neill,” I said. “Good hit.” I had no idea if that was the accepted expression. I knew next to nothing about tennis.

  “It’s Ms. Kowalski now,” she said. “I finally went back to my maiden name a couple years ago. Seemed silly to keep the name when I didn’t keep the man.” She made eyes at Lance. She didn’t seem to realize that Lance played for the other team—and I didn’t just mean tennis.

  “I’m sorry about the chief,” I said. Divorced or not, I knew Margaret had to be struggling to come to terms with his sudden death.

  “Thank you.” She slammed the ball across the court with such force that Lance actually missed the return.

  “I absolutely adore your intensity, Margaret,” Lance said.

  Margaret curtsied in response.

  Chief Fox cleared his throat. I’d almost forgotten he was standing next to me.

  “May I introduce the new chief?” I said. “Chief Fox, this is Margaret, Chief O’Neill’s ex-wife.”

  Lance’s gaze travelled over the chief. “Well, aren’t you precious?” He tossed his racquet over his shoulder and crossed the court to shake the chief’s hand. “Lance Hardaway. If you have any interest in joining the country club, I can definitely pull the necessary strings.”

  “It’s not that kind of club,” I said. “Anybody can join.” As long as they could afford the fees.

  “Nice to meet you both,” Chief Fox said. “Ms. Kowalski, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about your husband? He left a lot of paperwork and I’m trying to make my way through it. It would be helpful to have your input.”

  “Of course, dear.” She sashayed off the court, swinging her wide hips for Lance’s benefit. Bless her.

  Chief Fox glanced at Lance. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes? Maybe grab yourself a drink.”

  “How about I get you one while I’m at it, you thirsty boy?”

  “I think you’re the one who’s thirsty, Lance,” I said pointedly.

  “I’ll take a water,” Chief Fox said. “Thanks.” He seemed oblivious to Lance’s efforts to charm him.

  Lance headed back to the club with a spring in his step.

  “What is it you need to know?” Margaret asked. She dropped onto the bench, letting her fatigue show now that Lance was gone.

  “According to documents in my possession, you’re still the recipient of your ex-husband’s insurance policy,” the chief said.

  I watched Margaret closely for a reaction.

  “That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” she said. “He was never good about following through with things. Why do you think I’m the one who filed for divorce? If I didn’t take care of something during our marriage, it didn’t happen. Vacations? Bills to be paid? I did it all.”

  “He was dedicated to his job,” I said, almost apologetically.

  “That he was,” Margaret agreed. “At the expense of his marriage. Nothing else mattered.”

  “To be fair, it is an all-encompassing job,” Chief Fox said. “That’s why I’m still single.”

  I’d kind of hoped he was single, so it was nice to have it confirmed. Not that I planned to date him. I only ju
st moved back to town. The last thing I needed was to start a relationship with the new chief of police and set tongues wagging. As an FBM agent, I had an obligation to stay below the radar and do my job without attracting attention.

  “So you didn’t know about the insurance policy?” I asked.

  She grunted. “Nope. How much is it?”

  “Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Chief Fox replied.

  She whistled. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t know,” I said. “If you were responsible for all the paperwork.”

  “The policy was acquired during the marriage,” Chief Fox added.

  Margaret stared into space. “I’d pestered him about getting one for ages. His line of work was dangerous, and I worried a lot when we were younger. I never wanted to be a young widow. I didn’t realize he’d actually done it.”

  “Well, he did it,” Chief Fox said. “Do you know his attorney, Jayson Swift?”

  Margaret snorted. “Unfortunately. Is he the one I should talk to?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be getting in touch,” Chief Fox said.

  “Any idea why the chief was at the waterfront the day he died?” I asked. It was a long shot, but worth asking.

  “I didn’t keep up with Mick’s schedule,” Margaret said. “I did think it was odd when I heard how he died, though. Mick avoided water whenever possible. He wouldn’t even honeymoon in Barbados like I wanted to. No islands, he said.” She shook her head. “He was such a stubborn fool. I should’ve known right then the marriage wouldn’t last.”

  Chief Fox’s interest was piqued. “Why did he avoid water?”

  “Because he couldn’t swim,” Margaret said. “Never learned and then was too old and embarrassed to get lessons. He didn’t advertise the fact, but you’d never see him at the pool here at the club.”

  “Funny place to live for a man who hates water,” Chief Fox said. “You’ve got the Chesapeake on one side and the river, too.”

  “He grew up here,” Margaret said. “He wouldn’t leave unless…” She sighed. “Well, only death could part him from Chipping Cheddar. The O’Neill family goes back generations in this town.”

  “Any reason to think someone would want to hurt him?” the chief asked.

  Margaret met his penetrating gaze. “He was the chief of police. I’m sure there were plenty of people who wanted to hurt him.”

  Chief Fox didn’t flinch. “What about his personal life? The family that’s been here for generations? Any grudges you’re aware of?”

  Margaret appeared thoughtful. “He and his brother Ted had a longstanding dispute over the parcel near Cheddar Gorge.”

  “A parcel of land?” Chief Fox asked.

  “A family property,” Margaret said. “Their uncle had left it behind when he died but he didn’t have a will. Ted insisted that he was the favorite nephew and their uncle would’ve left it solely to him.”

  “The uncle died without a wife or children of his own?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” Margaret said. “Lots of girlfriends but never one good enough to marry in his eyes. Probably for the best. He was a philanderer anyway. He wouldn’t have made any woman a good husband.”

  “Where can I find Ted O’Neill?” Chief Fox asked.

  “The lighthouse,” Margaret and I replied in unison.

  The chief blinked. “He lives in the lighthouse?”

  “No, he works there,” I said.

  “But he spends a lot of time there,” Margaret added. “It’s your best bet to catch up with him.”

  “Great, thanks for your help,” the chief said. He retrieved a card from his pocket and handed it to Margaret. “If you think of anything else, will you let me know?”

  She took the card. “You think I don’t know the chief’s number by heart?”

  The chief gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Kowalski.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lance returned with two bottles of water and handed one to Chief Fox. “To quench your thirst, Chief.”

  “Thank you, Lance.” The chief unscrewed the lid and took a deep drink, his lips wrapped around the bottle’s neck.

  I watched Lance’s reaction with amusement. He gaped at the handsome chief with his mouth hanging open.

  “Show’s over, Lance,” I whispered, as the chief put the lid back on the bottle.

  Lance clamped his mouth closed.

  “Shall we resume play?” Margaret asked her instructor.

  “Yes, I believe I need to work off some energy,” Lance replied.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Chief Fox said. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. Thanks again for the water.”

  “Thanks again for the dreams I’ll be having tonight,” Lance said, softly enough that only I could hear him.

  I suppressed a laugh.

  Chief Fox and I walked back to the car in silence. Only when I slid into the passenger seat did he finally speak.

  “What do your instincts tell you, Agent Fury?”

  “She’s innocent,” I said.

  “That’s what I figured,” the chief said. He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. “Where can I drop you?”

  “You don’t want to talk to Ted?” I asked.

  “I have a few inquiries to make before I’m ready to do that.”

  “Like get the deed information for the property?”

  He cast me a sidelong glance. “Among other things.”

  “Ted is an interesting character,” I said.

  “I guess so if he spends most of his time in a lighthouse,” he said.

  “I don’t mind coming with you when you go,” I said, and then quickly added, “if you want someone to smooth the path for you.”

  “Ted’s that much of a character, huh?”

  I wore a vague smile. “You’ll see.”

  I opened the door to my father’s kitchen and was surprised to see my cousin Rafael and his family, as well as a man I didn’t recognize.

  Rafael broke into a broad smile when he saw me. “Will you look at that absolute vision of loveliness, everyone?” He stood at the counter with a variety of ingredients spread in front of him. As a warlock and a master chef with his own restaurant in town called Chophouse, Rafael was never far from a chopping board.

  I crossed the kitchen to give Rafael a hard squeeze. “Hey, cousin.”

  “Eden, we’re so happy you’re home.” His wife Julie planted a wet kiss on my cheek. Julie and their sixteen-year-old daughter, Meg, are werewolves. No one knew what to expect when Rafael and Julie got married. We’d never had a shifter in the family before, but, by all accounts, Rafael and Julie were blissfully happy.

  “Our little flower girl is all grown up,” Rafael said, smiling. He glanced at his wife. “Remember our wedding?”

  “How can I forget? Not every flower girl eats the flower petals she’s meant to be scattering,” Julie said, and sighed at the happy memory. “You were so entertaining.”

  I held up a hand. “Okay, no reminders necessary.”

  Julie beamed. “I want to hear more about this. Did you get sick? Were they poisonous?”

  “Speaking of trips down memory of lane,” my father interrupted, “Eden, do you remember Gustav, my old friend from university?”

  I squinted at the squat man with the bushy white mustache. Although I remembered vague stories of pranks and shenanigans from their university days, I didn’t recall much else about Gustav.

  “Nice to see you, Gustav,” I said politely.

  “He’s in town for a little while,” my father said. “Isn’t that great? It’s just like old times.”

  Sally offered a pained smile. “Yes, they’ve already dusted off some of their old tomes.”

  I gave my dad a sharp look. “Do. Not. Summon. Anything.” I already had Chief O’Neill’s death to deal with. I didn’t need to clean up my father’s mess.

  Gustav waved his hand. “Not to worry. There’s n
o time for anything major. I’m on my way to visit my sister in Wilmington. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see my old roommate.” He whacked my father on the back.

  “Gustav brought news from Otherworld, too,” Sally said. “He was kind enough to drop in on my Aunt Sara before coming here.”

  “She sent me with this.” Gustav gestured to the miniature ceramic dragon on the counter. “It took ages to get through security and customs because of one tiny trinket.”

  “But I do appreciate it,” Sally said. “Aunt Sara is so talented. I’m glad to see she’s still creating.”

  “Her place was full of ceramic dragons,” Gustav said. “I was tempted to get one for my nephew—he’s obsessed with dragons—but I figured I’d wait until I go back.”

  “And what’s your creation, Rafael?” I asked, inclining my head toward the counter.

  “He’s making a potion for your father’s rheumatism,” Sally said.

  “Why can’t you get one from Mom?” I asked. My mother’s side was perfectly adept at making potions.

  My father pulled a face. “I don’t want to be poisoned. I want relief.”

  “Mom would never poison you,” I said.

  My father barked a short laugh. “You’ve clearly forgotten our trip to Cabo.”

  “That was the water!”

  “That’s what she wants you to think,” my dad replied.

  “I don’t mind making it,” Rafael said. “I figure it’s a good teachable moment for Meg.”

  The teenager rolled her eyes. “I’m a werewolf. I don’t do potions.”

  “You’re a teenager,” Julie said. “It seems to me you don’t do much of anything.”

  “There’s magic in your blood,” Rafael said, pointing the knife at her while he spoke. “You can be like a wizard and learn spells from books.”

  Meg rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “Fine. Carry on.”

  Rafael inhaled deeply, preparing to work. He’d always had a flair for the dramatic. “One does not simply cut the eye of newt. One must dice it.” He wiggled the knife. “But in order to properly bruise the lemongrass, I must use the dull side of the blade.”

  Meg pretended to snore. “You can imagine what he’s like when he cooks dinner at home.”