by Jane Hinchey
"The chances of it being a different fox shifter are pretty slim," Jenna said and I nodded in agreement. True.
"I just don't know why," I admitted, tucking my hair behind my ears. "What did Lexi have against the Sims?"
A fist banging against the front door had me swiveling my head so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. "I'll get it," Jenna volunteered, hopping up and crossing the door. She peeked behind the blind, announced, "It's Jackson," and opened the door.
"Everyone okay?" he asked, closing the door behind him. I noticed he didn't lock it and balled my hands into fists, a fierce mental debate going on in my head. If he'd locked it, it meant Lexi was still on the loose. But he'd left it unlocked, which meant he'd caught her. Right? Noticing my distraction, he reached back and flicked the snib and my heart almost stopped in my chest.
"Oh geez," he muttered, "you've gone as white as a sheet. And what happened to your face?"
"Will people stop asking that?" I pouted. "You're making me feel like I'm disfigured."
He crossed to me and tilted my face up to the light. "That's a nasty graze," he murmured, his thumb sliding across the skin just beneath my cheekbone. "You should get that looked at."
"Oh look at you lot," Gran grumbled. "Let me see." She pushed Jackson out of the way and pinched my chin to get a closer look. With a tsk she whipped out her wand, waved it in front of my face and the stinging stopped. "That's better." She nodded and resumed her seat. "Harper just brought us up to speed with her investigation," Gran told him. "Now it's your turn. What you got?"
"She's still on the run, isn't she? She's slipped through your net. You locked the door. You wouldn't have locked the door if you'd caught her, which means she's still out there and she knows that I know she's a killer." I could hear the hysteria rise in my voice but couldn't stop myself. Jackson caught my hand and drew my attention to him and not the fact that a madwoman was on the loose and wanted to kill me.
"We got her. You're safe. I locked the door because I could see it was freaking you out that I didn't."
Bloody observant detective. Feeling a little foolish, I allowed myself to enjoy the warmth of his hand for a second longer before disentangling from him and going to sit on the other side of Gran's armchair. "Continue."
"First of all, thank you, Jenna, for your fast intel on the property at Wiltshire Drive." He nodded at Jenna who blushed.
"What? What intel? Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded, head swiveling between the two of them.
"I was coming here to do that very thing," Jenna told me, "but when you sent me the photo of the borrio bud I phoned Jackson to tell him while I was on my way here."
"And just what was this intel?"
"That Lexi's mother had owned the property on Wiltshire Drive, up until four years ago. She was a struggling single mom and the bank foreclosed and kicked Lexi and her mom out."
"But...did the bank sell the house? Why is it sitting empty?"
"The bank couldn't get an offer that would cover the debt owed. And then Lexi's mom killed herself," Jackson told us. I clapped a hand over my mouth. How awful. "Lexi was taken in by her mother's clan in Alabama, but when Lexi turned twenty-one, she came back to Whitefall Cove."
"For revenge," I said.
"She says for justice," Jackson said. "She's spent four years plotting how she'd kill those responsible for uprooting her life. When she started work at Bean Me Up, you came in one day after you'd been gardening, Jenna, and she smelled the borrio bud on you. It goes without saying that foxes have a keen sense of smell."
“But that was months ago," Jenna pointed out. "Why wait all this time."
"To integrate herself into the community. To become a valued member of society to lessen her chances of being a suspect."
"Smart." Gran nodded.
"A little," Jackson agreed. He directed his next words at me. "Then you came home and forced her hand."
"Forced her hand? What do you mean?"
"Whitney started acting all jittery and weird and Lexi thought she was on to her. So, she rushed it. Initially, she was going to poison both Whitney and Bruce in their home, but she ran out of time, so she took a takeout cup from Bean Me Up, prepared the poison and hid the cup behind the counter until Christina came in and requested the usual order. Christina didn't see Lexi switch the cups out."
"But why kill Whitney? Bruce is the bank manager, he's the one who would have foreclosed on the loan," Jenna pointed out.
"Whitney was the realtor who put it on the market. She arranged to have all the furniture cleared out and dumped. And Lexi overheard her saying after her mom had killed herself, that the house was now an albatross, that no one would buy it now thanks to the silly woman who'd offed herself there."
"Wait, so Lexi's mom killed herself at the house?" I asked.
Jackson nodded. "Broke in, cut her wrists in the bath. Whitney discovered the body during a showing."
"How awful," I whispered. Gran patted my knee.
"So...it was Lexi who threw the brick through my window?"
"It was. You were getting too close. The car we impounded? It was used in a corner store robbery in Alabama. And despite it being thoroughly cleaned, we did recover a hair from the driver side headrest. A match to Lexi."
"So, you're saying Lexi robbed a store, drove all the way here, holed up at the fox's compound and kept the car hidden there while she integrated herself with the community, then killed Whitney?"
"Exactly,” Jackson said. “But she didn't have the luxury of time to get rid of Bruce. She rushed it. She used the car she'd kept hidden all this time and shot him. Unfortunately, she didn't manage to kill him. Now everyone was on guard, everyone was suspicious. She was leaving town when we caught her."
"What about Mike?" Jenna asked, but I was already shaking my head,
"She was using him. I'm not even sure why, beyond having a good time. I went to see him tonight and she was breaking up with him. It wasn't pleasant." I suddenly had a light bulb moment. "That's why she was at her old house! She was tying up loose ends. Break up with Mike and tell him she's moving on—that way it’s common knowledge, he'd tell people she'd left. Then go by the old house and take the borrio bud plant, so no evidence to tie it to her. Only Archie and I turned up and disturbed her before she could get it."
"You're lucky she ditched the gun she'd used on Bruce." Jackson shook his head.
"Finally!" The sound of Whitney's ghostly voice behind my left shoulder had me launching off the armrest with a scream. Spinning, I eyeballed the apparition of Whitney Sims hovering a foot off the floor behind the armchair where we'd all been sitting, for Gran and Jenna had joined me in our scramble across the floor. Archie hissed, and his hackles rose, along with his spine, in a spectacular arch that was both impressive and intimidating. I made a mental note to make sure I gave him an extra treat when we got home.
"Whitney?" My voice wobbled, and I cleared my throat. "Have you been haunting my store?"
"I've been trying to get your attention," she whined, "but none of you could see me. The only thing that worked was turning that damn thermostat off, but even then, you didn't know I was here."
I sucked in a deep breath through my nose, blew it out through my mouth and folded my arms across my chest. Lord, give me patience.
“Did you know it was Lexi who killed you?” I asked. “And how come we can see you now?”
Whitney pointed at Jackson. “It’s him.” Then she pointed at me. “And you.”
“Us?” We said in unison.
“I tried communicating with you. No answer,” Jackson accused.
“It’s something about her power and your ability, Whitney said. “She’s all glowy with magic, like a halo.”
I looked at Jackson and mimed she’s crazy with my finger at my temple. “I don’t have any magic, Whitney,” I reminded her. “It’s on lockdown.”
“It’s not,” she argued, arms crossed over her chest.
Deciding to let it go for now, I changed subject
. “Did you know all along that it was Lexi who killed you?”
Whitney shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I was trying to communicate with you to let you know that it wasn’t Bruce. I knew you’d all think that, but it wasn’t him.”
“How could you be sure?” Jenna asked.
“Because I knew everything. I knew about him and Wendy, I knew she was pregnant, I knew they were getting ready to make a life together. And ”—she held up a hand—“despite what you may think, I’d come to terms with it. I’d gotten over all my feelings of jealousy and rage, because what Bruce said to me eighteen months ago when he asked for a divorce? It finally sank in. That we loved each other but weren’t in love anymore. And that I needed to start living my own life. And so, while I was making my own plans to setup my own realtor business—for real—I watched Bruce and Wendy slowly fall in love. Initially I wanted to hurt them. Both of them. I took control of Bruce’s assets, planned to hit him where it hurt the most.” She shrugged. “But then you came back to town. An example of what can happen when you allow your emotions to rule. It backfired spectacularly for you and I realized that all the judgement I was heaping on you, well…people would be saying that about me. I’d rather walk away with my head held high.”
“Gee thanks,” I muttered. “Well, you’re free to go, Whitney. The mystery of your death is solved. Move into the light or whatever it is you spirits do."
She laughed, smoothed down her dress and tossed her head. "Oh no, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay."
I looked at her in horror. "You can't be serious."
"I've thoroughly enjoyed watching your investigation." She floated toward us and it was disconcerting, to say the least. "I've decided to stay. You're looking at Whitefall Cove's very first ghost detective."
Ready to read Harper’s next adventure in Witch Way to Romance & Ruin? Get your copy here: http://mybook.to/RomanceRuin
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About Jane
Aussie Author & International Bestseller Jane Hinchey writes sexy, snarky, badass, paranormal romances and funny, witchy, paranormal cozy mysteries.
Living in the City of Churches (aka Adelaide, South Australia) with her man, two cats, and turtle, she would really prefer to live in a magical town where cooking could be done with a snap of her fingers, and her house would clean itself.
When she's not in her writing cave she's usually playing the Sims, Civilizations or something similar, binge-watching Netflix or upping the ante in the crazy cat lady stakes.
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Copyright © 2019 by Jane Hinchey
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-6485019-1-6
Published by Baywolf
This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
For Donna, thank you.
Acknowledgments
A theme I have going with the Witch Way series is that my readers name the books and Witch Way to Romance & Ruin is no exception. A massive shout out and thank you to Donna DeGloria for coming up with Romance & Ruin, this book wouldn’t have happened if not for you. If you want to get in on this action, then you need to come and join in the fun in my readers group on Facebook – Jane’s Little Devils.
To my wonderfully supportive readers who are always there with a cheery comment, who are fast to waste time with me on Facebook, and who continue to buy my books. Thank you!
Shout out to my cover designer, Melody Simmons, for another gorgeous cover, and to my editor Jenn Wood. Writing a book may be a solitary endeavor but getting it out into the world is not, I’d be lost without editors and designers.
And finally, you. Thank you for reading this book. You are my book family, words cannot describe how honored I am that you picked up this book and are reading my words. It boggles my mind on a daily basis, so thank you, never forget that I appreciate you, truly.
Chapter One
“Oh my god, here he comes! Quick, get out of here.” Wendy waddled away from the front window of The Dusty Attic bookstore, hands caressing her swollen belly. I snatched up my bag and was almost home free when the bell over the front door chimed, bringing with it a gust of air and the unmistakable scent of Detective Jackson Ward’s cologne. Clutching my bag to my chest, I waited for the inevitable.
“Ah good, you’re back.” The ghost of Whitney Sims immediately appeared, as she did whenever Jackson and I were together in the store. It appeared his necromancing powers, combined with my witch magic, tethered her to the Dusty Attic. It had been two months since her death and each time she appeared, she didn’t seem to notice the discrepancy in time or how long she’d been gone. “I’ve got more ideas for the book club.”
She floated across the floor and a shiver danced up my spine, as it always did whenever she was near. I was new to ghosts and didn’t think I’d ever get used to having her around.
“Harper Jones,” Jackson drawled, a knowing grin curling the corners of his mouth. “You weren’t leaving, were you?”
“I swear to god, you duck in here just to amuse yourself,” I grumbled, tossing my bag back behind the desk that served as a counter. Plastering a fake grin on my face, I tuned out Whitney, who was rattling on about the book club and slowly drifting up to the mezzanine level. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
“I hear the book club is reading an Agatha Christie novel this month,” he began, nodding a hello to Wendy, who eased herself into the chair behind my desk. “How’s it going, Wendy?”
“Despite being the size of a whale and no longer able to see my feet, I’m remarkably well, thank you,” she replied, her whole demeanor radiating an Earth-Mother vibe.
I’d taken pity on Wendy when she had to take leave from her job as a nurse, due to her pregnancy. Being on her feet for twelve-hour shifts was too much, so I’d offered her part-time work here at the bookstore. Despite the fact that the ghost of her best friend, Whitney Sims, haunted the place—and that Wendy had been having an affair with Whitney’s husband and was, in fact, carrying his child—it had all turned out remarkably well. It seemed ghost Whitney held no grudges, unlike the living W
hitney, who’d been a bully and a terror.
“Yes, we’re reading The A.B.C. Murders. Why? Did you want to come?”
He shrugged, a sheepish expression flitting across his face.
“Oh! You do want to come.” My grin widened. “Well, that will make it interesting. You do know I hold the meetings here. And that if I’m here, and you’re here...” I trailed off and he filled in the gap.
“Then Whitney will be here.”
“Yup. Think you can handle that?”
“You’re forgetting I’m a necromancer. I see ghosts everywhere, of course I can handle it.”
“Oh really? How come you couldn’t see Whitney until that day when my magic leaked through?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Don’t know. Who really knows how the afterlife works? But I can tell you that there are no other ghosts inhabiting your store.” He seemed pleased to impart that piece of information.
“Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is Whitney is going to bug the hell out of the book club members,” I pointed out.
“Hey!” Whitney drifted back down to us and stood with her hands on her hips. “I heard that. And I’d love to sit in on the book club. I promise I’ll behave. Please come.”
This last comment was directed at Jackson, and she sidled up to him in what I imagined was meant to be a flirty swagger. As a floating ghost, though, it was lost in translation and she sort of bobbled toward him.
“It’s up to Harper, it’s her book club.”
I looked from Jackson’s hopeful face to Whitney’s pleading one. “Oh fine, you can come. Thursday at seven sharp.”
His smile lit up his face and stole my breath. He really was gorgeous to look at, and I had to remind myself, again, that he was dating Liliana, his co-worker.
