Hijacked Honeymoon: A Cozy Witch Mystery (Teas and Temptations Book 10)

by Cindy Stark

  She widened her eyes and stared at her husband.

  He lifted his chin in acknowledgement of her unspoken question. “I want you to go outside and call the police. Tell them it’s an emergency.”

  Hazel inhaled a shaky breath and nodded.

  She turned and strode toward the exit. Her heart thudded as she pushed open the door. They may very well have discovered the murderer.

  When she stepped out, she caught sight of Spencer running down the wet street and froze in surprise. She turned back to the shop. “Peter! He’s escaping!”

  Hazel didn’t wait for her husband to respond before she rushed out into the misty rain. “Stop,” she yelled, and an elderly couple watching sailboats on the river turned toward her.

  Spencer didn’t slow one bit.

  She took off after him, but Spencer was more agile than he appeared.

  Peter caught up to her and then passed her.

  Hazel slowed, trying to catch her breath. She really needed to get in better shape. Still, it wasn’t like she could tackle Spencer even if she could catch him.

  A gust of wind rushed past her, leaving the energy to circle around. Peter made good time. When he was close, he lunged for Spencer.

  At the last second, Spencer dodged his grasp and turned back toward her. Peter tumbled to the ground.

  Panic set in as she tried to formulate a plan. Should she try to stop him? Would Peter catch him first?

  He neared. She strode out to block his path, hoping at the very least, her presence would slow him down. Instead of dodging her, he ran in her direction, and she was the one to step out of the way at the last second. In an effort to hurry, she lost her balance and fell squarely on the wet asphalt.

  Her pulse throbbed, and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Peter neared and then past her, but Spencer was headed straight toward several ladies exiting the police station. Madeline was one of them, and she wasn’t sure her husband would reach him in time.

  Peter must have yelled, because the three older ladies turned.

  The carnelian Hazel wore around her neck burned against her skin, and she grasped it. It took a moment for her to recognize it was a message sent from the universe.

  She might not have enough physical power to catch Spencer, but she did have magic.

  And she knew the perfect spell.

  “Blessed Universe, hear my plea. Trip Spencer Evans, so mote it be.”

  She whisked her right hand out to the side.

  A split second later, Spencer stumbled. He tried to catch himself but couldn’t. Hazel smiled when his momentum rolled him a few more times until he came to a stop, lying flat on the wet street.

  Peter was on him in a second.

  A familiar police officer with short red hair, emerged from the building and rushed in to help.

  Hazel hurried forward and arrived to find Peter holding Spencer down. The officer, the same guy who’d greeted them on their previous visit to the station, asked for an explanation. Peter described why he believed Spencer was the murderer and how he’d run when they’d asked incriminating questions.

  She struggled to catch her breath and then startled when Madeline grasped her elbow.

  His aunt’s eyes were wide with shock. “What is going on?”

  Hazel covered Madeline’s hand where it rested on her arm. “I think we’re about to find out.”

  Spencer struggled against Peter’s hold. Rage contorted his face, and he gasped for air. “You don’t understand. She wanted to ruin me.”

  “She?” Peter asked.

  “That witch, Olive.”

  Hazel narrowed her eyes in offense.

  The officer met Peter’s gaze and nodded. “Let’s cuff him.”

  After they wrangled handcuffs around Spencer’s wrists, Peter and the officer hauled him to his feet, and the officer read him his rights.

  Spencer jerked, trying to free himself from their hold. “No, this isn’t right. Listen to me. Olive laughed at me. She taunted me every day for years. Instead of loving me, she said she’d ruin me. I’d given her so much. I couldn’t let her do it.”

  The officer patted Spencer’s back as though he understood. “I’m sure you had your reasons. Let’s go inside and talk about it, okay?”

  Spencer nodded quickly, and Hazel could see he’d lost his grip on reality.

  Peter helped the officer escort Spencer inside the station, while Hazel remained outside with his aunt.

  Madeline released a shuddering sigh. “I can’t believe it. I comforted that man.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Hazel said, trying to console her.

  Hazel stayed by Madeline’s side while she explained to her friends. Then she lifted her chin in defiance. “It’s about time. I knew asking Peter and you to come help was the right thing. Now Tracy can come home, and we can all have our lives back.”

  That much was true. Still, Hazel couldn’t help but wonder what life at the big house would be like after everything. She knew Tracy well enough to know she was a feisty thing and may not forgive Peter. Hazel hoped her husband was up to facing his consequences.

  Epilogue

  The sun had fallen by the time Peter returned to the bungalow, and Hazel sensed his heavy heart. She strode to him and, without saying a word, wrapped her arms around his neck. He pressed her close to him and buried his face in her hair.

  They stayed that way for several moments, and she hoped her love helped him in some way.

  He pulled away and met her gaze. “The sneaky jerk laced the mug before it ever left his store.”

  Hazel widened her eyes. “He did? That’s…kind of risky, isn’t it? What if Vera decided to keep it? Or what if she took a sip of Olive’s coffee?”

  Peter shrugged. “The man’s not running on all cylinders. Guess he didn’t think of that.”

  “What about the journal?” she asked cautiously.

  His gaze remained steady. “What journal?”

  She tilted her head, trying to read him. “You didn’t mention it?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t need to. Spencer confessed. Alberto deserves his new life, and I kind of like the idea of Vera wondering what happened to it. Serves her right.”

  Hazel released a small chuckle. “All she’ll know is an odd cat was in her house, and then the journal was gone. Maybe that will keep her up at night.”

  His aunt called shortly thereafter, and, in clipped tones, invited them to the big house for a discussion. More like ordered Peter from the sound of her voice, which left Hazel with butterflies in her tummy.

  Peter didn’t say much on their way across the lawn, or after they’d entered the house. She now sat next to him on a couch in Madeline’s drawing room, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

  Peter’s posture was stiff, and his expression blank, but Hazel could feel the sorrow and shame pouring from him.

  She knew words wouldn’t comfort him, so she took his hand instead.

  When his aunt entered the room, he stood.

  Mr. Kitty followed her, and Hazel dropped her jaw in surprise. This was not the time for his shenanigans. She glared at him, hoping he’d get the message to leave, but he promptly turned his head away and stayed near Madeline’s ankles.

  Madeline was stoic, but Hazel sensed her mood was more like that of a disappointed mother than an angry one. “Sit down, Peter.”

  He did as he was asked, and Madeline claimed one of the chairs opposite them. Mr. Kitty jumped onto the older woman’s lap, and she stroked his fur as though his presence was an everyday occurrence.

  Hazel suspected it had been.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Mad—”

  She held up a hand. “No. You can save your apologies for Tracy.”

  As if by magic, the English housekeeper appeared at the sound of her name. She carried a tray with Madeline’s colonial teapot, four cups and saucers, and the accompanying cream and sugar containers.

  Tracy narrowed her gaze at Peter and moved forward to set the tray
on the coffee table between them. Hazel caught sight of a plate of cherry macaroons and English scones, and greatly looked forward to tasting them.

  After depositing the tray, Tracy settled herself onto the chair next to Madeline. She leveled a dark gaze at Peter and folded her hands on her lap.

  Madeline cleared her throat. “Now, you may apologize.”

  Peter focused on Tracy, his expression beyond misery. “I can’t ask for your forgiveness, Tracy, but know that I’m ashamed of what I did. I thought I was protecting my aunt, but I should have known you could never hurt anyone. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

  Tracy folded her arms over her wide girth. She stared at Peter for a long moment and then sighed. “I have to admit I was a tad gutted over what you did, Peter. I might not be your auntie, but you’re like family to me.”

  He swallowed hard. “I know. I just…when we found the cyanide in the greenhouse, I feared the worst. Then everything else kept pointing at my aunt, or you.”

  The housekeeper nodded. “And if you had to pick one of us, you were going to pick me.”

  He nodded but didn’t speak.

  Tracy released another long sigh. “Well, I have two choices. I can refuse to forgive you and break everyone’s heart, or I can admire your loyalty to your auntie. I’ll have to pick the latter.”

  Peter shook his head. “I don’t deserve it or expect it.”

  Tracy reached up and tugged on her earlobe. “That’s not up to you, is it? The way I see it is, ultimately, you saved me bum, and I prefer to look forward instead of back.”

  Madeline cleared her throat. “That’s not exactly true. Hazel is the one who stopped Spencer. He might not have confessed otherwise.”

  Hazel froze.

  Mr. Kitty jumped from Madeline’s lap and hurried to her.

  She could barely breathe, and she grew lightheaded as all blood drained to her feet. “No. Spencer tripped. Remember? You were there.”

  Madeline chuckled and shook her head. “Don’t be silly girl. I saw you mutter a spell, and Spencer tripped a second later.”

  Hazel turned to Peter with accusing eyes, but he shook his head.

  Tracy tilted her head to the side and regarded Hazel. “Don’t you think it’s time to come out with it?”

  Madeline caught Hazel’s gaze and smiled. “We’ve known since the day after the wedding, my dear. First, Peter’s cousin Travis told me, and then Peter’s mom was all upset when she called, too. We also kind of wondered if this cat was your familiar.”

  Hazel swallowed. “You know about familiars?”

  “Quite right,” Tracy said.

  Hazel turned to her husband again. “I thought you said Madeline and your mom didn’t ever talk.”

  He gave her a helpless shrug. “I didn’t think they did.”

  Madeline snorted. “Trust me, Hazel. We don’t have an amicable relationship, but I think the idea of her son marrying a witch upset her so much that she called everyone.”

  Hazel paused for a moment, trying to gauge the emotions in the atmosphere. “You don’t seem angry.”

  Tracy laughed. “Angry? We think it’s the neatest thing since sliced bread. Madeline was positive you could help her. I wasn’t about to disagree.”

  Peter held up a hand. “Wait a minute. I thought you wanted my help.”

  Hazel tried to keep a warm smile from blossoming on her face.

  Madeline graced her nephew with a sweet look. “You were my backup plan.”

  He snorted. “Backup plan?”

  Hazel reached over and took Peter’s hand. “Honestly, we’re a team. We both helped. I couldn’t, nor would I ever want to, do it without him.”

  Peter narrowed his gaze at her and then smiled. “Same back at ya.”

  Madeline clapped her hands together. “Let’s try this delicious tea of yours, Hazel, and then Tracy and I need to pack.”

  “Pack?” Peter asked. “Did I miss something?”

  Madeline nodded. “After Tracy was arrested and then released, we both realized we haven’t been living life to the fullest. I booked us a couple of rooms in Atlantic City, and us old dames are going to have a grand time. We leave in the morning, which gives you, Hazel, and your kitty a honeymoon day all to yourselves.”

  “A whole day?” Peter asked with mock incredulity.

  Hazel grinned. She wasn’t about to say no. “We’ll take it.”

  ****

  Continue reading for an excerpt from Murder and Moonstones, Book One in the next series, Crystal Cove Cozy Mysteries.

  ****

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  Excerpt from Murder and Moonstones

  Crystal Cove Cozy Mysteries

  Book One

  Opal Mayland was close. So close.

  Less than twenty minutes stood between her and Crystal Cove, Oregon, her childhood home. She tried again to calm the incessant itch to be out of her car, but it would not be quelled.

  For days, she’d ignored the miles and hours that loomed ahead as she had driven northward from Sedona, Arizona, where she’d spent the last six years learning her craft at the center of a powerful vortex. This morning, she’d woken super early so she could roll into town just after noon. Now, she was so close to home she could taste the salt on the late springtime air that blew in through the car window.

  Opal pressed harder on the accelerator, and the needle on the speedometer crept up. The late-model Mustang growled as its engine kicked in, and it eased into the next curve as smooth as the surface of a mountain lake.

  She smiled, loving the thrill.

  The never-ending black ribbon that wound through the lush forests of eastern Oregon toward the coast sped by a little faster. Rain speckled the windshield, forcing her to turn on the wipers every minute or so.

  Bring it on. She loved rain and salty ocean breezes more than just about anything in the world. She’d missed the Pacific Northwest’s beauty almost as much as she’d missed her grandfather.

  The urge to throw her arms around her grandpa, the town’s police chief, was strong, and she hoped he wouldn’t lecture her for coming home unannounced. She also hoped he’d learned to keep his share of crazy in check when it came to any kind of paranormal persons other than her. The fact that he’d accidentally married a witch never failed to give Opal a laugh.

  The sight of a dark blue police SUV nestled amongst a cluster of trees along the side of the road stole her happy mood.

  She flicked her gaze to the speedometer and groaned. Fourteen over the posted limit.

  Red and blue lights flashed to life, of course, and excitement fizzled out of her like waves returning to the ocean. The polished piece of jasper her witch friends had given her for luck obviously wasn’t working.

  Opal weighed her chances of being able to talk her way out of a ticket against the likelihood of receiving one and having her grandpa find out. The odds weren’t good. Worse, a citation before she had a chance to say hello to her grandfather would not help to convince him that her newly-honed abilities could be an asset to the police department.

  She should pull over and find out her fate, but a third option came into play.

  A redirection spell. She’d been dying to try it on someone she didn’t know, but did she dare?

  Th
e loud chirp of the officer’s siren brought her thoughts to the present and warned she was out of time.

  Now or never.

  Opal glanced in the rearview mirror and released a steadying breath. “See that tree? See that ground? Stop your car and turn around. What you need is not me. Turn away, so mote it be.”

  Expecting the officer would pull to the side of the road and then head in the opposite direction, Opal pressed harder on the accelerator. Her Mustang dug deep and shot forward. She smiled once again.

  Seconds passed, and she continually flicked her gaze between the road ahead and her rearview mirror.

  The officer wasn’t stopping. The SUV’s lights behind her remained bright, even with the increased spray of water her tires kicked up. Uncertainty tightened her throat, and she swallowed.

  “See that tree?” she whispered harsh and fast. “See that ground? Stop your car and turn around. What you need is not me. Turn away, so mote it be.”

  The SUV inched closer, and the officer turned on the siren full blast. Her heart jumped in her chest.

  Sweet Gaia.

  The officer was in hot pursuit after her.

  She could either pull over now or risk a manhunt.

  If she chanced it, the cop would call in her plates and ask for backup. Her grandpa would hear and freak out because his granddaughter was running from the law.

  Her witch sisters had warned it could take years of practice to be a fully competent witch. She should have listened.

  Instead, the universe had served her a huge piece of humble pie.

  Opal prayed for mercy as she signaled, slowed, and came to a stop at the side of the road. Her mind immediately went to work searching for another way out of the mess.

  Then again, perhaps she was overreacting. After all, she was home.

  She’d likely know the officer. She’d likely get only a strong lecture about speeding. This was manageable. Not the end of the world.

  She exhaled and reined in her fears.

  Rain on the windshield and the side mirror kept her from immediately identifying the tall, obviously male officer who approached. She lowered her window and cast her gaze downward in contrition, prepared to apologize.