by Amy Boyles
“You got that right,” Betty said.
Donovan shook his hand. “Thank you for coming and doing all this. How’d you manage to get down here on such short notice?”
The lead singer sipped from a bottle of water in his hand. He took several large gulps and smacked his lips. “We performed in Birmingham last night so we were close by when my employer told me to come here. You might know him—name’s Johnny Utah.”
The hair on my arms rose to attention. The tension in the air swelled so fast and thick it wouldn’t have surprised me if a lightning bolt ripped through the mess of us.
“What did you say?” Donovan said.
“He said Johnny Utah sent him, same as me.”
We turned toward the new voice. Standing opposite us was the man who’d come into the store earlier in the day. He wasn’t wearing regular clothes anymore. Now he wore a black shirt and pants along with a utility belt filled with all sorts of funny looking objects—metal circles and triangles.
“Hunter,” Betty spat. “You don’t have a right to be here.”
To the right, a knot of people slammed into our group. They were all ages, from a middle-aged man and woman down to a young girl. Dear Lord, let me guess—the Sensational Singers.
“Howdie, y’all,” said the mom, who wore long braids wrapped around her ears. “We’re here to see Donovan. Oh, there you are! Hey, Donovan! It’s great to see you again.”
Donovan gave a weak wave. “Hello.”
The witch hunter took a step forward. His golden eyes glittered. I had a feeling not much was going to stop him from taking Donovan’s life.
“What a great party you got going on here. I’m just kinda ticked that nobody thought to invite me.”
A man who sounded like John Travolta from Saturday Night Fever and who happened to be dressed like him, too, stepped into our midst.
“Johnny,” Donovan said. “Let me explain.”
Holy crapola on a stick.
Johnny Utah was flanked on both sides by large brute-looking types. They kept their mouths shut, but their beady eyes focused on Donovan.
The witch hunter scoffed. “What’s going on? This is supposed to be my mark, Johnny. You promised me.”
Johnny shrugged. “Sometimes I change my mind, Carl.”
The hunter shook his head. “Dammit, no names. You’re never supposed to reveal my name. Good grief, what’s wrong with you Mafioso types? Is it the werewolf in you that makes you so stupid?”
One of the Sensational Singers gasped. “Carl?”
All our heads swiveled toward the father of the group. He was tall with strong arms and hands that were now closed into tight fists like he wanted to punch someone. “Is that you, Carl? You cheat. Wait till I get my hands on you.”
Carl the Witch Hunter backed up. “Whoa, there. Listen, can we discuss this later? Right now,” he said, taking one of the silver circles from his utility belt, “I’ve got a mark to kill.”
“Not until I say so,” Johnny said, throwing out his barrel chest. “Nobody dies until I give the order, and I’m not giving any orders.”
Carl sneered. “You promised me my money.” He turned to Donovan and raised the circle. “You’re mine.”
A lightning bolt snaked across the sky. The light flashed brightly, illuminating everyone surrounding Donovan. A torrent of rain fell, soaking me to the skin in a matter of seconds. The sheet dropped so thick I could barely see. The rain made the darkness of night appear even that much blacker.
Then all heck broke loose.
I was shoved right and slipped. I felt Axel’s arm around my waist, keeping me steady. A loud pop sounded, but I couldn’t locate where it had originated. Someone screamed, and then then storm settled.
As if it happened with the snapping of fingers, the rain ceased. The lights returned to normal, and we all stood in the circle, facing each other.
All of us except one person—Carl the Witch Hunter. He lay on the ground facedown, his neck twisted at a sickening angle.
Axel placed two fingers to Carl’s neck. “It’s broken and there’s no pulse. Everyone stay where you are. Someone in this circle committed murder.”
SIX
“So the witch hunter wound up dead?” Amelia asked.
It was late, close to midnight. I was in my pajamas in Amelia’s room. Cordelia had joined us as well, and we were piled up on the bed, like all good cousins who called themselves the sweet tea witches.
No, we weren’t drinking sweet tea, but we did have serious mud masks on our faces. Mine was green to really clean out those pores, while Amelia and Cordelia did the clear kind that peeled off. Oh, I loved peeling things—like sunburnt skin off my shoulders.
Am I weird, or what?
Anyway, they hadn’t been backstage, so they hadn’t seen what had happened.
I dug a spoon into my favorite witchy-flavored ice cream that my cousin Carmen made—it was called Brewed Eye of Newt and was chocolate with a caramel ribbon and chunks of cookie dough scattered throughout. Trust me, it was da bomb and heaven all in one delicious bite.
I moaned after a mouthful slid down my throat. “Yeah, a huge lightning bolt cracked, and then all this crazy rain started pouring. Next thing I knew, the hunter, Carl, was dead and several folks were standing around him—all of whom wanted him gone.”
“Like Uncle Donovan,” Amelia said.
I grimaced. “Yeah, including him, but have you met our uncle? The last thing he strikes me as is a killer. I bet he wouldn’t even swat a fly.”
“Oh, I’ve seen him do that,” Amelia said, digging into my ice cream. “He says they can’t be familiars so it’s okay.”
I licked chocolate from my lip. “Good to know.”
Cordelia picked at the edge of her mask. “And Johnny Utah had called off the hit?”
“Mmm hmm,” I said, “but apparently this Carl wasn’t taking the hint. He still wanted to kill Uncle Donovan.”
“That’s weird,” Amelia said. “I mean, why would he still want the job if Johnny told him it was off?”
“Money, for one,” Cordelia said. “Maybe the sheer pleasure of killing? There are psychopaths in the world.”
I scooped out a ball of cookie dough and chewed it for a moment. Never underestimate good bonding time over a tub of ice cream with the girls, or women in our case. “But there’s something weird about that, because everyone knew Carl was there to do the job, so why do it? Because if he’d killed Uncle Donovan, then he would’ve been charged with murder.”
Amelia tapped a spoon on her palm. “If Carl had a reason to want our uncle dead, then he might not care who knew because then Carl would vanish right after.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. The whole thing’s strange.”
Cordelia fell back onto the pillow. “I agree. Something’s not right about this.”
“I know,” I said. “He made such a big deal about killing Uncle Donovan, and then he’s the one who ended up being murdered.”
The three of us stared at each other.
“Did you see if he drove a car? When he came to your shop?” Cordelia said to me.
“Yeah, it was a silver-looking sports car. You couldn’t miss it. It was very expensive and very foreign.”
“Do you think you could find it?” she said.
My lips slowly curled. “What are you thinking?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. We find the guy’s car, break in, see if we can discover some clues as to why he was really in town?”
I shook my head. “You know your boyfriend would have your head about that.”
Cordelia smiled innocently. “Mine? ‘Why, Officer Garrick Young, I’m only trying to help you solve a murder. I don’t know how I ended up tripping and falling into this car and discovering all this evidence.’”
Amelia and I burst into laughter.
My gaze shifted from one cousin to the other. “Are the two of y’all game?”
Amelia clapped her hands with glee. “I am if yo
u are.”
“But we don’t know where to start looking,” I said.
Cordelia smiled. “Leave that to me.”
“Really?” I said, quirking a brow.
She tied back her long blonde hair. “It’s not like I’m any sort of bloodhound or anything, but this town is only so big and I know the best parking spots.”
“Oh,” I said, “I thought you were going to work some really cool magic that would help us find the car easier.”
“No.”
“Sometimes Cordelia likes to say things that make her sound smart,” Amelia said.
Cordelia yanked the spoon from Amelia’s hand. “And sometimes you like to say things that make you seem like you know what you’re talking about.”
Amelia snapped her fingers, and the spoon whizzed from Cordelia’s hand back to Amelia’s. Cordelia rose from the bed. “Come on. Let’s go find the car.”
We washed off our masks and changed from our pajamas into dark-colored clothing. We padded down the stairs softly, trying to avoid Betty. Donovan was sleeping on the screened-in back porch, so I wasn’t worried about him waking up or even caring.
Garrick Young had kept all of us at the festival pretty late doing interviews. He hadn’t arrested anyone while we were there, so I was pretty sure us finding Carl’s vehicle and digging through it was a great idea.
Okay, maybe just finding the vehicle was a good idea. If Garrick went dusting for fingerprints and found mine and my cousins, we’d probably be in big trouble.
But this was Magnolia Cove. Maybe Garrick had more sophisticated means of searching for clues besides dusting.
Maybe.
We sneaked out the front door and into the cool night.
“I wish I’d brought a sweater,” Amelia said. “It’s pretty chilly.”
“Do some jumping jacks,” Cordelia said. “That should help.”
“I’m not doing jumping jacks in the middle of the street.”
“Then stop complaining about being cold,” Cordelia snapped.
“Would you two stop?” I practically snarled. “We’re here to work. Let’s go to Bubbling Cauldron and see if it’s there.”
The night was dead still. Debris and litter filled the grassy area where the party had been. Once Carl was killed, all the energy and excitement at Donovan’s arrival had deflated. It was as if the same spell that had alerted the town to his presence had evaporated, taking all the energy with it.
“If I were a witch hunter, where would I have parked?” Amelia mused.
“In the shade to keep the car cool,” I said. “No one wants to work up a sweat and then get back in the car and be all sticky. Even though fall is almost here, the days are still hot.”
Cordelia threaded her fingers through her hair. “And where are the most trees?”
“In the park,” I said.
On the other side of Bubbling Cauldron, the road was lined with magnolias. We crossed the grassy area and found the street quiet except for a single vehicle parked on the curb.
I grabbed Cordelia’s arm. “That’s it. That’s the car.”
We reached it seconds later. It was a shimmering silver two-seater sports car.
“That’s weird,” I said. “If you were a witch hunter, wouldn’t you want a vehicle with a bigger trunk for all your gear?”
Amelia shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he kept all his tools on him.”
I ran a finger over the waxy hood. “He did wear a Batman-like utility belt.”
Cordelia placed a hand on the handle. “Let’s see if this baby is unlocked.” She pulled, but the door stuck firm.
“And I thought my granddaughters were smart enough to figure out how to break into a car and wouldn’t need my help.”
I turned around to see Betty clad in black with what looked like a knitted baby booty on her head.
“Is that a baby’s booty?” I said.
She glared at me. Yes, even with only lamplight spilling on us, I could see she was glaring.
“What’s it to you?”
“I mean, other than the fact it must’ve come from a giant baby, I was just wondering.”
She shrugged. “Let’s get down to business. Why in tarnation are y’all here in the middle of the night? Other than the fact that you look like complete and total deviants by being out this late?”
I gestured like Vanna White over the vehicle. “This was the witch hunter’s car.”
“Looks small,” she said gruffly.
“That’s what we thought,” I said. “We came to look for clues.”
“Cordelia couldn’t get it open,” Amelia said.
“I only tried the handle,” Cordelia snapped. “I didn’t work any magic.”
Betty cracked her knuckles. “Let me try.”
I frowned. “You can break in?”
Betty placed a finger over one nostril. “What do you think I am, just a pretty face? I can unlock things. Since Garrick and his band of merry men haven’t figured out that this is the victim’s car, he won’t have spelled it to stop nosy rosies like yourself from breaking in.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” I said.
“I just did,” she replied.
Betty released a line of magic from her open nostril. It floated in the air before dissolving over the vehicle.
Snick.
The locks popped as if on cue. I fisted the air in victory.
“All right, girls, let’s see what this witch hunter was all about.”
Betty opened the driver’s side door, and Cordelia opened the passenger.
“It’s pretty clean in here,” Cordelia said, swiping a hand over the seat. She opened the glove box. “There’s only the manual.”
“What about insurance cards?” I said.
“There aren’t any,” she said.
I gnawed the inside of my cheek. “That’s strange. You know State Farm or whoever always wants you to keep one card inside the vehicle at all times.”
“Yeah, well he didn’t bring along Molly Insurance to keep him in line,” Betty said.
“Is that a real person?” Amelia said.
“No,” the three of us answered in unison.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
Betty popped the trunk. “Amelia, take a look in the back.”
Amelia hustled to the rear and opened the lid. “It’s empty.”
I crossed to her. Sure enough, all that greeted us was a dark hole lined with gray carpet.
“If you were a witch hunter here to do a job, why would your trunk be empty?” I said. “Wouldn’t you need things? Like weapons, rope? Wouldn’t he need supplies?”
Betty scratched the base of her skull. “Something strange is going on here, that’s for sure.”
“Agreed,” I said.
I crossed to the front and slid into the passenger-side seat. I placed my hands on the dash. This wasn’t adding up. Not that I was some sort of genius detective or anything, but there was definitely something fishy going on.
Cordelia had closed up the glove box, but I punched the button. The lid flipped down, and I gazed at the incredibly neat contents. If you asked me, that was pretty amazing. In every car I’d ever owned, the glove box became a catchall for napkins, receipts, hair ties—anything I wanted to hide away. It made my car look clean on the inside when in reality all the mess had just ended up being shoved into the one hiding place I could find.
I grabbed the manual and peeled it open. I laughed.
“What is it?” Amelia said. “Are the directions to change the oil funny?”
“I doubt that’s what she’s laughing at,” Cordelia said.
“That’s not what’s so funny,” I admitted.
Betty boobed her way between my cousins. “Well, what is it? Tell us what’s so funny before we explode with anticipation.”
“Ew,” Amelia said. “That’s a horrible image.”
Cordelia folded her arms. “What is it, Pepper?”
I opened the owner’s manual so they c
ould see for themselves. Betty leaned forward, squinting.
“Bewitching Rentals?”
I pulled the business card from the flap in the manual. It had a picture of a witch flying in front of a full moon.
“Yep. Looks like this isn’t Carl’s car after all. It’s a rental. If we want to know more about our victim, then they’re the first folks we need to get in contact with.”
Looked like I had a job to do in the morning, because I had a feeling there was more to this “Carl” than met the eye.
SEVEN
“He reserved the car under the name Carl Carlsburg.”
Axel stood in Familiar Place, extending a sheet of paper for me. Hugo, perched on my shoulder, leaned over to sniff the page. Since it was Sunday and the store was officially closed, I’d come in to feed and water the animals. Axel had called and said he had news, so I asked him to swing by.
I stroked Hugo’s head and read the invoice. “Carl Carlsburg?”
Axel clicked his tongue. “That’s the name.”
“Do you think it’s a fake?”
Axel rolled his shoulders.
“You probably should’ve listened to the doctor and kept that sling on.”
Axel rubbed the spot where the bullet had penetrated him. “Everyone’s a critic.”
“Don’t you mean MD?”
“Everyone’s an MD,” he said with a curled lip. His blue eyes danced with amusement. I felt a blush creep up my neck. “I have the feeling my time ‘off’ is over. Now with Donovan returned, a murder investigation and the werewolf mafia in town, things are looking pretty combustible in good old Magnolia Cove.”
I smirked. “But Johnny hasn’t started any trouble, has he?”
“Not that I know of, but they’re werewolves.”
“So are you.” I uncoiled Hugo from my neck and laid him on the floor. The dragon padded away, sniffing at the animals.
Tell him to stay away from me. I scratch, one of the kittens said.
Can he teach us how to breathe fire? one of the puppies barked.
Hugo ignored them and instead flapped his wings and settled on an empty perch in the bird bin. The macaws and parrots shuffled over, keeping a watchful eye on the dragon, who glanced at them with a bored gaze.
