Witch Way to Beauty and the Beach

by Jane Hinchey

  “Meow.” The paw dropped, and he cocked his head in that way that is too adorable to resist. I sighed, lifted my head to peer past him to the clock.

  “Archie,” I whined, “it’s not even six.”

  “Meooooow.” His paw landed on my nose with a gentle pat. Throwing back the covers, I slid my legs out of bed. One thing was for sure, this cat had me trained well. Throwing on a robe, I tied it around my waist and used the bathroom before heading downstairs, Archie preceding me with his tail in the air. He sat by his food bowl. His non-empty food bowl.

  “You still have kibble, Archie,” I grumbled. Nevertheless, I opened an overhead cupboard and pulled out the container holding the kibble and scooped some into his bowl. His face was buried in the bowl within seconds, his purr as loud as the crunching of the biscuits between his teeth. Putting on a pot of coffee, I stood, arms wrapped around my waist, gazing out of the kitchen window toward the lighthouse on the bluff.

  I loved it here in the caretaker’s cottage. It was quiet and peaceful, and I got to gaze at the lighthouse any time of the day or night. Tours had started now that the weather was warmer, but the extra foot traffic didn’t bother me. Some days I’d sit on the front porch and get as much enjoyment from people watching as I did from lighthouse watching.

  Archie and I had settled into a summer routine. Up early, breakfast, then a walk along the beach before work. Today was no different. After changing into shorts and a tank, I headed out. We had our own path from the bluff down to the beach and Archie streaked ahead of me, stopping to sniff amongst the bushes, sometimes capturing a stray leaf and carting it all the way to the beach as if he were a great hunter with his prey.

  Stepping from the compacted path onto the soft sand, I eased my shoes off and carried them, loving the feel of the sand between my toes. Waves lapped at the shore and Archie played catch me if you can with them, jumping high in the air if the water so much as touched a toe.

  “Don’t like the surf, huh, boy?” I teased, watching as he scampered up the beach, out of the reach of the encroaching tide. In Australia Archie had loved the water, would happily swim in the watering hole at the place we were staying, but I suspected that had something to do with his canine companion, Bandit, and trying to emulate a dog, rather than an overwhelming love of water.

  Although, watching now as he scampered further up the beach and disappeared from view among the colorful beach huts, maybe Archie had a little canine DNA in him after all. At a more leisurely pace I strolled along the shoreline, letting the water lap around my ankles as it surged forward, then retreated. The little wooden beach huts with their alternating jewel colors added a colorful backdrop to my scenic walk. I remembered wanting one of the cabins so badly as a child, harassing mom and dad, who’d argued that we had no need for such a fancy cabana. I admit, the miniature houses with their little gabled roofs and front decks, alternating from green, blue, orange, and yellow, were only really useful to change into your bathing suit, maybe store beach chairs and coolers.

  I’d bent to scoop up a shell the tide had washed ashore when Archie’s mournful meows alerted me something was up. Squinting, I raised a hand to block out the early morning glare and spotted Archie further up the beach near a lump of seaweed.

  “It’s okay, Archie,” I called, picking up my pace. “It’s just seaweed. Nothing to be scared of.”

  He trotted toward me, stopped, then trotted back to the seaweed and meowed, long and loud. Recognizing the tone of his howl, I broke into a jog, arriving at the lump of seaweed out of breath. Only it wasn’t just seaweed at my feet.

  “Oh, no,” I whispered, reaching down with trembling fingers to brush away the strands of seaweed covering the face of a girl, her skin as white as white, her eyes open and cloudy. “Not again.” I sank to my knees beside her body. Archie head bumped my elbow and leaned into my side. Absently I pet him. “It’s Emily,” I said. Emily who I’d seen dancing just the day before in her beautiful blue dress. Only now she was in sodden jeans and a T-shirt, her body lifeless.

  Pulling out my phone, I dialed.

  “Harper.” Jackson sounded surprised. “You’re up early.”

  “There’s a dead body on the beach,” I said without preamble.

  “What? Do you know who?” His voice changed immediately, as I knew it would. He’d switched from friend mode to cop mode.

  “Emily Sherman,” I said. “It looks like she drowned.”

  “I’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but there was nothing but the dial tone humming in my ear. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I leaned back on my heels and examined Emily. Her skin was deathly white, but around her neck, an ugly purple bruise. Had someone strangled her and dumped her body in the water? She was fully clothed, so however she’d found her way into the water it hadn’t been intentional.

  The more I looked at her the more I believed that Emily had met with foul play. Quickly pulling out my phone, I took photos of her body. Jackson wouldn’t approve, but how could I not try to find out what had happened to the poor girl? It was hard to fathom mere hours ago she was full of vivacious life, flirting with her boyfriend.

  I heard a car screech to a halt and turned to watch as Jackson slammed the door of his car, then made his way across the beach to me. We were at the far end of the cove, the opposite end to the lighthouse, away from the bathing huts. Isolated. Was this where she died? Or was this merely where she’d washed ashore after being dumped at sea?

  Jackson strode right up to me, into my personal space, and his hands clamped my shoulders. “Are you all right?” His concern was comforting, as was the warm emerald green of his eyes. I nodded. “I’m fine. I wish I could say the same for Emily.”

  “You found her like this?” He moved around me to examine the body.

  “Archie did,” I told him. “I thought it was just a lump of seaweed until I got closer. I cleared the seaweed from her face. Other than that, I haven’t touched a thing.”

  He shot me a look before turning his attention back to Emily’s body.

  “Bruising around the throat,” he said, using a pen to push strands of Emily’s hair away from her neck. “Fully clothed.” He glanced around. “No sign of a bag or purse.”

  I watched and waited as he continued his preliminary sweep. In the distance I heard sirens.

  “I called them after you called me,” Jackson said by way of explanation. I shrugged. I guess I should have called the police station directly, but my first instinct had been to call Jackson. And let’s not ignore the fact I was keen to avoid contact with Police Officer Liliana Miles. Our relationship had always been frosty, but now that she and Jackson had broken up it was downright glacial.

  Archie wove around my ankles and I bent to scoop him up into my arms, hugging him close to my chest and burrowing my face in his fur. All the while my mind was going over who could have killed Emily. And why? Turning my back on the scene, I gazed out over the ocean, calm today, the sun reflecting off the water, not a boat in sight. The wharf sat empty except for a lone sailing yacht. Given that the water was calm and the air still, I’d imagine whoever owned the yacht wouldn’t be sailing until there was a breeze to fill the sails.

  “Jones,” Liliana said, her voice cold and curt. “Should have known.”

  I turned to face her, squeezing Archie a little too tight, so he squeaked in protest. “Sorry boy.” I put him down and folded my arms across my chest.

  “Officer Miles.” I nodded in greeting, knowing not to address her as Liliana. I’d made that mistake once and had been told in no uncertain terms never to do so again. I also knew not to volunteer information to her; she had a strict don’t speak to me unless spoken to policy.

  Jackson straightened from his examination of the body. “Good, you’re here,” he said to Liliana. “Secure the scene.”

  “What are you thinking?” Liliana asked. “Suicide?”

  “Not with those bruises.” He pointed to E
mily’s neck and Liliana leaned in for a better look. “She’s got something in her hair.” I watched as Liliana and Jackson squatted on either side of Emily and carefully turned her head. Using his pen, Jackson lifted strands of Emily’s hair just behind her ear.

  “Looks like blood.”

  I moved to get a closer look and Liliana shot me a look that had me freezing on the spot, a shiver shooting up my spine. She blamed me for the breakdown of her relationship with Jackson, although we weren’t seeing each other.

  “We’ve got it from here Jones,” she snapped.

  Jackson’s head whipped up, looking from me to Liliana and back again. “Actually,” he drawled, voice soft but holding a hint of steel, “We need her statement. She discovered the body.”

  “Of course she did,” Liliana muttered beneath her breath. She straightened and with a huff pulled out her phone. “Tell me what happened.” She hit record, and I dutifully recounted the events of the morning.

  Liliana looked from me, to the lighthouse on the bluff. “You get a pretty good view of the beach from up there.”

  I nodded. “I get a pretty good view of the entire town from up there.”

  “And you didn’t see or hear anything last night?”

  I frowned at her. Was she serious? Of course not. The beach wasn’t lit at night and unless I stood on my front porch with binoculars, I’d see diddly squat on what went on at the beach. I knew better than to say that. “No,” I said instead. I had sat on my porch last night with a glass of red wine and watched the twinkling lights of the town, but I hadn’t stayed outside for long. Archie and I had a long-standing date to watch Agatha Christie movies on Wednesday evenings.

  “You can go.” Hitting the screen of her phone, she ended the recording and slid the phone into her police vest pocket. I glanced at Jackson who gave me a slight nod.

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” he said.

  “Okay.” I hesitated, my heart hurting for the poor girl dead in the sand. “You’ll tell Emily’s grandmother?”

  “We’ll inform her family,” Liliana said. I hesitated a second, debating whether it was worth telling them what I knew of Emily’s family or if I’d get scolded for interfering. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t scared of Liliana. Wary, yes. But not scared.

  “Emily lived with her grandmother,” I explained, keeping my eyes on Jackson and ignoring Liliana completely. “Rose Sherman out on Rigby Road. Emily’s parents died when she was a little girl and she’s been living with Rose ever since.”

  Jackson frowned. “Right.”

  “How do you know that?” Liliana snapped.

  Lifting my shoulders in a shrug I said, “I’ve lived here my entire life—except for the last five years—and I know most everyone who lives here. Philip and Kelly Sherman were killed in a car accident. Emily would have been around nine or ten years old at the time. Just…” I paused, sucking in a breath. “Just be gentle with Rose, okay? She’s already buried her son and daughter-in-law. Now she’s having to bury her granddaughter too. That’s a lot for a person.”

  Jackson reached out and ran a hand up and down my arm in a soothing gesture. “Thank you.”

  I nodded, clamping my lips tight against the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm me. Poor Emily. Poor Rose. It was so sad.

  “Okay, well… good luck,” I said, digging my hands into my pockets and turning away, beginning the trek back up the beach. “Archie!” I called when I realized he’d disappeared yet again. A muffled meow sounded from the bathing huts before I spotted an orange head pocking around the corner of a bright blue hut.

  “Come on boy, we’re going to be late.”

  Chapter Three

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Jordan.” Unlocking the door to The Dusty Attic, I stood aside to let Jordan enter ahead of me. “I got held up.”

  “That’s okay. I haven’t been waiting long.”

  Jordan Ray was seventeen and helping in the store over the summer holidays while Wendy was on maternity leave. Jordan reminded me a lot of myself at that age—a socially awkward book nerd.

  I locked the door behind us, leaving the small sign hanging in the glass pane to closed. “Something's happened that you’re going to hear about, and I think it might be better if you heard it from me first.”

  Jordan shoved her bag under the desk we used as a counter and turned to smile at me. “Oh?”

  “It’s about Emily Sherman.” I paused. There was no easy way to say this so I simply said it. “I’m afraid she’s dead.”

  Jordan plopped into the chair, then ran a hand through her straight bob, messing the strands. “Oh.”

  “Were you friends with her?” I asked sympathetically, crossing to put on a pot of coffee. I’d have offered Jordan a hug, but she didn’t like physical contact and the only person she allowed in her personal space was my cat. Sensing his presence was required, Archie jumped up onto the desk and rubbed his head against Jordan’s shoulder. Absently she patted him.

  “Not really. Emily, Hannah, and Sarah were pretty tight. But I had a couple of classes with her.” Her eyes lost their blank expression and focused on Archie.

  “I’ll understand if you can’t work today,” I told her. “Take the day off if you need to.”

  Jordan shook her head. “No. I mean… it’s a shock, and it’s sad, but… I’m okay. I’d rather work. If that’s okay?”

  I smiled. “Of course it’s okay. If you need to talk, if you need anything, I’m here.”

  “Thank you, Miss. Jones.”

  “It’s Harper, remember?”

  She grinned, showing the braces on her teeth. “Harper. I’ll open up then?” She nodded toward the still-locked front door.

  “Go ahead.”

  As predicted, word spread like wildfire about Emily’s death. Many of Jordan’s classmates stopped by the store to chat and I kept a close eye on the teenager to make sure she was okay. Grief could sneak up on a person, and it affected us all differently.

  Gran arrived midmorning, her eyes dull despite the brightly colored muumuu she wore. I shoved a cup of coffee in her hand and led her to the armchair in the reading corner of the store.

  “Sit.”

  She did, without hesitation, even took a sip of the coffee I’d prepared and didn’t pull a face or tell me how disgusting it was. Which only went to show how much Emily’s unexpected demise had affected her.

  “Are you okay?” Perching on the arm of her chair, I slung an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

  “It’s such a shame, you know?” Gran’s voice wobbled, and I gave her another squeeze. “Don’t get me wrong, Emily was quite the diva, definitely the queen bee in her trio of friends, but she was actually getting good with her magic. Quite skilled. Such a shame.”

  “It’s very sad,” I agreed. “Do you know her grandmother, Rose?”

  Gran snorted. “Child, I know everyone.”

  I chuckled. “Yes, I know you do, but I mean… do you know Rose well? Are you close?”

  Gran was already shaking her gray head. “Nope. Rose is human, as was her son, Philip. It was Philip’s wife, Kelly, who was the witch and passed her magic on to Emily. Such a tragedy when the two of them died. I’m just grateful Rose didn’t force her granddaughter to give up that part of her heritage. Although, Lord only knows she needed to rein that girl in, the way she walked all over everyone, determined to get her own way in everything.”

  We lapsed into silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts until Gran straightened her spine, handed me her coffee and said, “Thanks for the swill. If that doesn’t revive the dead I don’t know what will.”

  I laughed. Gran had very specific coffee tastes, and I’d learned not to take offense.

  “Is it true? You found the body?” she asked me.

  “Archie did. On our morning walk along the beach.”

  “What do you think? Did she kill herself?”

  I gasped in shock. “What? Absolutely not! Is that what they’re saying?”
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  Jordan overheard us and came over. “Most of the kids from school are saying she killed herself.”

  “Why would they think that?” Was it because she was a teenager? That was hardly justification she’d taken her own life.

  Jordan shrugged. “Something had been up with Emily for a while.”

  “Like what?” I pounced.

  “Well, she got fired from her job at Silent Bite a couple of weeks ago.” Silent Bite was the local fast-food restaurant and predominately hired school students to keep staffing costs down.

  “Do you know why?” I asked.

  “I think she kept turning up late for shifts? I’m not really sure.” Jordan tucked her hair behind her ear where it stayed put for precisely two seconds before swinging forward again.

  “She was dating Jacob. Maybe he was keeping her out late,” Gran said.

  “But her grandmother wouldn’t allow that, surely,” I said.

  Jordan shrugged. “Emily pretty much did what she wanted, when she wanted. I know she and her grandma had been fighting a bit lately—Emily’s been bitchier than usual too, really mean and snappy with everyone.”

  I remembered when I was that age, hormones raging. It had been Whitney who’d been the mega bitch in my class; she was mean and a bully and I’d been on the receiving end more than once. I didn’t miss those days.

  “You’re saying she didn’t kill herself?” Gran jolted me out of my thoughts.

  I shook my head. “I’m positive she didn’t kill herself. She had bruises on her neck, and blood in her hair.”

  Jordan gasped, and I cursed myself for revealing that in front of her, but I needn’t have worried, for Jordan clasped my wrist and said with great eagerness. “Are you going to investigate her murder? Are you going to catch another killer?”

  Slowly I nodded. Looked like my murder club was back in business.

  With an uncanny sense of timing, my phone rang. It was Jenna.

  “Don’t tell me,” I answered. “You want the scoop.”