Midsummer Night's Mayhem: A Sister Witches Mystery

by Lauren Quick

  Within fifteen minutes, Juniper White pulled up to Clover’s house on a sleek new hover bike, accompanied by another officer. Juniper worked for the sheriff’s department, and the last Clover’d heard, was still an assistant deputy, though diligently working to make deputy. Juniper had a reputation as ambitious, which was good, but she wasn’t the sheriff.

  “Where’s Sheriff Gardener?” Clover asked, looking over Juniper’s shoulder as if he might suddenly appear. “I thought for sure he’d come.”

  Juniper dismounted her bike and removed her helmet, revealing a short fringy blonde haircut and intelligent gaze. “He’s on another case. He sent me personally to check on you and make sure everything was okay. This is Officer Finch.” She nodded toward the wizard with her. “How can we help?”

  Clover spirits sunk in disappointment, but she pushed on. “There’s been an accident or something, I think. I’m not sure. A guest attending the party last night has expired.” Clover tensed at the word. Expired. What she really meant to say was that someone had dropped dead in the middle of the solstice party right under her nose while everyone was having a good time. Her stomach did a slow roll.

  “Someone died at your party? That’s terrible. You must feel awful.” Catching her overly familiar response, Juniper straightened and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I mean, please continue, Ms. Mayhem.”

  “I don’t know what happened or when. Derek and I found him this morning. I wasn’t sure if he passed from natural causes or how he died, but I knew I needed help and figured the emergency beacon was the best way to go.”

  “You did the right thing. We’ll take care of everything for you.” Juniper whispered a few words to her partner, who darted over to his bike, before she turned back to Clover. “I’m assuming you knew the deceased personally?”

  “Yes, he’s my neighbor, Oliver Yearling. We weren’t close to say the least but this is truly a shock.” She swallowed and continued, “Will you notify his family? He’s a widower, but he has a son, Austin, who lives in Stargazer City.” The sad reality of Oliver’s death washed over her. “He’ll be devastated. Austin spent a lot of time with his father, recently. At least that’s what I think. I often see his hovercraft in the driveway. Oliver’s very private and a bit bristly, but he didn’t deserve this.” She paused to take a breath. She was babbling—a nervous habit.

  “You two didn’t get along, I gather,” Juniper said.

  A few years back, Oliver had swatted Rusty with a metal rake, claiming the fox had gotten too close to his prized garden for his taste. Oliver was not a wild animal lover and eyed the fox with disdain. No self-respecting witch claimed a roaming carnivore as a familiar, he’d told her. Since then Clover and Rusty steered clear of the cranky wizard, deciding instead to respectfully ignore him.

  “Not really,” Clover said. “I invited him to be polite.”

  Juniper gave her a sensitive nod. “Why don’t you take me to the deceased? Like I said, we’ll take care of everything. There’s no need to worry.”

  “Of course. Right this way.”

  Upon seeing the body, Juniper’s demeanor sharpened, spine stiffened, fists tightened. Clover was slightly unnerved when the spunky assistant deputy whispered a spell and a magical force field leapt to life around the old oak, encapsulating the body and surrounding area, the magical bubble protecting the scene.

  Next, with wand in motion, Juniper entered the field and performed a few spells on the body. After holding out her palms and mumbling a spell, her hands were covered in a thin sheen. She opened a small black kit attached to her belt, revealing an array of potions and powders in tiny glass vials. Clover had always found magical crime scene detective work fascinating, but when it was happening in her yard, it made her palms sweat as she watched the deputy’s every move.

  “That looks very official.” Derek walked up to Clover and offered her a cup of tea.

  “She has to be, I suppose. The family will want answers.” Clover held the warm drink in her hands, but didn’t take a sip.

  They watched the witch continue her assessment of the scene. She directed Officer Finch, who had joined her in the bubble and, with a flick of his wand, was currently levitating the amber beer bottle, now encased in a glowing orb. Juniper attended to Oliver’s body, checking his eyes with her glowing wand tip and looking into his nose, ears, and mouth. She made a few swirling motions with her wand over his face. Then she took a slim tool from her kit and focused on Oliver’s mouth. Whatever spell Juniper used cause the skin on his face to glow blue, and his lips turned bright white.

  “Is she swabbing inside of his cheek?” Derek asked with an arched brow. “That’s wild. I’ve heard the police have spells that can tell immediately how a wizard died. Pretty amazing, little scary.”

  “At least Austin won’t have to wait to find out how his father died.”

  Oliver Yearling was not the most sympathetic of wizards nor was he the friendliest. According to local gossip, he became more withdrawn and antisocial after his wife died, if that were even possible. Besides Austin, Clover rarely noticed any other visitors or friends.

  Clover snapped out of her thoughts when a large black hover van from the sheriff’s department pulled up to the front of the house. She and Derek followed Juniper out front as the attendants pulled a stretcher from the back of the vehicle.

  “Good, you found the house,” Juniper said to a young wizard who staggered back, intrigued by the house.

  “It’s just as you said. Like a pumpkin.” He grinned in spite of the situation.

  Clover’s burnt orange-colored siding and black shutters had earned her old-world style house, with its wide porches and pitched roofs, the nickname the pumpkin house. Technically, the house was a family heirloom, passed down from a distant aunt, and since neither of her sisters was interested in living so far from civilization in the Meadowlands, she gladly took ownership and moved in ten years ago.

  Juniper gave the attendants instructions and then walked up to Clover. “I really appreciate your cooperation. This has been a difficult day for you, I’m sure. I want to let you know that I’ll do all I can to make this go as smoothly as possible.”

  “We’ll do anything to help,” Clover said.

  “Good because I’ll have additional questions for you soon.” Juniper tucked her hair behind her ear again.

  “You know how Oliver died, don’t you?” Derek blurted out.

  “I’ll know the details when I get the report back from the lab. I’d like to be extra cautious and leave the crime scene barrier up for now. Officer Finch will also be staying with the scene for security’s sake.” She motioned to the other officer who’d been working the scene with her.

  Officer Finch sported a double chin and protruding belly. He had a boyish face even though his hair was beginning to gray.

  Juniper turned to leave. “I should be back shortly, hopefully by early afternoon, and we can proceed.”

  It took a few seconds for what Juniper was saying to register in Clover’s mind. “Wait, what are you talking about? Security’s sake? Proceed with what? Juniper, what’s going on, exactly?”

  Willow Realm was a small town and the Meadowlands even smaller. They were tight-knit friendly communities, and Juniper’s sudden desire for formality only added to the severity of the situation. “Please tell me whatever you can,” Clover pleaded. “We were neighbors. He died at my house. Should I be worried?”

  Juniper lowered her voice, seeming to concede. “I’m not convinced your neighbor died of natural causes. There may have been foul play. And if so, I have to go by the book—notify the sheriff, the family, and conduct a proper investigation.” She squared her shoulders and rested her hands on her belt. “This is now a crime scene.”

  “You’re saying you think he was murdered?!” The words shot out of C
lover’s mouth like an arrow.

  Juniper’s expression was stern, completely in control. “I won’t use that word until I get the tests finalized.” Her jaw tensed.

  A knot twisted in Clover’s stomach. Juniper didn’t have to say it; her resistance said it all.

  “The swab. You found something. Didn’t you?” Derek asked.

  “I’d rather not say. I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll do my best to keep you informed and again I appreciate your full cooperation.” Juniper nodded. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to take the deceased back to the station.”

  Derek and Clover walked slowly up the porch steps and into the house while the attendants hurried around to the backyard.

  “This can’t be happening.” Clover rested the now cold cup of tea on the kitchen counter. “What are we supposed to do, just wait here?” She paced the kitchen, deciding to make Derek a sandwich to keep her hands occupied. Clutching the knife, Clover sawed through a loaf of bread.

  “What about what we have hidden in your upstairs office? The police can’t see inside of the closet,” Derek said. “If they start digging around, word would leak. Everyone in Everland would find out about you.

  Besides a few close friends and family, the whole world thought Clover had few ambitions, was a simple witch with no focused persuasion, who puttered around her house gardening and doing crafts. She sold herbs and vegetables from her garden in the summer and made wreaths in the fall and winter.

  “No one’s going to find out. Let’s not panic yet,” Clover said.

  “You’re right. The police won’t need to investigate the third floor. It’s not like Oliver was inside the house.”

  Clover’s heart plummeted. “But he was,” she said, dropping the knife as the memory of Oliver in her kitchen last night came flooding back. “The stone!” She raced into the library and grabbed the box. Just as she hoped the story stone was cold—empty of all magic.

  Following her into the library, Derek wore a bewildered expression on his face. “You don’t think the mischief makers had anything to do with Oliver’s death, do you?”

  “No. It was just a harmless story scene. The fairies were a part of an illusion that ended when the show did. They couldn’t have hurt him.” She rolled the crystal around in her palm. “But Oliver was inside last night, giving the assistant deputy reason to come into the house when she finds out.”

  Derek’s eyes widened as Clover told him about her encounter with Oliver.

  With knitted brow, he paced the library. “We should move your writing materials now before the cops start digging through the house. I can get on it while Juniper is away. I can make it so they’ll never know.” He darted out of the room toward the stairs, bounding up them two at a time.

  “Wait!” Clover raced after him. “I’m helping. It’s my stuff. This isn’t all on you.”

  They sprinted up the stairs to the third floor turret room where Clover did most of her writing. Derek opened the closet, which to the naked eye looked completely empty. Clover steadied her breath and spoke the counter spell to release the concealment spell, but nothing happened.

  “What’s going on?” Derek asked. “Did you feel that?”

  A warm tingly sensation crept over Clover’s skin. “There’s magic in the air, and it isn’t mine.” Goosebumps rose disturbingly up her arms and legs.

  She tried the counter spell again, only this time an annoying chime filled the air. Her heart raced. Someone had cast a spell on her house and hadn’t told her.

  “It’s an alarm spell,” Derek said.

  Clover heaved open the window and leaned out, scanning her backyard. “Officer Finch!” she bellowed unable to hide the anger in her voice.

  “Yes?” He shielded his eyes and looked up at her.

  “There’s an alarm going off in my house. Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, lips pursed.

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot.” He waved his wand and the alarm stopped. “We netted the whole house, not just your yard where the crime took place. Juniper’s orders.”

  “Which means?”

  “You can’t alter any magic on the house until we check the premises. Shouldn’t be long though. You don’t have anything to worry about. It’s mostly a formality.”

  She waved at the officer and ducked back into the room. “That’s what he thinks,” she said.

  “What are we going to do now?” Derek asked.

  “We wait.” But that wasn’t all she had in mind. “And we ask the real question behind all of this. Why on earth would someone want to murder Oliver Yearling?”

  4

  The front door of Clover’s house flew open and Vivi entered like a whirlwind. Her long dark hair was pulled back off her face, showing off her peeling red nose from a little too much sun yesterday. She was wearing a worn pair of embroidered jeans, a loose peasant top, and rings on every finger. She tossed her purse into a chair, kicked off her sandals, and padded barefoot across the room and into the kitchen. “I came as soon as I got your message. Tell me everything that happened this morning.” Her bright blue eyes welled with concern.

  After cleaning up the mangled bread Clover had attacked with the knife in an attempt to make a sandwich, Derek whipped up honey lattes for the three of them. Vivi opened her bag and dropped a few potions on the table as Derek looked on in fascination. “I brought some potions for frazzled nerves, upset stomach, and one to help you sleep. Maybe for later.” Vivi smiled and squeezed her sister’s hand. Clover took a deep sip of latte and spilled her guts.

  “That’s a shame,” Vivi said, after Clover finished recounting the morning’s events. “The Meadowlands have always seemed so safe and sleepy. How are you doing, really?”

  “Me, I’m fine. I’m not the one who ended up dead in the yard.” Clover hiccupped and swallowed a lump in her throat. “Oh, Vivi this is terrible. Nothing like this has ever happened to me. I don’t know what to do. The police think it was murder. Here, at our family home.” She’d been damming up her emotions all morning, but with her sister she knew she could be vulnerable. “I feel responsible. There should have been security or something to keep my guests safe.” Sitting at the farm table, Clover pulled at the edge of a placemat.

  Vivi shook her head, joined her sister at the table, and pulled the latte Derek sat in front of her toward her. “Don’t even go there. This wasn’t your fault. It was a summer party and barbecue. No one would expect security at a solstice party. It’s a terrible crime. There was no way you could have anticipated or prevented it.” Vivi pointed at her sister with her spoon. “Some evil witch or wizard took advantage of the situation. I’m sure Lance will have this whole thing taken care of. I know it’s hard, but try not to worry.”

  “That’s what Juniper said.” Clover bit her lip and stared into her mug. Derek eased down in a chair.

  “What aren’t you two telling me?” Vivi asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Only the worse part, at least for us that is,” Derek said, pushing his cup aside.

  “What?” Vivi asked.

  “All of my writing materials—my notes, crystals, reams of parchments, research materials, manuscripts, and all the rest of my Cassandra Reason stuff—are hidden upstairs in a closet, locked up tightly under a concealment spell.”

  “That’s not too bad. Has anyone been inside the house?”

  “The officers netted the house. We’re on magical lockdown,” Derek said.

  Clover stood, nervous energy pulsing through her. “I can’t let them see inside that closet. That’s my whole life, and I’m not ready to be exposed, to be known to the whole world.”

  Being a Mayhem sister was one of the reasons Clover wanted to keep her identity a secret. All her life, she’d felt the stares, heard the whispers, and worn the crown of mayhem. She and her sisters were famou
s and not always in a good way. She’d moved out to the Meadowlands to get away, to find peace in a quiet life, and to live on her own terms. She was born a Mayhem and didn’t have a choice. She was also born with her persuasion and didn’t have a choice there either, but she could choose how it was used. Her magic was all hers and couldn’t be taken away or judged or talked about, if they didn’t know about it. It was special to her—a gift that she could give back as she saw fit. Being famous for her persuasion was not a life she wanted. Being a Mayhem sister garnered enough notoriety for her tastes.

  “I understand,” Vivi said. “I hid my persuasion for years, so who am I to judge? Talk about a secret. Being a Mayhem has taken a toll on all of us. It’s not like the witching world doesn’t have enough to gossip about when it comes to us.”

  “Would it be so bad if everyone found out?” Derek asked, pulling a chair back and slumping down. “I’m sick of witches and wizards snickering about you being the soft sister, the spoiled one with no real talent. They all think you inherited the house and that your mother takes care of your expenses for you. Vivi and Honora get all the praise and you only get pity.”

  Clover had no idea her assistant felt that way, but she had to admit he was right. She’d seen the sad glances witches gave her when she pedaled her bicycle up to the farmers market, the basket brimming with fresh vegetable from her garden to sell. She knew they thought she was a little pathetic. “It’s okay. My magic has always been about the stories. I like being an invisible witch.”