Inconvenient Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery

by Amanda A. Allen

  Ingrid looked at her future lover and scowled. There wasn’t enough napping for this kind of middle of the night crap. She turned her gaze to make a note of it for future guilting of him. It was 3:42am, and her eyes burned.

  But perhaps not as bad as Emily’s, who looked hungover but also drunk. Her big brown eyes were red from exhaustion and stress with dark circles under them. If they weren’t up in the middle of the night after finding the body of Emily’s ex, Ingrid would be dragging her friend to car and forcing her to see a doctor. The woman looked like she had contracted the plague. And her nails. Had she been drunk when she painted them? Holy manicure emergency!

  “So…”

  Ingrid and Emily’s gazes met.

  “So,” Ingrid said.

  “So,” Emily repeated, laying her head on the table.

  “You were in the middle of a breakup.”

  “Yup,” Emily said to the tabletop, and then yawned in a way that made her whole body join in.

  “Quit tiptoeing around the subject,” Ingrid said. “Emily and dickhead were breaking up. He was a cheating bastard, and she was always too good for him.” There might have been the scold of a long-time girlfriend in her tone. She reminded herself that she had yet to make him her own.

  “Okay,” Gabe said, brows raised.

  “I’m tired,” Ingrid said. “We’re both tired, so just ask. We’re gonna tell you whatever.”

  “Unless we lie,” Emily said to the tabletop.

  “Right,” Ingrid nodded. “Except when we lie.”

  She stood and began setting up the espresso machine. She couldn’t function without coffee at this time of the morning. Good thing she’d insisted on the apartments being plumbed appropriately. Not taking in mind your espresso machine when designing a new kitchen was idiotic.

  Gabe stood and helped her lift it into place as she hooked up the water connections.

  It didn’t take long, and she was making coffee for them all as he asked his questions.

  “You were fighting over money?”

  “He was greedy,” Emily yawned. Ingrid handed her the first coffee. She’d made it heavy on the shots but counteracted the bitterness with magic.

  Gabe got the next coffee. He preferred, she knew without asking, it to be not sweet but heavy on the cream. He smiled when she handed it to him and took a sip it. It was perfect. She didn’t need him to tell her, but she enjoyed the way his eyes crinkled when he took his second sip and savored it.

  He really was too pretty for her.

  “What did he want?”

  “Everything,” Ingrid said, making her own drink. “He practically wanted her to tell him she regretted leaving him and ask him to come back just so he could say no. He loved screwing around with her, making her angry. He was a dickhead.”

  The door opened without a knock, and Ingrid was sure she’d locked it, so Aunt Hazel must have arrived. Aunt Hazel took in the scene as Ingrid rose to make her an earl grey latte.

  “What’s going on here?” She walked directly to Emily and placed a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “This is entirely inappropriate.”

  “I’m trying to get a handle on what I’m dealing with here.” Gabe lost his look of relaxation, though Ingrid was sure that he wasn’t entirely at his ease. Not with a death to deal with.

  “Considering what Detective Sandler just told me about the body and the vomit I looked at, I am assuming that you’re actually well aware that this is a murder.”

  “When did you talk to Ethan? Never mind. It could be many things yet,” Gabe said. He leaned back, but Ingrid could see that his shoulders were tense. He was still wearing the tight t-shirt he’d been wearing on the ferry, and his shoulders were well delineated. “Why are you bothering my detectives? Sandler shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Please,” Hazel said, taking her tea and sitting next to Emily. “I’m the highest ranking witch on this island, and your little detective, who doesn’t even believe in magic, didn’t have a chance.”

  “That is obstruction of justice,” Gabe said, irritation starting to reflect on his face.

  Ingrid giggled as Hazel rolled her eyes.

  “It is,” Gabe insisted.

  “Yup,” Emily agreed, lifting her head to take a sip of her coffee and laying it back down.

  “Arrest her then,” Ingrid said dryly.

  Gabe had probably realized from the moment he said it that he could hardly take someone in for using witchcraft—especially Hazel Stirling. But they didn’t allow him the luxury of pretending he could. Hazel would never even leave the apartment, and he’d find himself wandering the beach three hours from now, uncertain of how he’d gotten there.

  “Please let me investigate this,” he said calmly as he met Hazel’s gaze. The sheriff of the island and the witches of the coven had always gotten along. It was why one of the reasons witches could live so openly on Sage Island.

  “I have no intention of interfering in any way. However, you will leave my niece to her sleep and get the rest of your gossip later. If you imagine these two knew anything about the herbs used to kill that, that…man, you are mistaken. They’re idiots.”

  “Hey!” Ingrid and Emily said in unison with the exact same whine to their voice.

  “It hasn’t been determined how he was killed,” Gabe said.

  “Of course,” Hazel said idly.

  “Are you making yourself look like a suspect, Aunt Hazel?” Ingrid asked. She examined the woman. She was older, in her sixties, but she was healthy and lithe with thick gray hair and bright, intelligent eyes masked by square glasses. She was a beautiful woman, and the frown she shot Ingrid would have been scary if Ingrid wasn’t sure that Hazel had accepted that Ingrid came with Emily. That for the two of them--they might as well be sisters. Hazel would protect Ingrid as aggressively as the elder of the coven would protect Emily.

  “Stating the obvious doesn’t make me look like a suspect. Unless the accusation is common sense. Now,” she said as she turned to the sheriff. “Out. My niece needs her rest.”

  Hazel routed Gabe so quickly, Ingrid didn’t even get to flirt with him on the way out. That was okay though. She wasn’t at her best and didn’t want to scare him off.

  Hazel took Emily’s coffee and dumped a serum into it.

  “What is that?” Ingrid asked, glancing between Emily and the coffee.

  “Just a little something to help her sleep.” It was so evenly said that Emily’s and Ingrid’s gazes met. It was far more than that.

  The liar.

  Emily got a rebellious look on her face, but she took a drink of the coffee, the too-big gulp of someone who had taken a dare.

  “You didn’t kill him, of course.” Hazel said.

  It was a question.

  “No,” Emily said. Her gaze got a funny look. “The sky is gr...blue.”

  “You truth-serumed her,” Ingrid accused. She laughed. “You didn’t have to do that. Em isn’t a poisoner. She’s someone who’d shove you off a roof. Where did you get the serum? Did you whip some up? Do you carry it when you have to deal with us?”

  “Danna sold it through the shop. There are three bottles left.”

  “Awesome,” Ingrid said. “I’d have bought that so many times to use on Daniella and Harrison Jr. if only I’d known.”

  “I want some right now,” Emily said. “I’m going to carry some in my purse and randomly dose strangers. Like a truth roofie.”

  Ingrid and Emily laughed. Hazel did not.

  Ingrid took a drink of Emily’s coffee, and then said, “I didn’t kill dickhead either. Though I expect I’d have a lot of visceral satisfaction if I had and also that I’ll always regret not kneeing him in the junk now. You know? His death means so many opportunities lost.”

  “Are you done with me?” Emily asked. “I’m tired.”

  “The truth serum will help you sleep. Go to bed. Things will look better in the morning,” Hazel told Emily.

  “No, they won’t,” Ingrid said after Emily
had gone to her room. “Things are crap. They might be semi-suspecting you, but Em is the only real suspect so far. Since I have a pretty awesome alibi, they’re going to focus on her.”

  “That’s true,” Hazel said.

  “Is there anything you can do?”

  “Do you mean a spell?” Hazel shook her head. “You should know this, you silly child. But no, that is beyond this coven. Too many facts to alter, too many memories to adjust. We could get her out of jail, but she’d be on the run. It’s better if the crime is solved and the murderer found.”

  “But what if it is not?”

  “They have to have evidence to convict her. If she didn’t do it…”

  “She has motive, means, and opportunity. It is well known that she hates him.” Ingrid pressed her hands into her face. Perhaps it was because it was 4:13 a.m. Perhaps it was because it was her best friend on the line, but Ingrid was uncommonly serious. “What are the options?”

  “Gabe will find the real murderer. We’ll do what we can to help him. If it comes down to it, we’ll get her out of the country.”

  “That isn’t an option,” Ingrid said. “What other options are there?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” Ingrid snapped. “We’re talking about Emily.”

  “There’s the North Island Coven.” Hazel said. Her face was serious, her body tense.

  “Who are they?”

  “They’re a powerful coven who works for money. They’re dark, and they cross lines other covens won’t cross.”

  “I have money,” Ingrid said.

  “Then talk to Saffron. She can tell you more.”

  “Are you talking about the uptight little witch who doesn’t talk to anyone?”

  “I’m talking about the former member of the North Island Coven who has a yarn shop a few blocks from you.”

  “Convenient.”

  “It is not convenient. That girl’s mother is on our island far too often. However, she could tell you what to do. But you make sure you don’t have any other options. You would get the karma backlash, and it will be fierce. You will be responsible for the bunnies or dogs that are sacrificed.”

  “Bunnies?” There was a distinct whine in her voice. Ingrid wasn’t ashamed of it. She liked bunnies.

  Hazel nodded and repeated, “Small adorable helpless bunnies.”

  “What’s wrong with snakes and possums?”

  Hazel didn’t indulge Ingrid by replying.

  “So...exhaust other options first”

  “Be grateful you don’t have a cat. They’d demand that instead.”

  Ingrid scowled before she rose and said, “I’m going to bed. Try not to lay any spells on me or Em.”

  “Her aura needs to be cleansed. Something is wrong with her, Ingrid.”

  “Kay, tomorrow,” Ingrid replied, completely unsure what she was supposed to do and uncertain if she’d remember through sleeping.

  4

  Thursday Early Morning

  Gabe took all of Emily’s information as well as Owen’s personal information while Ingrid poured her cup after cup of delicious, flavored coffee.

  She couldn’t recall how many cups she’d had, but now Gabe was gone and it was time to make the phone call she’d been dreading.

  Her hands were unsteady as she reached into her purse for her cell phone, irritated that this was at least the third time today that her hands had revealed just how rattled she was. Why should this idiot’s death impact her at all? If anything, it made her life easier. But it was super annoying for him to die in her building. Unbidden, an image of her wedding day passed through her mind. No, she thought firmly. You will not remember this jackhole like he was the day of your wedding. That was all a lie.

  Focusing on her irritation and her desire to re-kill Owen was easier than acknowledging that some part of her—really deep down—mourned Owen. Maybe not Owen specifically, but the loss of what could have been. Willing her hands to stop shaking, she punched the name in her phone’s address book and listened to the phone ring, trying desperately to resist the urge to throw up. How could she deliver the news? How did you tell someone that his brother was dead?

  “Hello?”

  Deep breath. “Melinda, it’s Emily.”

  “Emily? You sound terrible. Are you okay?”

  Emily swallowed and then forced the words that she didn’t think would come.

  “Melinda, Owen’s dead. His body, um, they found him in the basement of the bookstore. Here. On the island. My bookstore, Mel.”

  She heard Melinda’s gasp through the phone, numb still from the shock herself. “What? Are you serious? Of course you are serious. He’s dead? This can’t be happening.”

  Emily rubbed her temples as she listened to Melinda’s drama queen, stage-stealing ways. Her high-pitched voice grated on Emily’s already frayed nerves.

  Emily interrupted Melinda’s mindless rant. “Mel, is Davis there? Can you put him on the phone?”

  “No, Emily. He isn’t here. He’s traveling for work. He went to Vancouver, BC, yesterday. I don’t expect him back for a couple of days.” A moment of silence and then, “I’ll call him. I’ll get him on his cell, okay? Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you, Mel. This is going to be so hard for Davis. They were so close.” Her feelings toward Davis and Melinda were complicated, but she felt a stirring of compassion for them. Davis lost a brother and Melinda a brother-in-law.

  Melinda agreed. “You’re right. This is going to be devastating for him. All of us. Oh, Emily. Are you okay? I know you two weren’t on the best terms, but he was technically still your husband. You loved him once. What can I do?”

  Emily fought to gain control of her emotions. Irritation with Melinda’s ever-present drama, fury that Owen had to die in the basement of her new life, and exhaustion from not enough sleep. Maybe even some sadness. She had loved him once. And now he was dead. Another faded memory of her wedding day drifted into her mind, and she felt her eyes tear up.

  “Melinda,” Emily asked in a small, vulnerable voice, “could you guys come?” Emily shoved the sadness and focused on her anger. He had been a cheater, after all.

  She took a deep breath in an effort to control her words. “Would you mind taking on all the arrangements?” He was a douche, and he didn’t deserve her energy. She kept her thoughts to herself, though. Davis and Melinda would actual miss her cheating husband.

  “Oh, yes, honey, of course. I’ll call Davis, and then I’ll catch the next ferry. Davis will meet me there.”

  “Thank you, Mel. Would you ask Davis to call me? I think I might need his help. It’s no secret that Owen and I weren’t on good terms. I’d rather be safe. You know I didn’t kill him, right, Mel?”

  She was angry at the shaking in her voice that she couldn’t seem to repress. It would be just like that idiot to screw with her in his last moments on earth. Emily held the phone to her ear while she paced the apartment, searching for some leftover item of Owen’s that she could destroy to vent her rage.

  “Oh, no. That is just awful.” Emily waited while Melinda continued to try to talk through her sobs through the phone. “Of course you didn’t kill him. You shouldn’t have to defend yourself at a time like this. I’m sure Davis will be able to take care of it quickly.”

  “One more thing, Melinda. Could you call his parents and the rest of the family? They don’t like me much, considering, but they have a right to know as soon as possible. Let them know we will get back to them with the details for the funeral.”

  Emily heard Melinda’s sobs through the phone, but Emily was mostly mad and inconvenienced. She wouldn’t miss him at all. Mostly.

  Melinda sniffed and spoke. “Yes. I’ll call them as soon as I get a hold of Davis. I’m going to call him now, okay? I should be able to make one of the morning ferries.”

  “Thanks, Melinda. I’ll see you soon.”

  The connection ended, and Emily put her head down on the table and finally let ou
t a long breath to release the emotions she’d been trying to hold in since she’d gotten Ingrid’s call. The tiny bit of lamenting was drenched in white hot fury. She wanted to punch something. And then sleep. Too bad Owen wasn’t alive. She could have punched him right in the face.

  •

  Thursday Afternoon

  Davis and Melinda arrived before Gabe did.

  Emily hugged them both, resisting both Davis’s irritating Ken-doll looks and the urge to punch Melinda right in her puffy eyes. Emily pulled Melinda to her in a tight hug and made eye contact with Ingrid across the room. Ingrid made a funny face, and Emily fought a giggle, forcing it into a sob noise to save face.

  Melinda responded immediately. “Oh, sweet thing. It’s going to be all right. Everything will be okay.”

  Gag. Obviously it will be okay. Owen was dead. Things were looking up. What were the karma ramifications of being happy someone was dead? Hazel was going on about karma so often Ingrid and Emily practically pulled out karma calculators every time they were going to be consciously mean. Which was, perhaps, too often. Regardless, as soon as the logistics of Owen’s death were dealt with, Emily would be free. But she could fake it a little longer. She could only hope that Owen’s estate might be settled quickly, but she wouldn’t hold her breath. She wasn’t that lucky.

  “Thank you, Melinda,” Emily sniffed.

  Ingrid offered them both a cup of coffee and a seat.

  Emily dropped into her seat, wishing this could be over, even though it hadn’t started yet.

  Davis reached across the table and gripped Emily’s hand. “I know things were tough for you two lately, but we are here for you, Emily.”

  She couldn’t help but notice his manicured nails as he took her hand. She told herself to remember he was being kind, but manicures on men were too smarmy. “Thanks, Davis. I appreciate that.”

  Davis agreed to act as her attorney, assuring her that she had nothing to worry about. Before Gabe arrived, Davis reminded her, “You have no reason to be worried Emily. We all know there is no way that you could have done this. Just answer his questions honestly and you have nothing to fear.”