Three Times Charmed_A Paranormal Cozy Mystery

by Cindy Stark

  She retrieved the small jar of balm she’d concocted out of eucalyptus and ginger and returned to the living room to find a shirtless, far-too-handsome police chief sitting on the edge of her couch with his gun and holster resting on her coffee table. She supposed it was a logical conclusion that he’d need to remove his shirt, but she’d only meant to rub his neck.

  He shifted to give her full access to his back.

  She tried to pretend she wouldn’t enjoy this as much as he would and dipped her fingers into the smooth, scented ointment. She rubbed the concoction between her hands and then spread it from the base of his neck outward.

  As her fingers glided over his skin, a shiver enveloped her. She marveled at the strength in his back and the width of his shoulders. Freckles scattered across the tops of his shoulders, likely from exposure to sun.

  He dropped his head forward. “That feels amazing.”

  She drove her thumbs up the center of his neck and then focused pressure just below his skull. “You’re a mess.”

  He snorted in agreement.

  She worked the tightly strung trapezius muscles running across the tops of his shoulders, trying to apply enough pressure to relax them without pushing too hard. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

  “You’re fine.” He stretched his neck to the side as she worked. “Smells good.”

  She was rather proud of this blend. All her friends and her mother’s friends asked for jars. She’d shared her recipe, but they all complained theirs didn’t turn out the same. She was glad Peter liked it, too. “Thanks. It should feel warm on your skin.”

  “It’s definitely working. You have an incredible touch.”

  She’d also been told that before. She assumed it was part of her healing gifts. “Thank you.”

  A soft vibrational humming filled her senses, and she enjoyed being in sync with him. Despite their differences, they did share a similar frequency.

  She hesitated to bring up Belinda’s case because she didn’t want to chance ruining their lovely evening, but she had invited him over for a reason. “I know you can’t talk much about the case.”

  He sighed. “I really can’t.”

  She’d already decided not to let that bother her. Even though it did. But she wouldn’t hold it against him. “That’s fine. I’m not asking for information. I only wanted to share a little of mine.”

  With his muscles sufficiently warmed and stretched, she removed her hands and rubbed the remaining balm over her forearms. A delicious tingling sank beneath her skin as she sat next to him.

  He eyed her with a wary look as he, unfortunately, donned his shirt.

  “I mean it. You don’t have to share anything.” Though she wouldn’t mind if he did. “I wanted to let you know I had a conversation today with Charlie Rossler.”

  He frowned.

  She sent him a sweet smile. “Just because you’re not telling me anything doesn’t mean I can’t ask around a little.”

  “You shouldn’t be interfering in the investigation.”

  She shrugged off the building irritation. “A conversation between fellow townsfolk does not constitute interference. Besides, you know I can’t resist asking a few questions.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yes, I do know this about you.”

  She grinned. “And you like me anyway.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” He lifted expectant brows. “So, tell me already.”

  Excitement fluttered in her veins. “Charlie was here helping me with some landscaping.”

  “That sounds convenient. You know you can ask me for help.”

  She waved off his comment. “You’re busy, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She knew he’d seen right through her story, but she still wouldn’t own it. Even if he wouldn’t share what he knew, he couldn’t stop her from getting information her way. “He didn’t say much about Belinda until he was ready to leave. For a while, I thought maybe he didn’t care about her death at all. I guess he was just holding back.”

  Peter nodded thoughtfully. “He was pretty mellow when we interviewed him, too. Almost too much.”

  “I think it’s because he’s hiding his feelings. He mentioned that most people thought he shouldn’t care because they’d broken up, but let me tell you, he cares. Even after she dumped him for Grant Weiland, he still wanted her back. He thought Grant was playing with her on the side while he was still with Glenys.”

  She drew a strand of hair across her lips while thoughts tumbled freely through her mind. “I feel like maybe Glenys might be more likely to want Belinda out of the picture than Charlie.”

  He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back. “Already interviewed her. She has an alibi.”

  Hazel’s shoulders sagged even as she continued to wade through the details. “Is it a solid alibi?”

  “Rock solid. Harriett Palmer said they’d had a girls’ night out. Dinner together, and then they’d gone back to Glenys’ house where they’d consumed two bottles of wine over the course of the evening. Harriett ended up spending the night in Glenys’ spare bedroom because she didn’t want to drive.”

  Her interest deepened. “If Harriett was drunk, then it could be possible that Glenys slipped out at some point.”

  “Harriett didn’t think so. She said they were both hammered. Too drunk to drive, let alone pull off that murder.”

  She still wasn’t convinced. “What if—”

  “I think you need to consider someone else, Hazel. She’s the manager of Stonebridge Bank. A nice-looking lady, if you ask me.”

  Hazel narrowed her gaze.

  He sighed in exasperation. “Let me finish. She says she didn’t believe Grant had a relationship with Belinda. That Belinda had flirted with him a few times, but the flirtation was all one-sided, and that their relationship is solid.”

  “Doesn’t mean Grant couldn’t have hidden it from her.”

  Peter reached over, wrapped his fingers around her arm, and tugged her to him. She went willingly. She leaned her back against his chest, and she basked in the pleasure of him snuggling her in an embrace.

  He kissed her hair, and she smiled. “Yes, I can’t one-hundred-percent rule out Glenys, but it makes no sense for her to kill Belinda. First, Grant’s not the type to be interested in a server. He’s all about social status, constantly talking about his family’s holdings and background. What Glenys has to offer would be more attractive to him.”

  “Belinda is very pretty.”

  “Glenys is, too.”

  “Maybe Glenys isn’t very nice. Maybe she’s controlling, and Grant didn’t like that,” she argued though she didn’t know why.

  He stroked her arm with his thumb, igniting tingles inside her. “I’m not saying we’ve ruled her out one hundred percent, but she’s not at the top of our list.”

  Hazel nodded in acceptance, though she intended to do a little digging of her own where Glenys was concerned before she completely agreed. “Who is at the top, then? If you can tell me.”

  “Charlie, for one.”

  She started to argue, but he cut her off. “We’re considering Quentin Fletcher, too. From all accounts, he was livid and threatening the day he yelled at Belinda, and she’d embarrassed him in public on several occasions before that. I haven’t ruled out Cora, either.”

  “No.” The word exploded from her mouth. “No way. How could you even consider her?”

  He tightened his hold on her. “She’s been giving Cora trouble for some time, including the incident with Quentin’s grandfather. That’s not good for business.”

  “Yeah, but she could have just fired her.”

  “Well, she’s not anywhere near the top anyway.”

  “I should hope not.” She inhaled a calming breath, not sure why she was getting worked up over this. Cora was innocent. The facts would never prove otherwise, so she needn’t worry. And Peter always kept everyone on his list until proven otherwise. “Am I on y
our list of suspects?”

  He chuckled. “Not this time.”

  “Why not? I have no alibi.”

  “You’re not on the list, Hazel.” He kissed her hair, and she fought to keep her thinking straight. “Your hair smells really good, by the way.”

  She knew what he was doing, trying to distract her, but she wasn’t ready to end the murder conversation just yet. “Then what about Grant?”

  He sighed. “Haven’t ruled him out just yet. But he seems unlikely. Mayor’s nephew.”

  “Which might make him think he can get away with stuff.”

  “Smart guy,” Peter continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “Just out of law school. I’m not saying he didn’t use Belinda, but I don’t think he’d jeopardize everything to kill her. Not when he could just dump her.”

  Sounded like Peter was letting him off the hook too easily. “Maybe Belinda threatened to tell Glenys.”

  “It’s possible, but again, we don’t have much evidence pointing toward that.”

  She lifted one of his hands from her midsection and wound her fingers through his. The pads of his fingertips were rougher than hers. His hands were strong and capable, and she wondered about all the many things he’d done with them throughout his life. Shoot a weapon. Wipe tears as he buried his wife. The first time he’d held Hazel’s hand. So many experiences, and she wished she could know them all. She felt his heart, but she wanted to know so much more.

  “There is something else,” Peter finally said, surprising her. “I don’t know if you noticed the day we pulled Belinda from the water, but she had an odd pentagram drawn on her arm.”

  She was glad Peter finally mentioned it, but even now, the reminder of it gave her chills. “I did.”

  “I shouldn’t say anything, but I doubt it will remain confidential, not with the number of people involved in the investigation.”

  Her heart warmed, knowing he trusted her. “Regardless, I won’t repeat anything.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I love that I can trust you. That’s important to me.”

  “Of course.”

  “We believe the symbol was possibly placed by witches or devil worshipers.”

  She stiffened at the implication. “They’re not the same thing.”

  “People around here believe that they are.”

  She remained silent.

  He leaned his head against hers. “Have you ever heard anything from anyone about Belinda being a witch?”

  She hesitated to answer, first making sure she had her emotions in check. Good thing she wasn’t under the truth spell right now.

  She also noticed that, while he trusted her, she couldn’t give him the same respect, and ultimately, that would be a problem. “Is that what people are saying?” she asked, avoiding directly answering his question.

  “It’s been mentioned several times. The pentagram is often used by Satanists.”

  It burned that she couldn’t defend her kind. “I did hear someone mention something about a secret society in town who hunts witches. Maybe they did it, and used the mark to brand her.”

  He snorted. “There’s no secret society.”

  Or at least none that he knew about. Or none that he would admit to.

  She sighed, wishing their backgrounds didn’t have to be at odds. Despite her ancestral grandmother’s approval of Peter, she wondered again if she should have let him into her life. Her heart argued that she should, but her mind was in complete opposition most of the time.

  He shifted on the couch until they both had their feet up and she was curled against him in his embrace. “Hey, how about we don’t spend all night talking about murder and suspects? I would love to put that out of my mind for a while and focus on you.”

  Her heart called out a victory, and she let it win for now. She did love spending time with him. Even if their thoughts and ideas weren’t in sync, their hearts and bodies were. “What do you want to know?” She hoped it had nothing to do with witchcraft.

  She sensed his muscles and mind relaxing and allowed hers to follow.

  “Tell me about your childhood. Where you grew up. What your family is like.”

  “It’s not that interesting,” she started. This, she could do. She’d tell him about her life with the exception of witchcraft. Afterward, she’d ask him about his. She wanted to know more about the man and loved that he wanted to know her, too.

  Maybe if she kept her heart open and had faith in him, she’d discover a way for them to be together. He was a good man, after all.

  Fourteen

  Days later, Peter’s insistence that she stay out of the investigation still echoed in Hazel’s mind, growing louder with each step she took toward the bank. She understood the importance of letting him do his job. She really did.

  But talking with the bank manager about opening a business account was a legitimate reason to enter the building. Her visit didn’t necessarily have anything to do with a certain recent crime. She’d needed to separate her personal banking from her business for a while now.

  A friendly visit to Stonebridge’s bank. No harm. No foul.

  She pulled open the glass door and stepped inside. Warm opulence greeted her. Lots of glass and dark woods had been combined with deep forest green accents. A slight woodsy scent clung to the air. That wasn’t something she typically found in banks, but she liked the welcoming and comforting feeling it gave her.

  Hazel approached a man near her age who sat behind a desk near the entrance. He glanced up at her, deep blue eyes peering through black-rimmed glasses that matched the color of his dark brown hair. “Good morning…Ms. Hardy, correct?”

  She found a warm heart behind those gorgeous eyes and widened her smile. “Yes, good morning.” She glanced at the name placard on the desk. Lachlan Brogan, Loan Officer.

  “Is there something I can help you with today?” His cultured voice and pleasant demeanor was like warm chocolate down a frozen throat. She could use more people like this in her life.

  “I need to open a business account. I run my teashop as a sole proprietorship, and I’ve used my personal account up until now, but I really should separate them.”

  “Yes, Ms. Hardy. That is always a good idea.” He opened a drawer and pulled a form from his desk. “If you want to fill this out, someone will be with you in a minute.”

  She hoped she could at least catch a glance of Glenys while she was there. “Thank you very much.”

  “I’ll help her,” a female voice called. “Sally might be a few minutes.”

  Hazel shifted her gaze toward the row of teller stations and found a slender woman, very pixie-like except for her height, walking toward them. A lavender blouse set off her dark blue business suit and contrasted beautifully with her short mahogany hair.

  The woman extended her hand. “Glenys Everwood, branch manager, at your service.”

  Peter had been right. Glenys was beautiful.

  Hazel shook her hand, remaining friendly though she struggled to pinpoint the woman’s aura. “Hazel Hardy of Teas and Temptations just down the street.”

  Glenys nodded. “That’s right. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve been meaning to stop in for a while now.” She gestured with her head to the left. “Let’s step into my office, shall we?”

  Hazel followed the confident woman into her office where she closed the door and offered Hazel a seat in one of the olive green, tufted back armchairs.

  Glenys took a pen from a green glass holder sitting at the corner of her desk and passed it to Hazel. “Should just take you a minute to fill this out.”

  She smiled at the woman, trying to assess her. “Thanks so much for taking time with me.”

  Glenys returned an equally sugary smile. “Our customers are like gold to us.”

  Hazel nodded and turned her attention to the form. Business name. Owner’s name. Address.

  A sharp pinch nipped at the base of Hazel’s skull. “Ouch.” The second the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake
.

  Glenys widened her eyes as though surprised and then narrowed them. “Are you okay?”

  Hazel had no idea how to respond to the woman’s attempted intrusion into her psyche. “Just…a…yeah. I’m fine.” If she called Glenys out for being a witch, she’d give away her identity at the same time. Maybe, for now, it was best to let things be.

  A few seconds later, a harder pinch bit her, and Hazel slapped her hand across the back of her neck as though swatting a mosquito. She couldn’t let her continue, or she might learn something Hazel didn’t want her to. “Something bit me.”

  “Bit you?” Glenys’ smooth voice belied the stark concern in her eyes.

  Hazel might not be as cunning and crafty as the witches in Stonebridge had been forced to be, but she did recognize when she’d been probed, thanks to a backstabbing friend in high school.

  Unfortunately, Hazel’s attempt at a stealthy visit to gain information was about to be as successful as Glenys’ prying into her mind. She sighed. “You know very well what’s wrong. I’m not an idiot. I can sense when someone is trying to sneak into my thoughts.”

  Glenys opened her mouth. Closed it. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize a sister right off the bat.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “You must be the new witch Cora mentioned.”

  An uncomfortable warning slithered over her. She’d trusted Cora. “She told you about me?” Cora had said she wouldn’t say anything until both sides agreed to disclose their identities.

  Glenys flicked away Hazel’s concern. “Not you specifically. Just that we had a new witch in town. She asked if I was interested in meeting you.”

  Hazel’s concerns didn’t completely disappear with that information, though it was good to know Cora hadn’t outed her. “And you said no?” If she’d said yes, Cora would have mentioned it.

  “I told her I’d think about it.” Glenys smiled and leaned forward in her chair. “Honestly, I was hoping to have time to figure it out on my own.”

  Seemed like an underhanded ploy. “Then you’d know my identity, but I wouldn’t know yours.”

  “Exactly. With knowledge comes power. Can’t be too careful in this town.”