Hotter Than Spell (An Elemental Witches of Eternal Springs Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Annabel Chase

  “But you try to make the best of it, I guess,” he said.

  “I do.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. You always struck me as having a glass half-full personality.”

  My brow lifted. “Really?”

  “Sure. I remember when you came to the high school after your convent burned down. Most girls would’ve struggled to adapt to a new environment at that age. You jumped right in. By graduation, you were practically running the school.” He grinned. “Not everyone appreciated your efforts, of course, but I thought you were awesome.”

  My heart thumped against my chest. “Awesome? Me?”

  “Like some force of nature, driven by God Himself.”

  I frowned. “Are you religious, Lucas?”

  He hesitated. “No, why? Is that a requirement for you? I guess it makes sense for a former nun-in-training.”

  “First of all, I was never going to be a nun, okay?”

  “Okay, but…”

  I pretended to zip my lip. “Never, Lucas. Second of all, a requirement for what? Why would I need you to be religious? I know plenty of people who aren’t.”

  His head dipped between his extended arms so that I couldn’t see his face. “Never mind. Forget it.”

  A familiar set of pale wings on a nearby branch grabbed my attention. Uh oh.

  “I really need to get going,” I said, rising to my feet. “I’ve got a lot to do before the Battle of the Bands competition.” Like a murder to solve.

  “You’re always on the go, aren’t you?” he asked. “I think this is the longest I’ve ever seen you stand still.”

  “I guess you’re right about nature,” I said. “It is calming.” I watched out of the corner of my eye as Stuart gesticulated wildly.

  “Weird. I think that white bird is having a seizure,” Lucas said.

  Oops. “I’ll go check it out.”

  “You should leave it be,” Lucas said. “It could have rabies.”

  Stuart opened his beak to protest, but I held up a quick hand to silence him. Where was Skye with a strong gust of wind when you wanted one?

  I think Stuart is warning you to mind the poop, miss, Gerald said.

  He saved me from stepping in it in the nick of time. I glanced down at the huge pile in front of me. “This isn’t from Leia, is it?”

  Don’t be absurd, Agatha said. That dog’s excrement is the size of a small kitten.

  Lucas eyed the poop warily. “No. She hasn’t been out here with me recently. There are a lot of cats out here, though. Could be one of them.”

  “That would be an awfully big cat,” I said. I couldn’t think of any one of them big enough to produce excrement that size. Naturally, when I wanted the trees to speak up, they remained silent. The mystery poop would have to wait for another day.

  “It was nice talking to you, Lucas,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”

  “I hope so,” he replied, in a tone that signified he meant it.

  I pushed down the rising swarm of butterflies in my stomach. There was no time to be distracted by a hot guy. Not when there was work to be done. I’d failed once in my life and I refused to let it happen again, not ever.

  Chapter Four

  After my unsuccessful visit to the copse, I stopped by the coffee shop. I usually went in because I liked to socialize, but I had a more specific reason today. It was one of the best places to pick up gossip. If word was out about Pete’s death, I’d hear about it here.

  Skye must have had the same thought because, as I turned away from the counter with my blackberry tea, I ran smack into her, nearly spilling the tea in the process.

  “Pete Simpson,” she said, wearing a smug expression. “Drummer for Fat Gandalf. Buddy says there was a bag of weed near the body.”

  “The bag of pot is irrelevant. Buddy just wants to wrap this up nice and neat,” I said.

  “And you don’t?” Skye said with a taunting cackle. “‘Nice and neat’ is going to be written on your tombstone. The caretaker will think you’re giving him instructions.”

  “I want justice for Pete,” I said. “Everyone deserves that.”

  “Justice, huh? You’re getting soft in your advanced age,” Skye said. “I can still remember when you blamed Obi-Wan for his own death. Said he brought it on himself. Where was your sense of justice then?” She folded her arms and glared at me.

  Here we go. Skye was always ready to pick a fight. Sometimes I had the energy for it. Today, however, was not one of those days.

  “I have a lot to do today, Skye,” I said. “I’m sure you do, too.”

  “Yeah, it seems I have a murder to write about,” she replied. “I guess I should start interviewing family members.”

  I sipped my tea, trying to remain calm. “Skye, please. Leave this alone for a bit.”

  Skye gorged on a cider doughnut, crumbs flying everywhere. “You said it yourself. Pete deserves justice. Freedom of the press is all about justice.”

  Argh. If Skye was on the case, there was no telling what kind of damage she’d cause. I had to stop her before things got out of hand, as they often did when Skye was involved.

  “Give me a day or so to see what I can figure out,” I pleaded quietly. “While I don’t agree with Buddy that we should slap an accidental label on it and call it a day, I do need this to be kept under wraps for the sake of the town.” I gave her a pointed look. “And we’re well-versed in sacrificing our own desires for the sake of the town, aren’t we?”

  Skye licked her crumb-covered lips. Although she made an effort to appear nonchalant, I knew I had her. “Pete’s brother Mike got called to the spa today for an emergency. Some electrical issue.”

  Perfect. He was the one I wanted to speak to first.

  “Thanks for the tip, Skye. I appreciate it.”

  “Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.”

  The Two Brothers golf cart was parked in the lot of the Eternal Springs Spa and Resort, just as Skye said it would be. I breathed a sigh of relief. You never knew with her. It could just as easily have been a wild goose chase. Wouldn't be the first time I’d fallen for one of Skye’s pranks.

  I entered the familiar lobby and spotted August “Augie” Taylor, the resort’s head of security. I knew Augie from the local high school, where I’d completed my senior year after the devastating fire. Even though thirteen years had passed since that night, I still vividly remembered the incident. I even suffered from nightmares on occasion. Gerald knew to turn on Mitzi’s knitting show the mornings after.

  “Hey, Kenna,” Augie said. “What brings you here? Business or pleasure?”

  The idea that I would be at the spa for pleasure was laughable. Despite the amount of time I spent here, I’d never indulged in any of the spa’s offerings.

  “Which do you think?” I asked.

  He broke into a friendly smile. “Yeah, I figured. When are you not working?”

  “When I sleep,” I replied. I walked until I reached the reception counter, where Dylan Potter was checking in a guest. I waited until he’d finished before approaching the counter because I didn’t want anyone to overhear our conversation.

  The twenty-year-old was an easy target. He’d lived his whole life on the island and had a well-documented infatuation with the four St. Joan of Arc refugees. I often wondered what drew him to us, whether he had an untapped connection to magic or whether he was simply a horndog. I was fairly certain he didn’t slobber all over himself when Winnie Jeffries was here. The buxom blonde owned Island Pizza. She made the deliveries herself in a bikini, a clever marketing ploy that showed she was smarter than people believed. Her pizza place was the only real competition for Manny’s Pizza, a front for a popular bookie.

  "Dylan, my love," I said effusively. "You’re just the man I wanted to see.”

  Dylan's Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. I got the impression that he was both deathly afraid of me and deathly attracted to me at the same time. It made for an interesting dynamic.

  "Really
? Have you changed your mind about the mud wrestling idea?" he asked hopefully.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Dylan was dead set on bringing female wrestlers to compete in the famous mud pits of Eternal Springs. He was convinced it would be a huge draw for tourists and viewed it as a clever expansion of our island’s brand. I disagreed with the branding argument, and I didn’t want that type of tourist at any price. I had standards.

  "I'm still thinking about that one, Dylan. Let me get through the Battle of the Bands first."

  Dylan didn't hide his disappointment very well. "What can I do for you, then, if my idea isn’t good enough?”

  Oh boy. Sulking? Not attractive, Dylan.

  "I'm looking for the electrician who's here," I said. "Can you tell me where he is?"

  Dylan hesitated. “You know I can’t give out that kind of information.”

  "Why? What's the problem?"

  Dylan looked around cautiously before leaning closer to me across the desk. “You’re not supposed to be here right now. My boss knows that a bad tourist experience reflects poorly on the whole island.” Translation: Don't piss off Kenna Byrne. Fair enough. I could be prickly when I was unhappy, especially when it came to protecting the island’s reputation.

  “You can tell me, Dylan,” I said. “I promise I won't get angry.”

  Dylan’s eyes twinkled with possibility. “So would I be doing you a favor?”

  My eyes narrowed. “No, you'd be doing your job.”

  Dylan cocked his head. “I think I'd be doing my job more if I don't tell you, because that's what my boss would want.”

  Whoa. For a gangly kid seemingly forever on the cusp of manhood, he was clever when it suited him. “Okay, Dylan. What's your price?”

  “A picnic on the beach.”

  I tapped my nails on the desk, considering. That would actually be a romantic date if Dylan weren’t at the other end of the picnic blanket. Blargh. I really wanted to speak to Mike while he was preoccupied with the job. I figured that if he had any connection to his brother’s death, he’d be less able to lie if his brain and body were focused on different tasks.

  “Fine. A picnic it is,” I said.

  Dylan seemed shocked. “Cool! All right then. Have a look in that blue day planner of yours and pick a date.”

  “Yes, definitely the blue one,” I said. I didn’t consider a picnic on the beach with Dylan Potter to be a social occasion. It was strictly business.

  “Mike's in the couple's mudroom. Down the hall…”

  “I know where it is, thanks.” I bolted through the resort to where the couple's mudroom was located. It occurred to me as I barreled through the door that I should've asked whether there was a couple inside.

  A woman's shriek alerted me to the fact that there was.

  “I already complained that three’s a crowd,” the man grumbled. “Four is out of the question.”

  My attention was immediately drawn to the couple standing naked outside a Jacuzzi. Their bodies were entirely caked with the island’s signature mud.

  “My apologies,” I said. “It's my understanding that there’s an issue with the electrical system. I'm the island tourism director and it's my job to make sure this doesn't negatively impact your experience here with us.”

  “I'm standing outside a hot tub covered in stinky mud,” the woman whined. “What kind of experience do you think we're having?”

  “We were told we would go straight from the couples mud pit to the warming mineral spring tub,” the man said. “When we got here, the water was ice cold.”

  “It's more like room temperature,” a voice said. Another man sprang up from behind the hot tub.

  “You must be Mike Simpson,” I said. “I'm Kenna Byrne. I'm so sorry about your brother.”

  Mike's expression crumpled. “Thanks. Buddy said you were the one who found him. Is that true?”

  I nodded mutely.

  “Did he look…peaceful?”

  No, he looked like he’d been murdered in the dirty men’s room of a bar, but I couldn’t tell him that. Mike’s eyes were far too hopeful.

  “He wasn’t in any pain,” I said truthfully. Not by the time I found him.

  “I have to admit, I'm still processing the whole thing,” Mike said. “He’s my only sibling and I can't believe he's gone.”

  The mud couple exchanged glances. It was hard to read their expressions through the thick layer of sediment.

  “Your brother died recently?” the man asked.

  “Yesterday,” Mike said.

  “Yesterday?” Despite the hardened mud mask, the woman’s shock was evident.

  “Was he ill?” the man asked.

  “No,” Mike replied. “We don’t exactly know what happened yet. He’s my partner in the electrical company, or was. Overnight, Two Brothers has been reduced to one brother.” He frowned. “I guess without a brother, I'm no brother at all.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I guess I’ll have to change the name.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about the right now,” I said.

  “I'm really sorry,” the woman said. “Here we are, making a fuss about staying covered in mud a little longer than planned, while you’re working to fix it. What on earth are you doing here now? You should be home with your family, mourning your brother, not here worrying about self-absorbed spa guests like us.”

  Mike set down his tools. “That's kind of you to say, ma’am, but business is business. I can't afford to not answer when the resort calls. I have three kids and a wife to care for. This place is my biggest customer by a long shot. Without Pete, I'll need to work harder to keep my customers happy. It matters now more than ever.”

  This was my chance to ask the questions that had been on my mind.

  “What if his band won the competition?” I asked. “I heard he was going to quit the company. Had he shared that with you?” I watched him closely to gauge his reaction.

  “Your brother was a musician?” the mud man asked.

  “Yeah, he was a drummer for a local band called Fat Gandalf,” Mike said. “He'd wanted to be in a band since we were kids. It was his dream.” He fixed his gaze on me. “Yeah, I knew his plan. I can't say it surprised me. He never wanted to be an electrician. He only did that to be a good brother to me. He always tried to put me first, and I let him do it.” He swore under his breath.

  “When did he tell you his plan?” I asked.

  “We talked about it recently,” Mike said. “At my son's birthday party a few weeks ago, he brought it up again.”

  “And you told him then that you weren’t in love with the idea?”

  Mike’s widened. “Oh, no. I never would have said that. I mean, we started Two Brothers together and I wanted it to stay that way, for sure. I’m not as business savvy as Pete was. We both knew how much I relied on him.” He trailed off, his mouth forming a thin line.

  “Did Pete care how you felt?”

  “Of course! I could tell he felt guilty about it. Part of me hoped they wouldn't win the competition, so he’d have to stay on the island.” Mike lowered his head. “I feel like the worst brother in the world for that now.”

  “Did he know you wanted him to lose?” I asked.

  Mike returned his attention to the task at hand. “I would never have told him. Truthfully, I wanted him to be happy. One of us should get to live out our dream. I told him I supported him one hundred percent. He was grateful because Tiffany definitely wasn't on board with the idea.”

  “Tiffany’s his wife?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “She made it very plain that she did not support his plan. She didn't want to follow him to the mainland for touring. She likes it here. Has a business of her own and didn’t want to walk away from it.”

  Well, that was interesting. “Where were you yesterday morning?”

  “Where I always am, on the job. I had a small refrigerator that needed to be hooked up to a new outlet at Nailed It,” Mike said. “I didn't find out about Pete until I lef
t, which was a good thing because I was able to finish that job and get paid. I ended up taking the rest of the day off. I couldn't function.”

  “That's understandable,” I said. “It sounds like you and your brother were very close.” I'd always wanted a sibling. Instead, I was saddled with my three witchy sisters from St. Joan of Arc thanks to a shared sordid history. Not exactly a bargain.

  “I'm really sorry about this,” Mike began, “but it looks like I need to replace a wire here that I don't have on me. I'll have to leave and come back.” He peered over the edge of the hot tub at the mud-caked couple. “I think you might have to go straight to the showers.”

  The couple looked at each other.

  “It’s not a problem,” the man said. “We’re relaxed, so we got the experience we came for.”

  “We could ask for an extra half hour with the mud blankets as compensation,” the woman said, with a shrug.

  They were being so gracious in light of Mike's sad circumstances that I felt inclined to do something nice. Not only that, but it would save the spa's reputation, which was obviously good for my job. As casually as I could, I brought my heat magic to my fingertips and wiggled my pinky toward the hot tub. Steam began to rise from the water.

  “You fixed it!” the man exclaimed. “Looks like you don't need that wire after all.”

  “I think it must be your brother smiling down at you from the heavens,” the woman said. “It's a mud pit miracle.”

  Well, my job here was done. “Enjoy your couples’ time. Mike, just out of curiosity, what kind of wire did you think you needed to fix this?” Whatever it was, I'd make sure to get this hot tub fixed properly. My magic wouldn't keep it hot forever.

  Mike told me as he collected his tools. “That was lucky,” he said. “And believe me, I don't get to say those words very often.”

  “I'll walk you out,” I said. “Let's leave this lovely couple to enjoy the rest of their visit alone.”

  Not to mention I wanted to get out of there before they immersed themselves in the water and the mud rinsed off. They were exposed enough in mud. At least there was a thick layer between their bare skin and me.