Murder's a Witch: A Beechwood Harbor Magic Mystery (Beechwood Harbor Magic Mysteries Book 1)

by Danielle Garrett

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgements

  About Danielle Garrett

  Murder’s a Witch

  A Beechwood Harbor Magic Mystery

  BOOK ONE

  Danielle Garrett

  Copyright © 2016 by Danielle Garrett

  Edited by Tina Rucci

  Cover Design by Alchemy Book Covers

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  For Tim, you are my reason.

  Holly Boldt has a secret. Well, technically, she has lots of them. After a scandal uproots her entire life, she is forced to relocate to a halfway house for displaced paranormals. It’s her last shot for a fresh start. But keeping secrets isn’t easy in a town that goes through gossip faster than tissue paper, even for a powerful witch.

  When a murder sends shock waves through the small community, Holly finds herself tangled up in the investigation. With everyone watching, Holly must solve the case before she’s forced to abandon her new found home and live life as a witch on the run. But with a paranormal investigator tailing her every move, civil war brewing between her vampire and shifter roommates, and her ghost landlord on the edge of a breakdown, she’s having trouble thinking in complete sentences. How is she supposed to track down a murderer?

  Holly has to make it work, or else risk losing everything…again.

  Murder’s a Witch is a cozy witch mystery with a spunky twist. Come see what’s brewing in Beechwood Harbor in this first installment of The Beechwood Harbor Magic Mysteries Series.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “IN OTHER NEWS, the Seattle Haven is reporting a shortage of nightshade following an ongoing string of thefts. The Jewelbox Apothecary, the areas main supplier, reported another robbery over the weekend. In an effort to restock quickly, the proprietor, Agnes Barth, is offering double the standard bounty for anyone with nightshade for sale.”

  “We could make a mint,” I said, turning away from the TV screen to consult my orange tabby cat, Boots, who was perched on the bedside table to my right. I sighed. “It’s too bad we’re banished, huh?”

  Boots yawned.

  “Yes, I know, witch problems. Not cat problems.” I swung my legs off the bed, stood up, and stretched my arms over my head as the nightly news report, The Witch Wire, shifted gears to fangirling all over Petra, the hottest new pop star, who, as it turned out, was also a witch. The entire country was captivated by her, although I suspected that had more to do with her magically enhanced…well…assets, than her singing prowess. Regardless, she was making a splash in both the human and supernatural worlds.

  I, however, was not interested.

  I waved a hand at the cabinet opposite my four poster bed and the TV silenced. The birch doors slid shut to conceal the device. According to the clock that was squished between Boots’ furry rear end and the lamp, it was nearly midnight. I had to be up for work in less than five hours. I scratched Boots’ head and he opened his eyes, revealing gorgeous amber orbs. “What do you think, Boots? Time to—” I stopped mid-sentence and cocked an ear toward a sudden sound outside my bedroom window that overlooked a carefully cultivated rose garden.

  A scratching sound, followed by two thumps. “What in the Otherworld…”

  Howling winds, scraping branches, and even occasional thunderstorms were not an uncommon occurrence at the Beechwood Manor. The one-hundred-twenty-year-old home sat atop a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean and suffered annual damage from wind storms and other forces of nature. Normally, I wasn’t fazed by the weather. As an elemental witch, I was in tune with nature and found that extreme weather only enhanced my magic. In fact, some of my favorite potion recipes had been born in the middle of a nice howler. The only time I bemoaned a good storm was if the rain threatened a beloved pair of suede heels.

  It hadn’t been particularly windy when I’d been out for an evening walk around town, but things changed quickly on the coast. But those thumps…those were definitely new.

  Another thump sounded beside me as Boots jumped down from his place on my bedside table. As my familiar, he fancied himself something of a guard cat and had obviously heard the disturbance from outside the window too.

  “Boots?” I hissed at the tawny colored rear end as it snaked past the bedroom door and out into the hallway.

  Boom. I jolted at the loud crash.

  Who would be out in the flower beds at this time of night? Or, even worse, what…

  I fisted my hands together and marched out the door, following the trail Boots had just taken. The Beechwood Manor was a historic mansion, turned B&B, turned safe house for displaced supernaturals. Like myself. Currently in residence was a saucy vampiress named Lacey Vaughn, a shifter named Adam St. James, and newcomer Gary, whom I hadn’t quite puzzled out yet. Of my three roommates, there was one clear candidate for who was most likely the culprit behind all the midnight hullabaloo.

  Adam St. James.

  Despite his name, there was nothing saintly about the man. He was charming, clever, and absurdly good looking.

  The problem was that he knew it.

  Lost in thought, I didn’t see Boots in the dimly lit hallway until I’d already crashed into the side of him with my shins. He growled at the impact but quickly wove around my ankles, rubbing his head against my legs. I sent up a small orb of light to guide the rest of the way and prevent any further collisions. “Sorry, Bootsie.” He glanced up at me and blinked once. I caught sight of my hot pink pajama pants with cartoon pineapples splashed across them and groaned. Oh, Adam was going to have a field day when he saw them.

  “Come on,” I muttered as the twenty pound cat continued to circle my legs. With the tip of my slipper, I budged him out of the way and made a beeline for the front doors of the manor. If Adam was out there causing a ruckus, I had to stop him before someone in the neighborhood got suspicious. The last thing I needed were the cops showing up, nosing around, and asking a bunch of questions.

  The crisp night air bit into the exposed skin on my arms, raising goosebumps as soon as I
stepped onto the wrap around porch. I tugged lightly on the doorknob and the front door closed without a sound behind me. With Boots still on my heels, I went around the side of the house to where my windows were located and stopped a few paces away from the source of the noise.

  It wasn’t Adam poking around the flower beds.

  I quickly extinguished the magic orb of light in my hand.

  The light streaming from the nearly full moon above was enough to make out a man, dressed in all black, tiptoeing away from my windows and heading around to the back of the house. He had a flashlight in one hand and was shining it at the foundation of the house.

  My fingers itched, a warm pulse of magic building in the palm of my hand. Ready to fire off a stunning spell.

  “Stop!” I called out into the night between us. “I have a weapon!”

  Boots meowed loudly to emphasize my threat.

  I rolled my eyes. Perfect. Very threatening. An overweight house cat for backup.

  The man turned, his hands raised, the beam of his flashlight shooting up into the sky. “Hey, hey, look, I’m unarmed!”

  “Who are you?” I folded my arms.

  His gaze darted up and down me and then a sour frown appeared on his lips. “I thought you said you were armed…”

  I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  He smirked. “I just think one should always be honest.”

  I snorted. Was this guy for real? I cocked my hip and glared at him. “Says the creep sneaking around my backyard at midnight…”

  The man chuckled softly. “All right. Fair point. I’m gonna drop my hands now. Promise you won’t sic your tabby on me?”

  I glanced down at Boots. “What do you think?”

  He rolled over into the soft dirt.

  “Happy?” I asked, cutting my glance back to the intruder.

  He must have been appeased, because he pocketed his hands and took a few steps to close the gap between us. The pulse of magic in my hand warmed. With a flick of my fingers, it would fire at him and stop him in his tracks.

  Not yet, Holly.

  “That’s close enough,” I said, putting up my other hand. “Now, tell me who you are or I’m going to go call the police and tell them there’s some kind of peeping Tom in the neighborhood.”

  He scratched his chin. “That expression always makes me feel bad for guys named Tom…”

  “Who. Are. You.” Each word was spat out from between gritted teeth. The fatigue from my long day was kicking in. I wanted to get back inside, to my warm bed and the sweet comfort of sleep.

  “Easy there, peaches. My name is Nick Rivers. Here.” He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to me.

  Nicholas G. Rivers

  Private Investigator

  “You’re a PI?” I flipped the card over and ran my finger over the embossed graphic of his initials inside a geometric prism. My heart slammed into my chest but I did my best to suppress the bubbling panic. “Who are you investigating?”

  Certainly the agency hadn’t sent someone to check up on me. Had they? Was Nick a supernatural? He definitely didn’t look like one. He looked more like an accountant. Although I have heard that accountants basically have magical powers…

  Nick clucked his tongue. “Ah, ah, ah. It’s my turn to ask a question. What’s your name?”

  I raised an eyebrow. Was it a trick question? Why was he prowling outside my window in the middle of the night if he wasn’t investigating me? Was he looking into someone else at the manor? It did host a smorgasbord of interesting characters.

  To say the least.

  “I’m Holly Boldt,” I said, not willing to give up any further information until I knew his agenda.

  “Nice to meet you, Holly.” Nick stepped closer, ignoring my previous warning, and reached out a hand for a friendly introduction.

  I ignored him, leaving his hand hanging between us. “What are you doing here, Mr. Rivers?”

  Stubbornly refusing to retract his hand, he gave me another once over. “Come on, Holly. We can be civilized here. Can’t we?”

  “Once you tell me what you’re doing, sure. We’ll be great pals. I always like to affiliate myself with backyard snoops.”

  He chuckled and pocketed his hand. “You’re a tough cookie, Holly. I’m not investigating anyone in particular. On the weekends, I like to take tour groups out to do paranormal hunts.”

  “Hunts?”

  Oh, this was so not good.

  He smiled. “Yeah, you know, go out to supposedly haunted places, tell ghost stories, give people a good scare, that kind of thing.”

  I forced a laugh. “And you think the Beechwood Manor is haunted?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Is it?”

  “Obviously not,” I fired back, shaking my head in disbelief. Hoping my act wasn’t as transparent as it felt.

  “Hmm. Well, I think it fits the bill,” he grinned.

  “I don’t follow…”

  “I saw this place posted on a directory of suspected haunts and decided I wanted to see it in person.”

  “There’s a directory of haunted houses?”

  Nick grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Learn something new every day.

  “Anyways, I’m new to the area, working a case, and decided to check out the house for myself first-hand. Turns out, it’s even better than I imagined. It checks all the boxes.” He held up his fingers and ran through the selling points. “It’s old, it has a lot of history, and, the biggest thing is that people have died here. Which means there are guaranteed to be some creepy stories to tell. Did you know that?”

  I nodded, setting my mouth in a thin line. “I’ve heard the stories. But, you’re forgetting one thing, Mr. Rivers.”

  “Nick,” he corrected. “And what am I missing?”

  “There are people living here. The Beechwood Manor isn’t some abandoned house for you and whoever you can dupe into taking your tour, to go trampling around in.”

  “Right. I get that. Obviously, I was planning to come back during the day to introduce myself and give a formal pitch. You just beat me to the punch.”

  “You were very loud.”

  Nick chuckled. “Apologies. So tell me, Holly, do you own the home?”

  “It’s a rental,” I said, my words clipped. My patience was tissue paper thin. One more snarky smile from Nick and he was going to get blasted halfway to the Canadian border.

  “I see. And how long have you been living here? If I may.”

  “You may not.” I felt Boots bump against my legs. He could sense my rising energy levels. “In any case, no one that lives here will allow you and your tour to parade through, so I suggest you run along to the next stop on your hunt. None of us here appreciate strange salesman showing up with something to pitch. Especially not nosy ones who trespass in the middle of the night looking like a stunt man from a spy movie.” I jerked my chin at his all-black attire, including a thick beanie covering what looked like unruly, dark hair based on the tips splayed across his forehead under the hem of the hat. Although, considering my neon colored pajama ensemble, I wasn’t in much of a position to play Fashion Police.

  Before Nick could argue his case further, I turned away, releasing the magic in my hand as it brushed against the soft cotton pajama bottoms.

  “If you change your mind, give me a call! My number’s on my card. I’d cut you in on the admission sales!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Goodbye, Mr. Rivers.”

  Moments later, a pair of boots crunched down the gravel walk and when I stopped to look back, I saw him stalking down the short driveway that led away from the old servants entrance on the side of the house.

  Good riddance. I wasn’t sure which part of the encounter was more insulting. That he had the nerve to skulk around in someone else’s bushes in the middle of the night, or that he made a profit off of spreading—what were no doubt—lies and embellished tales about supernaturals.

  I waited until a pair of headlights illuminated
the elegant circular drive leading to the manor itself. Three other houses had been built across the street, all within the last twenty years, but were far enough away that the manor still had a private feel, despite being less than a block away from a cul-de-sac offshoot of the largest subdivision in Beechwood Harbor. I watched from the shadows of the flower beds as his sleek car turned around and sped off into the night. With a shake of my shoulders, I released the pent up frustration that had bunched in between the muscles. He might be gone for now, but I had a sinking feeling in my gut that told me that Nick Rivers wasn’t the type to give up that easily.

  With a heavy sigh that was a mixture of exhaustion and relief, I went back inside the manor, shut and bolted the door behind me, and then stooped over to pick up Boots. I groaned at the effort of sweeping the twenty-pound beast off the floor and tucked him under my arm.

  “Okay, Bootsie, now we’re officially going to bed.”

  He purred his agreement.

  “A little late for you, isn’t it?”

  I jolted at the voice and saw Posy, the fourth, and somewhat unofficial roommate at the manor. “Oh! Hello, Posy.”

  “Are you just getting in?” Her tone was casual, but her expression appeared stern due to the deep lines around her mouth and in between her brows. Her dark hair was piled up on top of her head, wound up just as tightly as she was. Deep down—sometimes really deep—she was a sweet lady. But she had a penchant for nosiness that made it hard not roll my eyes anytime she entered a room.

  I offered a simple smile. “No. I thought I heard something outside. But it was just the bushes rustling around. Looks like we’re in for a storm.”

  A gleeful giggle broke through her stony exterior. “Oh, goody. I do love a howler!”

  I nodded politely and hefted Boots against my hip for extra support as I carted him down the hall towards my room. “Goodnight, Posy.”

  When I stopped at my door, I glanced over just in time to watch Posy’s silvery silhouette fade through the wall. “Goodnight, Holly.”

  CHAPTER TWO