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

by Danielle Garrett

“FOR THE LAST time, Gretta, this is my section of the sidewalk!”

  I suppressed a grin as I passed my boss, Peg Holloway, and Gretta McCoy, the owner of the gardening supply shop next door to Siren’s Song, the local coffeehouse, as they were mid-rant. Peg and Gretta paused long enough to politely nod as I crossed in front of them and swung into the coffee shop. Their loud bickering kicked back up again as soon as the door started to fall closed behind me.

  “I’ll be right there!” a small voice called out.

  “It’s just me, Cass.”

  Cassie Pearson, my co-worker and closest friend in Beechwood Harbor popped away from whatever she’d been busy with in the back and flashed me a smile. “Oh, thank goodness.”

  I took my place behind the counter, reached for the middle of three brass hooks on the wall, and retrieved my apron. “How long has that been going on?” I asked, thumbing over my shoulder to the scene on the front walk.

  Cassie sighed and leaned over the counter at my question. Her thick, wavy brown hair was pulled back in a French braid that fell over her shoulder as she peeked past the ancient looking—excuse me, vintage—cash register, and watched the two women arguing on the other side of the large picture windows that lined the front of the quaint shop. “They’re still going at it?” She huffed and rolled her crystal blue eyes.

  I grinned. “Pretty passionately from the clip I heard.” I pulled my own long, auburn hair back into a ponytail. “What’s the hot button issue of the day? Parking snafu? Oh, wait, no, I know, it has something to do with our playlist!”

  Cassie giggled and ducked back out of sight when Peg started to flail her arms and gesture wildly to emphasize whatever point she was making to her opponent. “No, it’s much pettier than that…”

  “Is that even possible?” I secured my elastic hair band, straightened my apron, and started toward the espresso machine to make my first cup of coffee. Judging by the way the shift was starting, I decided to make it a triple shot.

  Peg and Gretta often reminded me of those rams that live up in the mountains. Every so often they bash their horns together to try and establish dominance. There was always some kind of black cloud brewing between the two middle-aged women. From what I’d gathered, their rivalry was rooted in their teen years. They’d been classmates in school and competed for everything. Homecoming queen, trophies on the track team, and the attention of the captain of the football team. How they’d come to own businesses that resided next door to one another was beyond me. I’d never asked for that particular piece of the back story.

  However it had happened, Peg Holloway owned Siren’s Song, Beechwood Harbor’s only coffee shop and Gretta was the owner of Gretta’s Garden, the specialty gardening supply shop next door and the close proximity was an evergreen source of trouble.

  “Apparently so,” Cassie answered, coming to stand beside me as I pulled my first two shots of espresso. “Peg is all up in arms because Gretta hung planter baskets all along the sidewalk.”

  I waited a beat for the rest of the story to unfold. “And…?”

  “That’s it,” Cassie replied, rolling her eyes. “Peg says they’re not hung at the right height and she’s convinced that someone will ‘knock their noggin’, to borrow her phrase.”

  I burst into a peel of laughter that ricocheted through the quiet shop. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. You missed the part where she busted out a measuring tape. Oh, and she called Gretta fun-sized.”

  I winced. “She didn’t?”

  Cassie propped her elbows on the counter and gave me a sidelong glance. “She sure did. So, I wouldn’t expect this battle to blow over for at least another hour. It’s a shame we don’t have popcorn.”

  I laughed even as I shook my head at the absurdity of it all. Two grown women fighting about hanging baskets. Granted, Peg did have several inches over Gretta, but neither of them are petite women. The way I saw it, they just made up stuff to annoy each other. It was like a sport to them.

  I poured the shots into my favorite stainless steel tumbler, the one with a turquoise background and a silver emblem for the Magic Beans Coffee House on the front—a place non-supernaturals would vaguely recognize as a popular cafe in the Seattle area, but was actually something much more. It was the gateway to the Seattle Haven. In the supernatural world, havens were protected communities where supers could live without worrying about concealing their powers or species from humans. They were able to live and work inside the community itself, but also had the freedom to go out into the human world if that was their prerogative, which is why all of the havens reside in large cities. It was easier to conceal a secret society in all the hustle and bustle and noise. The gate to the Seattle Haven was located in the back of the downtown coffee shop and had been way home up until six months ago when an unfortunate set of circumstances had led to my banishment.

  In any case, the mug was still my favorite.

  I was still laughing over Peg and Gretta’s ridiculous feud as I steamed a pitcher of milk. When a nice layer of foam formed on top, I shut off the steam, and poured the milk into my tumbler. I smirked over at Cassie. “I’ll be sure to avoid the next town hall assembly. I’m sure there will be a proposed addendum to the legislation regarding hanging botanicals.”

  “No kidding.” Cassie smiled and turned away to fuss with a sheet of cookies in the front case. With her back turned, I swirled my fingers over the foam in my tumbler and created a perfect Fleur-de-lis in the froth. I hadn’t mastered the practice of pouring perfect latte art, but with a little magical assistance, I was a downright prodigy.

  Cassie turned back around as I was sliding the lid over the top and caught a peek at the design. She stilled my hand to take a closer look and then shook her head, her blue eyes alive with wonder. “That’s beautiful! Sheesh, I really need to watch you do that one of these days,” she said with a wistful sigh. “You’re so talented, Holly.”

  I smiled at the pretty pattern. Latte art wasn’t an official part of my job, but it was something that I added here and there just because it made me happy.

  As a witch living in a human—non magic—community, I had precious few opportunities to use my magic. I’d been raised in the haven network and spent the first twenty-two years of my life being able to wield my magic and show off as much as I wanted without worry of what anyone thought or that I would be reported.

  Well, until I was.

  Following a particularly nasty incident in the San Francisco Haven, my childhood home, I was forced to relocate for the first time. After that, I bounced between a few Southern California Havens, but when none of those situations panned out as the long term home I needed, I decided to make a bigger move to put distance between myself and my not-so-flattering reputation. I ended up going north and spent three years living in the Seattle Haven. However, it didn’t take long before that turned out to be a bust too, and at twenty-eight years old, I was all but exiled from the Haven system and forced to live on my own. Outside the protection and freedom that a haven had to offer.

  It had been six months since my arrival in Beechwood Harbor and thus far I’d managed to fly under the radar. But it wasn’t easy to keep my true identity a secret from virtually everyone around me. The only place I was allowed to be myself, to the fullest degree, was inside the confines of the Beechwood Manor. Everyone in residence was a supernatural and were bound to secrecy through strong charms that had been carefully woven into the foundation of the home itself. Unbreakable and binding to all those who passed through.

  “The nerve of that woman!”

  Cassie and I sprang apart at the sound of Peg’s roar as she stormed through the front door. I snapped the lid onto my tumbler, set it on the counter beside the espresso machine, and picked up a cloth to wipe off the steamer wand before the milk dried.

  Peg continued ranting to herself as she stalked through the shop. Her hands twitched with agitated gestures as she took each step. “Those things are a death trap! And guess who’ll get sued when so
me tourist waddles down the walk and gets taken out by a basket of petunias?”

  Cassie opened her mouth to answer, but I caught her eye first and shook my head.

  “She’s just—just—out of her mind!” Peg stomped around the large case containing pastries and breakfast items and gave both of us a cold stare. “What are you two doing? Don’t just stand there! The water pitchers are low, the floor needs to be swept, and the order in back still needs to be checked in!”

  “I started unpacking the order, Peg,” Cassie hurried to reply.

  “Started?” Peg narrowed her eyes.

  “I’ll go finish the order!” Cassie jumped into action, the panic evident in her voice as she scurried down the short hallway that led to the back room.

  Peg’s head rotated and her harsh stare fell on me. I held up a finger. “I’ll sweep and get the water pitchers.”

  Still snarling, Peg whipped around the counter and stormed into the back. Seconds later, the door to her small office slammed shut.

  I set the steamer wand rag aside, took a deep sip from my freshly crafted drink, and went to the long table under the front windows. The table was crafted from driftwood picked off the beach. A local woodworker had fashioned the pieces into a gorgeous table that showcased the natural beauty of the different types of wood and gifted it to Peg when she opened the shop. It served as a bar where customers could find a caddy full of lids, straws, half a dozen sweetener options, and cardboard cup cozies. Two tall pitchers of ice water were off to the other side and a tower of clear plastic cups were stacked up between them.

  “Yes, clearly this was an emergency.” I sighed when I saw that the water pitchers in question were barely a quarter of the way emptied. “Bat wings and toadstools,” I muttered to myself, grabbing the first of the two. “What is she expecting? A herd of camels for lunch?”

  Before I could haul it behind the counter to top it off with filtered water, the front door opened and a soft tinkling alerted me to turn back and greet my first customer of the day.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hooper,” I said, smiling brightly as Jasper Hooper ambled into the shop. Jasper was an elderly man with a sunny disposition and gentle spirit. He was a local and came into the shop every morning at the same time like clockwork. Most of Siren’s Song’s customers were regulars. And besides a small pocket of customers that grated on my nerves to the point of wanting to hex them, most of them were wonderful and great tippers to boot. Then there were a handful that were particularly endearing. Jasper Hooper was at the top of that list.

  As a bonus, he was also a supernatural, a wizard, though according to him, he was retired from all that.

  Jasper smiled. “Morning, Holly. A lovely day, don’t you think?”

  Truthfully, that depended on how many hours Peg spent locked away in her office, versus micromanaging Cassie and me all shift.

  I smiled sweetly. “It’s going to be a great day. What time are the grandbabies getting into town?”

  Jasper lit up like Yuletide morning. “Ten o’clock.”

  I glanced at the large copper-plated clock on the wall. It hung above a set of French doors that led to the patio. It was creeping up to ten. “Well you better take your order to go then,” I said, throwing him a wink.

  “I suppose so.” Jasper glanced around behind him. There were a couple of patrons in the shop, but they appeared to be engrossed in whatever was on their computer screens. Earbuds in. Blocking out the rest of us. He came closer to the counter and leaned against it, a hand absently going to his lower back. “Do you have the potion?”

  I craned around to look over my own shoulder and then, after verifying we weren’t being watched, I pulled a small vial from the front pocket of my jeans. The vial was thin and corked with a stopper. The contents were seafoam green and nearly opaque. Jasper grinned from ear to ear at the sight of the bottle and reached for his wallet. “Just a short coffee today, Holly.”

  I gave him a nod and turned away to pour a small cup of coffee from the freshly brewed carafe on the counter behind me. Before sliding the lid on the cup, I uncorked the vial, dumped the contents into the coffee, and then handed it to Jasper.

  “What do I owe ya?” he asked, looking down at the contents of his old faded wallet.

  Jasper came in every morning for a hot cup of coffee, and two or three times a week, he ordered it with a little extra oomph, courtesy of one of my handcrafted potions. He usually requested it for the days that his grandchildren would be visiting. A small dose of my specialty blend Perky Potion was enough to chase away his chronic low back pain and get him through a day of pillow forts, Frisbee chasing, and tickle monster games with his young grandchildren.

  “Three fifty,” I replied, my tone neutral.

  Jasper passed over the money for the coffee and then dropped two golden coins into my hand. “Thanks, Holly. You’re a lifesaver.”

  I grinned. “Don’t thank me, thank the magic of the beans,” I replied, flashing him a wink. Lima beans were a starring ingredient in the Perky Potion, though anyone overhearing us would assume I meant the coffee beans.

  Jasper returned the sly wink. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I hope you have a lovely day with your grandbabies.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded and took a deep sip from the coffee in his hand. The potion worked best when first mixed with coffee. The caffeine boosted the potency of the spell and while it took about ten minutes to fully kick in, the effects would last all day.

  The bell on the front door rang again and I leaned around Jasper to offer a friendly smile to the new customer, only to feel it slide right back off my face, as I found myself staring at a familiar face sporting a gleaming, arrogant smile.

  Nick Rivers, Private Investigator, and professional pain in the tush.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” I asked, not bothering to conceal the acidity in my tone as Nick smirked and approached the counter.

  He quirked his lips and made a tsk’ing sound under his breath. “Now, is that any way to greet a paying customer?”

  I tossed a glance over my shoulder to make sure Peg wasn’t lurking nearby. The last thing I needed was for her to overhear a customer complaint. Especially when she was already on a tear. The hallway was empty, so I turned my glare back to Nick. “What do you want, Mr. Rivers?”

  He drummed his fingertips on the counter top and perused the menu, giving me an extra minute to stew. “A large mocha. For starters.”

  I clenched my jaw and marched to the espresso machine. I ignored Nick and refused to make eye contact as I went through the process of making his drink—at double time speed—and when the last dollop of whipped cream was in place, I slapped my palm on the bottom of the sprinkle container with deliberate force. Bop, bop. I set the drink on the counter in front of him. “Four fifty.”

  “Thank you. Just what I needed,” Nick said, passing over a five-dollar bill.

  I snatched the bill from his hand with a slight snap. “Right, it would be a tragedy if you were to run out of energy before you could continue your peeping spree through the neighborhood.”

  For the first time, he showed a glimmer of irritation. “Come on, Holly, why can’t we be friends?”

  “Hmm. Let me see…” I tapped my finger against my lips, mocking deep thought. “It’s probably because the only thing that I really know about you, is that you’re a nosy PI, who’s not opposed to prowling around in stranger’s bushes in the middle of the night. Oh, and when I gave you the boot, you tried to talk me into selling out the privacy of my roommates. What can I say? It all left a bad taste in my mouth. So, excuse me for not wanting to chit chat with you.”

  Nick took the coffee cup and lifted it to his lips, his ocean blue eyes still locked on mine, as though he were attempting a mind reading session. In the light of day, I could see that he was probably around my age, maybe a little older. His skin held a deep tan and subtle lines from the sun showed at the edges of his eyes. He was a few inc
hes taller than me with a lanky frame. His long sleeved shirt was snug enough to show sculpted arms. It was clear that he kept in shape but was still far from being a bodybuilder gym rat. He wasn’t wearing a hat today and his dark hair was spiked up in the front, likely with the help of some kind of styling product. His jaw was coated in stubble. Apparently the poor thing hadn’t had a chance to shave after a night spent on a paranormal stakeout.

  I dropped my gaze to the cash register and fussed with the sticky buttons to tabulate the sale and put away the cash. I held out the two coins that made up his change, resisting the urge to give it to him in pennies. “Have a nice day, Mr. Rivers.”

  He took the change and immediately deposited it into the tip jar off to the side of the register, with an added bill for good measure. His eyes whizzed back to mine and he leaned forward. “Holly, I—”

  “Whew, that was a close one.”

  I jolted at the sound of Cassie’s voice, and whipped around as she strode back to the counter. She held a clipboard in her hands and was consulting it as she walked back to the register. She glanced up and stopped abruptly at the sight of Nick. “Oh, sorry, Holly. I didn’t know you were with a customer.” She offered Nick a shy smile and tucked away a strand of hair that had fallen out of her loose braid. She pushed it behind her ear and ducked her chin.

  Oh, brother. Sure, Nick Rivers was a good looking man. I wasn’t going to try and argue that point. Handsome or not, I wasn’t interested. In Nick or anyone else. When I moved to Beechwood Harbor I took myself off the dating market—much to Adam St. James’ chagrin. I needed to get my life together and finally settle down someplace before I tangled my life together with someone else’s. And, when that day came, it would be with another supernatural. Otherwise, things got too messy. People always wanted to try the Romeo and Juliet approach. A supernatural and a human. It usually ended about as well as the tragic tale.

  No thank you.

  Cassie was grinning like she swallowed a gallon of love potion. “Are you visiting Beechwood?”