Nefarious Nine: A Cozy Mystery (Teas and Temptations Book 9)

by Cindy Stark

  Beneath her mattress would be ridiculous, along with the top of a closet. She didn’t want to dig a hole and put them in the garden.

  The stairs.

  She glanced upward, not sure if the word had formed in her mind or floated down from the ether. Either way, the idea had potential. After all, it had kept Clarabelle’s spell book safe from others for three hundred years.

  She stood. “The stairs.”

  Yessss.

  Clarabelle had returned. It seemed she was also invested in keeping the tomes safe.

  Hazel crossed to the bottom of the stairs and knelt. Using both hands, she lifted the stair, revealing the hidden compartment where she’d once found Clarabelle’s spell book. “It’s definitely big enough,” she muttered.

  She would want to put Clarabelle’s and Eliza’s spell books in there as well, now that she’d become a target.

  Hazel scanned the room, looking for a sign of her grandmother. “It’s obviously an excellent spot, but I still worry that someone will discover them.”

  Mr. Kitty brushed against her leg and meowed.

  Hazel petted her cat’s soft fur. “Not now, love. I need to focus on a spell for this.”

  She glanced about and waited for more inspiration on how to protect her valuables.

  Mr. Kitty’s caterwaul brought her gaze sharply to him, and she shot him a frustrated look.

  Let him.

  Hazel raised her eyebrows at Clarabelle’s command and then focused on Mr. Kitty. “You can do this?”

  He pushed past her and stood on the stair above the secret hiding place.

  Okay, then. He seemed competent, and who was she to doubt him. He’d proven his worth many times over.

  She gathered Clarabelle’s diary, the spell books, and Timothy’s notebook and placed them inside. The stair creaked as she closed it and pushed it firmly in place.

  She turned to him and arched a brow. “It’s all yours.”

  Mr. Kitty’s green eyes glowed with an ethereal light that brought a shiver to her skin. He glared intently at the hiding place, and his purrs grew loud enough that she could feel them rumble in her chest.

  A flash of energy filled the room like lightning, and then everything quieted.

  She watched Mr. Kitty for a long moment. “Did it work?”

  He stared at her as though insulted that she would ask. She should probably have known better.

  Instead of questioning him further, she tugged on the stair. It didn’t budge. She closed her eyes and opened her senses. For several long minutes, she used everything within her power to search for traces of magic.

  Nothing.

  A wide smile curved her lips. “I can’t believe you did it.”

  Then she gasped in amazement. “Of course, you did it. You were the one who hid them for Clarabelle all those years ago. You are also the one who allowed me to find her spell book the first time I came to this house. That’s why you tripped me.”

  He released a gloating meow, straightened his tail except for a tiny curl at the end, and sauntered off as though he’d won the prize for finding the biggest mouse.

  She chuckled. “No modesty there,” she said under her breath.

  She supposed after hiding the book all these years he deserved to be proud.

  Her phone chimed. She pulled it from her pocket and read the message from Peter saying he would be later than he’d thought.

  Somehow, she wasn’t surprised. The man worked way too hard.

  She glanced at the clock again and knew if she had to stare at it all day, she’d go insane. If Peter wouldn’t come home to her, she’d go to him. He wouldn’t like her choice to do so and would likely say that she wasn’t being a team player. But one thing had become brilliantly clear that morning. She couldn’t hide forever if she intended to heal the town, and she was tired of waiting around.

  To soften the blow of breaking her promise, she’d stop by Cora’s on her way to the police station to grab them both some lunch. She’d discovered early on that Cora’s roast beef sandwiches were a direct line to Peter’s heart, and she’d exploit that when necessary.

  Five

  Low clouds hovered in the sky above Stonebridge, keeping the sun from warming the town. After Hazel finished dressing, she donned a warm sherpa-lined jacket. She tucked a jasper and an amethyst in her bra and wore a black tourmaline necklace for added protection before she stepped outside onto the porch.

  Officer Menendez was now on duty. He caught sight of her and immediately exited his patrol car. What the officer didn’t have in height, he made up for in muscle, and his keen brown eyes told her he didn’t miss much of what went on around him.

  She found his build, along with his badge, intimidating. Though he was a long-time resident of Stonebridge, he was one of Peter’s new officers, and she didn’t know him well.

  Still, she would be brave and stand her ground. She belonged to this town as much as any of them, and she didn’t intend to hide.

  He watched her with wary eyes as he approached. “Chief says you’re to stay inside the house while he’s gone.”

  She graced him with a warm smile, though her insides shook. “I know that was his original plan, but he just messaged me to say he’d be late. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind giving me a lift to the police station.”

  He shifted his feet on the gravel drive but kept his gaze trained on her. “Does the chief know about this?”

  That he questioned her riled her nerves. “No. I wanted to surprise him with lunch. I’m stopping at Cora’s along the way.”

  He folded his arms, pushing out his muscles, and shook his head.

  She groaned in exasperation. “Look, I’m not a prisoner here. I’m going to town. You can drive me and keep your boss happy, or I can drive myself. For that fact, I can even ride my bike.”

  He seemed insulted that she would challenge him. “You’re a witch. It’s not safe for you there.”

  At least he didn’t ask if she might also ride a broom.

  She sighed and recognized her war to free the town of its biases wouldn’t be a massive showdown. She would need to win the hearts of the citizens one at a time.

  “Let me ask you, Officer Menendez. In all the time you’ve known me, though it might not be that well, have you ever heard of me doing anything mean or underhanded, scary or weird?”

  He appeared to consider her question, as though, if he thought hard enough, he’d find something. “Not that I know of.”

  Exactly. “That’s because I’m still the same Hazel everyone has known all along. Nothing’s changed.”

  “Except you’re a witch.”

  “I’ve always been a witch. This whole entire time. I was afraid to tell anyone because of how people might treat me. But I’m the same good person I’ve always been. I won’t hide from the world because of my heritage any longer. But if I don’t get out and show people there’s nothing to be afraid of, they’ll never change their minds about my kind.”

  She sensed him wavering though his stoic face showed nothing.

  “Please, sir. Just give a girl a ride into town.”

  He shook his head, but not as adamantly as before.

  She sent him a pleading smile.

  He held steady for a moment longer and then dropped his shoulders. “Fine, but you’re riding in the backseat.”

  She wanted to retort that her witchy heritage wasn’t contagious, but she’d gotten what she wanted, and, perhaps, pushing things wasn’t the best idea.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat without offering to get her door, and that stung. Most of the men in town had always been gentlemen, and she hated that her blood had changed that.

  Still, she’d need to give everyone time to adjust.

  Several minutes later, Officer Menendez stopped in front of Cora’s café.

  Hazel opened the door. “Thank you. I appreciate the ride.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I can see the police stat
ion from here. I’ll be fine.”

  He stared at her with impatient eyes. “I have my orders.”

  She smiled. “And I have a life to live. I refuse to be treated any differently. That will only make things worse.”

  He clenched his jaw, and she could see he wasn’t a man who liked to be told no.

  That would be his problem, not hers.

  She closed the door and headed into Cora’s.

  Casual glances and the scent of tantalizing coffee greeted her as they always did when she entered, but this time, people didn’t return to their food and conversation. Their gazes froze on her, and a chill rushed through her bones.

  Beatrice Rutherford sat with Minnie Delaney, the quietest witch in the coven, and Minnie quickly looked away.

  Hazel inhaled and let her breath slide out. Then smiled. If she wanted the town to treat her the same, she needed to act like nothing had changed. She strode toward the counter where Cora watched with eyes that questioned her sanity.

  Hazel slowed as she passed old Mr. Fletcher’s table. “Good morning to you, Mr. Fletcher.”

  The older gentleman tilted his gaze up from his bacon and egg breakfast and gave her a toothless grin. “Good morning, Miss Hazel. You’re looking lovely today.”

  She patted him on the arm. “Always the charmer.”

  He chuckled, and she continued on her way.

  Hushed whispers surrounded her, but she couldn’t sense any outright animosity aimed in her direction.

  This would be okay, she promised herself. This would be okay.

  Hazel did her best to conjure a warm, unconcerned smile for her best friend. “Good morning, Cora.”

  The two old men who sat at Cora’s counter every morning focused on her. She ignored their stares.

  Cora returned her smile. “Good morning, sugar. What can I get for you today?”

  She wanted to say a new life or a time-turner, but what was done, was done. She was committed to seeing this through. “Two roast beef sandwiches. Coleslaw if you have it, and a couple of cherry macaroons to go.”

  Cora grinned. “The usual then?”

  Hazel nodded. “I’m going to surprise Peter with lunch. Although we should technically be on our honeymoon, he’s working the break-in that happened at the library last night.”

  One of the two men at the counter grunted. “Heard it was nothing. A prank most likely.”

  Grateful relief washed over Hazel like a tidal wave and gave her hope. Someone in town had spoken to her as though she was the same woman as always. “That’s what I’m thinking, too.”

  Both men nodded and returned to their food.

  Cora widened her eyes, and a hint of a smile rested on her lips, as though she, too, was pleased with the men’s reactions to Hazel. “If you want to have a seat at the counter, we’ll get that boxed right up for you.”

  “Great.”

  Hazel wished she could take Cora’s elbow and drag her into the backroom like she usually did when they had something to discuss, but being overly friendly with Cora right now, while things were so tentative, could potentially hurt her.

  On a day before she’d been outed, she would have glanced about the room and struck up a conversation with someone she knew while she waited. But she’d expended most of today’s bravery by walking into the café, and she longed to be somewhere safe.

  Instead, she pulled out her phone and read a nasty text from her mother, who’d immediately disappeared after Hazel’s disastrous wedding reception, leaving Hazel to deal with the mess she’d created and letting her know that wouldn’t have happened if she’d chosen to marry Victor instead.

  Hazel responded with a few choice words and warned her not to rub it in.

  She wouldn’t send the message, didn’t want to stir things between her and her mother, but it felt good to say what was on her mind and in her heart.

  The crinkle of paper brought her gaze upward. Cora placed two boxed lunches in a brown bag and set it on the counter in front of her. “Here you go, Hazel.”

  Cora’s eyes searched hers as though looking for confirmation that she was okay.

  Hazel tried for another smile but knew Cora would see right through it. “Thanks so much,” she said loud enough for others to hear.

  “The sandwiches are bribery,” Hazel continued. “So that Peter won’t be mad that I didn’t stay home.”

  She could see that Cora wanted to question her further, but her friend only nodded instead. She paid and picked up the sack. She and Cora could talk later when no one was around to hear.

  Hazel pasted on a friendly smile and headed toward the exit, pretending the day was like any other. People watched, but more with curiosity than animosity. At least as far as she could tell. The mayor’s wife even returned her smile.

  Another victory.

  She neared the door and found Mr. Fletcher’s grandson heading into the café. Her heart clenched, and she stopped. Quentin was not a pleasant man. Even less so once Peter had discovered he’d been taking money from his grandfather and had warned him to be careful. Quentin had argued the money had been the cost of caring for his grandfather, but the whole town knew he abused that right.

  Hazel didn’t want a head-on confrontation with him, so she stepped aside, intending to wait until he’d passed.

  He pulled open the glass door and entered. The second he caught sight of her, his animosity flared like a red rocket in the sky.

  Uneasiness rolled over her, and she braced herself for what might come next.

  He narrowed his gaze. “What are you doing here? I thought someone would have run you out of town by now.”

  She dug deep for courage and for the justification of why she intended to fight these personal battles. “I live here, Quentin, and I don’t have any intention of leaving. There’s no reason I should.”

  From the corner of her eye, Hazel caught sight of Minnie, sinking lower into her booth, as though what Hazel attempted would splash back on her. Hazel wanted to be angry but realized she’d been chosen to lead this cause, not Minnie. If she remained strong, she had to believe others would follow.

  Quentin inhaled and straightened to his full height. “We don’t permit evil witches in this town. Never have. Never will.”

  She paused and allowed a moment to pass so she could generate a response that was in line with her intentions and not something reactive. “You know, Quentin, I don’t like evil people, either, witches or otherwise. If you could open your heart, you’d see that I’m no different than anyone else here. I love Stonebridge. It’s a wonderful place, and the people who live here are amazing. My only intention is to make a home in a town where my ancestors once lived and to live in peace.”

  He stared at her in disbelief but remained mute for several long seconds. Then he burst out with a disturbing laugh that chilled her blood. “Good luck with that. I give you three days, tops.”

  His reaction bordered on insanity. People like him were the reason Stonebridge had clung to their misguided past.

  Beatrice Rutherford appeared at his elbow. Hazel opened her senses, hoping she’d find support, but she didn’t.

  Though no animosity, either. During the many fittings for Hazel’s wedding dress, Beatrice had seemed okay with the idea of witches in town. But perhaps reality was different than off-handed speculation.

  The older woman placed a hand on his elbow. “Quentin, be a dear, and help me with your grandfather. He seems to be struggling a bit more this morning than usual.”

  Quentin’s gaze softened as he glanced over the café’s morning crowd. “Sure.”

  He flashed a glance back at Hazel. “If I were you, I’d leave now, before it gets ugly.”

  As he walked away with Beatrice, she turned a quick look over her shoulder and winked at Hazel. The moment was over in a second, but the feeling Beatrice had left her with was one Hazel was sure she’d remember forever.

  Hope.

  Six

  Officer Menendez waited in his car outside Cora
’s Café, exactly where Hazel had left him. She smiled and indicated, once again, that she preferred to walk the rest of the way to the police station.

  He shook his head and motioned her toward him.

  She hated to disappoint the man and cause further contention between her and one of the town’s residents, but the fresh autumn air cleared her head and chakras, and she really needed that after the scene inside.

  She graced him with a warm smile before she turned and headed toward Peter’s building.

  The stubborn officer cruised along behind her, drawing more attention than she liked. Some would probably think it was because she was in trouble or that the police had cause to monitor her actions.

  So be it.

  The moment she was within steps of the station, Officer Menendez whizzed past her, and she was certain his accelerated speed was a final jab at her because she hadn’t complied with his ridiculous commands.

  Again, his problem.

  Seriously, though, she had to stop worrying about what everyone might think and live her life the best way she knew how. Eventually, others would realize she was the same old Hazel.

  Unless someone killed her first.

  That thought sobered her.

  “Excuse me, Hazel,” a female voice called from behind her.

  Hazel turned to find a twenty-something woman with short, curly blond hair rushing toward her. Her black pumps clicked loudly on the cobblestone sidewalk, and her brown leather jacket flapped open as she ran. Hazel sensed no malevolence, so she waited for her to catch up.

  The woman reached Hazel and breathed heavily from exertion. “Sorry,” she said and filled her lungs. “I was just passing the hardware store when I saw you walking.”

  She stuck out a slender, well-manicured hand. “Gracie Adkins. From the Stonebridge Sentinel.”

  Hazel recognized the name of the town’s newspaper. “How can I help you?”

  Gracie blinked rapidly several times, her long lashes fluttering over bright green eyes. “I want to interview you.”