“Here’s a safe,” Ruby said, tapping the metal door. “I can get it open.”
“Without damaging it?”
“Probably. I have an unlock spell. It shouldn’t matter if it’s a keyhole, padlock, or electronic safe.”
Ruby muttered the words to the spell and placed her hand on the door. Her lips parted in a smile as it popped open.
“Well, well, well. What have we, here?” Ruby reached into the safe and withdrew a sparkling necklace.
“What have you got?” John holstered his weapon and peered over her shoulder.
“About a million dollars in jewelry,” Ruby said. “Also a bunch of cash.”
“You did it. You found the missing jewelry,” John scratched the back of his head. “How’d you figure it out?”
“It was several things. Mainly, it goes back to the night I kneed Roger in the groin.”
John cocked an eyebrow. “Come again?”
“I only smashed his family jewels because he was grabbing on to me. When he was all up in my grill, I felt something heavy in his coat pocket. At the time, I figured it was just a bottle of booze. He used to carry one around with him. Now, I know better.”
“What was the bulge in his pocket, then?” John asked. He winced as if in pain. “That came out far more suggestive than I’d intended it to. Sorry.”
Ruby grinned. “Freudian slip, much? The bulge was a gun, specifically the .38 caliber revolver you found near his body.”
“The murder weapon?” John stroked his fingers across his chin. “You think our perp got into it with Roger, wrestled with him, and then somehow wound up with the gun?”
“No, I think Roger IS our perp.”
“He shot himself?” John shook his head. “As in a suicide? That doesn’t make any sense. By all accounts, he wasn’t depressed. Besides, most people shoot themselves in the head, not the shoulder.”
“Exactly.” Ruby felt excited now, her heart beating in a steady, quick rhythm. “Exactly! Roger didn’t want to kill himself, only to shoot himself.”
John’s blue eyes were filled with confusion, but not one ounce of doubt. Ruby’s heart melted a little. Even if he didn’t understand her, he did trust her.
“Go on.”
“It was the jewelry,” Ruby said. “A million dollars’ worth. Roger was both greedy and spiteful enough not to give it back even with a court order. So, he played to type, and hit upon a scheme to pretend he’d been a victim.”
John’s eyes widened. “The wall safe…he was trying to stage a robbery!”
Ruby nodded. “I took a good look at the crime scene. Judging by where his body fell, and the location of the gun, I’d say he held the pistol out like this.”
She pantomimed the act, lifting her arms up to shoulder height and slightly bending her elbows. “He knew a bullet fired at close range would show up on ballistics, so he tried holding it out further from himself.”
“And when he dropped the gun, forensics figured someone else had held it because of the position.” John shook his head. “He was only trying to wound himself, but projectiles take on a life of their own once they enter a physical mass. The round bounced off his collarbone and reflected shrapnel into his heart.”
“Roger killed himself,” Ruby said, clapping her hands together. “Then his business associates went to war with each other, each thinking the other guilty, and I got mixed in because I was asking too many questions.”
John laughed. “If only Roger had been a little less greedy.”
“And a little less bent on revenge against his ex-wife.” Ruby shook her head. “Still, I can’t believe he shot himself. He was terrified of getting booster shots in high school.”
“He probably figured it would sell his robbery story better if he had been shot.” John shrugged. “Or maybe he’d watched too many television shows, where someone takes a bullet, and they’re fine the next day but for a bandage. Getting shot hurts.”
Ruby pursed her lips, brows climbing high on her face. “John, it sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”
John shook his head and laughed. “That’s a story for another day. Come on, let’s get this jewelry back to Ms. Sanchez.”
“You’re really dedicated to your job.”
“I’m really dedicated to getting her out of my office so we can play pinball.”
Ruby slipped her arm around John’s waist. To her delight, he didn’t pull away. “We’ll have to get my cat off of it, first.”
“Which one?”
“The funny one.”
Thirty-Two
So many people bustled along Archer’s Boardwalk, Ruby had trouble navigating the sun-heated timber walkway with her pet stroller in tow. Rumpus stuck his head out, feline eyes covered by a pair of sunglasses.
“Are we there yet?”
“No, we’re not there yet!” Ruby groaned. “That stopped being funny after, like, immediately.”
“Is this place pet friendly?” Rufus asked, cringing in the second carrier compartment.
“Yes, Rufus, I wouldn’t make you sit outside any more than Blair would leave Felix. No one’s going to give us any trouble.”
“What if there are dogs?” Rufus shivered, then dove beneath a blanket so only his tail showed.
“You were ready to face down a murderous gunman and you’re worried about dogs?” Rumpus shook his head. “Look, when it comes to cats and dogs, we’ve got the upside, they’ve got the downside. Everybody knows this, even if they don’t come out and say it.”
“I think I’ll take my chances in here, thanks.”
Blair sighed, realizing she was making poor time and there was little to be done about it. She let go of her New York impetus to go as quickly as possible…and strolled. Instantly the scene changed in her mind’s eye. Instead of annoying screeches, the children’s voices became musical laughter as they raced about in delight.
The men slowing traffic to a crawl with their dance performance were no longer obstacles, but something that made her smile. Ruby gazed up at the perfect azure blue of the sky overhead, smelled the fresh sea breeze, heard the cries of the gulls, and was content for the first time in longer than she could remember.
“Hey, there it is,” Rumpus said. “Drusilla’s Kitchen.”
“Drusilla is a witch, Rufus,” Ruby said. “She’s not going to ban familiars from her restaurant.”
“Hurry up! Mush!” Rumpus commanded.
“Just relax, Rumpus. Haven’t you ever heard ‘getting there is half the fun’?”
“The person who said that is probably really stupid. Or they’re not starving, like me.”
“You don’t look starving, Rumpus.”
“Shut up, Rufus. What do you know? Starving people sometimes get bloated and retain water. Besides, this is muscle and don’t you ever forget it.”
“If you say so, Rumpus.”
“Will you two quit nattering?” Ruby pushed through the open door of Drusilla’s Kitchen. Instantly, she felt the glow of magic, most of it protective in nature. Patrons, both magical and mundane, occupied the dozen or so booths and tables. Ruby spotted Blair at the booth all the way in the back corner of the restaurant.
“Hey.” She pushed the stroller to a stop and slid into the booth. “All the way in the back, huh?”
Blair rolled her eyes. “Felix insisted.”
“Take the booth in the corner of the restaurant so you can watch all the exits and patrons at once. Smart.” Rumpus nodded his approval.
“I’m glad someone here appreciates it.”
“Indeed. If it weren’t for familiars, there wouldn’t be witches.”
Ruby and Blair enjoyed a warm laugh. “What makes you say that, Rumpus?”
“Simple. You’d have all died off a long time ago without us to do the thinking for you. Like the dinosaurs.”
Rufus’ ears went back. “I thought a meteor killed the dinosaurs.”
Rumpus grinned. “Maybe that’s what we cats wanted the humans
to think?”
“How do we get anything done with these furry monsters creating chaos?” Ruby asked.
“You’re asking me?” Blair’s cheeks were red from so much mirth. “You’ve got two of them to deal with…oh, speaking of which.”
Ruby cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward intently. “Come again?”
“The Cabal asked me to pass on a message to you.” Blair dug in her purse and extracted a fancy envelope with a wax seal. “Apparently, they’ve matched Rufus with a witch here in the Cove, but they’re not sure who she is.”
“I’m…I’m going away?” Rufus asked in a trembling voice.
“No way,” Rumpus said firmly. “He’s not going anywhere! Ruby, tell the mouthy Madwand that Rufus is staying with us.”
“Mouthy Madwand?” Blair blurted.
“Rumpus, calm down.”
“I don’t want to leave, Ruby. I want to stay with you, forever!”
“Rufus, we don’t get to decide these kinds of things. Every witch is matched with a familiar in a, well, a wonderful magical process we don’t fully understand.”
“I don’t care! I’m not leaving you and Rumpus. I’m not!”
“Rufus, we’re still going to be in your life, sweetie,” Ruby said. She glanced over at Blair. “I’m to mentor this burgeoning young witch, yes?”
“Yes,” Blair said sheepishly. “They have made that request as well.”
“You see?” Ruby stroked Rufus’s head gently. “I’m going to be around. A lot. And you get to have a witch all of your own. She’s going to need you, Rufus.”
“Really?”
“Yes, she’s going to need you. Learning you’re a witch, coming into your powers for the first time...it’s terrifying. That’s why familiars are so important.”
“Well, okay,” Rufus said. “As long as I still get to live at your house.”
Ruby smiled gently. “We’ll work out the details later.”
Blair clearned her throat.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay and help you track down Cotton Mather,” Blair said.
“The Cabal’s not worried about him?”
Blair sighed. “They seem to think the same thing that your boyfriend John does, that Mather is no threat in a snail’s body—”
“Hey now, I never said John was my boyfriend!” Ruby’s cheeks burned like the surface of the sun. “We’re just friends, that’s all.”
“Methinks the lass doth protest too much,” Rumpus muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. You sure do perk up whenever he comes around, though.”
Blair laughed. “Sorry to make things awkward. You two do seem to really click, though. You and Chief Miller, I mean.”
“Yeah, well,” Ruby said, unable to meet her gaze. “I guess we do have a lot in common. He’s seen just as many eighties flicks as I have. But he’s got this super-complicated family thing that could get in the way, and…”
Ruby shook her head. “Sorry to babble.”
“No, it’s fine,” Blair said. “You know, Ruby, when I saw you in New York you seemed so…perfect.”
“Excuse me?” Ruby choked on her coffee. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. Perfect. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, when you walked in a room, every man’s eyes fell right on you… I guess I was kind of jealous.”
“You? Jealous of me?” Ruby was incredulous. How could a woman in her twenties be jealous of a middle-aged witch like herself?
“Yeah. I guess that’s why it bothered me that I owe you my life. Now, seeing you here in Fiddler Cove, you seem more…human than I’ve ever seen you. It’s a good look.”
Ruby didn’t think it was possible, but she blushed harder and hotter. “Human?”
“Especially when you talk about Chief Miller.” Blair smiled. Her eyes went wide, smile draining away as she looked past Ruby. “No way.”
Ruby spun around, her eyes narrowing to slits as she beheld a man standing outside the restaurant. His face was blocked by the balloon valance running along the top of the window, but Ruby could see the fishbowl in his hands clearly enough.
The fishbowl with an eerily familiar sea snail inside of it.
“Oh, it’s on, now!” Ruby said, leaping to her feet. She dashed out into the sunlight, but didn’t see the man or the fishbowl. “Don’t tell me I’m hallucinating now…”
Ruby staggered forward as someone bumped roughly into her back.
“Excuse me, sorry,” said the lilting voice of an adolescent girl.
“No worries,” Ruby said, dusting herself off. It took her a few seconds to realize her purse was missing.
“Why, you little…” Ruby peered into the milling throng, but couldn’t see the girl anywhere. With dismay Ruby realized she’d not even seen the girl’s face. “Thank goodness my phone is inside with Blair--oh!”
Ruby nearly tripped over Rufus. The cat stood in the middle of the sun drenched boardwalk. His gaze focused straight ahead, in the direction the girl had fled with Ruby’s purse.
“She was just here,” Rufus said.
“The thief?” Ruby asked.
“No, my witch! It had to be her. I can feel it in my belly. So warm and tickly!”
“Do you think you can find her?” Ruby asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Maybe. I can feel her getting farther away.”
“Then we’d better get moving. Because it looks like the girl who stole my purse, and your witch-to-be...are the same person!”
Ruby plunged into the crowd, following one cat and leading a second as she embarked on a new case. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had one single shining thought.
It was good to be home.
* * *
The End…for now.
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Preview
Check out my newest series, Hex and the City. This is a fully built out world that I’m going for. Look for the Hex and the City logo and you’ll know you’re in my world! If you like funny paranormal chick lit cozy mystery, then read on! Also, you’ll notice Blair and Felix and all the folks from this book!
* * *
Witching & Moaning
Hex and the City, Book 1
* * *
By Corrine Winters
Thirty-Three
The yellow taxi’s brakes squealed as it rolled to a stop outside the ten-story brownstone. Blair peered out of the back window, her heart leaping with joy inside her chest.
“There it is, Maeve.” She turned her dark-tressed head to the side to grin at the young blonde woman on the seat beside her. “Isn’t it great?”
Maeve pursed her lips as she leaned over Blair’s lap to stare at the apartment building.
“It’s so—so old!” Maeve gasped.
“It’s New York City, Maeve. Everything is old.” Blair gestured at the shallow steps leading up to the front entrance. “At least there’s no crumbling masonry or passed out drunks on the stairwell.”
Maeve opened her door, allowing a blast of crisp Autumn air inside the taxi. She glanced over at Blair and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s our bar?”
Blair chuckled as she exited the taxi, the wind stirring her hair into her face. She moved it away from her eyes with a practiced flick of her finger and approached the taxi’s open trunk. Maeve dragged her suitcases out and set them on the street while Blair slipped on a backpack.
“We were lucky to get a furnished apartment in Greenwich Village, Maeve.” Blair looked up at the perfect azure sky between the rooftops overhead. “I mean, just look at this place. So much history, so much character! Everything is so big and sprawling. You could fit most of Middleton right here in this neighborhood.”
“That’s not saying much,” Maeve grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited. I’ve just heard a lot of horror stories about rental properties in New York. Did you get everything?”
“Everything bu
t Felix,” Blair said. She reached into the back seat of the Taxi and carefully extracted a pet carrier. Blair peered through the mesh porthole at the curled-up bundle of white softness inside.
“It’s no use being quiet, I’m already awake.”
Blair chuckled. “Did you have a nice nap?”
“As nice a nap as one can have confined in a portable prison cell.”
Blair unzipped the side of the carrier and Felix trotted out. He leaped adroitly up onto her shoulder and curled around her neck with a practiced familiarity.
“You know the taxi driver wouldn’t let you in without a pet carrier.”
“I know. I also know you could have cast a Suggestion spell and changed his mind—literally.”
Maeve pursed her lips as she stood on the sidewalk nearby. “Um, Blair? People are staring?”
Blair shrugged. Several pedestrians and the Taxi driver himself eyed Blair with cautious suspicion.
“I’m sure in a city with more than eight million people, I’m not the only one talking to her pet kitty.”
“Pet?” Felix sputtered. “Pet? I am a familiar. Calling me a pet is like calling a shark a big fish.”
“I’m sorry, Felix,” Blair said, scratching him behind his ear.
“No! Stop it! I want to be angry—” Felix’s eyes closed, and he leaned into Blair’s scratching fingernail. “Ooooh yeah, that’s the spot.”
They entered the building, luggage wheels bouncing up the steps. A black cat looked up at Felix from atop a garbage can with curious eyes.
“Hey, watch yourself,” Felix hissed. “This is MY street now.”
“Felix, behave.”
“You’ve got to set the record straight with the big city cats. Otherwise, they think they can just walk all over you.”
The building’s interior enveloped them in the smell of Murphy’s wood polish and a sickly sweet aroma Blair couldn’t place. To the left of the entrance sat a small, caged-in security office. A balding, heavyset man with a pencil thin mustache and a sleeveless shirt which displayed how muscular his arms weren’t stood up swiftly. Blair noted the Swisher Sweets butts crushed into the nearby ashtray, the likely source of the pungent smell.
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