by Cindy Stark
A zing of energy hit her left arm, and she shifted her gaze in that direction.
Mr. Kitty approached and rubbed against her. Without thinking, she lifted him and settled him on her lap before she realized this was not usual behavior between them.
He curled against her, and she ran cautious fingers down his soft fur. He purred like a contented lion, the rumblings from him burrowing deep into her heart. She had her own tapestry with this kitty, she realized. Their lives had become so entwined that she couldn’t imagine living without him.
He wanted her to give the spell book to Polly, no doubt. She also didn’t question that he wanted what was best for her even if she didn’t always understand what that was and why.
She had to honor his wisdom and trust what he told her. Otherwise, their relationship was a farce.
She leaned close to Mr. Kitty’s ears. “I’m going to do it.”
He turned his head, and their gazes connected with a jolt so powerful that she felt it in every inch of her body. He gave her a nod and then climbed from her lap.
Her pulse thundered as she unzipped the backpack she’d brought and removed the cloth-covered book from the protective case she’d tucked in a separate section. A hush fell, and she realized many had turned their attention to her.
“She has something,” someone whispered, and fear rippled through the crowd.
Hazel swallowed and stood. She carefully approached Polly and stopped directly in front of her.
Polly glanced up with an uncertain gaze, but Hazel had the distinct impression Sorcha was pleased. Polly stood, now eyeing her on even ground.
Hazel exhaled and dropped her gaze to the book. She prayed this was the right thing to do. “I have a gift for you.”
Polly glanced to the package in Hazel’s hands. She had to be aware that it was a magical item, but she kept her expression passive.
Dang, she wished she could like her more. “I wasn’t certain until tonight that giving it away would be for the best, but after watching you with everyone else and the genuine affection you have for the coven, my heart tells me it’s right.”
Hazel held the covered book out to her.
Polly kept her gaze locked on Hazel as she accepted it, sending a shock of energy back into Hazel. Polly looked down. She unfolded the cloth from around the spell book and a satisfying gasp escaped her.
She met Hazel’s gaze. “Is this…”
Hazel nodded. “Genevieve’s spell book. Carried down through the centuries by other witches like us, and now it’s found its way to you. I don’t expect that this will make us friends, but I hope we won’t be enemies.”
Tears clouded Polly’s eyes, and she clutched the book to her chest. “I thought it was lost. Thank you.”
Hazel nodded, and then not knowing what else to do, she walked back to her spot and sat. Mr. Kitty jumped into her lap and pressed himself against her chest.
She smiled.
Several in the group thanked her, and she accepted it with gratitude. Many of the coven moved toward Polly to have a look at the recovered spell book, and Victor took that opportunity to drop down next to her on the quilt.
She glanced at him with an uncertain gaze. “I hope I didn’t make a mistake,” she said in a low voice.
He smiled, his ice blue eyes sparkling. “The book belongs to her line. It is where it’s supposed to be.”
She sighed and nodded. “I believe that to be true as well.”
He pushed his long, dark bangs over his forehead. “We can’t always know what the future holds, but if we trust our hearts and follow our ancestors’ ways, I think we can’t go too wrong.”
That was profound, especially coming from the bad boy of the Eastern Seaboard. “Why are you here, in Stonebridge, Victor?”
He grinned, showing off his perfect smile. “For you.”
She narrowed her gaze. Her instincts told her that wasn’t quite true. “Not for any other reason?”
“Only to serve you, goddess.”
She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Eventually, you’ll give up and go home. Might as well do it now.”
His smile grew bigger, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Eventually, you’ll see that I’m the man for you.”
No, that would never happen. She’d already found the right one for her. She just needed to convince Victor of that.
Seventeen
Hazel’s alarm went off for the third time, and she groaned again. She’d heard of people who forgot to set their alarms or who slept right through them and wished she could be one of them. Instead, she was the type who woke at every little sound.
She reached for the alarm, intending to push snooze again, but an icy cold wind blew over her, causing her to startle and sit up straight in bed.
An ethereal giggle floated through the room.
She narrowed her gaze. Any hope she’d had of getting back to sleep vanished. “Not funny, and you’re not my mother. I don’t need anyone to tell me when to get up.”
A soft caress drifted across her cheek, and Hazel shook her head.
“If that’s your way of apologizing for so rudely interrupting my much-needed sleep, forget it.”
She dropped her face into her hands, shook her head and sighed. “I can’t be the only person in the world with a ghost for an alarm clock,” she muttered. Then wondered if perhaps self-help or support groups for such people existed. She should research the topic.
A big yawn consumed her, and then she stood bleary-eyed and exhausted. That was the last time she’d let Cora convince her to dance in the woods until long past midnight.
And Polly...
She snickered. The look on her face when she’d given her Genevieve’s spell book. Right up until that moment, she’d wondered if she was doing the right thing. But the incredible energy she’d experienced when the book had changed hands reassured her that she had.
Of course, she’d received Mr. Kitty and Sorcha’s approval as well. She supposed if those two were going to hook up, their witchy moms might as well be civil to each other, maybe even friends at some point.
She scrunched her nose. That might be pushing it.
She lifted her phone from the nightstand, checked the time, and then gasped. Nine-forty-five? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late.
In the bathroom, she washed her face with cold water to try to erase the last vestiges of her fitful night of sleep and then buried her face in a soft peach towel that smelled wonderfully of lavender fabric softener.
She was tempted to take the towel back to bed with her, cuddle it and try to fall back to sleep. It was Sunday. She didn’t have to work. Technically, she didn’t have to do a thing that day.
Her phone rang, and she flicked a nasty glance in its direction. Seriously, was the whole world conspiring to ruin her morning?
When she saw that Peter was calling, her mood improved slightly.
She grumbled a hello, and he laughed.
“Sounds like someone had a late night.”
“It’s Cora’s fault.”
“I see.” He paused a moment. “Do you want to hear the latest, or should I let you go back to sleep?”
She frowned. “I’m not in bed. I was, but Clarabelle wouldn’t leave me alone.”
He chuckled. “I told you she wouldn’t respect boundaries.”
Hazel wasn’t in the mood to discuss her unruly and sometimes vengeful grandmother. “I’d rather talk about your news.”
She sensed the change in his demeanor even over the phone and battened downed her emotions in response.
“I found our Dr. Beidleman.”
That was a surprise she hadn’t expected. “You did? What did he say?”
Peter sighed. “I haven’t spoken to him. Not sure we need to.”
“Of course, we need to. He could provide information that would exonerate Anya.”
“He’s the first doctor I told you about. The oncologist. We found proof of Isaac’s relationship with hi
m by checking Isaac’s financial records. He made regular payments to the doctor’s office. Several to a hospital in Boston.”
Peter paused for a long moment, and Hazel wished they were in the same room so that she could read his emotions and energy.
“I believe Isaac had cancer, Hazel. If I had to guess, based on what we’ve learned so far in the case, I’d wager it was stomach cancer.”
Disbelief dissolved into sadness. “Oh, Peter. That would make sense, I guess. The stomach issues. Saying Anya poisoned him because of his symptoms. The reason for ultimately moving to Boston. Though I don’t know why he’d hide it from Anya.”
“Who knows. I’ve asked the coroner to check for signs of cancer. I should hear back from him before too long, but I don’t want to sit on it. I think this is the break we’ve been looking for.”
“What about the quacky doctor Anya and Edmond spoke of? The investment in a health tonic?”
“Not sure. Maybe those were Isaac’s lies to cover up the truth and the need for money to cover his medical bills.”
Hazel took a moment to process the information through her foggy brain. What she really needed was a strong cup of Majestic Mint. “Do you think it’s possible Isaac might have taken his own life then? Because he didn’t want to suffer through stomach cancer? Could he have done that to somehow get back at Anya?”
“Good theory, but he couldn’t have fired both shots. One was close up, but the other was from farther away.”
Yes, she’d forgotten about that piece of information. “Then we’re still looking for a murderer.”
“You’ve got it. I’ve asked Edmond to come to the station for a follow-up interview. He should be here in about twenty minutes. After that, I’d like to speak with his mother again. I want to know if they knew about his medical condition or not.”
He hesitated.
Hazel knew why. “But you don’t want to talk to a grieving mother alone.”
“You’re so much better dealing with people that way. You can sense their emotions and act accordingly. I’d probably go over there, blunder, and leave her a bawling mess.”
She smiled. She did love his tender heart. He might be a tough cop, but he did care about the citizens of Stonebridge. “Okay. I’ll get dressed and head to the station. I should be there before you’re finished with Edmond.”
****
Hazel made it to the police station in record time. She parked her Honda in front of the lovely old building and made her way inside. Since it was the weekend, Margaret was off, and a fresh-faced officer greeted her instead.
“Hey, Joe. I’m here to see Peter.”
He nodded in greeting. “Hello, Miss Hardy. He said you’d be coming in and asked that you have a seat until he’s finished. Would you like a drink? Coffee or tea? Chief Parrish said to make you comfortable.”
She smiled. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
He lifted uncertain brows. “I could get you a soft drink instead.”
“No, really. I’m fine.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and returned his gaze to the paperwork in front of him.
She stewed in her seat for ten minutes wishing she could be in the interview room with Peter and Edmond. This waiting on the outside and wondering drove her crazy.
When she heard voices in the hallway, she looked up and found Peter walking toward her with Edmond. Peter carried his trusty yellow legal pad that looked to have several notes scribbled on it.
Edmond emitted a mixture of anger and irritation. He looked stone-faced and didn’t even acknowledge her with a smile or nod as he headed toward the exit. Which meant things hadn’t gone well during his interview.
Peter stopped near her and watched Edmond leave. Then he shifted his gaze to her and held out a hand. “Let’s go in my office for a minute.”
She took his hand, stood, and preceded him into his office. He closed the door behind them.
Hazel slid into her regular seat while Peter dropped his yellow pad on the desk and sat. He steepled his fingers and sighed. “Edmond confirmed. Isaac had stomach cancer.”
Even though she’d suspected as much, Peter’s statement surprised her. “Why hasn’t anyone mentioned that before now?”
He picked up a pen and tapped it on his desk. “Edmond didn’t think it was relevant.”
“Not relevant? Are you kidding? A dying man ends up shot? There are so many ways that could go.”
The information churned in her brain. “Maybe Edmond is our killer. He’s been pretty clear that he hated his brother.”
“One more piece of information that I learned while talking to Edmond. If Anya can’t receive the insurance money because, say, she’s no longer alive or she’s been convicted of Isaac’s murder, guess who gets it?”
“Edmond.”
He lifted his brows and shook his head.
Hazel thought for a moment. “Then it would have to be his mother.”
“Bingo.” Peter straightened and dropped the pen. “Are you ready to go see what else Gretchen might know?”
She stood. “I sure am.”
Eighteen
They were almost to Gretchen’s home when Hazel reached over and touched Peter’s arm. “What do you think about letting me go in alone? At least at first. She might be more open if a police officer isn’t present.”
His gorgeous green eyes connected with hers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She scoffed. “Of course, it’s a good idea. I’m not near as intimidating as you are. Ten minutes. That’s it, and then you can come in.”
When Peter parked two houses down the street from Gretchen’s, Hazel had her answer.
“I’m going to call your phone right now. You’ll answer, and you’ll promise me that you won’t hang up until I’m in the house with you. Do you understand?”
She was pretty sure he didn’t know how sexy he was when he was in cop mode, and she wasn’t about to tell him right now. “I promise. Answer phone and don’t hang up. But, really, I can’t foresee Gretchen doing anything crazy. We’re not out to get her. We just need more information. She wants to find the killer as much as we do.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, but it’s not the best policy to let a civilian question a witness alone.”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “This isn’t my first rodeo, cowboy.”
He narrowed his gaze, but a teasing spark lingered in his eyes. “Which is the only reason I’m considering it.”
She took his hand and squeezed. “Ten minutes, and then you’ll knock on the door.”
He called her phone. She pushed the answer button and then darkened her screen so that Gretchen wouldn’t know the phone line was active.
She pushed open her door, climbed out, and then looked back at him. “Wish me luck.”
He snorted. “You’d better get out of here before I change my mind.”
She grinned. “Yes, officer.”
Hazel shut the car door and headed toward Gretchen’s house. She knocked twice and waited.
Isaac’s mom answered a few moments later. Dark smudges of stress hovered beneath her eyes, and Hazel worried that Gretchen appeared to be worse off than on her last visit. Her brown hair looked to have double the amount of gray, and Hazel guessed that she hadn’t brushed it for days. Gretchen appeared to be wearing the same clothes as the last time Hazel had visited.
Gretchen lowered her brows into a questioning gaze. “Hazel? I didn’t expect you today. It is Thursday, right?”
Hazel went for a confident smile. “You are correct. I didn’t stop by to deliver tea. I just wanted to check to see how you’ve been. Are you up for a visit?”
Gretchen exhaled and stepped back. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just been a rough day.”
Hazel sent a bunch of warmth and love her way. “I’m so sorry. I would venture to guess you’ll have them regularly, but maybe, over time, they won’t be as bad.”
She folded her arms and ran a hand over her right bic
ep as though trying to warm it up. “I hope so. I never imagined how incredibly hard this would be.”
Hazel followed her into the living room where Gretchen had set up camp on the couch. Half-eaten sandwiches sat on dirty plates and soda cans littered the coffee table along with a fair number of takeout bags from Cora’s Café. “Would you like me to make some tea? Or I could fix you something for lunch.”
Gretchen shook her head. “I can’t eat. I’ll just end up with a bad stomach.”
She tried to empathize what it must be like to be in her situation but couldn’t. “Maybe we can just sit and chat then.”
The older woman nodded. “Sure. That might be nice.”
Hazel took a seat on a chair near Gretchen. She hesitated, searching for the perfect way to segue into her questions.
“Gretchen, I wanted to ask you about Isaac’s doctor in Boston. You mentioned he’d helped Isaac with stomach issues. When Edmond came to Teas and Temptations for a consultation, he said his doctor’s name was Beidleman. But the only Beidleman I could find in Boston was an oncologist.”
Gretchen inhaled sharply. What color she’d had in her face when Hazel had arrived disappeared.
Hazel pretended Gretchen’s reaction shocked her. She leaned in her direction. “Oh, Gretchen. Did Isaac have cancer?”
“Yes. God help us.”
A heart-wrenching sob broke free from Gretchen, and she quickly covered her mouth.
Oh, dear. Hazel leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Gretchen. To be dealing with all that and then have him die like he did. It’s beyond cruel.”
Gretchen inhaled a troubled breath. “I can hardly stand it anymore, Hazel. I’m certain Anya caused it from all the poison she fed him. Why don’t they arrest that horrid woman?”
Hazel wasn’t sure poison could cause cancer. At least, she’d never heard of such a thing.
Anguish from Gretchen threatened to choke her. “Peter says they are still working hard to find the killer. I know they’re doing everything they can.”
She shook her head vehemently. “They’re wasting their time. Anya had already tried to kill him once.”
