Witch Cozy Mystery Nine Book Set

by Amelia Morgan

  Not only were Meg and Connor trying to find him in the wrong place, but now Meg had to think of a way to relay the information of his whereabouts in a way that wouldn’t make Connor suspicious of her witch powers.

  She brainstormed an idea, then walked back to the front of the house.

  “Did you see anything back there?” Connor asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think he’s here.”

  “That’s what we thought about Eric Treadwell, but it turned out he was just trying to hide from us.”

  “True. I think this is different.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “There’s no car in Steven’s driveway.”

  Connor sighed. “If he’s not here, the question is, where is he?”

  “You should put out an APB. He might be trying to skip town,” Meg suggested.

  “He might also just be out shopping,” Connor replied.

  Every second this conversation took let Steven Treadwell get further away. Meg had to convince Connor to put out an APB, and fast.

  “Do you really want to take that chance?” she asked.

  He thought it over. “An APB couldn’t hurt.”

  Meg breathed a sigh of relief as Connor called in the all-points bulletin on his police radio. She knew it wouldn’t be long until they heard back from dispatch. With the whole police department out looking for Steven, someone would come across his car sooner or later. Meg just had to stay patient.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Instead of waiting for the inevitable call from dispatch that Steven had been found, Meg urged Connor to try the next suspect on the list. Thankfully, Lindsay Treadwell was easier to track down. Surprisingly, she wasn’t at home, but rather at a local nail salon. Even more curious was the fact that Meg got her location from social media.

  What murder suspect posted online during an active investigation? Then again, who went out to get a manicure and pedicure, pretending it was just like any other day? Either Lindsay truly had nothing to hide, or she was trying to pretend that she didn’t.

  One thing was certain. She had a secret worth killing for. In Sabrina’s book, the character based on Lindsay had a secret abortion that she was trying to keep under wraps from her religious family. The book also alleged that the father of the aborted child had been blackmailing her for hush money ever since. If there even the slightest hint of truth to it, a secret like that would be a bombshell that could cause serious public relations damage to a family company like the Treadwell Baby Food Corporation.

  When Meg and Connor arrived at the salon, they could see Lindsay was just finishing up and paying for her manicure. They waited until she exited the salon, and then pulled her aside.

  Lindsay was the youngest of the Treadwell children. She was in her mid-twenties with a squat, curvy figure, a square face, and a beehive hairstyle. She seemed to embrace everything retro, from her hair to her clothes. Meg didn’t know what she did all day except suck off her trust fund, but it clearly wasn’t toiling away at a job. The woman hadn’t worked a day in her life, and she wasn’t planning on changing that anytime soon.

  Lindsay sounded annoyed at the idea of even having to answer one question.

  “This is all a big mistake,” Lindsay insisted.

  Connor was in no mood for nonsense. “I’m afraid it’s not. It’s deadly serious.”

  “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time talking to me,” Lindsay replied.

  After dealing with one entitled Treadwell after another, Meg’s fuse had become dangerously short. She had no patience for another conversation that went around in circles for too long before getting to the point. “You threatened my friend yesterday, and now she’s dead. If anything, you’re wasting our time by carrying on this charade.”

  Meg was finally able to get a genuine reaction out of Lindsay.

  It just happened to be a sharply negative one. “I had nothing to do with what happened to that woman.”

  Meg prodded her further. “I know your secret.”

  Lindsay fired right back. “What Sabrina wrote in that book wasn’t true.”

  Meg’s battering ram approach paid off. Lindsay gave herself away.

  “How do you know what she wrote? The book hasn’t been published. Unless, you were the one that killed her and stole her laptop,” Meg said.

  Lindsay shook her head vehemently. “No. When I confronted her yesterday, I asked her what she wrote about me.”

  “Did she tell you?” Meg asked.

  Lindsay pursed her lips. “What she wrote in that book, it’s not true.”

  “If she was lying and insisted on publishing the book, that only makes your motive even stronger,” Meg argued.

  Lindsay tried to put an end to this. “Except, I have an alibi for the time of the murder.”

  Connor stepped in. “How do you know when Sabrina was murdered?”

  “Unless you murdered her?” Meg added.

  “This is a small town. Word travels fast. Besides, you already questioned my parents and told them the time of death,” Lindsay reasoned.

  “Since you brought it up, where were you between midnight and one?” Connor asked.

  “I was at my boyfriend’s house,” she replied.

  “The whole time?” Connor followed up.

  “Yup. The whole night,” Lindsay insisted.

  “This boyfriend of yours, what’s his name and address?” Connor replied.

  “It’s Brett Ashby, 555-9478,” Lindsay revealed.

  “All right, we’ll see about this,” Connor said. He then pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  Lindsay furrowed her brow. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think? Verifying your alibi. Please hand your cell phone over to Meg in the meantime,” Connor ordered.

  Lindsay sighed, then complied.

  Connor then moved off and called Brett Ashby while Meg held Lindsay’s phone so she couldn’t tip off her friend.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A few minutes later, Connor returned to an awkward tension between Meg and Lindsay. There was an eerie quiet, as Meg felt no reason to make small talk with a murder suspect while Lindsay wanted nothing more than to never speak another word to Meg ever again.

  “So?” Lindsay said.

  Connor took a moment, then groaned. “Ms. Treadwell, you’re free to go.”

  Lindsay smirked. She smugly replied. “That’s what I thought.”

  Meg’s jaw nearly dropped. “Wait a minute. That doesn’t make sense.”

  By then, Lindsay was already making tracks, never happier to get into her car and drive away.

  Connor turned back to Meg.

  “I don’t like this either, but I have no grounds to hold her,” Connor said.

  “How about the fact that she looks insanely guilty?” Meg replied.

  “It turns out looks can be deceiving. Brett Ashby confirmed her alibi, to the T,” Connor revealed.

  “That’s awfully convenient, isn’t it? Almost too convenient.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “When an alibi seems too good to be true, it usually is. Who is to say she didn’t work out her alibi with Brett ahead of time because she knew we were coming?”

  “That’s an interesting theory, but it’s also just pure speculation. When it comes to a murder investigation, I can only afford to deal in facts,” Connor replied.

  Meg groaned. “It’s so frustrating.”

  Connor nodded. “It has been one of those days.”

  “And we still have more suspects to question.”

  “Alibi or not, I’m still not ready to take Lindsay off my suspect list.”

  “You know what? I think it’s time we take a little break. I know I could go for one right about now,” Connor suggested.

  Meg took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  By that point in the investigation, it was impossible to deny the rumbling of their stoma
chs. It was amazing how much of an appetite detective work dug up. Meg and Connor were quickly becoming regulars at Al’s Diner. That was fine by Al. He wasn’t about to turn down business.

  At the same time, the sleuths already had a full lunch under their belt, so this time, they opted for a small snack. The break was as much about catching their breath as anything, although there was no harm in a slice of pie.

  “It’s crazy how the world works, isn’t it?” Connor asked.

  “You have to remember, the Treadwells live in a whole different world than us. It must be nice to always get your way,” Meg said, having zero experience with that sort of thing.

  Connor had something else on his mind. “I meant, it’s crazy how people lie to a police detective and think they can get away with it.”

  “Except Lindsay Treadwell, apparently, the guiltiest-looking suspect of them all.”

  “Life does have a serious sense of irony. Who knew she’d be the only truthful one in the family?”

  “I definitely didn’t see that coming,” Meg admitted.

  “I didn’t see this level of lying coming from the rest of the family. I know they are used to getting their way, but this has been ridiculous. After all, it’s my job to find out the truth. Besides, it’s not like they’re dealing with some backwater, bumbling detective here.”

  “No, they’re dealing with a ‘seen it all,’ ‘afraid of nothing’ big city cop.”

  “Thanks for the compliment, but I was actually going to say they’re dealing with the world’s feistiest donut shop manager turned sleuth.”

  Meg played down her sleuthing skills. Ego had no place in a murder investigation. She laughed off the comment. “I may be the feistiest, but there aren’t exactly very many donut shop manager turned sleuths that I’m competing with.”

  Connor kept the compliments coming. “You are in a category of your own. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

  He wasn’t the only one with praise to heap. She had more than a few kind words for him as well. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. We’re a good team.”

  “An unconventional one at least. We’re not exactly good cop, bad cop.”

  “It’s more like bad cop, renegade donut baker.”

  He laughed. “Speaking of, if you didn’t make such tasty donuts, I’d ask you to join the force.”

  “Let me tell you, I can’t wait to get back to making those donuts. It takes a tough skin to be a detective, and I prefer to let my skin exfoliate.”

  Connor chuckled.

  There was nothing like a good joke to cut the tension in the air.

  Surprisingly, with all the spells at her disposal, there was nothing she could cast that would give her more patience. “The only thing I can’t wait for is this slice of pie.”

  Connor saw his girlfriend’s mouth water.

  So, naturally, it was right then that he got a call on his police radio.

  The police dispatcher started talking over the radio. “Detective Smith, Steven Treadwell has been apprehended and is back at the station ready for questioning.”

  “Ten-four,” he replied, into the radio.

  Connor then put the radio away and turned to Meg.

  “I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting,” he said.

  “Just as the pie was about to arrive, too. Go figure, timing really is everything in life.”

  Meg didn’t know the half of it.

  Connor clued her in. “Welcome to the world of police work, where timing and taste buds are always at odds.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Meg and Connor got their snacks to go and headed off to the station, where Steven Treadwell was loathing their arrival in the interrogation room. If Steven wasn’t feeling uneasy enough sitting alone in the room, he became completely beside himself when Connor went right after him.

  Steven was arguably the most successful of the Treadwell kids. Surprisingly, despite the family’s wildly profitable business, none of the four siblings tried to follow in their mother’s footsteps. Then again, those were big high heels to fill.

  Steven was a pharmacist, which in any other family, would make him a rousing success. That wasn’t so when your mother was Vikki Treadwell. Still, he was happy with his chosen profession, which made it no surprise that he didn’t want Sabrina’s book to ever see the light of day.

  In the manuscript, his character was illegally providing performance-enhancing drugs to his brother. That was a secret that could cost him his license. That, combined with the fact that he appeared eager to skip town, left Meg and Connor with plenty of questions for him. Would he be forthcoming with his answers?

  “Why were you running?” Connor asked.

  Meg stared at Steven’s scrawny, thirty-two-year-old body, bespectacled, angular face, and short black hair for any sign of unusual body language. He remained surprisingly calm on the outside. His eyes told a different, panic-stricken story.

  “I wasn’t running,” Steven replied.

  “Then what were you doing?” Connor wondered.

  “Going to the Cougars game,” Steven answered.

  That didn’t gel in Connor’s mind. “The Cougars game isn’t until tomorrow.”

  Steven became a little shakier as he replied. “I’m uh, going into San Francisco early to see a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Normally, no. Except when you’re a suspect in a murder investigation,” Connor said.

  Steven played dumb. It was safe to say he had no future as an actor because he didn’t convince a soul in that room with his act. “Murder? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Meg wasn’t going to let her time be wasted like this. “Who do you think you’re kidding? Don’t pretend like you don’t know Sabrina Beckett was murdered last night.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Steven replied.

  “Are you going to pretend you didn’t threaten her yesterday either? Because I know you did,” Meg continued.

  “It wasn’t a threat. I just told her publishing her book would be a very bad idea,” Steven said.

  Steven could try to talk out of both sides of his mouth all he wanted; Meg wasn’t buying it.

  “Otherwise known as a threat,” she said.

  Connor could see that Steven was a master of denial. But there was a way to cut to the truth.

  Connor went right after him. “All right. Say I buy that you were really headed to the game. Let’s see your tickets.”

  That question was enough to push Steven to the edge. He tried to give the best poker face he could, but he’d unwittingly shown his hand.

  “I don’t have tickets,” Steven replied. “At least not on me.”

  “Steven, do you take me for a fool? That game has been sold out for months. If you don’t have tickets already, you’ll never get them,” Connor reasoned.

  “They’re at will call,” Steven insisted.

  “That should be easy enough to verify. I’ll just call up the stadium,” Connor said.

  “They’re also under my friend’s name,” Steven replied.

  Steven’s story kept changing in a hurry. Even more, Meg and Connor hadn’t even gotten to the hard questions yet.

  “Again, that should be easy to verify. What’s your friend’s name and phone number?” Connor asked.

  “You’re going to call him right now?” Steven replied.

  “What’s the matter? If you’ve been telling us the truth, you have nothing to be afraid of,” Connor insisted.

  Steven sighed. “His name is Keith McFarland, and his number is 555-2312.”

  “All right. Let’s see what Mr. McFarland has to say about all this.” Connor pulled out his phone, then turned to Meg. “Make sure he doesn’t send any texts or make any calls when I step out.”

  Meg nodded.

  Connor then exited the interrogation room, dialing the number Steven had given him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  W
hen Connor returned a few minutes later, he was hot and bothered. Even though Meg wasn’t even a cop, she usually played the bad cop role when questioning a suspect. Connor was the by-the-book good cop. Meg could tell the tables had turned.

  Connor tried not to lose his temper—at least not too much. “I’m so tired of suspects lying to me.”

  Steven immediately went on the defensive. “I didn’t lie--”

  Connor wasn’t interested in hearing another word out of Steven’s mouth unless it was the truth. “I talked to your friend. He told me you only called him today, and that you were going to try to get tickets to the game from scalpers when you arrived in town.”

  Steven’s face nearly went white. He tried doing damage control. “I can explain.”

  Connor could sense another lie coming on. He went right after Steven again. “Are you still going to pretend like you weren’t trying to skip town?”

  Steven was on the ropes now. “Look, I’ve had a stressful week. I wanted to get a little change of scenery. So, I got the idea to go to San Francisco and see an old friend.”

  It was Meg’s turn to call his bluff. “And this just happened to coincide with you becoming a suspect in a murder investigation? Come on.”

  “I told you, I had nothing to do with Sabrina’s murder,” Steven said.

  “Where were you between midnight and one last night?” Connor asked.

  “And no more lies,” Meg added.

  “I was at home,” Steven answered.

  “Were you alone, or do you actually have someone to verify one of your stories?” Connor wondered.

  Steven sighed. “I was alone.”

  “So we really have no reason to believe your story then?” Connor said.

  This time, Steven was as confident as ever with his answer. “It’s the truth.”

  “Just like the whole story about having tickets for the game was the truth?” Connor asked.

  “I was at home last night, all right?” Steven replied.

  Meg thought that would be the perfect time to pull out the key ring she’d found at the scene of the crime.