Magic, Mayhem and Murder Read online

  “Yes, of course,” I murmured, my body tilting to its hottest setting. Ever. Granny would never forgive a lack of manners, though, and I had best rely on safe protocols and keep a proper six inches between our bodies. The sooner I introduced Constable Ace Collins to Star, the better.

  On the dance floor, I barely came up to his chin when he tugged me to his broad chest. He tucked my hand into his far larger one that threatened to swallow it whole, pulling me into the slow waltz step, his other hand searing the flesh of my lower back. I gritted my teeth. And Star and her country band would have to line up a romantic song next. He danced with casual flair, making it easy to follow his lead. Unfortunately. Better if he danced like Bigfoot.

  “I had no idea Snowy Lake was such a thriving community. Nice to see so many people out and about on a Thursday night.”

  “Oh, that. It’s just because my sister Star’s band’s here.”

  “That’s your sister? Nice voice.” He didn’t glance over at the stage, where she crooned about crying over lost love, but held my gaze instead.

  “You staying in town for a while?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  I nodded. “I’ll introduce you to Star between sets.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Any other relatives in town I should know about? Parents?”

  Raw emotion surged, but I tamped it down, shaking my head. As the years had gone by, I’d given up the hope of ever seeing my mom again, no matter how much good karma I’d tried to create. It just wasn’t good enough. “Long gone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes darkened with empathy, making me swallow a mouthful of saliva.

  “It is what it is.” I shrugged. “You?”

  “Both parents live in Winnipeg. Divorced, though they live side-by-side in a duplex on Academy Road. Go figure. Got two brothers, Stone and Mick. My younger brother Stone’s working on a degree in computer engineering at the U of M and Mick’s even younger—training to be an RCMP officer in Regina.”

  “Sorry about your parents splitting up. It usually sucks for the kids.”

  “Yeah, well, it was after we’d all left home, which made it easier.” He shrugged, letting it slide off his extra-wide shoulders. “A little harder when you’re eight.” Hmm, excellent hearing as well.

  “You cope. Learn to make the best of it. Granny Toogood took us in. We’re the lucky ones. At least we didn’t land in the foster system.”

  “I hear you.”

  The press of bodies swaying romantically around us while we danced in our oasis of proper decorum left Ace and I the odd ones out. When the song ended, I hightailed it for the table, waving off a chance at a second round of torture.

  Star put her guitar on its stand and bounded down the short flight of steps from the stage, fringe and curls flying.

  “Star, I want you to meet Constable Ace Collins.” I leaned in close to shout in her ear. I crossed my fingers that such enticement as this fine specimen of a man would keep Star in town.

  Star put out her hand and Ace took it. But instead of shaking it like a normal person would, he laid a smooch on the back of it, giving her an admiring glance from his chocolate-brown eyes. She blushed under the overhead florescent lights, her eyes sparkling with merriment.

  “Charmed, m’ lady.”

  “Nice to meet you too. Has anyone told you how much you resemble Johnny Cash?” she purred, earning a dimpled grin from Ace. O—kay. This might have worked too well.

  “A time or two. May I join you?” he asked, though I’d already extended the invite. Oh, such a real dream guy, not that I was into that sort of thing.

  “Of course.” Star gave him the sweetest look imaginable, sitting down next to him, legs crossed toward him. “So, when did you mosey into town, Sheriff?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Just today. Got a call about a black bear on the way and stopped to have a look around. Ran into Charm and—”

  “And I pepper sprayed him,” I finished. He gave me another of those long looks that made my heart stutter.

  “What? How could you?” Star’s exaggerated horror was well played.

  “I’ve already apologised for thinking he was a bear.”

  “Or Bigfoot,” he added with a wry smile.

  “Charm.” Ivana shook her wild hair, the ends spitting in my direction. “Not nice to do that to such big man. And you know what said about man with big foot, eh?” She laid a hand on his forearm, squeezing as if checking for something. For heaven’s sake, he’s not a slab of beef. And I wasn’t touching for all the tea in China the comment about a man with big feet.

  “Anyone know what’s keeping Tulip?” I took a sip of beer, noting Ivana had just about finished hers.

  “Maybe new boyfriend?” Ivana’s eyes gleamed with interest. Ivana went through men like no woman I’d ever met. No one with a big enough foot? Okay. Not nice, Charm. I blushed at my own audacity.

  “I’ll get some more beer,” I offered, getting up. Ivana worked part-time at the local beauty salon, which barely covered her rent—probably why she was a month behind. I wasn’t complaining, envisioning her Bratva brothers climbing out of the woodwork and through the windows to warn me to lay off their sister. Plus, she was good enough to cover in the café when both my dear sisters went AWOL. She didn’t drive too much traffic away on a good day.

  “A pitcher this time, Darcy,” I said at the bar, once I’d gotten his attention. “Everyone’s thirsty tonight.” He nodded, busy filling orders. But he bumped mine up the queue, pouring it right away.

  “Thanks. Have you seen Tulip?”

  He shook his head, taking my money then handing me the change. I carted the golden-colored nectar back to our table and plunked it down in the center, rivets of moisture condensing and running down the sides of the see-through pitcher. A loud disturbance near the entrance grabbed my attention. I scanned the area, my skin twitchy with heightened nerves. The crowd separated, revealing my errant sister barreling her way toward our table. Oh boy, now what?

  Chapter Four

  “I got here as fast as I could!” Almost out of breath, Tulip held her hand to her heaving chest. “It’s Mrs. Hurst. She’s gone.” Tears flowed down her reddened face, dripping off her chin.

  “What? What are you talking about?” The black force-field from my earlier reading with the woman came back with a vengeance, darkening the edges of my vision.

  Ace got up, took Tulip’s shoulders and directed her onto a chair. “Tell me what you saw?”

  “I went over to see Mrs. Hurst, to deliver the rest of her jam—she, she didn’t answer the door. I didn’t want to leave it outside, so I went in the back door to put it on the kitchen table. I took the key from under the mat. And there she was.” She hiccupped. “Dead.” Tulip dropped her face into her hands, large sobs shaking her slender shoulders.

  “Why did you take it to her tonight?” Confused, my brain sought answers. “I was going to deliver it tomorrow, properly labeled.” At least we had given it the green light of the Kismet Spell, except for that jar she’d taken earlier. That still plagued me.

  She lifted her tear-stained face to me. “She called the house and left a message it was an emergency and she needed it right away. That’s why I’m late. I don’t know why she needed it so soon, but you know how she is. Oh my goodness, it was awful. Her face—it was all blue and her tongue—” Tulip shuddered and closed her eyes.

  “Have you called nine-one-one?” Ace asked.

  “No. I just ran straight here. I didn’t know what else to do.” Tulip shook her head, her eyes widening with more emotion. I jumped up and pulled her to me, hugging and soothing her, rubbing circles on her back.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  Ace stood up. “I’ll deal with this and call it in. What’s the address?” He pulled out his phone, frowning when he discovered there was no cell service. He looked at me, a question in his eyes.

  “Mrs. Hurst’s house is at edge of town on Ring Road. Hug
e Victorian-style white-framed house with black trim.”

  He turned to leave and I gave Tulip a look. “You okay if I head over there?”

  She nodded, and I handed her over to Star. I chased after the long-legged Mountie, catching him outside the door. “I’m going with you.”

  I didn’t give him time to object, but climbed into the passenger seat of his white SUV with its RCMP logo, To Serve and Protect, decaled on the rear bumper and buckled myself in.

  Frowning, he fired up the engine and pulled into traffic.

  “I was led to believe this was a quiet little town.”

  “Yeah, well, we have our moments. But murder—that almost never happens.”

  “What makes you think it’s murder?” The look he gave me pinned me to the seat.

  “Don’t know for sure.” I swallowed my worry. “But with what Tulip said about the state of her body, it seems possible. Turn here.” Maybe I should have said something to Mrs. Hurst about the dark energy? A terrible unease filled me at the thought that I might be partially responsible by not warning her. Nervous adrenaline rattled my body.

  A few more tense blocks and he pulled up in front of the town’s only mansion. A couple of lights were burning behind the front living room drapes and in the wrought-iron sconces decorating the gingerbread-house-style entrance.

  “You wait here,” Ace commanded, reaching into the back to unlock his gun from its case. He hadn’t worn it on his person, being off-duty. I grimaced. This was my town. Not his. I disembarked the police vehicle alongside him.

  I shivered, the midnight air giving me instant goosebumps. Hugging my arms around myself, I strode after Ace. We marched around the side of the house, past the display of fragrant fuchsia-colored peonies in full bloom and down the path to the back door. It stood wide open, attesting to Tulip’s wild flight. A halo of light spilling from the kitchen carved out a half-circle on the ground. Crickets chirped, the night air thickening with apprehension.

  Ace stopped, listening. “Stay put,” he ordered. Drawing his gun, he slipped through the doorway.

  I waited all of ten seconds. When no shots rang out, I crept inside. I hadn’t spent years reading all those Agatha Christie whodunit books for naught.

  I gave the room a full appraisal from left to right, spotting the two boxes of apricot jam that Tulip had delivered stacked on the countertop. An opened jar of the sweet nectar was splattered across a red placemat on the table, the glass resting on the edge, still oozing jam down onto the floor in thick gobs. My view drifted downward and I spotted a leg lying at an awkward angle on the floor near a chair. I caught Ace’s stern glance and hugged myself tighter. Ignoring him, I moved slowly around the perimeter of the table, bracing myself. Mrs. Hurst. Blue face with swollen tongue lolling out, just as Tulip had described. Oh-oh. A blue face was worrisome. An abandoned spoon lay by her side as if she’d dropped it mid-tasting. Fear chilled my heart. The poor woman didn’t deserve this ending. No one did. Her limbs were all twisted at weird angles, as if she’d gone into convulsions at the end. Awful. Disturbing. And frightening.

  “Don’t. Touch. Anything.” Ace was in full Mountie mode.

  “I know! I’m not stupid.”

  His look said that statement was not proven either way. Yet.

  “Wait here.” He left to go through the house—checking for intruders, I supposed. Obviously having found none, he rejoined me and set his gun aside.

  Dimly aware of Ace using the house phone to call in the event to the late duty dispatcher at the detachment, I turned away, finding it an invasion of the woman’s privacy to stare any longer. I shook my head in dismay. Who or what had killed her? My heart thudded. What if she’d choked on the jam? The very idea was too horrible to contemplate, with me taking such pride in the preserves. Maybe it was something natural, like a heart attack or stroke? Because if it had been murder, there’d be a lot of suspects. The woman had managed to piss off just about everyone in the town at some point in her life.

  Chapter Five

  “I want you to think of your heart’s desire.” I gave Judith Finch a thick pad of paper. The middle-aged woman, with the nervous habit of saying everything twice, had tracked me down, demanding a refund on the love potion or another way into the heart of the man she’d set her cap on. Her potent perfume stifled me in the tiny enclave separating us from the rest of the restaurant. Half as much scent would have done the job twice as well.

  “Write it down. Just a few words will do.”

  She bent her dark head over the lined pad, her mouth working, miming the words.

  “Okay, now circle the first letter of each word, ignoring any that begin with a vowel. How many letters do you have?”

  “Three. Three.”

  “Good. I want you to think of how to combine those letters to make a magic sigil.”

  Her quizzical expression while she tilted her head had me adding, “Make them into one drawing. An abstract figure. Like a logo maybe. Any which way you like.”

  Ah. Comprehension dawning, Judith gave me a broad smile. “Then what do I do? Then what?”

  “You need to charge the sigil. Focus all your energy on it while staring at it. Any extreme emotion works. Then, look at it once a day, letting it slip into your subconscious. You can even burn it if you like. But whatever you do, keep it private and show no one. Clear?”

  “Sure, sure. Thanks, Charm. Thanks.”

  Star popped her head in, nearly making me fall over backward from my cheap diner chair. “You should tell Judith the best way to charge a love sigil is by having an orgasm.”

  “Really? Really?” The woman’s dark eyes rounded, her mood brightening.

  “Yeah, that’ll work.” I shot Star a bolt of fire with my eyes, sending enough energy to load twenty sigils.

  She grinned and danced off as the chimes sang out over the door to the café, announcing a new customer.

  I waived my fee for the reading, aware that not much could help a heart yearning for the love of a particular person if said person was not right for them. I sighed.

  “Morning, Charm.” Ace touched the brim of his Stetson when he caught sight of me exiting the magic cave. He sat down at a table, nodding at Star’s inquiry about coffee, and took off the spectacular hat. He reached up and placed it on the rack.

  “Howdy, Sheriff.” I didn’t wait for an invite but plopped down across from him. Dressed in his RCMP uniform, all official, he’d turn heads anywhere. What would the red serge look like on him? Best guess? Pretty darn amazing. Maybe we should have a parade?

  He shook his head at me, his expression grim. My stomach dropped into the floorboards.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let Mrs. Hurst take that first jar of jam before I spelled it.”

  His eyes widened. “You put a spell on jam?”

  “Ah—yeah. The Kismet Spell. I want to give all our food the energy to keep people healthy and happy.”

  “Doesn’t seemed to have worked in this case.”

  “No.” I looked away, chewed on a thumbnail. “It didn’t.”

  “Did you see Mrs. Hurst earlier in the day?”

  I stilled, frowning. “Yes, she was here.”

  “I have to investigate this properly, Charm, it’s standard procedure. Mrs. Hurst was seen leaving your café in the morning.”

  “Then why ask like that?”

  “Like what?” His brow knitted.

  “Like I’m going to lie to you?”

  He sighed. “It’s the way we’re taught to formulate our questions. No offense meant.”

  “No offense taken.”

  His eyebrows rose at my short reply. “I suggest you don’t take up poker. You’d be lousy at it.”

  “Anything else?”

  “We’re sending the jam in for testing. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  “I can assure you, Officer, it’s of the finest quality and ingredients!” My heart slammed and my lips froze in anger. How dare he?

  “I’m sure it is. S
he might have choked, of course, or had a stroke or heart failure while eating it. The coroner didn’t find any other wounds. We won’t know the cause of death until his report is concluded. That could take days. But I’m here to suggest—strongly—you not sell any more of that brand for now until we know the deal.”

  “I think you should leave.”

  He retrieved his Stetson from the hat rack by the table, smoothing the brim with his extra-large fingers. “It wasn’t my intention to offend. My sincerest apologies.”

  I nodded, but was unable to force even the briefest of smiles, I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him stroll from our former haven. The door chimes turned traitor as well, singing out gaily to announce his departure. Frickin’ man.

  Star joined me, topping up my coffee. “Ace is just doing his job, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I took a large sip of the strong brew. “Just don’t like aspersions cast on our product.”

  Her forehead creased with concern. “What if something did go wrong?”

  “How? It was made under ideal conditions.” I crushed my lower lip between my teeth. But if even a whiff of a scandal about our jam got out, we’d be finished.

  “I need to find out more.” I held the cup in my two hands and took another sip. “If someone doctored our jam, then we need to be proactive.”

  “What do you mean? How’s that possible?”

  “Ever read Agatha Christie?”

  “You know I haven’t. I like my cowboy or rancher stories, with lots of steamy heat.”

  “Well, this could be bad for us if I don’t start my own investigation. I need to get to the bottom of this before it goes south. If it turns out Mrs. Hurst was murdered—”

  “You think she was murdered? Tulip said she did look really awful. I hate to think that’s what a normal dead person looks like.” Star shuddered.

  I checked the rooster clock about to crow the hour and finished the last of the coffee. “We need to set up for the festival. And I’ve got that darn dunk tank thing this afternoon.”