Moonlight Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery Read online

  Emily cringed. “Mind your manners. There are ladies present.”

  Gabe snorted. Ingrid laughed out loud. Kevin shrugged in exasperation.

  “Kevin,” Emily asked, “how can you be sure that your wife didn’t kill Sheldon?”

  “She was home, in bed, with me. My turn for a question. For either of you.”

  Ingrid nodded and took a shot. “Shoot. Oh. Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t say that. Maybe you killed Sheldon and you might actually shoot me. Wait. Did you kill Sheldon?”

  He sighed. “No. I did not kill anyone. My question?”

  Ingrid nodded. “What?”

  “Did either of you kill Sheldon Peters?”

  “Oh for the love.” Ingrid turned to Emily. “He really is a fool, isn't he?”

  Then she turned to back to Kevin. “Since you seem to be mentally impaired, I’ll go ahead and drink a shot of this truth serum so you are certain I am telling the truth. I did not shoot or otherwise kill Sheldon Peters. Neither did Emily. Did you Emily?”

  Emily drained her glass. “Nope. Though if I could go back in time, I might.”

  Ingrid looked at Gabe, “Not that you deserve this information, or that I want it to be true because I really like Sheldon’s sister, but I think Maria might be your killer. Perhaps you two will find the competence to solve this case on your own now without any more help from the witches of the community.”

  Emily watched Gabe and Kevin share a glance, but they didn’t say a word. She saw that Ingrid noticed it, too.

  “Emily, would you and Kevin excuse us please. I need to speak with the sheriff alone. Now.”

  “Sure thing. Keep giving him serum. Don’t let him off easy.”

  Gabe shot Emily a glare as she and Kevin walked out into the hall.

  •••

  Once in the hall, Emily made small talk with Kevin for a minute. “Hey, maybe you aren’t dumb. The verdict is still out. But you better go home and deal with your cheating wife. Because you might not be dumb, but your wife is most definitely a whore. Sorry, man.”

  “I can’t believe she would cheat on me. Well, I can, but…I wonder how long it's been going on?”

  “Well, my aunt told me about it and said she’s known about it, along with most of the town, for a long time.”

  He paled. “I… I…”

  “You aren't going to kill her, are you?”

  He let out a deep breath and shook his head. “No. Obviously. I'd lose my job. I only married her because she was pregnant, but then she lost the baby and things were never the same. Now I have to wonder if she was even pregnant. We haven’t been happy in a long time. I might arrest her though. I’m the only one who can alibi her, and I might decide to have selective memory.”

  “Oh, I might like you okay after all. Good luck, Kevin.”

  And she meant it.

  Kevin just grunted and took the elevator down. As soon as he was gone, Emily called Sam. “Hey, Mr. Fireman. You should totally come over and help me work out some stress. I had a hell of a day.”

  “Sorry, baby. I’m at the gym. Then I’ve got to meet up with the guys.”

  “Uh, baby? Since when do you call me baby?”

  “Oh, uh, yeah. Right. I forgot you don’t like that. Sorry.”

  He sounded like an oaf. Maybe he was an oaf. It was possible that Ingrid’s dislike of Fireman Sam was making Emily notice all the things she had been trying to ignore. Maybe.

  Unaware of the hole he was digging for himself, he kept going. “Dude, you should totally see how ripped my abs are. I mean, honestly, the girls here are all over me.”

  “Well, that’s nice for you, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, okay. Well, I’ll see you around sometime.”

  “I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.” Then Emily hung up the phone.

  She muttered to herself as she let herself into her apartment and poured herself a giant glass of wine. “I’ll see you around sometime? Is he kidding? What a capital L loser. There’s more to life than a cute guy. Maybe Sam’s box of rocks was actually dumber than Kevin’s dumbass.”

  She chugged her wine and headed into the shower to rinse away the stress of the day, muttering to herself. “Why couldn’t he be like the Sam from Supernatural. Now, that guy. He was hot and he could slay demons. Winning combination, for sure.”

  •••

  “I miss you,” Gabe said. The door had just shut behind Emily and Kevin, and Ingrid was not unaware that those words did not come until after Kevin was gone.

  “I’m going to need my key back,” she said.

  Gabe’s jaw twitched, but he simply pulled out his key ring and started taking the key she’d given him off of it. She went to the espresso machine and made herself a coffee. She did not make one for him.

  “I’m sorry we had to look into Harrison,” Gabe said carefully.

  Ingrid did not reply. She was sure he’d learned a lot if he interviewed the cop who’d investigated Harrison’s death. Harrison had been older than her. Forty-five to her twenty-four when she’d married him. But he’d been healthy, wealthy, and she’d benefited from his death. His evil brats insinuated murder and made sure that the death had been investigated.

  The truth was that Harrison had died because of bad genetics and bad luck. That had been the worst time of her life, and she had been a mess. She’d poured out her heart to the detective, like an idiot, dumping her trauma and insecurities on him.

  It was clear that Gabe had been told those things.

  That made her feel…violated. Somewhere in his office was yet another report about Harrison, Ingrid, and the death. Somewhere in Gabe’s office was his opinion on the matter. The facts gathered in black and white with none of the nuances.

  He stepped closer and she didn’t step away. He touched her cheek and she turned into it. As needy and helpless as she’d been with Harrison, she still curled her face into Gabe, closing her eyes and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers.

  His lips were on hers a moment later. He wrapped her up in his warmth and brought her body to life. It was far too good.

  But oh so bad.

  She jerked away, panting, and said, “I appreciate that you never thought I killed Harrison or Sheldon. I have faith in the truth serum and its ability to provide the truth.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “But that doesn’t change how I feel. And I feel like I could set the world on fire with my anger.”

  “Please don’t,” he said, seriously.

  She did not tell him that she’d already burned their bed to ashes and she had slept on the couch, that she couldn’t bear to be in her bed without him.

  She licked her lips and straightened her spine. “We’re broken up. You can’t just come here whenever you want.”

  He blinked.

  “In fact,” she added, “don’t come back without a warrant.”

  She opened the door with her magic and pointed. He left without a word, not looking back to see her start shaking her head when her fingertip burst into flame. She gritted her teeth to keep back the scream and leapt for the kitchen to run her hand under the faucet.

  Chapter 7

  Ghostly Gossip

  Emily woke Ingrid by smacking a package down on her face.

  “Ugh, dove, no.” She shoved whatever it was off and pulled the covers over her head. “I don’t want to get up.”

  “Hey, murder, ghost, etcetera,” Emily reminded Ingrid.

  “No,” she whined, pulling back the covers enough to peek at the window. It was gray and raining and demanded that she stay in her makeshift bed.

  “Murder. Gabe. Etcetera.”

  “I’m broken up with Gabe. He doesn’t rule me. He doesn’t get to make me get out of bed early without even a morning snuggle.”

  “I don’t,” Emily interjected, kicking the couch, “need to know about your snuggles or whatever you call them.”

  “Dirty-minded dove,” Ingrid said, rubbing her cheek against her pillow and thinking about trying to revisit the lovely dream she was just having. Except, Gabe.

  Damn it.

  She sat up and lifted the package Emily brought. It was a 9-pack of superhero underwear for women.

  “I figured since Sheriff Hotpants isn’t in your pants anymore you could have Superman.”

  “Batman,” Ingrid said, ripping open the package and stumbling towards the shower. “I’m done with goody-two-shoes. Batman would probably bury a body.”

  “Batman and Superman don’t kill. Everyone knows this. You better take the Joker ones.”

  Ingrid took a quick shower, dressed, and added makeup. She wasn’t going to look like crap even if she felt like someone had punched her in the gut.

  “Well aren’t you fancy today,” Emily said, watching Ingrid add liquid eyeliner. Emily pushed a cup of coffee over that just smelled wrong.

  “Oh no,” Ingrid said. “No.”

  She shoved it aside, examined her face, and tightened a fine line around her mouth. Magic was a beautiful thing and why she still looked 25 even though she’d passed the big 3-0.

  She dumped out the coffee Emily had attempted and made them both something new. Ingrid went super sweet and milky. Emily got hers dark for her bitter soul and her snarky underwear delivery. Considering Ingrid had been pantsed by a ghost, though, she was wearing the Batman underwear and jeans. She’d added a St. Maarten’s hoodie for comfort. Emily, on the other hand, was wearing daisy dukes, a tank top, flip flips and a hoodie.

  “We’re not in the tropics anymore,” Ingrid said.

  “I was hot.”

  Ingrid looked her smug friend over and said, “You whore, you totally did Dumb as a Rock yesterday. Unless…”

  “It was not Deputy Dumbass. In addition to providing you with underwear,
” Emily said. “I got a candle titled progress.”

  She held up a white candle with a picture of a gate and clouds on it.

  Ingrid rolled her eyes and added mascara while Emily continued, “Also, a package of fresh sage from the deli, sandwiches for both of us, double chocolate chip cookies, and a Bible.”

  Ingrid’s eyebrows rose.

  “I figure we light the candle in the Camaro, burn the sage, and read some passages about the afterlife.”

  “Do you know any of those?”

  “I saw the pastor from that one church in the grocery story. He up and gave me the Bible for free, marked the passages for me, and invited us to a prayer meeting. I said we’d go.”

  “Is this prayer meeting in the woods?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can we have wine?”

  “I don’t see why not. Don’t they like eat crackers and drink wine at those meetings?”

  “I’m a witch, I don’t know. If I can have my own wine, we can go.” Ingrid stood and said, “So we’re gonna read Bible verses at the ghost and make him go away?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Wasn’t your uncle a pagan? Would Bible verses even work on someone who didn’t believe in the Bible?”

  “Yes. No. But then I’d have to ask Aunt Hazel what to do, and she’d scold us both.”

  “We could call my sister. But my sister is pretty…what’s the word?”

  “I think you would use bitch-dove. Whereas I would use uptight, know-it-all, Mama’s Girl who would remind you that you asked her a question for all time.”

  “So Bible verses then. Kay.”

  Ingrid lit the candle with her low lying fury and mad skills at fire while Emily held the burning sage inside the car.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” she said, dropping the burning herbs onto the seat. Ingrid read, “For the living know they will die; but the dead do not know anything, nor have they any longer a reward, for their memory is forgotten.”

  Ingrid looked up at Emily who shrugged.

  “Somehow,” Ingrid said, “I don’t think that one is going to help.”

  “What? I wasn’t listening.”

  Ingrid flipped to another marked verse and read, “The dead do not praise the lord, Nor do any who go down into silence.”

  “Huh,” Emily said, looking over Ingrid’s shoulder.

  Ingrid tried another, “For the fate of the sons of men and the fate of beasts is the same. As one dies so dies the other; indeed, they all have the same breath and there is no advantage for man over beast, for all is vanity. All go to the same place. All came from the dust and all return to the dust.”

  “Um,” Emily said. She took the Bible from Ingrid and flipped through.

  Clearing her throat, Emily read, “For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes.”

  “Emily, my best dove, I just felt a ghostly finger playing with my hair. Uncle Jackass,” Ingrid said, “I am going to make you regret this to your…”

  “Well, not your dying day,” Emily said, “seeing as how you’re dead. But as my uncle, it is nasty to sexually harass my best friend while you are dead.”

  Ingrid turned and walked away from the Camaro and headed towards Papa Pandolfi’s Pastries. It had opened only a few weeks before, and she was willing to become addicted to the big, mustachioed man’s rose cream and strawberry croissants.

  “We might need to call Hazel,” Ingrid said. “But not my sister. As you said, she is a bitch-dove. Also we need a new car. Two new cars. We should get something sexy. I want mine to be mustard yellow and I will never drive a Camaro again. Thus I swear and what not.”

  “Gabe loves the Camaro. Also, we are not calling Hazel. We are going to solve one damn problem by ourselves.”

  “Fine, but the Bible is probably entirely ineffective for a ghost we know is pagan. And also clearly using his afterlife for bad, irritating things for which he will suffer.”

  “Eh,” Emily said taking Ingrid’s croissant and having a bite, “it was worth a shot. If you keep eating like this, you’ll be too fat for Gabe to be interested in you when he’s done being mad at you.”

  “You’re a stupid, evil, cow-dove of horror and whoring, you wench of unspeakable things. And such.”

  “I’m just saying you bought the last croissant and I want that one. You should give it to me.” Emily looked up as the door the pastry shop opened.

  “Hazel said I would find you here,” Saffron said as she came in. “She said to tell you that Autumn slept with Sheldon.”

  “What a hooker she is,” Emily said.

  “Says the chick in daisy dukes on a fall day due to afterglow.”

  “So,” Saffron interrupted, “I didn’t need to know that at all.”

  “You’ll love us someday,” Emily said. “We grow on people.”

  “Like a fungus or a wart,” Ingrid explained. “You’ll get used to us because you can’t get rid of us and then you’ll be ours.”

  “Well, all right then. I have to get back to my shop and do things like work.”

  •••

  Autumn opened the door, saw it was them, and started to close it.

  Emily shoved her foot in the way and said, “Hazel was the one who told us that you slept with Sheldon. Was that, I wonder, while Ingrid was also dating him?”

  Autumn’s eyes narrowed, but Hazel’s name had been the magic word. Autumn wanted to be one of the coven elders. Ingrid had to admit, grudgingly, that she probably had the chops to do it magically. But Autumn was a cold ass dove and half the job of coven elders wasn’t so much magical power but magical mentoring. Even Ingrid could see that Autumn would be terrible at that, and Ingrid barely wanted to be part of the coven. Mostly she just wanted Emily’s family to accept them as they were.

  The coven had these sweet young girls who worked hard at their magic, unlike Emily and Ingrid. And those girls deserved someone better than the mean dove scowling at them right now. Look at that, Ingrid thought, I’m thinking responsible, caring for the well-being of others thoughts. It was Gabe rubbing off on her, and that made Ingrid want to curl into a ball.

  Ingrid held up a vial of Saffron’s truth serum.

  Autumn sighed.

  “Look,” Emily said, “I’d just as soon beat you to death or run you down with our haunted Camaro, but Aunt Hazel would never forgive us or let us get away with murdering a member of her coven.”

  “That doesn’t mean,” Ingrid continued, “that I won’t text Gabe right now that you had a…hmmm… how best to say in the nastiest and rudest way possible.”

  The door opened behind Autumn and one of her two daughters stuck her head out.

  “Hi Ingrid, Hi Emily,” the girl piped. She had bright eyes and lovely skin. And a rebellious streak a mile wide. She was nearly college-aged, and the rebellion was ripe and vibrant. Ingrid could see it radiating from the girl’s gaze.

  “Hi,” Ingrid said. “We’re just here to ask your mom a few questions about an—”

  Autumn grabbed the serum and motioned Ingrid and Emily inside.

  Emily snorted as she passed Autumn, but Ingrid just grinned her widest, evilest grin.

  “Go to your room, Veruca,” Autumn said.

  Ingrid winced. “What a traditional name.”

  “It’s an interesting choice,” Emily added.

  “It’s awful,” Veruca said, “I go by Meg. My sister is worse though, Branka. What sort of potion was Mom shooting? Right?”

  “That is not your name, and I said to go to your room. Branka and Veruca are lovely names.”

  “It’s the name I would have had if you hadn’t screwed Dad over with potions like you do.”

  “I like this kid,” Emily said. “And that’s saying something because kids suck.”

  “Go to your room, Veruca,” Autumn said.

  “Meg,” the kid said. “I mean, if you had to go traditional why not Sage or Willow or Gwen?”

  “Those are indeed valid points.” Emily said, nodding. “Saddling someone with Veruca or Branka is the type of life choice that leads to destruction and mayhem. Violence even.”

  “You,” Autumn said, “Be quiet.” She pointed her finger at Emily in a classic I-am-about-to-jinx-you position.

  “Mom!”

  “I wouldn’t,” Emily said mildly. “Hazel would make you pay so hard.”

  “Veruca. Room.”

  Ingrid winked at Meg, who winked back.

  “I think, you know, with your kid here, we have you in an interesting position.” Emily’s threat was delivered coolly. They’d have never been able to get away with something like that without Hazel as Emily’s aunt and Hazel being a huge believer in things like keeping your marriage vows and not hexing your coven sisters.