Moonlight Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery Read online

  Autumn looked at her daughter’s bedroom door and then back at the other two. Ingrid was pretty sure their faces were matching cat-who-ate-the-canary expressions.

  “I am not taking a potion that you made.”

  “Please,” Ingrid said, “truth serums are completely out of our skill set. Saffron made that.”

  Autumn’s eyes narrowed, but she downed the potion.

  “The sky is gre…blue. I did not murder Sheldon Peters. You are the worst witches I have ever known, and I will fight Emily becoming a coven elder until my dying day.”

  “Good news,” Emily said. “I have zero desire to be an elder. I’d rather be flambéed.”

  “That is a real possibility, my favorite dove, given how often I’ve been setting things on fire lately. Hey,” Ingrid said, “your kid should come by the bookstore sometime. She’s downright tolerable.”

  “Get out,” Autumn replied, reflexively glancing up the stairs to ensure her child hadn’t heard the invitation.

  Ingrid made a mental note to look the kid up and personally invite her and the other one, too. Assuming the second one wasn’t awful.

  “Ta!” Emily stood and led the way.

  “Man, I hate her,” Ingrid said before they’d even left the kitchen. “She is a cold ass dove who needs to lighten up on her kid before Meg leaves witchcraft behind to become a biologist or joins the North Island Coven.”

  Meg was at the top of the stairs when they passed.

  “She’ll be all right, the kid I mean,” Emily said. “She’s got to get to college, and she’ll be fine. Until then, torturing your mom is a time honored way to bide your time. I’d suggest a rebellious boyfriend and possibly loud obnoxious music.”

  “Get out of my house.” Autumn followed them as if they’d steal something. They’d only stolen from her…like twice. Maybe three times.

  “Remember,” Ingrid piped up brightly as they left, “Hazel will make you pay if you hex us.”

  Emily turned and walked down the path backwards as they left. “Also, Branka and Veruca are literally the worst names I have ever heard and that’s saying something considering Saffron is in our coven.”

  •••

  “Let’s go to the nail salon. Kimmie can give us gossip.”

  Emily nodded. “Okay. Since Autumn is completely ruled out, unfortunately, we have got to get to the bottom of this. I’m uncertain how much longer we want this to go on. You are a little too-edgy for me without Gabe in your life. And you know from the truth-shot wars that he loves you. So, it’s a matter of figuring this case out and putting it behind us that gets us back to our normal life. Except the haunted car part. I am over that. I need it to stop and stop now. Or I will beat the car to death with something. Or other.”

  Ingrid snorted as Emily’s rage petered out.

  They walked into Kimmie’s shop and waved at their favorite source for information. Kimmie helped them solve Owen’s murder, and they hoped she’d do the same for them again. She didn’t even have to try. Her salon was the hotbed of gossip in Sage Island. It was practically the visitor’s center for the town.

  They sat down in their favorite pedicure chairs after they picked out their nail colors.

  Emily raised her eyebrows at Ingrid’s color selection. “Neon orange?”

  “Shut the nosiness down, dovey. None of your damn business. But, since you asked, Gabe loves this color on my toes. It drives him crazy. I want to mess with him today. I’ve been sending him pictures of my sexy toes kind of a lot.”

  Emily looked outside at the gray skies and down at Ingrid’s slinky sandals. “You think your feet might get cold?”

  “No colder than Gabe’s soul.”

  “Oookay, then. Whatever you want, love. Also, please don’t make me tell you again to keep your private stuff private. Especially since Fireman Sam is clearly an interim boyfriend.”

  Ingrid changed the subject. “We need phones. Since Gabe has had ours since Seattle and they took yours after we left it here. We are phoneless. My fingers itch. I feel lost and alone. When I can’t sleep at night I have to find my iPad. But, I’d rather die than ask for my beloved back. So, when we finish here, we are getting phones.”

  Emily nodded, “Yes. I might get two. I can’t decide between the newest iPhone and the android. And I might not want to decide. Those kinds of decisions are for poor people to make.”

  Ingrid looked at her with judgey eyes.

  Emily defended herself. “What? I’m going to buy 6 phones to donate to the poor and needy. That way I don’t feel bad for not being poor and needy.”

  Ingrid laughed. “Well, that’s generous of you. I’m sure the homeless people of Seattle will appreciate having an iPhone when they don’t have blankets or a bed.”

  “Shut up, slut.”

  “I wish. But you’re the Jezebel. Whore-dove.”

  Emily changed the subject. “We need to find a way to pin this murder on Tia the cheater. Even if Maria did it. Especially if Maria did it. She’s nice, and Sheldon probably deserved it. Tia should be punished just on principle for having such a hideous kitchen.”

  “I totally agree, Em. Pea green kitchens should totally be punishable with life in prison.”

  Kimmie sat down just then and filled their foot baths. “What are you two up to today?”

  Emily dove right in to the gossip they were after.

  “Kimmie, we need some information. You know Sheldon Peters, Ingrid’s Ex? Remember he used to come around all the time when he was seeing Ingrid? And after Ingrid cut off his thumb with magic. Well, he died. Murdered.”

  Kimmie nodded. “I know. It was so awful. Poor Maria.”

  Emily winced before she said, “We think Maria might have done it. But we like her so much, we’d hate to see her punished for getting rid of an island nuisance. And we need to find a way to blame it on Tia. Because reasons.”

  Ingrid laughed. “Not really. We want the truth. We want to know who did it? But we can’t find Maria. Have you seen her?”

  Kimmie shook her head. “No, I haven’t. I don’t really see her as the murdering psychopath type though. She’s nice. She does things like make dinners for the poor and engineer toy drives for foster children.”

  Emily nodded. “That’s why we don’t want it to be her. Even if we think it might be her. Oh, hey, side note. Did you know that Autumn slept with Sheldon? Can you believe it? She slept with both mine and Ingrid’s exes.” She fake shivered.

  Kimmie responded. “That’s not really surprising. If a man is likely to cheat on his partner, he’s slept with Autumn already. She slept with my ex. She slept with my sister’s ex. I don’t understand it. I mean…I’m hot. My sister is hot. But Autumn is fleshy and cold, and she has snake eyes.”

  Emily chimed in. “Does that mean that technically you and I have slept together, by like association or something?”

  Ingrid choked. “Stop. That would mean we’ve all slept together by association. Ugh. No. Don’t be disgusting. You are my favorite dove ever, but I’m not into you in that way. Also, I didn’t sleep with Sheldon. He came into my room while I was sleeping, and he lost his thumb. Afterwards, he avoided me. Speaking of whiners.”

  “Whatever,” Emily said. “Quit going commando then, freak.”

  Kimmie laughed.

  Ingrid ignored Emily and focused back on Kimmie. “So, you got anything that might help us?”

  Kimmie shook her head. “Not really. Sorry I can’t be of more help. But I did hear Tia mention one time that her husband, the cop, was violent sometimes. Maybe he had something to do with it?”

  Ingrid shook her head. “Nah, I don’t think so. We truth-serumed him. I’m 99% certain he didn’t do it.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows. “Only 99%? You losing confidence in your truth-serum?”

  “Not exactly. But I’m not ready to believe that Gabe loves me so I’ve got to allow some wiggle room for that stuff not working.”

  Emily smirked. “Ah, I see. Denial then. Okay. At least you’re honest.”

  “He loves you?” Kimmie grinned at them. “And you witch-drugged him to find out? How would I go about getting some truth serum? My husband is raising the hairs on the back of my neck lately. Is he cheating? Is he fired? Is he…what? I need to find out for…well…reasons and stuff.”

  “Yup,” Emily drawled. “Yup. I understand completely. We’ll hook her up, right?”

  “This stuff,” Ingrid said, “is flying out of my cupboards like hotcakes right now. But I’ll see what I can do after I get some more.”

  “Thanks!” Kimmie said. “You know where I live.”

  She lived, rent-free, in the complex Ingrid and Emily owned. The conniving wench had out-blackmailed Ingrid during the last murder investigation.

  Kimmie finished up their pedicure, they paid, leaving their usual generous tip, and stepped out onto Main Street.

  “Now what?” Ingrid asked.

  “Phones. I can’t go another second without being able to text. Someone. Anyone. And Facebook. I haven’t checked my account in days.”

  “You know you could check it online from your computer, right?”

  Emily shot Ingrid a flat look. “Of course I know. It’s just when I’m home, I want to sleep or drink wine. Not get on the computer. Facebook is for killing time when I’m out and about. You never know, it could help us solve a murder every now and then.”

  Ingrid sighed. “This better be the last dang murder we have to solve. This is starting to feel too much like a job. Plus, we would need like a badge or something.”

  “Witch Police?” Emily teased.

  “Please.” Ingrid laughed. “We might convince someone to give us the job, but we’d be fired in a week. Possibly two.”

  “Phone,” Emily whined.

>   “Phone,” Ingrid agreed. “How else am I going to torture Gabe with pictures of my toes?”

  “I don’t want to know about your little games,” Emily said. “I have said this.”

  Chapter 8

  Death Magic

  Thursday

  “Em, it’s Hazel.” The home phone was ringing, interrupting Ingrid and Emily as they relaxed in Ingrid’s apartment. They’d intended to get phones but swung home for Emily to change since she was finally freezing. “Should I answer it?” Ingrid asked.

  “You might as well. I don’t think we’ve done anything lately to make her mad. Not answering it might provoke her.”

  Ingrid nodded and answered the call. “Hi, Aunt Hazel.”

  Emily watched Ingrid’s face change as Hazel spoke. She really wished she knew how to do a spell that would allow her to eavesdrop. She made a mental note to learn that and in the meantime tried to interpret Ingrid’s facial expressions.

  “No. I know. Yes.” Ingrid let out a long sigh and Emily could see the legit heartbreak in her eyes.

  Damn that idiot sheriff, Emily thought. I’m going to have to knock some sense into that fool.

  Ingrid spoke again. “Yes, we broke up. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was sort of hoping we could work it out before I had to talk about it.”

  More blathering from Hazel’s side of the conversation, then Ingrid’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh, yeah, okay. See you in a few minutes.” Ingrid hung up and jumped to her feet, all traces of their relaxing morning vanishing.

  “Hazel is coming. We are supposed to meet her downstairs. She wants to have a word with us about the bookstore. It sounded like a not good sort of word. Like possibly a lecture. Or maybe even an order.”

  Emily groaned. “Ugh. I hate words that require work. Ingrid, the bookshop is a freaking disaster. We can’t let Hazel see it in this condition. She’ll lose her mind and remind us how Aunt Danna would roll over in her grave. She’d continue about how you don't have to practice death magic to know that Aunt Danna’s spirit would be angry with us for the way the store looks right now.”

  Ingrid nodded. “I know. Hurry, let’s take the stairs. It’s down instead of up.”

  Emily snorted. “I refuse to walk up those stairs. Not even to avoid Hazel’s wrath. But down? Down I can do.”

  They raced downstairs and into the bookshop. Hazel was right in her imaginary lecture. The one they’d be getting shortly. The shop was a disaster. Dust everywhere. Piles of books stacked haphazardly on every imaginable horizontal surface.

  “Damn. This is going to take forever.” They hadn’t been in the bookstore since they’d gone to St. Maarten’s. It had been so easy to just plan to do it the next day and then the next and then the next. So months had passed.

  Ingrid looked smug. “Nope. I’ve been practicing useful magic. Cleaning. Watch this.”

  She mumbled something and pointed her fingers toward a bookshelf. Emily watched in amazement and excitement as sparks of magic flew from Ingrid’s fingertips toward the shelf.

  Ingrid explained. “That is a dusting spell.”

  The glimmers of light flitted toward the shelf and got brighter and bigger as they reached their destination. There was a loud crackle and then the entire bookshelf fell, spilling books all over the ground.

  Emily covered her ears and yelled over the commotion. “Uh, that’s an interesting way to dust.”

  “Damn. Damn. Damn,” Ingrid shouted. “That was supposed to work.”

  Emily smiled. “Yeah, that’s what we always say.” Then she saw something move behind the fallen shelf. “Ingrid. Did you see that?”

  “See what? The bookshelf fall over? The bookstore being messier than ever. The future when Hazel shows up and tells us what idiots we are?”

  “No, I think I saw someone. Or something.”

  “In here?” Ingrid asked, alarm in her voice.

  “Yeah, you know, I swear it looked like Dickhead.”

  “Your ex? No way. Oh, come on, Universe. What did we ever do to you? We don’t kill puppies, we try to be nice to people. Why, why? Why do you have to let Dickhead Owen show up and haunt our bookstore?”

  Emily listened to Ingrid complain to the universe. It would have been hard to believe before they’d started driving the Camaro. But now…

  She wanted to move toward the apparition she saw. Wanted to make sure what she saw was not in fact her dead husband. It wasn’t that she was particularly opposed to ghosts. She was just vehemently unwelcoming of her cheating douchebag ex-husband in her bookstore. This was her space. Hers and Ingrid’s. Just because he’d died there didn’t mean he had the right to hang around.

  “No. We need to get him out of here. You keep an eye out for him. I'm gonna find one of our grimoires. I know I saw something one time about capturing spirits. I’m not gonna let this guy mess with my life from the freaking grave. Screw that. I’ll find a way to kill him all the way dead this time.”

  “But Aunt Hazel. She’ll freak about the condition of the shop.”

  “Whatever. I don’t care about that. Owen is way worse than the wrath of my aunt.”

  Emily went to the back of the store where they kept all their reference books, none of which they’d ever bothered to read. She searched through several volumes before she finally found a leather-bound one that had a symbol of a reaper’s scythe on the spine.

  “This is it.”

  “You found it? Like for real?” Ingrid asked. “How’d you find it so fast?”

  “Well, Owen here, our not-so-friendly ghost, is dead, right?”

  Ingrid looked irritated. “Yeah, obviously.”

  Emily went on. “So that means that we need death magic. I remember this book from when I was a kid. My mom had a particular fascination with necromancy.”

  “Necro—what? Isn’t that where people have sex with dead people? That is just disgusting, Emily. I never knew that about your mom. I’m not sure you and I can continue to be friends. I mean, you are related to a total pervert. Your mom was one sick dove.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Gross, Ingrid. That’s a necrophiliac. Totally different thing. A necromancer is someone that can do death magic.”

  “Oh, right. Still sounds creepy, but at least your mom wasn’t some sort of sex-freak.”

  “Anyway, I especially like this book because the pictures are pretty awesome.”

  Ingrid peeked over Emily's shoulder as she flipped through the book. “Um, if by awesome you mean gruesome and horrific.”

  “No, look at this one. We can totally torture Dickhead beyond the grave. We just have to use this spell to trap him, then we can have our way with him.”

  Ingrid put her hands on her hip. “I am not having sex with a dead person. Not even a ghost. And not even to torture Dickhead. I have standards, Emily.”

  Emily laughed out loud. “We are going to make him suffer, Ingrid. And I’ve got the best idea ever. Help me catch him. I need some sage and basil, I think. I can’t exactly read Latin, but it seems like a good guess. We use that for every other spell. That will summon him and then bind him on this plane, according to this book.”

  Ingrid’s turn to roll her eyes. “Emily, we can’t even dust with magic. And you want to summon, bind, and torture someone’s ghost? You think entirely too optimistically. Have you even met us?”

  Emily looked at Ingrid. “I’m done letting this guy mess with me, Ingrid. We have to stop this. Plus, it's good practice. If we can figure out to get rid of Dickhead, we can figure out what to do with my uncle.”

  That got Ingrid’s attention. “Oh, that’s a good point. Talk about a pervert. He’s constantly sexually harassing me. I feel undead fingers in the car. On my neck. In my hair. Down my back. What is it with your family and perverts?”

  “My mom was not a pervert, Ingrid. Death magic. Not sex with dead people. Get it straight.”

  “Whatever. I don’t even know how death magic is different from regular magic.”

  “Obviously, neither do I. I just know that it’s called death magic and that we can use it, in theory, to screw with people who have passed to the other side.”

  “Well, then, what could possibly go wrong?”