A Murder Most Rosy: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 3) (4 page)

I called the kids to attention, making them group up in front of the stage. This was less like herding cats than it was like herding hungry tigers. Their beady little eyes told me they could smell my fear, and it made them hungry.

One boy about Cooper’s age with an obnoxious, upturned nose asked, “Who are you?” He then wrinkled said nose like he’d smelled something bad.

“Replacement for your dead teacher.”

That stunned them into silence. I didn’t doubt that every kid there knew about Kara— probably knew more than me, to be honest— but they clearly weren’t expecting me to be so blunt. I wasn’t sure what was considered tactless, but I knew I had to solidify myself in a place of power for them to listen to me.

“Right, then,” I said, pacing in front of them. “I’ll be your new director. My name’s Harper Beck, and if you call me Ms. Beck, you’ll stay behind in detention.” There were a few nervous laughs at that. “I’ve been well briefed on your progress.” Sort of. “So, let’s get started.”

The same kid with the nose raised his hand. “Ms. Nittleman always had us do acting exercises before starting.”

Well, Ms. Nittleman is dead, isn’t she?
I curled my lips against the urge to say that. Instead, I said, “You must be Chase.”

He nodded, and I continued, “Well, Chase, that sounds like a really dumb idea.”

Outright laughter broke out at that, and it took all of my willpower not to laugh with them. Really, I didn’t have much more maturity than the kids in this room.

To my surprised relief, the students didn’t need too much help to run-through the show. Everyone had a job, whether it was acting or helping, and the whole thing ran like a well-oiled machine. I found myself silently thanking the late Ms. Nittleman.

So, instead of watching the horrible rendition of Shakespeare, I watched Cooper watch the Anna girl. She was the same angelic blonde I’d noted on center stage earlier that day. I hadn’t had the chance to talk to her yet, but if Cooper’s mooning was anything to go by, she was probably a perfectly nice girl.

While I was busy with Cooper’s little crush, I didn’t notice a short man with a sweater vest and glasses until he was right on me. He stuck out his hand and smiled at me.

“Sorry I’m late. Norbert Mason. I teach math, and I’ve been—was helping Kara.”

I shook his hand firmly, feeling an instant camaraderie with him. He was to be my fellow soldier in the trenches. Us against the tiny humans.

“Harper Beck. I own the Funky Wheel.”

Standing beside me, he motioned to the crowd of kids. “Which one’s yours?”

“Uh,” I stammered, and then pointed Cooper out. “That one. He’s kind of a loner, though.”

Norbert’s— who names their kid that, anyway?— smile was wiped clean off his face. At first, I didn’t know what I’d said to turn him off so, and then I heard the clack-clack of heels walking down the aisle.

He leaned in a little close for comfort, but I couldn’t work up any discomfort. “Mrs. Wiser— Chase’s mom. She’s very… spirited.”

A tall woman with striking features and a regality I’d never possessed stopped in front of me. There was an air about her that I immediately hated. It took me back to my childhood, to the parents and children who had looked down their noses at my mother and I. Speaking of noses, she had the same one as her son and— I found out after she opened her mouth— the same attitude.

“And just who would you be?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “The new director.”

Her lips twisted unpleasantly at that before forming an unfriendly smile. “Funny. I was under the impression that I was next in line for the job.”

I thought back to my meeting with the principal. She’d been plenty desperate, so there had to be a good reason she didn’t hand the auditorium over to Mrs. Wiser. Not that I could blame her. The woman
did
look like the type to eat her young.

“You’ll have to take that up with Mrs. Winston.”

Sorry, Mrs. Winston
.

“I will,” she said with a sniff and then beckoned her son forward. “Come along, Chase.”

When they were both out of earshot, Norbert spoke again. “She’s been after the job for ages. Mostly to brag to her PTA friends about.”

A couple minutes later, we dissolved the practice. The kids were out of the room before I could even think about clean-up, which left me, Cooper, and Norbert with a whole stage full of crap to stuff elsewhere.

Norbert, for his part, didn’t seem to mind. He chattered in my ear the whole time, pausing briefly, so I could answer a few of the multitude of questions he shot my way. Apparently, I was very interesting.

Before we turned off the lights and left, Norbert grabbed my hand in a lingering farewell shake. Normally, I wouldn’t have let it go on, but his face was just so harmless and cheerful that I didn’t see the harm.

While walking to my illegally-parked bug, Cooper said with a frown, “Mr. Mason likes you.”

“I’m a likable person,” I told him and drove us home.

I rolled out of my own bed the next morning— a rarity— and left my loft almost immediately. I’d been at Wyatt’s too late last night, and that meant I was off to a late start on my plans for the day. Breaking into other’s homes is not something to be rushed.

Whistling to myself, I pranced down the stairs, enjoying the last tendrils of my good mood. Upon seeing my orange bug, I stopped dead, almost tripping over my own feet in my haste.

Inside the cab were about ten different bouquets, all filled to the brim with roses. It looked like someone had started their own little love garden in my beat-up bug. Racking my brain, I tried to think of anything Wyatt had done to piss me off
this
much in the recent past.

Nothing came to mind. Plus, Wyatt wasn’t really a flowers kind of man, and I appreciated that. Flowers were overdone, in my opinion— thoughtless. I preferred his personalized gifts.

Opening the door, the fresh scent hit me like a fist to the face. I rummaged around, looking for a card or something, but nothing appeared. Of its own accord, my stomach grew small and hardened into a cold, nervous ball.

Before I panicked too much, I pulled out my cell and dialed Wyatt. For the first time, his brusque, movie-like greeting didn’t make me smile; I was too wound up.

“Did you put flowers in my car?”

All business disappeared from his tone, and he became very wary. “No… Should I have?”

Without a word, I pulled all the flowers out, throwing them onto the ground. I didn’t leave a petal behind, not wanting any trace left in my car. Mr. Bunson’s words about Kara receiving flowers from an unknown benefactor blared through my head through a loud speaker.

“What’s going on, Harper?”

“Nothing,” I said, and then winced, because it was probably the least convincing lie I’d ever told.

“Right.” The single word was bit out. He drew in a deep breath and then let it go slowly. “Wherever you’re going, whatever you’re doing, just please don’t. I love you— god, but some days I wish I didn’t. If anything happened...”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” I said firmly, despite being a little shaken.

Though this wasn’t the first time Wyatt had told me he loved me, it always struck me right in the gut. I’d been alone for so long, and I wanted his love so much that now that I had it, I was scared beyond reason to lose it. I think that was part of the reason I hadn’t said it back.

A couple times I’d been ready to, the words right there on the tip of my tongue. Smiling at me, Wyatt shook his head and took my hand.

“I don’t need you to say it to know you feel it,” he’d told me.

Unspoken between us was that it would’ve been nice to hear it aloud.

“I can’t promise not to sleuth,” I said, kicking myself once again for not telling the man how I felt.

A heavy, knowing sigh. “Then just tell me before you do anything, alright? I’ll back you up.”

Of course he would, I thought, because he was a good man. A good man who loved me.

I hung up the phone and got into the newly-cleaned bug. It’d taken only minor digging through the phone book to find Kara’s address. Unlike most Waresville citizens, she lived almost fifteen miles outside city limits.

It took about twenty minutes to get there, and by the time I did, I was all worked up about Wyatt and the worrisome flowers. Couldn’t I have one normal mystery? Hell, couldn’t I have one normal day?

Thoughts of letting sleeping dogs lie raced through my mind. It’d be the first time I’d ever walked away from a case, but maybe I could do it. For Wyatt, at the very least. If the flowers turned out to be a deadly foreshadowing, I’d be leaving him and Cooper behind. Was I prepared to do that even if it meant bringing a killer to justice?

Whatever my inner doubts, I left the safety of my car and magicked the door open with shaking fingers. The release of power flowing out of me made me tense, bringing back memories that were best left dead.

The inside of the house was immaculately groomed, leaving me to think Kara hadn’t spent much time here. She was a teacher, after all— married to her job. There was nothing really new or nice in the house, but all the furnishings had been taken good care of, making it feel homey and approachable.

I walked into the kitchen, and my entire perception about the state of the house was tilted on an axis. If I’d thought my car had been jam-packed with flowers, I now realized that’d been a conservative amount.

There, in Kara’s kitchen, were at least a thousand roses—conservatively. A couple looked brand new, their petals still a deep, healthy red. They couldn’t have been more than a day old. Others were rotting and wilting, dirt and coffee grinds on them like someone had tried to throw them away, but they’d come back— on their own or by the force of another, I wasn’t sure.

Those were two distinct possibilities you had to take into account when you were in a town like Waresville. The place thrived off of spooky bus tours and magic shops. We boasted being the most supernatural place in Florida— but usually only after a couple of drinks.

Along with the flowers, boxes of chocolates littered every available surface. These, too, looked like someone had tried—desperately— to get rid of them, but hadn’t had a lick of success.

Trying to shake off my sense of impending doom, which was really too hyperactive these days, I headed upstairs to take a look at her bedroom. Like every room but the kitchen, the bedroom seemed completely normal. Not a flower was in sight except for the pattern on her comforter.

I smoothed my fingers over the material, trying to think through a lifetime of reluctant magical knowledge. Unfortunately, all I got was the feeling that magic was involved— not overly impressive in Waresville.

Taking my hand away, a small pouch fell out from under Kara’s pillow. It was a new burlap material that was sewn together with the same thread doctors used on stitches. I was all too painfully familiar with that thread.

Prying it open, I had to juggle to keep the contents from overflowing onto the floor. Tons of flowers and herbs— none of them roses— tried to get past my blocking. They were all mixed in so well, and minced as far as I could tell, that it was impossible make out what any of them were.

One element that needed no studying brushed up against my hand, making me cringe. It was a single, blood-soaked tooth. And if my hunches were worth anything, I’d bet it’d belong to Kara.

Holding the bag together so nothing would fall out, I rushed out to my car. I almost tripped down the stairs and bit back a curse when I realized all of the flowers I’d thrown away had reappeared in the cab. Instead of wasting time on throwing them out again, I just pushed them over and drove as fast as I could.

My grandmother’s house was an off-white plantation-style home on top of the biggest hill in Waresville. Being one of the oldest homes in the town and sitting next to the other oldest homes, it was a popular stop for the tour buses.

Luckily, I didn’t have to contend with them today, sliding into a parking spot next to my grandma’s barely-used sedan. I breathed a sigh of relief when I noted that Wyatt’s car wasn’t there.

A couple months ago, my scary grandmother and Wyatt had come to an agreement about him dating me. Now, because of that agreement, he came over in his spare time to mow the lawn and patch up things around the house. The old broad wasn’t making things easy for him, either. I was coming to suspect she was breaking things just so she could make my boyfriend fix them.

That was Gran for you.

I entered without knocking, and she appeared in her token red robe like the devil being summoned. Giving me an unhappy look at my barging in, she went into the kitchen and poured herself some tea. I didn’t hold my breath for her offering me anything. She was weird about people drinking from her glasses.

Instead of a traditional greeting, I set the bag between us and asked, “What’s this?”

She spared it the measliest of glances, and said, “Can’t that man of yours keep you out of trouble for five minutes?”

“He tries his best.” I wasn’t in the mood for games, especially when Wyatt could show up at any moment. “Do you know what it is?”

The look she shot me told me to watch my step. “Of course. It’s a gris-gris bag. Haven’t seen one in a while.”

I wasn’t sure quite how old Gran was. A neighbor— who was now a frog (by her own doing)— had insinuated that she was almost immortal and had lived for at least a couple hundred years. As the woman got touchy about me drinking from her cups, I’d never pressed the age issue.

But, at times like these, I wasn’t sure if she was talking years, decades, or centuries when she said “a while.”

She saved me from answering by shrugging and saying, “But I suppose it’s on your internet now— common knowledge. Everything is.”

Not true at all, but I suspected she was just exaggerating.

“Once again,” I said, “it’s not my internet. If it was my internet, I sure wouldn’t be stuck in this town, working my hands to the bone.”

Dismissing me with a wave of her hand, she shuffled through the contents of the gris-gris. “Powerful concoction.”

“What’s it meant to do?”

“Induce true love.” She snorted at that. “Amateur made. Most definitely a warlock’s work.”

Well, that ruled out the snotty Mrs. Wiser as the killer. I wished, for once, that I could just find someone without first eliminating half of the town.

“But you just said it was powerful,” I pointed out.

Her eyes were almost opaque when she looked at me, focused inward and a million miles away. “Only one young and inexperienced would try to induce love. It never works. Love is not something so fickle or simple that it can be influenced by mortal magic.”

When Gran said things like “mortal magic” it gave me the chills. You could hear the years in her voice, and it made me tired and a little bit afraid.

She refocused on me and some of that age receded. “You may go now. I will keep the sack safe here.”

That didn’t sound like a suggestion, so I reluctantly got up and headed back out to my bug. I’d hoped to get the tooth to the police somehow— without revealing how I’d broken in and stolen it. Until I worked that out, though, I supposed the best place for the thing was at Grandma’s.

The drive to Wyatt’s took no time at all, and before I knew it, I was sitting at the table. Surprisingly, the house was deserted, even though Cooper should’ve been home from school half an hour ago.

I didn’t have time to work myself into a panic, though, because a couple minutes later, he walked through the door. His face was forlorn, and he dropped his backpack at the door— something the neat child never does.

“Hey, Coop,” I said, not looking up from the newspaper as he got himself a bowl of cereal. “How was school?”

“It’s lame when parents ask that.”

And here I thought I was the coolest.

Instead of arguing the point, I said, “That bad, huh?”

He collapsed into the chair next to me with all the dramatics of an almost teenager. I was so proud. The boy was really going to give Wyatt and I a run for our money when puberty took hold.

“She doesn’t know I exist,” he said miserably.

Ah. Girl troubles. Though I’d signed on to be his wingman, I couldn’t help but feel I was underqualified for the job. I had very little experience in picking up women, after all, and even less in grade school crushes. At least from a male point of view.

“Have you introduced yourself?”

He looked at me like I was stupid.

“Okay, let’s start there. Just walk up and say hi. She’ll be thrilled, trust me.”

Wyatt walked through the door at that moment, leaving Cooper to ponder my knowledge in silence. For such a smart boy, he could be a real idiot sometimes.

Focusing on my love life instead of Cooper’s, I realized Wyatt hadn’t said hi to me, heading straight upstairs after entering the house. Maybe I had to give my advice to him, too.

I followed him up and intercepted him in his bedroom where he was talking off his work suit— likely to change into his casual suit or some such nonsense. I was momentarily distracted by his sharp features and icy eyes.

“Noticed the flowers in your car,” he said stiffly, undoing his tie with jerky movements.

“Jealous?”

“Worried,” he bit out. “Is it about Ms. Nittleman?”

“She didn’t put them in my car, if that’s what you were wondering.”

If I’d have been a true lady, my ears would’ve been burnt to a crisp. Realizing he’d sworn in front of me, Wyatt apologized.

I shrugged off his apology. “Mama always said you shouldn’t keep it in. Used to give her indigestion.”

His head lilted to the side, most of his anger disappearing. “You don’t talk about your mother.”

This conversation was broaching into dangerous waters. I didn’t like to talk about my past for good reason— it was unpleasant and in the past. I wanted it to stay there.

“Huh,” I said, walking toward the door. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Where are you going?”

“To spy on Officer Kosher,” I told him without an ounce of remorse. “I found a gris-gris bag at Kara’s, and Gran said it’s the work of a warlock. That, and his attachment to the victim, make him a prime suspect.”