Ghost Mysteries & Sassy Witches (Cozy Mystery Multi-Novel Anthology) Read online

  “Zara, what are you doing?”

  I shushed Chet and continued, “What's that, Winona? Close but not quite? Okay, but spell it out. M-O-O-R-E. That's funny. Do you mean the next-door neighbors in the blue house? The Moore Family?”

  “Hmm,” he said.

  I opened my eyes and gave Chet a curious look. “Is it true?”

  “She knew about my work,” he said. His tone was low and cold, guarded.

  “I don't understand. Did Winona Vander Zalm will you her entire fortune to fund the investigation of her murder? If she could see the future, why didn't she just avoid getting murdered?”

  “She wasn't a witch,” Chet said, his face and body as tense as his voice.

  “Then what was she?” My senses buzzed. Something was creeping up on me. I glanced over my shoulder. Nobody was behind me.

  “Careless,” he said. “But that's for me to worry about. Not you. I have everything under control.”

  The buzzing of my senses became audible, and then a cool silk scarf slipped over me. I relaxed and let the spirit take hold of my body.

  “No, you don't have everything under control,” Winona snapped, using my voice. “Chet, you boys need a woman over here to calm down the masculine energy.”

  He shook his head and took a step back. “Ms. Vander Zalm?”

  “That's why I'm willing you my fortune. I know I shouldn't care what happens after I'm dead, but I'd rather not see my life's savings go to the government after I worked so hard to keep it from them all these years. Take the cash and go on a vacation. Start an education fund for Corvin. That little boy needs all the help he can get. Such a strange child.” An icy chill ran through me. “Why not start a scholarship fund for young witches and all the other beasties? Use my money for something good, Chet. And then use your life for something good as well. Don't argue, my dear. I have spoken.”

  The chill in my body turned to electrical pops, energy dissipating. I trembled. She was gone, her recorded words replayed.

  I rubbed my neck. “That was her, Chet. She's gone now. Why didn't you ask her who killed her? You had your chance.”

  “She couldn't have told us,” he said glumly. “The spirits aren't much more than echoes. You should know that.”

  “Right,” I said, nodding. “Like the holograms in the original Star Wars. I know all about that. She must have said all those things to you some other time, right? Do you remember when? Maybe it's significant.”

  He looked up pensively. “I remember it was right here in this kitchen, about a year ago. It was the day she met with her lawyer to change her will. I begged her not to make me her beneficiary, but she didn't listen.”

  “Does your secret employer know about this? I'm no lawyer, but it sounds like a wee bit of a conflict of interest, investigating a murder when you're the prime suspect.”

  He gave me a hurt look. “You can't actually think I'm a suspect.”

  “I don't think that, of course. But what about your boss at the FBI? The guy with the shiny head. What's his name again? Skinner?”

  He shook his head. “I don't work for the imaginary FBI X-Files.”

  I leaned across the counter and rested my chin on my hands. “So, what did you do with the cash? Did you dump all of the old lady's house money into this renovation? These finishings don't look cheap.”

  He looked offended and flattered at the same time. “I've renovated this house over the years, mostly using my own two hands.”

  “What about your father? Does Grampa Don like getting his hands dirty? Would you say he's a hands-on guy? Always getting into your business?”

  He straightened up and squared his shoulders. “The men of the Moore family stick together.” He puffed out his chest. “And as for the money from the estate, I've put it in a charitable fund to help young people. Not that there was very much money left on the table after the smoke cleared.”

  “She had debts?”

  “Ms. Vander Zalm's love of entertaining would have bankrupted her eventually. She'd taken out several loans against the house over the years. If I'd realized the full extent of it, I wouldn't have instructed Dorothy Tibbits to take your ridiculous lowball offer. You practically stole the place.”

  I jerked my head up and took a more assertive stance, hands on hips. “Excuse me? Just because I know how to drive a bargain doesn't mean I stole the place. I bought it fair and square on the open market. And clearly my offer was better than all the others.”

  “There were no other offers,” he said. “Dorothy thought I should wait. She said spring was too hectic and there were too many other houses on the market. She suggested pulling it and re-listing in November. I think she was being lazy, or distracted by trying to sell her own property.”

  “She's a terrible realtor,” I said.

  “She really is awful,” he agreed. “But Winona asked specifically for Dorothy Tibbits in her will.” He poured himself a glass of orange juice and stared at it. “Honestly, just between the two of us, Ms. Vander Zalm had gotten a little kooky toward the end. It wasn't just eating Pop Tarts in the bathtub. She got confused about other things.”

  “I'll say. She confused Dorothy Tibbits with a good real estate agent.”

  Chet winced. “Technically, she requested the real estate services of the dog mascot, Toto. She wanted Toto, the dog, to sell her house.”

  “Is Toto properly licensed as a realtor?”

  “He's not even her dog. He lives with a relative, and she just borrows him for her Dorothy and Toto photo shoots.”

  “That's diabolical,” I said. “Dorothy is more devious than I imagined. You don't suppose she murdered the old woman to get a real estate commission, do you?”

  “She gave me a discount rate,” he said. “She got paid well for the number of hours she put in, but it wasn't exactly kill-for-it money.”

  “Any other suspects? Where are we at on the investigation?”

  “We?” He quirked an eyebrow. “We are at a standstill. We are waiting on new leads. And we are considering closing the case and ruling it an accident.”

  Winona suddenly took hold of me. She and I banged my fist on the stone counter. “Never surrender! Never give up and never surrender!” My throat choked with emotion. “Never surrender!” She banged my fist on the table and said it again and again.

  The world around me narrowed to a tiny pinhole of light. My mouth watered, my knees weakened, and I felt my body buckle.

  Before I lost consciousness, I had one last thought. Is this the original hardwood floor? Then I kissed the floor with my whole face and fainted.

  Chapter 21

  Chet gently revived me from my fainting session. I fluttered my eyelids and closed them again, taking an extra moment to savor the contact. He was sitting cross-legged on his kitchen floor with my head cradled on his lap. His body was warm and soothing.

  “You're okay,” he said, stroking my hair.

  I was more than okay! Sure, the ghostly takeover and subsequent fainting had felt like a dump truck's load of molasses being poured over my head, but having my head in Chet's lap and his hands stroking my hair made it all worth it. I would pack up my things and move into a new haunted house a thousand times to have this moment.

  “Can you talk?” he asked. “Zara, are you yourself again?”

  “Coffee,” I croaked. “I won't be myself until I've had some coffee.”

  He helped me up to my feet. The room undulated around me while my blood pressure regulated.

  “You look normal,” he said.

  “We can't be sure until we've had coffee. And did I see croissants around here somewhere?”

  He chuckled. “Let me whip you up some breakfast. You like fresh fruit salad? It's the least I can do after you've served me two wonderful meals so far—three if we count the pizza when you moved in.”

  I rubbed my temples. My memory was spotty and my vision was hazy, like I was still asleep and dreaming. A handsome wolf-shifter man was making coffee and telling me we cou
ld have fresh fruit salad with our croissants. I had to be dreaming! I pinched my arm. Nothing changed. This was just a thing that happened now in my new life.

  Chet handed me a tray to carry to the table. “We'll be eating in a minute,” he said.

  “Don't let me ruin your regular routine,” I said.

  “You're not ruining anything. You told me you wanted to help with the investigation, and that's what you're going to do. I've got a ton of notes you can help me look over. Maybe Winona will speak up through you again and give us a hint.”

  I started to say I no longer sensed her presence near me but stopped myself. Between my librarian training and my natural flair with research materials, I did have plenty to offer. Even without getting possessed, I could be a fresh set of eyes on the case.

  “Where's Corvin?” I asked. “Does he sleep in on the weekend?”

  “He's off swimming with Grampa Don.”

  “Cool,” I said, nodding. “I've been meaning to check out the recreation center. I hear the pool's gorgeous.”

  Chet smirked. “They're not at the rec center. The Moores prefer the great outdoors.”

  I laughed. “Of course you do.”

  “You can take that tray to the breakfast nook. I'll bring the rest in a minute.”

  I turned to leave and paused. “You have a breakfast nook? I don't have a breakfast nook.”

  “It's the potting shed at your place. I extended our back wall a few years back and turned mine into a solarium.”

  “A breakfast nook,” I said with wonder.

  “You can hire a contractor and catch up.”

  “I'm going to have to run fast to keep up with you, Chet Moore. I may need new running shoes and a head start.”

  He just smiled and rinsed a handful of luscious red strawberries under the tap.

  Chapter 22

  “Mom, wake up. You told me to drag you out of bed on Monday morning no matter what, and it's Monday morning. Rise and shine!”

  “I need a new alarm clock.” I reached out, found her face with my hand, and tweaked her nose. “This one is too chipper, and I can't find the snooze button.”

  She swatted my hand away. “We need to get you an enormously heavy alarm clock that you can't levitate and toss across the room.”

  “I can't help it,” I said. “The magic has a mind of its own. It's wrapped up in my emotions.”

  “You need to get control of yourself. Auntie Z says you need to do drills and exercises.”

  I rolled out of bed and started gathering clothes for work. “What else did Auntie Z say? Did she teach you to do any spells?” Zoey had spent all day Sunday at Zinnia's house, while I'd continued helping Chet with his investigation.

  After my cozy breakfast with Chet on Saturday morning, I helped him pore over the statements and make phone calls to everyone who'd had contact with Winona Vander Zalm during the six months before her demise. It amounted to what seemed like half the town, and nobody volunteered a murder confession or even so much as a death threat. Chet and I both hoped that Winona would take hold of me again and give us a solid clue, but either she knew nothing, or both of us were exhausted from her recent takeovers.

  I hoped Zoey's weekend had been more fruitful than mine.

  “No spells yet,” Zoey said glumly. “She's got me learning about the language in the spellbooks. The language has its own logic. You know how English is usually subject-verb-object? She smashes the alarm clock, for example.”

  “That was an accident.” I grabbed a fresh towel and nodded for her to walk-and-talk me to the bathroom.

  “In the Witch Tongue, it would be more like alarm clock be smashing by tired, angry mother.”

  “That's not entirely inaccurate, but it seems a bit judgmental. Is the Witch Tongue supposed to be subjective?”

  “It's certainly not objective,” she said. “Apparently, people don't hex, curse, or even bless things they feel neutral about.”

  “The magic needs specific instructions, so there aren't any mistakes of interpretation.”

  “Exactly,” Zoey said. “You're catching on quicker than I did. That's how you avoid the monkey-paw irony, like when you wish for money and immediately get a big pile of money, but only because someone you care about is killed and you get their estate.”

  I turned on the water for the shower and checked the temperature. “That gives me an idea,” I said. “Maybe someone was trying to help Ms. Vander Zalm, and they accidentally hurt her. Do you see where the electrical outlets in this room are?”

  Zoey glanced around. There was only one electrical outlet, and it was in a very strange place—high on the wall, on the far side of the door.

  I used my finger to draw a line through the air from the outlet to the top of the bathroom counter. “If she was enjoying Pop Tarts in the tub, she would have had the toaster sitting here on the counter, and plugged in over there. That's why the evil toaster has that weird, extra-long cord. She must have gotten it modified at a small-appliance repair shop.”

  “People repair appliances?”

  “Yes. There's a repair shop not far from where Chet bought you those chocolates.”

  She rubbed her stomach. “Those were so good. Can we go there today after school?”

  “Sure, but don't change the subject.” I pointed at the wall outlet. “If someone came in the door unexpectedly, they would have snagged the cord and flung the appliance into the water.”

  Zoey crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.

  “Mom, I think you've cracked the case.”

  “It's just a theory,” I said. “Go get the toaster from its pit of salty banishment and we'll test it out.”

  Her jaw dropped open.

  “Kidding!” I said. “I'm going to have a shower and go to work. You've got school, and I don't have time to electrocute myself this morning if I want to keep my amazing new job.”

  Zoey shook her head and left me to my shower.

  I jumped in and enjoyed the luxury of the rainhead faucet. I was in steamy paradise for all of five minutes before my peacefulness was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

  “Doorbell!” I yelled.

  The doorbell kept ringing. Who would be ringing our doorbell early on a Monday morning? The chimes sounded again, this time with an urgent edge to their ding-dong. It was almost urgent enough for me to get out of my steamy shower, but not quite.

  “Doorbell!” I repeated. “Zoey, you have one job!”

  Chapter 23

  My steamy shower was interrupted by a voice that sounded a lot like mine.

  “Zara, get out of the shower! This is important!”

  “Hello?” I tapped my temple. “Testing, testing. Is that me telling myself to get out of the shower? Self, stop being cruel. I only just got the water set to the perfect temperature.”

  Someone yanked back the shower curtain. It was Aunt Zinnia, looking more serious than usual, with her thick red hair pulled back in a severe bun. “Why aren't you answering your phone?” she demanded.

  “Because it's not waterproof.”

  We stared at each other, standing off. I sensed—using my amazing powers of observation—that she wasn't going to leave me to my hot shower, so I reluctantly turned off the water and reached for my towel.

  “Why are you here?” I asked. “What's the emergency?”

  “I did a spell,” she said, averting her eyes guiltily.

  “That's what witches do,” I said. “What kind of spell?”

  She coughed and continued looking around the bathroom, avoiding eye contact.

  I fashioned my towel into a stylish wrap and stepped out of the iron tub, keeping an eye out for the toaster. We had the wicked appliance locked away in the basement, buried in a bucket of chunky pavement salt, but it was shaping up to be a strange Monday and a witch can't be too careful.

  Zoey, who'd been standing quietly in the doorway, came into the bathroom and stood right next to Zinnia. “The spell we talked about? But Auntie Z, you said you wer
e going to let me help you cast the spell. No fair!” She stomped one foot in a petulant gesture I hadn't seen her use in years. “You promised I could help,” she cried. To me, she said, “It's a two-witch spell. She told me.”

  “Someone had better start talking specifics,” I said. “Let's try the Prisoner's Dilemma. The first one of you to confess won't get grounded.”

  By the look on Zinnia's face, my joke didn't even register, much less amuse her. This two-witch spell business was serious.

  Zinnia finally met my gaze. The whites of her eyes were red and painful-looking.

  “I opened a hole to the other side,” Zinnia said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “I was only practicing the gestures and incantations, but the magic urged me to do it.” Her bloodshot eyes filled with tears. “I was weak, and I listened to its urgings. I did the spell and opened a hole. I closed it right away, but I don't know what came through.”

  I grabbed her by the shoulders. “What are we talking about here? How bad? On a scale from one to ten, with ten being the freakin' apocalypse, how bad is it that you did this spell?”

  Zinnia winced. “Four and a half?”

  I let go of her shoulders and grabbed my loosening towel-wrap in the nick of time. “Four and a half? That's all?” I waved one hand dismissively. “We can handle that.”

  “Mom,” Zoey said. “Mom!” Her voice was quivering. She was pointing at something behind me.

  I turned around slowly, ready to face something five-and-a-half points short of the freakin' apocalypse.

  What I saw didn't look like anything at first. Just some drippy streaks on the foggy mirror. But as I stared, the words came into focus. Something or someone had written on the bathroom mirror two words: KILLER DINNER.

  Zinnia whimpered, “We're all going to die.”

  Chapter 24

  “Still hung over from last Friday night?” Frank swooshed his hand in front of my face to get my attention. “Did you carry the party through to Saturday and Sunday?”