Curse Me Under the Mistletoe Read online

  Piper didn’t bother to contain her laugh as she reached for the door handle, but she stopped just in time before two older ladies stepped outside first.

  “…heard it was murder,” a silver haired woman exclaimed in horror. She was carrying a cup holder with all four slots filled with drinks. She gave us an apologetic smile before returning to her conversation. “I bet it’s that no-good son-in-law of theirs. Did you see the car that he and Abigail drove into town? Just disgraceful!”

  “Do you remember that horrible fight Norma and Abigail had right before the wedding?” the other woman inquired, never once looking our way as she tossed her question over her shoulder. She had a reddish tint to her stylish hairdo, and it was evident that she had the roots touched up frequently. “Norma warned that girl that Patrick was bad news, even back then. I heard that…”

  My sweet Piper already added in the daughter and son-in-law to that app of hers. Mr. Cornelia did a bit of digging into those two, and it appears that the two of them had been over for dinner the night of Mr. Booneville’s demise.

  “She was carrying a tray of coffees,” Piper pointed out, keeping her voice hushed as we made our way directly to the counter. The layout of this café made it relatively easy to place an order, basically ushering those who waited for their coffee toward the side counter so that the patrons weren’t blocking the entrance. “The other woman had a box of pastries. Maybe they’re heading over to the Booneville residence or maybe the knitting circle.”

  “Well, if they’re talking about the suspected poisoning, so is everyone else,” I presumed, hoping we’d catch some of the gossip flying around about the murder. “Keep your ear low to the ground.”

  There was one woman ahead of us with a group of teenagers. They were only concerned with Christmas shopping, talking amongst each other about what sales were going on in town. There was even mention of driving to the nearest mall, but that was at least a twenty-three-mile drive down the interstate to the next larger town. A part of me felt a bit bad for the mother who would be chauffeuring four teenage girls to the mall all hopped up on caffeine. Maybe they should opt out and go for the hot chocolate instead.

  I completely relate, as I have two of my own to keep up with. I’m not so sure I would have the patience to oversee two more. I’ll go make my rounds now, dear hexed one.

  Piper nudged me a bit, tilting her head ever so slightly to newspaper rack positioned to our right. It had one national newspaper on the second tier, while the local Covered Bridge Gazette held stature on the top. Sure enough, Edgar Booneville’s picture had made the front page on this morning’s edition.

  “Piper, look at that,” I said in a normal tone so that anyone in our vicinity could hear me. It was likely that we’d already drawn a few curious glances since we weren’t from here, but the fact that it was Christmastime would be to our benefit. We’d already come up with a cover story about being from the next town over, wanting to hit some of the local shops for the last-minute sales. “Grandma Tilly was talking about that poor man this morning. He was the lawyer who drew up her will. She couldn’t believe that someone would want to murder such a sweet man.”

  “Mr. Booneville was so nice,” one of the girls gushed as she made no effort to hide the fact that she’d heard me. Her pink lipstick matched the scarf she was wearing, as did her cheeks. “We were all talking about him on the drive over here. What happened to him must have been an accidental poisoning or something like that.”

  “Yeah, like, we were thinking maybe he drank something by mistake,” one of the other girls said, stepping forward when it was their turn in line. She turned back toward us to add one more crucial bit of information. “Mrs. Booneville was always complaining about how her husband never looked up from those contracts he always had in front of him.”

  “Girls.” The mother gave Piper and I both a cautious stare, having realized that we were complete strangers. “Give Marcie your order.”

  Well, that was the end of that scavenger hunt.

  “Don’t mind her,” a woman said behind us, drawing our attention away from the young girls in front of us. “That’s Jill. She doesn’t trust anyone—not even her own husband. And for good reason with that one.”

  Oh, my gracious! I’m gone for one minute, and the two of you have somehow gone and attracted a charlatan. I do hope that Mr. Cornelia is having better luck than we are.

  “Hi,” Piper exclaimed, holding out her hand in greeting. “I’m Piper. This is Lou. We’re here doing a little Christmas shopping, but we just read what happened to that poor man.”

  “Don’t feel too bad, dear. Edgar had the people of this town snowed under year-round…no pun intended. I’m Gracie Lynn Hauver,” the woman replied with a smile. Her bracelets all clinked together when she returned Piper’s handshake. “You’ll want to stop by Go Out In Style, the boutique two blocks down. They’ll be having a thirty percent off flash sale in about twenty minutes.”

  By this time, all the young teens had placed their orders and were now whispering amongst each other that they needed to quickly get to the boutique before anyone else got what they were looking for on sale. The mother, Jill, shot Gracie a rather skeptical glance. It appeared that no one quite knew whether or not to believe if Grace was a bona fide fortune teller.

  If she pulls out a business card, I’m going to guess the latter, dear hexed one.

  “If you’d like to know where the other sales are, feel free to stop by my parlor next to the Four-Leaf Clover.” Gracie had somehow produced said business card without ever reaching into her oversized purse. I’m pretty she’d had it hidden up the sleeve of her flowy emerald green blouse. “I accept donations for my sessions, of course.”

  I feel I should touch on a couple of things, Miss Lilura. The first is that flowy is just a description. Our local fortune teller wears belle sleeves. You might want to brush up on your fashion terminology. As for the donations part of this discussion, she’s basically saying you have the word gullible written across your forehead.

  “We may just do that,” I replied with a smile of my own, taking Gracie’s card and feigning interest in the fact that there was a crystal ball directly in the center of the rectangle. I purposefully let my grin fade and my expression turn into one of worry. “Although, I’m not so sure we should stay around town if someone who lives here is capable of murder. You can’t be too careful.”

  Piper nudged my arm, causing me to look over my shoulder. The barista was waiting impatiently for us to step forward, and we’d also garnered most of the patrons’ attention. No one hid the fact that they were now hanging onto our every word.

  It’s not you or my sweet Piper who has their attention, dear hexed one. The locals may be very vocal about their distrust of their resident fortune teller, but there is a part of them that is quite wary she might actually have the gift. They are eager to hear what she has to say about the murder.

  “I’ve already given my statement to the detectives in charge of the case,” Gracie revealed, waving her hand in the direction of another location. The dramatic flourish caused her bracelets to ring their melodic tune, giving her the theatrical flair she’d wanted all along. “The residents of this town are safe from harm. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  Once again, where is the alien hunter when needed? Our local fortune teller is no witch, nor does she have any gift, as far as I can tell. Therefore, I am not privy to her thoughts. With that said, I do believe that I’ve gotten a hint of wet dog underneath a fairly heavy dose of perfume. Corner table.

  “We’ll have one coffee with a double shot of…”

  Piper placed our order as I zeroed in on the long-haired brunette who was texting on her phone while seemingly waiting for someone to join her, if the second cup of coffee was anything to go by. She was stunningly beautiful with a flawless complexion and full lips that usually came from repeated injections of Botox. In her case, I’m pretty sure it was natural.

  What was a werewolf doing i
n a small town like Covered Bridge?

  I presume Christmas shopping. Most supernatural beings do partake in the holidays. One shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Miss Lilura.

  Piper finished placing our order, so I took out a five and a couple of ones from my coat pocket, leaving the barista a decent tip. We took our place behind the teenagers near the pick-up counter. I made sure to stand at an angle so that I could keep an eye on the she-wolf.

  She-wolf? Well, that’s certainly an appropriate nickname, though I seem to detect a bit of wariness in your tone. I didn’t realize that you were so suspicious of other supernatural beings, dear hexed one.

  I wasn’t in the least distrustful of other supernatural beings. Well, if I discounted Ammeline Letty Romilda, of course. I should definitely have phrased my curiosity in a different way, such as why this particular she-wolf was not with her pack at the moment. Pearl would have picked up the scent the moment we crossed into town had this been a sanctuary for an actual den of werewolves.

  I guess when you put it that way, a bit of wariness is warranted. Our she-wolf seems to be done waiting for her guest. She’s collecting her belongings, Miss Lilura. Would you like me to follow her?

  This case had taken a turn that we hadn’t expected, somehow including a bogus fortune teller and a she-wolf in the blink of an eye. I’d held out hope this was an easy mystery to solve. It appeared I wasn’t going to get my Christmas wish this year, so I reluctantly agreed that the best course of action was to allow Pearl to follow one of these leads.

  Your Christmas wish could still come true, dear hexed one. Never lose hope. Now, off I go to see if I can scrounge up a Christmas miracle for us all!

  Chapter Three

  “Can you send a text to Orwin?” I requested, sipping my hot beverage to help stave off the winter chill. We’d collected our drinks and exited the tea shop, waiting to talk freely after the door had closed behind us. The first thing Piper had done was pull out her phone to input the supposed seer’s name and description of the unknown girl into her app. “Ask him to try and find out what Gracie Lynn told those detectives. She made it sound as if she actually had some kind of information on who might have murdered Edgar.”

  I’d already looked around the area discreetly, but I didn’t notice anything amiss. With that said, there was something about having another werewolf around this case that made me feel itchy, and it wasn’t because of a bad case of the fleas.

  Was that a joke, dear hexed one? It did make me smile for a moment.

  “What are you doing back so soon?” Piper asked, having already slipped her phone back inside her pocket. How she hadn’t spilled her tea was beyond me. “Where did she go?”

  Our little she-wolf walked over to the diner, where she joined a friend. Are we heading for the knitting shop?

  Piper and I exchanged glances of skepticism at the way Pearl had answered and immediately changed topics. There hadn’t been enough time to make any kind of assessment regarding the she-wolf. I could only imagine the reaction we were going to get once Little Miss Wolfy got a sniffer full of our guy. The fur would surely hit the fan then.

  Oh, look, my sweet Piper! It’s an elf handing out chocolate. Isn’t that just charming?

  Sure enough, a tiny woman around five feet tall had dressed up as an elf and was standing outside a chocolate and fudge shop called Chocoholics Reunion. It was a cute name, and the chocolates were even more adorable in the shape of candy canes. Piper immediately took one with a promise to return, explaining we were on our way to the knitting shop. I did my best to ignore the temptation, but the delightful elf had a way about her that made it hard to say no. Chocolate and coffee together should fall under one of the seven deadly sins, but I would gladly take a trip to Hades in a one horse open sleigh if I could eat one of these delicious morsels every single day.

  Here we are! Oh, look at that colorful yarn. I’ve got a hankering to unwind that ball of mesmerizing sparkles for some odd reason.

  I swallowed the last bit of melted chocolate on my tongue, realizing that Piper and I had been duped by a very cunning familiar. She’d used our love of delectable treats to avoid answering why the she-wolf wasn’t important to our case any longer. The topic would have to be shelved for five minutes while Piper and I paid a visit to one of Norma Booneville’s employees.

  “Good morning,” an older woman called out with a smile from behind the counter. “Please take a look around. Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions.”

  “Thank you,” Piper called out, leaving my side and immediately making her way over to a bin of yarn that consisted of every Christmas color splashed on a tree. “This is perfect!”

  There were two customers waiting in line to check out, as well as two others browsing the inventory of yarn. Piper was oohing and ahhing over the inventory, causing me to wish I’d taken the task of staking out the Booneville residence myself. I couldn’t help but smile at the picture of Knox standing in a shop like this, frozen with fear and surrounded by admiring old ladies.

  These colors are just darling, aren’t they?

  Pearl had just tipped her hand, because there was no way she was going to allow Piper to stock up on yarn. We’d end up looking like twins in a knitting nightmare featuring matching hats, mittens, and scarves.

  I have no idea what you’re referring to, dear hexed one. Do you see that silver ball of yarn? I was hoping to get Piper to make a knitted hat with little foil antennas for the alien hunter as a gift from me. I think it would be a rather clever gift, if I do say so myself.

  “…just awful,” one of the women said in a hushed voice. “I heard that Esther and Sandra went over to Norma’s house with some pastries. I think those two busybodies just went over there to see what the detectives had to say about the autopsy report.”

  The other woman concurred, but it was Piper who now had my attention when she handed me her phone. I held my coffee cup in my left hand while I took the cell phone from her, reading Orwin’s reply about the local fortune teller.

  By the look on your face, dear hexed one, it appears as if Mr. Cornelia might have just granted you a Christmas wish.

  “Piper, I’ll be right back,” I said, nodding to the ladies who were still discussing Edgar Booneville’s death. I made sure to hand Piper her phone back. “I like the black yarn with the silver thread. Pearl likes the red and blue one.”

  Heaven to Betsy! I uttered not one word about…

  One point to me in whatever game it was that Pearl was playing by not sharing information about the she-wolf. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t figure out what was going on sooner rather than later, but right now I needed to speak with Orwin. His text indicated that he’d veered away from the detectives to chase down a lead on our local fortune teller.

  I scanned the shops that were lined up across the street, looking for one called the Four-Leaf Clover. Sure enough, the hand-painted green little weed wasn’t hard to miss on the display window. I finally spotted Orwin and quickly made my way across the street toward him.

  “Hey,” I called out, my lungs aching as I breathed in too much of the cold morning air. “What did you find out?”

  “I found out that this town has the best blueberry scones I’ve ever tasted,” Orwin replied, holding up an empty napkin. There wasn’t the slightest crumb left. “Whoever makes them over at the bakery could win one of those television shows that Piper always streams on her laptop.”

  I would have mentioned the chocolate candy canes, but I was afraid we’d never get to the heart of the matter at hand. Even now, my taste buds were salivating for more.

  “Right,” Orwin said after I’d given him a pointed look. “I’m going to go see a fortune teller. Apparently, Detectives Hadden and Fisher believe that she might have something to do with Edgar Booneville’s death. Long story short, her lease is up at the end of the year.”

  “You mean, end of the year as in two weeks from now?”

  “Yep,” Orwin replied with an affirmative
nod. “Gracie Lynn believes that her contract offered her the option of staying for an additional year, but the landlord said he can override that addendum—which he did in the time stipulated. The fortune teller apparently reached out to good ol’ Edgar to look over the contract, but he agreed that the landlord would win should she take it to court. Let’s just say that she wasn’t happy, and there might have been a very public scene at the diner between them not too long ago. Oh, and get this…the landlord told the detectives that he thinks Gracie Lynn put a curse on Edgar. Can you imagine?”

  “A curse? Like she would even be able to do such a thing.”

  Where have I heard that one before? In all seriousness, though, I guess it made sense. Anytime someone was a bit different from what they believed was the norm, people became wary. Rumors would get started, gossip would circle, and then a person’s life could burst into flames…all because they were a little odd.

  Unfortunately, Gracie Lynn Hauver wasn’t helping those innocent people out by pretending to be something she wasn’t just to make twenty dollars by providing bogus readings. I did a double take at the sign in the window. Twenty dollars?

  “You read it right.” Orwin shook his head at the expensive payment, although the smaller print did say that it was simply a donation and that the so-called reading was entirely for entertainment purposes. “I’m trying really hard not to be insulted here.”

  I completely understood Orwin’s stance on the subject, because Gracie Lynn was basically making a mockery of our way of life. We needed to look past that, though, and determine if she was actually capable of murder.

  “Anyone is capable of murder,” Orwin simply stated, as if he truly believed that sentiment. He shrugged before tossing the balled-up napkin into a barreled trashcan. “Why are you staring at me like that? It’s completely true.”

  “Because I think that Pearl set her sights on the wrong target,” I muttered, shaking my head at Orwin’s cynicism. “And yes, I’m totally throwing you under the bus. I’ve had enough knock-knock jokes to last me a lifetime. Hey, after you’re done paying your hard-earned twenty bucks to see if Gracie Lynn actually did murder Edgar, would you take a walk down to the diner? There’s a she-wolf in town, and I’d like to know why. Pearl is pretty sure that the woman is alone, although she did meet up with a non-supernatural friend. I think. I honestly don’t know, because Pearl is being tight-lipped about what she found out.”