Witchin' USA (A Moonstone Bay Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read online

  “And who is that?”

  “I have no idea, but we’ve officially gone from two victims to three in as many months, so I’m pretty sure this case is going to get the bulk of my attention from here on out.”

  I was determined to remain strong and unfazed, but the admission was enough to knock the air out of me. “Three victims?”

  “In three months,” Galen confirmed. “The thing is … your grandmother was the first victim.”

  It was as if he took a stick and used it to knock my legs out from under me.

  “Oh, yeah.” Galen was seemingly unbothered. “We have a serial killer on the loose.” He clapped his hand to my bare shoulder. “Welcome to Moonstone Bay.”

  And I thought the worst thing to happen to me today would be figuring out how to use the strange coffee pot.

  3

  Three

  “That can’t be right.”

  My mind revolted even as my heart skipped a beat. The hot police officer wouldn’t stop staring, and my brain apparently didn’t want to fire on all cylinders. It wasn’t an attractive combination.

  “Well, last time I checked, I know how to read a coroner’s report correctly,” Galen argued, clearly missing my distress. “I’m pretty sure I’m right. Now, I know that women like to be right above all else, but this time I think you’re wrong.”

  “But … .” I tripped over my tongue as I tried to center my thoughts. “She had cancer. Booker said that. He said that she was sick and everyone on the island was spending time with her so she wouldn’t be alone.”

  Galen’s expression shifted as he pinned me with an unreadable look. “That is true,” he confirmed. “May had cancer. She was fighting it. In fact, she was putting up a brave fight before it happened.”

  “Before what happened?”

  “You don’t know any of this, do you?” Galen shook his head as he rested his hand on my shoulder, the warmth associated with the gesture centering me. “Sit down.” He gestured toward a spot in the shade under an oversized palm tree.

  I’m not one for doing as others instruct for no apparent reason, but I didn’t put up an argument. Galen waited until I was settled before continuing.

  “May was sick for a long time,” Galen started. “She didn’t have an easy fight – not that anyone with cancer can ever say that – but she was very weak. She had unbelievable strength of character, though, so she wasn’t about to lie down and let something bad happen to her.

  “She was going through chemotherapy and the doctors were hopeful,” he continued. “She didn’t have a firm prognosis, but the doctors thought they could extend her life – and not in a way that would’ve made one question the wisdom associated with the decision.”

  “Meaning she would’ve had good quality of life,” I surmised. “So … what happened?”

  “First, let me ask you something,” Galen prodded. “Didn’t you ever ask the people who informed you of May’s death how she died? She wasn’t a young woman by any stretch of the imagination, but she wasn’t old and decrepit either.”

  “I didn’t think about it,” I admitted, rubbing my sweaty palms over my bare knees. “I didn’t know her. She was an ideal more than anything else. I wondered about my mother’s mother, but since I didn’t know my own mother it wasn’t something I dwelled on.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Galen’s voice gentled. “I assumed you got to spend some time with her.”

  “You know what they say about people who assume things, right?”

  “Yes, that we make wonderful cops.” Galen let loose a lopsided smile as his dimple came out to play. “I’m sorry I made the wrong assumption. I’m also sorry you never got a chance to get to know May. She was a treasure.

  “As for her death, she wasn’t winning, but she wasn’t losing either,” he continued. “A woman who was spending time with May – Bonnie, in fact – arrived at the house to check on her one morning. She was dead, cold in the bed.

  “At first we thought she died of complications from the cancer. Still, we had the medical examiner run a few tests just to be on the safe side. It turns out May’s death didn’t have anything to do with cancer and everything to do with poison.”

  My unsettled stomach flipped. “Poison?”

  “Hemlock, to be exact.”

  “I’m not sure what that is, but I’m sure you know better than me.” I ran a hand through my morning tousled hair and rested my chin on my knees. “So you don’t have a suspect?”

  “Not at present,” Galen replied. “However, the deceased – three women, all in the same age group, all prominent property owners here on the island – give me the idea that this is bigger than I initially thought.”

  “You didn’t think it was a big deal when May Potter died?”

  “I did, but I also thought it might’ve been something like a mercy killing,” Galen answered. “I thought maybe someone close to her believed May was in pain and tried to ease her suffering.”

  “What about the second victim?”

  “Winifred Chase. She was sick, too. Her son found her dead in bed, and I almost let it go. She looked as if she was at death’s door for twenty years, so it wouldn’t have surprised me at all if she’d slipped away in the dead of night.

  “Still, I decided to gather a blood sample, and it just came back from the lab about a week ago,” Galen continued. “She was poisoned, too.”

  “Hemlock?”

  “Nightshade.”

  “What does that tell you?”

  “That someone is hunting senior citizens on my island and I don’t like it.” Galen shifted his position so he could lock gazes with me. “I really am sorry for telling you the way I did. I thought you knew.”

  “It seems I don’t know much of anything.”

  “This hasn’t been much of a welcome for you.”

  “I used to live in a suburb of Detroit. I’m used to worse.”

  “That makes me inexplicably sad.” Galen gripped my forearm and tugged me to a standing position, automatically dusting off the bottom of my shorts as if I were a child before catching himself. “Um … sorry. You can probably do that yourself, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I finished the task while searching his face for clues. “So what happens now?”

  “Now the medical examiner takes photos and collects the body,” Galen replied. “Then two of my men will spend the day on the beach combing for evidence.”

  “Do you expect to find any?”

  “Probably not.”

  “You still have to do it, right?”

  “Pretty much,” Galen confirmed. “Technically we don’t have any evidence tying Bonnie’s death to that of your grandmother and Winifred.”

  “You believe otherwise.”

  “I think the odds of three women in the same age group dying in a way that’s not connected – especially in such a short time frame – have to be long.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “When will you know for sure?”

  “Hopefully by tomorrow. I’ll have the coroner put a rush on the labs.”

  “Will you call me when you know?” I felt a bit needy, even somewhat whiny, asking the question. That didn’t stop me from yearning for a response.

  “I’ll call you,” Galen promised. “As soon as I have answers of any kind, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “YOU MUST BE Hadley Hunter.”

  It seemed my arrival was common knowledge and apparently everyone knew I was not only in town but also what I looked like. That’s exactly what I found when I took a break from the lighthouse – and watching law enforcement tirelessly scour the beach – and headed into town.

  Moonstone Bay was full of kitsch and cheese, and I made it only a few blocks before I needed a break. I popped my head into the nearest tiki bar – there were four as far as I could tell – and grabbed a stool at the bar.

  The woman behind the bar, a perky blonde with a set of the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen, immediately headed in my direction when she saw me
. She was already speaking before I had a chance to order.

  “I’m Hadley,” I confirmed, doing my best to keep from scowling. I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the residents, after all. It wasn’t the bartender’s fault that I found a dead body on my property less than twenty-four hours after hitting town. “I take it there’s been some sort of memo sent out about me or something, huh?”

  “The library board put together a newsletter.” The bartender beamed as my smile slipped. “And I’m kidding. I’m Lilac Meadows. This is my bar.”

  My mouth dropped open, myriad thoughts vying for top billing in my busy brain. “Your name is Lilac Meadows?”

  Lilac nodded. “It is.”

  “Is that your real name?”

  “As opposed to what, my stripper name?”

  I didn’t want to admit that was the first thing that popped into my head. “It’s just … I’m from Detroit. People don’t have fun names like that in Detroit. It must be an island thing.”

  “Yeah, that must be it,” Lilac said dryly, shaking her head. “Still, despite the laughing I’m sure you’re hiding so I don’t yank out your hair, I get it. What can I get you?”

  “I’ll just have an iced tea with lemon if you have it.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I watched Lilac work, taking the occasional glance around the empty bar before speaking. “Is it normal for things to be this dead?”

  “We’re between tourist groups right now,” Lilac explained, sliding the iced tea in front of me. “Basically our busy period is Wednesday through Sunday. Then, on Mondays and Tuesdays we have quiet days before starting all over again.”

  “So no one ever stays more than five days?” That sounded odd. If I were going to fly to a tropical island for a vacation I’d want to stay a lot longer than five days.

  “They do,” Lilac answered. “Mondays and Tuesdays are simply quiet by comparison.”

  She said the words, but I wasn’t sure I believed them. Still, arguing about busy days on a tourist island was pretty low on my to-do list. “I’m still learning my way around,” I offered. “In fact, this is my first trip downtown.”

  “I thought Booker gave you a tour.” Lilac wrinkled her nose. “He said he gave you a tour. If he dropped you in the middle of island madness without a tour … .”

  I cut her off with a shake of my head. “He drove me around. He even carried my luggage inside. It’s not the same as exploring on your own, though.”

  “Did he take you in the bus?”

  I nodded. “I didn’t think buses like that still existed.”

  “They shouldn’t, but Booker refuses to give it up. He’s a bit traditional that way.”

  “Traditional?” I rolled the word through my head. “That’s not the word I’d use to describe him.”

  “What word would you use? Wait, let me guess … hot. You thought he was hot, didn’t you?” Lilac’s eyes lit with mirth. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone thinks he’s hot.”

  “He’s definitely hot.” I wasn’t embarrassed to admit it, especially with Lilac’s personality so bubbly and warm. “In fact, I’ve decided you guys must have something in the water because I’ve met exactly two guys and they’ve both been freakishly hot.”

  Lilac was intrigued. “Who else did you meet?”

  “Galen Blackwood.”

  Lilac snorted. “Oh, you have had a busy two days. You crossed paths with our two most eligible bachelors. They always earn a lot of female attention.”

  “I’m not interested,” I cautioned. “I’m simply commenting on the fact that they’re hot. Their personalities leave a bit to be desired.”

  “They’re men, honey. They can’t stop themselves from being total turds when they open their mouths.”

  “Not all men are like that.”

  “You’re right,” Lilac conceded. “The gay ones are better.” She seemed distracted when she tapped on the bar. “You know what? You haven’t had a proper tour of town yet and this place is dead, how about I show you around?”

  It was a nice offer, but I didn’t want to be responsible for tearing Lilac away from her work. “Oh, you don’t have to.”

  “I want to.” Lilac untied her apron and placed it on the bar. “Come on. We haven’t had a new resident for a long time. You need a tour if you’re going to understand.”

  That was an odd thing to say, even odder than the other weird things I’d heard since arriving on the world’s quirkiest island. “What do I need to understand?”

  Lilac’s smile was enigmatic. “Just about everything.”

  “SO, WE’VE BEEN through the stores, restaurants and government offices,” Lilac said two hours later. “What else do you want to see?”

  Being a Michigan transplant, I had trouble focusing on Lilac’s voice at a certain point due to the heat. I was at a point where I struggled to pretend the oven-like temperature and the wall of humidity didn’t bother me. It was a bona fide theatrical extravaganza, but Lilac barely broke a sweat. I didn’t want her to think I was some sort of weakling. “I don’t know. Is there anything else to see?”

  Lilac shrugged as we turned down a side street. “I don’t think so, but … let me give it a second and really think about it. We’ll walk around the block while I’m doing that. There’s a great view of the dock at the end of this street.”

  Great. More walking. That was the last thing I wanted. I heaved a sigh and wiped my forearm against my forehead as I forced a smile. “I love a good view.”

  Lilac cast me a sidelong look as she slowed her pace and handed me the oversized bottle of water she carried. “I forgot that it takes some folks time to acclimate to the weather. I’m so used to it that I don’t even notice.”

  I’m fussy about sharing drinks with people – you know, that whole backwash thing is gross – but I was so desperate for hydration that I would’ve shared a bottle of water with the entire island at this point. I wouldn’t even turn down the water if Lilac was a drooler, which thankfully she didn’t appear to be. I unscrewed the cap, guzzled a quarter of the bottle down without blinking, and then wiped the overflow from the corners of my mouth before speaking again. “Thanks. That hit the spot.”

  Lilac snorted as she trailed her fingers over a pretty flowered hedge. “You need to learn to voice your opinion, honey. If you’re thirsty, ask for water.”

  The smile I offered up was rueful. “I didn’t realize I was that thirsty until I had the bottle in my hand. It’s just so … freaking hot.”

  “It is, but it’s an island. You’ll get used to the heat.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I kept that concern to myself. “This entire thing is new to me,” I admitted after a beat. “I never fancied myself living on an island. It was never even a consideration. Okay, maybe Harsens Island. That’s not really an island, though. It’s kind of an island, but it’s so close to the mainland that you can swim there in five minutes flat.”

  Lilac arched an eyebrow as I babbled. “I’ve never heard of Harsens Island. Is that in the gulf?”

  We were from two different worlds. I should’ve expected that. “Never mind.” I handed back the water bottle. “It’s not important. Show me the nice view. I’m getting my second wind.”

  Lilac pursed her lips as she looked over my red face and sweaty brow. “I’m starting to think you need a third wind.”

  I was pretty sure that wasn’t a compliment. Instead of picking a fight and ruining a potential friendship, I turned my attention to the plot of land in front of me. It looked like a normal residential street except for the huge ten-foot-tall fence at the far end. “What’s that?”

  Lilac followed my gaze. “Oh, that’s the cemetery.”

  It didn’t look like any cemetery I’d ever seen. “Why are the walls like that?”

  “Oh, well … .” Lilac chewed her bottom lip. “Aren’t all cemeteries like that?”

  She had to be joking. That was all I could think. “Not the cemeteries where I’m from.”

>   “Maybe it’s because of the inclement weather,” Lilac suggested. “We get a lot of bad storms in these parts, so maybe the town founders were worried the caskets would float away.”

  “Oh, is it an above-ground cemetery?” I’d never visited one in person but I’d seen photographs. “That sounds cool.” I picked up my pace and hurried to the gate, frowning when I found it locked. “What’s the deal?”

  “The cemetery is only open for residents,” Lilac explained. “No one wants tourists wandering around and disturbing the … um … environment.”

  “But what would the tourists do?” I honestly didn’t understand.

  “Who knows? They’re tourists, right?” Lilac made a face as she gestured toward the sidewalk. “We should continue our walk.”

  “But what about the cemetery?”

  “I’m not morbid, so I don’t pay the cemetery a lot of attention,” Lilac replied. “It’s not my thing.”

  “But … .”

  Lilac held up a hand to still me. “Listen, the cemetery is one of those things people ignore because it’s dark and depressing. No one wants to think about death on an island.”

  I wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “So no one ever visits? No one ever hosts séances around Halloween or anything?”

  Lilac was appalled. “Why would anyone do that?”

  “It’s a big thing in Detroit. They have ghost walks and everything.”

  “Well, that’s not what we do here.” Lilac spared a quick glance for the cemetery gate and sighed. “No one goes into the cemetery unless they’re never coming out. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “No.” I honestly didn’t.

  “I’m saying that you should never go into the cemetery because it’s private and people like to keep private things … um … private,” Lilac pressed. She started to move down the street and then stopped, grabbing my arm before I moved too far away from the gate. “Whatever you do, never go into the cemetery at night.”