What readers are saying about the book:
Big Al's Books and Pals Review:
Murder by Magic has a combination that, at least in my experience, is unique. As a general rule, I’d say unique is good. It’s a cozy mystery, but the amateur sleuth involved is a witch. While a cozy will typically involve characters from a tightknit, small community, having this community not only be a small town, but more specifically those residents of the town with magical powers, is a change of pace. Our intrepid detective, Ola Mae Masters, is a witch who just recently found out she is a witch and is still discovering and learning how to use her powers. This only adds to the story, both with some interesting twists to the storyline and some additional tension, both for her and for us as the reader. There might be a budding romance too. If you enjoy cozy mysteries and paranormal romances that push the boundary of the genre, Murder by Magic would be a good choice.
If you like both, it should be a no-brainer.
What Other Readers Are Saying:
"Murder by Magic was a delightful surprise. I loved the characters (even the very colorful secondary characters) and the beach side setting. But what I particularly liked was this author's unique voice. There was an energetic cadence to the writing with little asides and an almost 'talk-to-the-camera' vibe that made the book fun, but she was equally adept at creating the necessary suspense for the murder mystery. Dark and light, this book has it all. I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys a little romance, a little mystery and a lot of witchery."
" Each of Meriam Wihelm's books are entertaining and easy reads in my busy life. Following the lives of the residents of this seaside town always leave me with the feeling I know them and a craving for a cinnamon roll. Follow her series and you will not be disappointed."
"I loved all of New Moon Beach."
"I have visited New Moon Beach six times now and loved every moment...I highly recommend this series and reading it from the beginning. I for one hope there will be more books in the future but for now I am a very satisfied and happy reader."
"Love to escape into Wilhelm's fun books!! Tasty treats that transport you to the beach without getting sand all over your clean, shiny floors. Calls for a field trip to the VERY beach described. Can't wait to get back there for a visit!!!"
Big Al's Books and Pals Review:
Murder by Magic has a combination that, at least in my experience, is unique. As a general rule, I’d say unique is good. It’s a cozy mystery, but the amateur sleuth involved is a witch. While a cozy will typically involve characters from a tightknit, small community, having this community not only be a small town, but more specifically those residents of the town with magical powers, is a change of pace. Our intrepid detective, Ola Mae Masters, is a witch who just recently found out she is a witch and is still discovering and learning how to use her powers. This only adds to the story, both with some interesting twists to the storyline and some additional tension, both for her and for us as the reader. There might be a budding romance too. If you enjoy cozy mysteries and paranormal romances that push the boundary of the genre, Murder by Magic would be a good choice.
If you like both, it should be a no-brainer.
What Other Readers Are Saying:
"Murder by Magic was a delightful surprise. I loved the characters (even the very colorful secondary characters) and the beach side setting. But what I particularly liked was this author's unique voice. There was an energetic cadence to the writing with little asides and an almost 'talk-to-the-camera' vibe that made the book fun, but she was equally adept at creating the necessary suspense for the murder mystery. Dark and light, this book has it all. I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys a little romance, a little mystery and a lot of witchery."
" Each of Meriam Wihelm's books are entertaining and easy reads in my busy life. Following the lives of the residents of this seaside town always leave me with the feeling I know them and a craving for a cinnamon roll. Follow her series and you will not be disappointed."
"I loved all of New Moon Beach."
"I have visited New Moon Beach six times now and loved every moment...I highly recommend this series and reading it from the beginning. I for one hope there will be more books in the future but for now I am a very satisfied and happy reader."
"Love to escape into Wilhelm's fun books!! Tasty treats that transport you to the beach without getting sand all over your clean, shiny floors. Calls for a field trip to the VERY beach described. Can't wait to get back there for a visit!!!"
Murder by Magic
By:
Meriam Wilhelm
Original Copyright 2017 by Meriam Wilhelm
All rights reserved.
License Notes:
All rights reserved.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address proper representatives through the author’s e-mail Meriamwilhelm@hotmail.com
This book is dedicated to my husband
who has always loved,
supported,
and
believed in me.
Thank you for
understanding all of the time
I spend at my computer,
for helping me in my quest to find
new & unusual character names
and for not being afraid to travel
to magical, story filled places with me.
Dear Readers,
I hope that you enjoy reading Murder By Magic. Many of the characters and locations mentioned in this book have grown out of my series The Witches of New Moon Beach. Although you do not have to have read the series to enjoy this story, it will certainly help with your understanding of who some of the characters are and where they live.
The series The Witches of New Moon Beach can be purchased as a box set for $2.99. This includes all five of the series books.
Whether you purchase the series or simply read this book, I sincerely hope that you enjoy your mystical travels.
Meriam
Prologue
Five days a week, rain or shine, I’m up and out the door by five forty-five a.m. anxious to start my day with a brisk walk along the winding bluffs and beaches of New Moon Beach. My constant companion is a well worn turquoise travel mug with painted palm trees on it; filled to the brim with hot french vanilla coffee. I’m pretty much a creature of habit, addicted to following the same routine, day in or day out. I guess you could say that’s what makes me… me.
To be truly happy, I crave the morning smells of the sea, the sound of crashing waves and the taste of sea salt on my lips. I’m somehow energized by the antics of the ugly brown pelicans that recklessly dive in and out of the coastal waters. And my spirits are religiously boosted by the sun rays that warm my back or the fog that chills me to the bone as I walk our local sandy shores. I revel in the smell of the old creosote saturated timbers of our piers and the sometimes pungent stink of a seaweed laden red tide. My morning beach routine is a must and acts like an invigorating tonic filling me up and fortifying me for my day ahead.
I’ve only lived in New Moon Beach for about a year. I came here after I graduated from college and, since moving here, I’ve never really wanted to live anywhere else. My name is Ola Mae Masters and New Moon Beach is where I’ve made my home and where I plan on staying.
I caught you just then. You might not have realized it, but I could hear you laughing out loud when I mentioned my first name. After all, who names their kid Ola Mae - right? I may be short in stature, but all five foot two of me is highly sensitive - so don’t doubt me when I tell you that I can still hear you laughing. In truth, I think that you’ll soon realize that both me and my name are unusual.
Why my mom named me Ola Mae is a mystery to me. Was it her mother’s name, her grandmother’s? Who knows? I’m pretty sure that my father had nothing to do with naming me and even less to do with loving me back then. I don’t know where my curly blonde hair, the dusting of freckles that run across my nose or my crystal blue eyes come from. I have just tiny snippets of memories of my mom and from the one and only picture I have of her, I can tell you that I look nothing like her. One thing that I do know for sure is that I was left at an orphanage, slash boarding school, when I was really young. It wasn’t a happy place and those are the memories that I keep tucked away, deep inside. Not the kind of recollections I want to dwell on during my morning walks.
Since moving here, I’ve made it a point to get to know most everyone in town and my morning walks are generally punctuated by greetings from regular beach folk. Same morning walk – same morning people; only the sea changes. Oh, and I’ve been successful in getting all of my new friends and neighbors to just call me, Mae.
Some mornings I fight ridiculously sand coated whirlwinds that actually bring tears to my eyes. Other mornings I enjoy the gentle breezes that kiss the shoreline, whisking away sandal free footprints left by early morning surfers. My favorite mornings are when the ocean erupts with furious power. Raging waves crash the shoreline, challenging even the best swimmers and making fishermen wish they’d just stayed home in bed. It’s almost as if the sea knows I’m coming and waits, ready to help me define my mood for the day.
I love watching the surfers riding on foam tipped waves; often crashing but rarely giving up. I haven’t tried surfing yet, but that hasn’t stopped me from getting to know the names of most of these early morning athletes. A few of them have offered to teach me how to ride a wave, but I haven’t found the time or the nerve yet.
The ocean, the surfers, the birds, the beach walkers - they are the constants in my life; acting like stand-in family members. Guess that’s why something felt off this morning as a unique new character unexpectedly materialized in New Moon Beach.
She was an unknown face in town; at least she was new to me. She caught my eye in part because she was sitting motionless, dressed all in black from head to toe; including a large pair of Jackie O designer sunglasses that covered a good portion of her small, round face. Raven black hair was collected on the top of her head the way a geisha would wear it. And shiny, red enameled chopsticks protruded from an unkempt bun that rocked precariously, buffeted by the early morning sea breezes. If I let my imagination run wild, I could envision those chopsticks becoming some kind of mortal weaponry with razor-sharp tips, capable of puncturing even the toughest of skin. Her bushy black mane had a strange, dull hue to it and I momentarily wondered whether it was her real hair or just some random wig worn as an attention seeking fashion statement.
Looking at her black attire one might wonder if she might have attended a funeral this morning, although that seemed highly unlikely since the sun was just now coming up. She wore a tightly fit black suit with shiny buttons that glittered like diamonds in the morning sunlight. The jacket’s tight Nehru collar squeezed her neck, forcing her soft double chin upward and making her look a bit like a pretty bullfrog. Black spidery lace crawled out from the cuffs of her jacket and shrouded delicate pale hands. Her short A-line skirt accentuated long spindly legs encased in sleek, red soled high heeled boots; a far cry from the flip flops and tennis shoes most beach goers were sporting this morning.
If I hadn’t had such a close-up sighting, I’d have presumed that our visitor was in her late sixties. However, the part of her face not covered by her obnoxious sunglasses was surprisingly free of wrinkles, revealing someone much younger. Even though the visible part of her face was without lines, there was still a harshness to it and a pallor that spoke of illness, made all the more noticeable because the natural sun kissed tan common among the majority of our New Moon Beach residents was absent. But, if I’m really being truthful, what made the lady in black most unconventional was the strange aura emanating from her body. I mean the woman actually glowed.
Before I go any further, there’s something that I haven’t told you about myself that you really ought to know and it’s the main reason why I could actually see the glow radiating from the stranger’s body.
You see, I’m a witch. I’ve only just recently learned that about myself. And yes, I do realize how strange that sounds. But from everything I’ve discovered about myself lately, I’m inclined to believe it. I have magic in me. And it kind of explains all of the strange vibes I’ve had since I was a kid. Back then I didn’t understand what any of it meant. I just didn’t get how magic affected my daily life. For that matter, magic still makes me uncomfortable, especially since it often erupts when I least expect it. But, that hasn’t stopped stuff from happening to me - mystical, magical, confusing stuff. And no matter how hard I’ve tried to block it out, it just keeps coming at me.
I can hear the dead and see them walking about town with their friends and they can see and even communicate with me. And I can read people’s minds, hear their thoughts; something I’ve never really gotten used to. The nuns never wanted to be around me since I could read their thoughts. Nuns must have had some pretty freaky stuff running through their heads; thoughts that they apparently didn’t want known by some kid. I’m pretty sure that there is more magical stuff that I am capable of, but it seems to be taking its time revealing itself to me.
And now this mystery woman was here, in my city, shooting a bucket load of those same peculiar feeling vibes my way. I can’t yet read her thoughts; perhaps she’s just too far away from where I’m standing. But, I have a fierce suspicion that she and I are going to get to know each other a lot better, if not now, very, very soon.
Staring closely at her, I watched as a lone tear escaped from behind her glasses as the woman in black suddenly came to life. She turned, pushed the sunglasses up onto her forehead, wiped the tear away with her index finger and focused her eyes directly on me. My stomach dropped. Her hypnotic gaze was unsettling and definitely not what I had expected. A pair of amber eyes, projecting a hint of both yellow and copper and shielded by extraordinarily thick black lashes, held me prisoner.
All at once I could feel my palms begin to sweat as my stomach rolled and a thundering roar filled my ears, completely silencing the sounds of the ocean. Anger bubbled out of the woman and it was as if I could feel her thoughts painfully trying to shove their way into my head. This was definitely not a mind I wanted to read!
Reality felt like an ugly pinch as it dawned on me that this was not the look of any normal woman in mourning, but perhaps a supernatural creature saturated by some crazy fury. Even with my newly emerging magical powers, I could not figure out why she was staring at me or directing her anger my way. Her lone tear now seemed more an expression of annoyance than an emotional release. The longer she looked at me, the more ill at ease I became. I mentally shoved back, refusing to let her fierce thoughts intrude into my brain.
Who the heck was this dark diva and what was she doing on my beach? And why did I have the ominous feeling that she brought a whole lot of danger with her to our quaint seaside town of New Moon Beach? A chill ran down my back causing me to consider what other dark magic she may have sent my way. Was she alone or attached to something or someone far worse?
CHAPTER ONE
“I have no idea who she was,” I said to Miami. My hands were still shaking a little, as I filled a brown pottery mug with coffee and passed it to my co-worker. “But man, she really got under my skin. I was just minding my own business, walking along the beach like I do every morning. Next thing I know this freaky woman is threatening my morning mellow; giving off one unnatural vibe after another.”
“Unnatural vibe like she’s evil or like she’s some kind of nut? I mean, who wears a black suit to the beach? I’m a witch and I don’t even do that; unless it’s a bathing suit, of course,” Miami said with a smirk as she blew away puffs of swirling steam from her coffee.
“I’m not sure, but I could swear that before she pushed up those crazy big sunglasses, her eyes were glowing. I could almost see their coppery fire burning through the dark lenses. I can’t tell you for absolute certain, but I’m pretty sure that she’s got some kind of hinky magic attached to her.”
“Hinky magic? Did you just make that word up? What does that even mean? I’ve never heard you use hinky before. In fact, I’ve never even heard of that word period. And anyway, if you were so suspicious, why didn’t you just stop and talk to her? I mean, couldn’t you have easily checked her out with all of your super witchy powers?” Miami waved her hands in the air as if to make a point.
"Come on, Miami. Give me a break. You know that this paranormal stuff is all new to me. It’s hinky – creepy, different, strange, like that. Whatever kind of magic that diva was peddling was something I’ve never seen before. It’s just not fair. I haven’t been at this long enough to know which kind of magic to embrace and which kind to fear. In fact, you know that most of this supernatural mumbo jumbo still scares the heck out of me.
“Ever since I came to New Moon Beach and was told that I was not just some misfit and that I had magical abilities, everyone has treated me like some kind of superstar witch. But as far as I can tell, I’m what you call a late bloomer when it comes to anything mystical. Despite what the coven members seem to believe, witchcraft is just not something that comes easily to me. Yes, I can sometimes read minds, sometimes sense danger, sometimes see the future; sometimes, sometimes, sometimes. But I can’t do any of those things with any regularity. In short, I sort of suck at magic and it’s really frustrating.
“I didn’t grow up in a family with anything paranormal happening in it. I grew up in an orphanage school thinking that I was just some misfit who didn’t belong anywhere. St. Guinevere’s was a small school and a dumping ground for girls with family money, but no family. It was run by a tight little group of Catholic nuns, most of them well over the age of sixty. I was apparently the exception; dumped with no family and no money.
“I was deposited at St. G’s at the age of five, when my mom died. And, as no one seemed to be able to tell me who my father was, I remained there until I turned eighteen and won a scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. It didn’t dawn on me until I was older that someone, other than my long deceased mother, just might have been helping to pay the pricey tuition for St. G’s.
“The really sad thing is that I never did feel at home at St. Guinevere’s. There was just something way too different about me to ever fit in. As a little girl I was tormented by a bunch of strange and troubling feelings that always seemed to be percolating inside of me. I was often frightened by the quirky dreams I had at night and the strange images I could see that no one else could. And there wasn’t anyone else like me that I could share any of this with.
“I hated to walk by the cemetery that was right next to our school. No matter how tightly I closed my eyes, I could still see strange ghost people walking across the grassy yard. If I was really quiet I could hear them as they called out, searching for something or someone they must have lost. It was really scary for a little kid.
“Sometimes I’d pass by one of the nuns and I could actually hear her thinking, How did we get stuck with this strange child. It used to make me cry. But I had no idea why any of that was happening to me and I never could have predicted that I’d find out later that I was a witch!
“It would have been nice to know what was really going on and that I had a mother and a father who were both drenched in magic. But oh no, nobody let me in on that secret until this year.”
So when I use the word hinky to describe the kind of strange magic that weird woman on the beach was shooting my way, that’s my magically uneducated way of describing what it felt like to me. The charmed world is so incredibly new to me. And even though I may have a bunch of intermittent powers that seem to be getting stronger, I’m not able to fully access or control any of them with any regularity. Everyone expects me to perform like a star witch and I’m still in a slow burn learning mode. It gets tiresome having to come up with excuses to explain to disappointed friends and family about my lack of mystical polish. Or maybe it’s just that I’m disappointed with myself for not catching on faster. I mean I was always a pretty good student, but this magic stuff has really unsettled my psyche!
Looking back at Miami I realized that I’d gotten temporarily lost in my own head and plugged back into our conversation.
“Sorry Miami. Sometimes I get lost in my own head. I feel as if I’m running as fast as I can trying to figure out my mystical place in this world. You asked why I didn’t just talk to the woman in the black suit. Even though she looked kind of scary, I actually would have talked to her, but I got distracted when some idiot bounced his car up onto the curb right next to me. I really think that drivers around here have gone nuts. This guy just ran his car right up onto the curb and then jumped out and looked at me as if I’d done it!”
“Did you?” asked Miami.
“What? No! I don’t think so. Why would I do that? In all of the confusion the mysterious chick just up and disappeared. I never did get a chance to confirm who or what she was. And to make matters worse, the driver kept whining on and on about his car being possessed. Anyway, she’s gone, there’s nothing more that I can do about her right now and we’ve got a ton of books to unload this morning.”
“Yes boss, back to work,” sighed Miami as she headed towards a box of books stacked neatly in the corner of my new bookstore.
I really lucked out when I got the unexpected opportunity to buy my own bookstore in New Moon Beach. As a kid, since I had no friends, I hid out within the pages of fantasies and mysteries. I loved stories where characters traveled through paranormal worlds. Tales about strange lands filled with unusual or creepy characters with special powers somehow made me happy. I could envision myself emerging from my wardrobe into the world of Narnia. And I just knew that I could be friends with the teens in Twilight. Harry Potter and I would have had a thing for sure.
"Mae, I was wondering, how did you ever find this bookstore deal anyway?” Miami asked. “I mean New Moon Beach is a long ways from Houston, Texas.”
“I guess I just lucked out. I’m not really sure what made me look through the Houston Chronicle ads one Saturday morning, but I’m sure glad I did. Once I saw the advertisement, I couldn’t seem to shake it out of my head. I’d just graduated from Rice University and after reading about a store for sale in California, I wondered if I had the guts to travel all the way from Houston by myself to check this shop out? And, even if I did, would I be able to secure a small business loan to start my own bookstore?
“I got one of those quirky feelings in my stomach, like this empty little shop was calling out to me. And before giving in to any of my fears, I’d packed my old VW full of my meager belongings, cashed in my small savings account and mapped out my trip to California.”
“You were a lot braver than I ever would be,” Miami said softly.
“Maybe. Or maybe, I just needed to push myself to take this chance. The ad had been short and sweet - a small beach shop available for sale. It appeared to be just the right size and the location, near a quaint beach community, looked amazing. After researching what a great place New Moon Beach was, I worried that it was too good to be true. I was sure that there must be an error because the price was so low. But when I called, the old lady who owned the shop assured me that the price was correct and welcomed me out for a visit.
“Funny thing, and I know that this may sound dumb to you, but it almost felt like the owner had been waiting for my call. So, off I went and much to my surprise, the shop was soon mine. The bank agreed to my loan telling me that they were in the business of supporting young female entrepreneurs. Was I lucky or what?”
“I wonder if it was something more than luck?” said Miami with a questioning look.
“Thinking back now, I’ve wondered that too. Especially since everything started happening all at once after I bought the property. The shop was great, it had an apartment upstairs for me to live in as part of the deal and the neighborhood was unreal. But that was just the beginning.”
“Almost like it was meant to be,” whispered Miami.
“It get’s even stranger, Miami. The day after I moved to New Moon Beach and into my apartment, a man showed up at my door claiming to be my father. He said that his name was Alistair Merriman and that he had only recently found out about my existence. Can you believe that?”
“Did you?” asked Miami.
“Well, not at first. I have to admit that his story sounded fishy at first. He quickly explained that about twenty years ago, he and my mother had a thing together and I was the result. I guess, for whatever reason, she never told him about me.
“Maybe she never really had the chance,” offered Miami.
“Could be. He said that after learning about me, he came right away to meet me. And brother, he had as many questions about me as I had about him.”
Alistair Merriman hadn’t appeared to be a kook. I mean, I didn’t get any of my strange warning vibes off of him and there was something especially kind about his eyes. So I’d let him in and we had talked for over two hours. Apparently Sister Madelyn had recently made her way to Alistair’s door. A really old nun by now, she told him that she had been plagued with guilt for not disclosing my existence to him earlier. She explained that she had made a promise to my mother, a burdensome promise that she no longer wished to carry to her deathbed. And so began his search for me. Imagine his surprise to find me just a few miles away.
Alistair told me all about himself and his family. He apologized over and over again for not knowing about me sooner. Either he was a really good actor or he really meant it. I wasn’t sure, but I guess I secretly hoped just a little bit that he meant everything he said. He never did say much about my mother. I presumed he was saving that for later, once he felt more comfortable with me.
I was shocked to learn that I had three half sisters, a stepmother and a slew of other soon-to-be-met relatives. I’ve got to tell you that I was more than a little surprised when the entire family made it clear that they were happy and committed to taking me into their flock. I was torn between letting fear rule me and rejecting the one thing I had always wanted - a family. Or, believing in them and accepting the enticing kinship that was being offered. Dangling the possibility of having a family in front of my heart was just too tempting, so I agreed to get to know the Merriman tribe.
The whole witch revelation was a complete shock to me. I had no idea that I was a witch like my sisters Olivia, Constance and Harmony.I just thought I was different. I didn’t know what it meant to be a witch or if I even wanted to be one… as if I had a choice that is. I still can’t help but wonder when I’m going to start cackling or feel the urge to ride a broom? I check my face numerous times a day to make sure that no warts have suddenly popped up on my chin or nose. And I can assure you that my father and his connection to the world of magic has been a challenge to accept.
But some truly awesome things have come from my move to New Moon Beach. I now have a blossoming business that I love, a family I hadn’t known I had and freakish magical powers that keep erupting and scare the death out of me. That’s an awful lot for an orphan from San Francisco to get used to all at once. I can’t help but wonder what the nuns would think if they ever found out. But then, maybe Sister Madilyn had known all along. That question was sure to plague me during one of my restless nights.
Draining her coffee, Miami rinsed the cup and slowly trudged off to open the dozen or so boxes that were stuffed with new inventory.
“No rest for this wicked witch,” Miami sighed as she pulled open the top of the first box. Miami can be so dramatic when she wants to be.
I knew that I needed to help her with the inventory, but the rumbling in my stomach had me longing for a cinnamon roll or two from Gino’s Bakery. The smell of sinfully delicious baked goods had been creeping over here all morning and I just couldn’t resist it any longer. My story had taken far too long to tell and I was well past hungry.
My desire for sweets is a common occurrence since my shop is just five doors down from Gino’s and I am a staunch sugarholic. I constantly have to fight the urge to dive into chocolate, cinnamon or caramel treats and Gino’s is the sure cure for my sugar cravings.
“I’ll be back in five,” I called out to Miami. “I’ll be back to help as soon as I go and get us some treats.”
Not waiting to hear her response I nipped over to Gino’s Bakery and walked into the middle of one very disturbing conversation. If the bakery hadn’t smelled so darn good and I wasn’t so hungry, I would have turned right around and left. After all, who wants to hear this kind of news after the crazy morning I’d already had?
A young police officer was standing at the bakery counter talking loudly; clearly trying to sound important and make points with Gino’s daughter, Angelica. I assume the officer thought sharing inside info on a breaking police story was the sure way to Angelica’s heart.
“They found him at the base of the cliffs and his body was a battered, bloody mess,” he said with his hands resting impressively on his gun belt.
“Was he already dead?” Angelica asked timidly, her dark brown eyes appearing more than a little troubled.
“Yes, ma’am. No one could survive that fall. He was dead alright, dead as a door nail. Some surfer found his body all broken up on the rocks. We’ve got guys out there now scouring the area for details. I guess the surfer used his cell phone to call us. Really freaked him out; threw up all over his surfboard. ”
“Yuck,” Angelica said with a sigh as she noticed my arrival for the first time. “Oh, Hi Mae, this is Officer Tim Tyler. He’s new to the New Moon Beach PD. Right Tim?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a proud smile that showed off some amazing movie star quality orthodontia. I wondered if he was born with those beauties or just had a good dentist he could recommend. I’ve always been embarrassed by my crooked teeth and want to pop for some braces as soon as I’m financially able.
“Tim was just telling me a gruesome story about what happened down off the cliffs. I need to go to the back for a minute, Mae. Can you please keep him company while I grab his donuts?” Angelica wiped her hands on her apron and mumbled, “I really hope this murder doesn’t hurt business.”
Angelica excused herself and I noticed that her face was pale, her eyes were watering and I swear I could hear her stomach churning. Clearly, she was having some kind of physical reaction to the cop’s storytelling.
Remembering my manners, I reached out to shake the officer’s hand, saying, “Hi Tim, I’m Mae Masters. I own the Literally Magic Book Store just down the street. Um, did I hear you say that someone was killed?”
Before I could remove my hand, a prickle of annoyance shot through Tim’s fingers and transferred to mine in the form of an electrical shock. Damn, I hate when that happens. Clearly I had pushed one of Tim’s buttons and he was unconsciously telling me to back off. At least that’s what I think the zip of energy meant.
Apparently unaware of the shock he had just inflicted on me, the young officer straightened his back and responded, “No ma’am, I did not say that. I said that a man was found dead at the base of the New Moon Beach cliffs. We don’t know if there is any foul play involved; the investigation has just begun. Could have been murdered, had an accident or even some kind of suicide; we just don’t know at this time. The victim was fully clothed, wearing what looked to be business attire; nothing else special about him that we can determine as yet.”
“He must have been on his way to work, don’t you think? I mean, who goes to the beach in a suit?” I said, suddenly remembering the black diva. I willed thoughts of her out of my head and asked, “When did it happen?”
“I was first on the scene at approximately six a.m. this morning. A surfer found him some time earlier. Dude told me that he didn’t see or hear anything; just walked out of the water and stumbled upon the body.”
“What a way to start a morning! Did anyone recognize the dead guy?” Angelica asked as she returned sipping water from a Dixie cup and looking a bit less pale.
“As I said before, we are still investigating. I really shouldn’t have shared so much with you ladies. Do me a favor and keep this to yourselves until the department makes an official statement, okay? I’ve got to get back to the station pronto,” Tim said rather nervously as he checked the time on his watch. “Thanks for the donuts, Angelica. The guys will love them.”
“You’re welcome,” Angelica said, beaming before turning to me. “The new guy at the station always gets stuck bringing donuts to his team. I felt sorry for him and threw in a couple cinnamon rolls too. He’s kind of cute, don’t you think? A little geeky, but still pretty cute,” Angelica said sweetly as she watched Tim slide his long legs back into his patrol car.
“I guess.”
I’m not sure what Angelica saw in him, but the straight laced Officer Tim Tyler type was definitely not my cup of tea. This might surprise you, but I go for the more free spirited, live and let live kind of man.
“That was one ugly story he was telling you. Kind of gave me the willies. I haven’t lived here that long; does this kind of thing happen often around here?”
Angelica made a face and said, “No, uh-uh. No way! I can’t remember anything like this ever happening here. Dead bodies and New Moon Beach do not go together; at least not as far as I know.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said. And I really was. “Would you please call me if you hear anything else? I’ve got to get back to the shop. Miami is going to kill me for leaving her with a ton of work. Oops, probably a poor choice of words,” I said with a nervous smile.
"You think?” responded Angelica with a giggle.
“What I do think, Angelica, is that you have an admirer. Something tells me that Officer Tim will be making a regular pit stop here to see more of you and your cinnamon rolls. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Do you have any of those cinnamon rolls left? I know that Miami would just love one and so would I.”
“Sure, give me a minute,” Angelica said as she closed the donut display case, still thinking out loud. “What a sad day. I keep trying to figure out who the dead guy might be. Was he married… have kids? Tim didn’t really give us much info about what the man looked like. Just went on and on about the blood and his neck and…”
I lost the rest of her words as she scurried off in search of my desired rolls.
Returning moments later and handing me a little white bag with a gold Gino’s Bakery sticker on it, Angelica continued, “This whole murder thing really creeps me out. I wonder if we have a killer living in New Moon Beach and I wonder if we know him… or her?” she said with an anxious glance towards me.
“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I said as I hurried, bag in hand, back to my store. A murderer here in New Moon Beach? What next? This whole morning was giving me a headache. First the weird visitor and now a dead body. I wonder if my dark diva and the dead man have anything in common?
I can have such a wild imagination when left to my own machinations.
Five days a week, rain or shine, I’m up and out the door by five forty-five a.m. anxious to start my day with a brisk walk along the winding bluffs and beaches of New Moon Beach. My constant companion is a well worn turquoise travel mug with painted palm trees on it; filled to the brim with hot french vanilla coffee. I’m pretty much a creature of habit, addicted to following the same routine, day in or day out. I guess you could say that’s what makes me… me.
To be truly happy, I crave the morning smells of the sea, the sound of crashing waves and the taste of sea salt on my lips. I’m somehow energized by the antics of the ugly brown pelicans that recklessly dive in and out of the coastal waters. And my spirits are religiously boosted by the sun rays that warm my back or the fog that chills me to the bone as I walk our local sandy shores. I revel in the smell of the old creosote saturated timbers of our piers and the sometimes pungent stink of a seaweed laden red tide. My morning beach routine is a must and acts like an invigorating tonic filling me up and fortifying me for my day ahead.
I’ve only lived in New Moon Beach for about a year. I came here after I graduated from college and, since moving here, I’ve never really wanted to live anywhere else. My name is Ola Mae Masters and New Moon Beach is where I’ve made my home and where I plan on staying.
I caught you just then. You might not have realized it, but I could hear you laughing out loud when I mentioned my first name. After all, who names their kid Ola Mae - right? I may be short in stature, but all five foot two of me is highly sensitive - so don’t doubt me when I tell you that I can still hear you laughing. In truth, I think that you’ll soon realize that both me and my name are unusual.
Why my mom named me Ola Mae is a mystery to me. Was it her mother’s name, her grandmother’s? Who knows? I’m pretty sure that my father had nothing to do with naming me and even less to do with loving me back then. I don’t know where my curly blonde hair, the dusting of freckles that run across my nose or my crystal blue eyes come from. I have just tiny snippets of memories of my mom and from the one and only picture I have of her, I can tell you that I look nothing like her. One thing that I do know for sure is that I was left at an orphanage, slash boarding school, when I was really young. It wasn’t a happy place and those are the memories that I keep tucked away, deep inside. Not the kind of recollections I want to dwell on during my morning walks.
Since moving here, I’ve made it a point to get to know most everyone in town and my morning walks are generally punctuated by greetings from regular beach folk. Same morning walk – same morning people; only the sea changes. Oh, and I’ve been successful in getting all of my new friends and neighbors to just call me, Mae.
Some mornings I fight ridiculously sand coated whirlwinds that actually bring tears to my eyes. Other mornings I enjoy the gentle breezes that kiss the shoreline, whisking away sandal free footprints left by early morning surfers. My favorite mornings are when the ocean erupts with furious power. Raging waves crash the shoreline, challenging even the best swimmers and making fishermen wish they’d just stayed home in bed. It’s almost as if the sea knows I’m coming and waits, ready to help me define my mood for the day.
I love watching the surfers riding on foam tipped waves; often crashing but rarely giving up. I haven’t tried surfing yet, but that hasn’t stopped me from getting to know the names of most of these early morning athletes. A few of them have offered to teach me how to ride a wave, but I haven’t found the time or the nerve yet.
The ocean, the surfers, the birds, the beach walkers - they are the constants in my life; acting like stand-in family members. Guess that’s why something felt off this morning as a unique new character unexpectedly materialized in New Moon Beach.
She was an unknown face in town; at least she was new to me. She caught my eye in part because she was sitting motionless, dressed all in black from head to toe; including a large pair of Jackie O designer sunglasses that covered a good portion of her small, round face. Raven black hair was collected on the top of her head the way a geisha would wear it. And shiny, red enameled chopsticks protruded from an unkempt bun that rocked precariously, buffeted by the early morning sea breezes. If I let my imagination run wild, I could envision those chopsticks becoming some kind of mortal weaponry with razor-sharp tips, capable of puncturing even the toughest of skin. Her bushy black mane had a strange, dull hue to it and I momentarily wondered whether it was her real hair or just some random wig worn as an attention seeking fashion statement.
Looking at her black attire one might wonder if she might have attended a funeral this morning, although that seemed highly unlikely since the sun was just now coming up. She wore a tightly fit black suit with shiny buttons that glittered like diamonds in the morning sunlight. The jacket’s tight Nehru collar squeezed her neck, forcing her soft double chin upward and making her look a bit like a pretty bullfrog. Black spidery lace crawled out from the cuffs of her jacket and shrouded delicate pale hands. Her short A-line skirt accentuated long spindly legs encased in sleek, red soled high heeled boots; a far cry from the flip flops and tennis shoes most beach goers were sporting this morning.
If I hadn’t had such a close-up sighting, I’d have presumed that our visitor was in her late sixties. However, the part of her face not covered by her obnoxious sunglasses was surprisingly free of wrinkles, revealing someone much younger. Even though the visible part of her face was without lines, there was still a harshness to it and a pallor that spoke of illness, made all the more noticeable because the natural sun kissed tan common among the majority of our New Moon Beach residents was absent. But, if I’m really being truthful, what made the lady in black most unconventional was the strange aura emanating from her body. I mean the woman actually glowed.
Before I go any further, there’s something that I haven’t told you about myself that you really ought to know and it’s the main reason why I could actually see the glow radiating from the stranger’s body.
You see, I’m a witch. I’ve only just recently learned that about myself. And yes, I do realize how strange that sounds. But from everything I’ve discovered about myself lately, I’m inclined to believe it. I have magic in me. And it kind of explains all of the strange vibes I’ve had since I was a kid. Back then I didn’t understand what any of it meant. I just didn’t get how magic affected my daily life. For that matter, magic still makes me uncomfortable, especially since it often erupts when I least expect it. But, that hasn’t stopped stuff from happening to me - mystical, magical, confusing stuff. And no matter how hard I’ve tried to block it out, it just keeps coming at me.
I can hear the dead and see them walking about town with their friends and they can see and even communicate with me. And I can read people’s minds, hear their thoughts; something I’ve never really gotten used to. The nuns never wanted to be around me since I could read their thoughts. Nuns must have had some pretty freaky stuff running through their heads; thoughts that they apparently didn’t want known by some kid. I’m pretty sure that there is more magical stuff that I am capable of, but it seems to be taking its time revealing itself to me.
And now this mystery woman was here, in my city, shooting a bucket load of those same peculiar feeling vibes my way. I can’t yet read her thoughts; perhaps she’s just too far away from where I’m standing. But, I have a fierce suspicion that she and I are going to get to know each other a lot better, if not now, very, very soon.
Staring closely at her, I watched as a lone tear escaped from behind her glasses as the woman in black suddenly came to life. She turned, pushed the sunglasses up onto her forehead, wiped the tear away with her index finger and focused her eyes directly on me. My stomach dropped. Her hypnotic gaze was unsettling and definitely not what I had expected. A pair of amber eyes, projecting a hint of both yellow and copper and shielded by extraordinarily thick black lashes, held me prisoner.
All at once I could feel my palms begin to sweat as my stomach rolled and a thundering roar filled my ears, completely silencing the sounds of the ocean. Anger bubbled out of the woman and it was as if I could feel her thoughts painfully trying to shove their way into my head. This was definitely not a mind I wanted to read!
Reality felt like an ugly pinch as it dawned on me that this was not the look of any normal woman in mourning, but perhaps a supernatural creature saturated by some crazy fury. Even with my newly emerging magical powers, I could not figure out why she was staring at me or directing her anger my way. Her lone tear now seemed more an expression of annoyance than an emotional release. The longer she looked at me, the more ill at ease I became. I mentally shoved back, refusing to let her fierce thoughts intrude into my brain.
Who the heck was this dark diva and what was she doing on my beach? And why did I have the ominous feeling that she brought a whole lot of danger with her to our quaint seaside town of New Moon Beach? A chill ran down my back causing me to consider what other dark magic she may have sent my way. Was she alone or attached to something or someone far worse?
CHAPTER ONE
“I have no idea who she was,” I said to Miami. My hands were still shaking a little, as I filled a brown pottery mug with coffee and passed it to my co-worker. “But man, she really got under my skin. I was just minding my own business, walking along the beach like I do every morning. Next thing I know this freaky woman is threatening my morning mellow; giving off one unnatural vibe after another.”
“Unnatural vibe like she’s evil or like she’s some kind of nut? I mean, who wears a black suit to the beach? I’m a witch and I don’t even do that; unless it’s a bathing suit, of course,” Miami said with a smirk as she blew away puffs of swirling steam from her coffee.
“I’m not sure, but I could swear that before she pushed up those crazy big sunglasses, her eyes were glowing. I could almost see their coppery fire burning through the dark lenses. I can’t tell you for absolute certain, but I’m pretty sure that she’s got some kind of hinky magic attached to her.”
“Hinky magic? Did you just make that word up? What does that even mean? I’ve never heard you use hinky before. In fact, I’ve never even heard of that word period. And anyway, if you were so suspicious, why didn’t you just stop and talk to her? I mean, couldn’t you have easily checked her out with all of your super witchy powers?” Miami waved her hands in the air as if to make a point.
"Come on, Miami. Give me a break. You know that this paranormal stuff is all new to me. It’s hinky – creepy, different, strange, like that. Whatever kind of magic that diva was peddling was something I’ve never seen before. It’s just not fair. I haven’t been at this long enough to know which kind of magic to embrace and which kind to fear. In fact, you know that most of this supernatural mumbo jumbo still scares the heck out of me.
“Ever since I came to New Moon Beach and was told that I was not just some misfit and that I had magical abilities, everyone has treated me like some kind of superstar witch. But as far as I can tell, I’m what you call a late bloomer when it comes to anything mystical. Despite what the coven members seem to believe, witchcraft is just not something that comes easily to me. Yes, I can sometimes read minds, sometimes sense danger, sometimes see the future; sometimes, sometimes, sometimes. But I can’t do any of those things with any regularity. In short, I sort of suck at magic and it’s really frustrating.
“I didn’t grow up in a family with anything paranormal happening in it. I grew up in an orphanage school thinking that I was just some misfit who didn’t belong anywhere. St. Guinevere’s was a small school and a dumping ground for girls with family money, but no family. It was run by a tight little group of Catholic nuns, most of them well over the age of sixty. I was apparently the exception; dumped with no family and no money.
“I was deposited at St. G’s at the age of five, when my mom died. And, as no one seemed to be able to tell me who my father was, I remained there until I turned eighteen and won a scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. It didn’t dawn on me until I was older that someone, other than my long deceased mother, just might have been helping to pay the pricey tuition for St. G’s.
“The really sad thing is that I never did feel at home at St. Guinevere’s. There was just something way too different about me to ever fit in. As a little girl I was tormented by a bunch of strange and troubling feelings that always seemed to be percolating inside of me. I was often frightened by the quirky dreams I had at night and the strange images I could see that no one else could. And there wasn’t anyone else like me that I could share any of this with.
“I hated to walk by the cemetery that was right next to our school. No matter how tightly I closed my eyes, I could still see strange ghost people walking across the grassy yard. If I was really quiet I could hear them as they called out, searching for something or someone they must have lost. It was really scary for a little kid.
“Sometimes I’d pass by one of the nuns and I could actually hear her thinking, How did we get stuck with this strange child. It used to make me cry. But I had no idea why any of that was happening to me and I never could have predicted that I’d find out later that I was a witch!
“It would have been nice to know what was really going on and that I had a mother and a father who were both drenched in magic. But oh no, nobody let me in on that secret until this year.”
So when I use the word hinky to describe the kind of strange magic that weird woman on the beach was shooting my way, that’s my magically uneducated way of describing what it felt like to me. The charmed world is so incredibly new to me. And even though I may have a bunch of intermittent powers that seem to be getting stronger, I’m not able to fully access or control any of them with any regularity. Everyone expects me to perform like a star witch and I’m still in a slow burn learning mode. It gets tiresome having to come up with excuses to explain to disappointed friends and family about my lack of mystical polish. Or maybe it’s just that I’m disappointed with myself for not catching on faster. I mean I was always a pretty good student, but this magic stuff has really unsettled my psyche!
Looking back at Miami I realized that I’d gotten temporarily lost in my own head and plugged back into our conversation.
“Sorry Miami. Sometimes I get lost in my own head. I feel as if I’m running as fast as I can trying to figure out my mystical place in this world. You asked why I didn’t just talk to the woman in the black suit. Even though she looked kind of scary, I actually would have talked to her, but I got distracted when some idiot bounced his car up onto the curb right next to me. I really think that drivers around here have gone nuts. This guy just ran his car right up onto the curb and then jumped out and looked at me as if I’d done it!”
“Did you?” asked Miami.
“What? No! I don’t think so. Why would I do that? In all of the confusion the mysterious chick just up and disappeared. I never did get a chance to confirm who or what she was. And to make matters worse, the driver kept whining on and on about his car being possessed. Anyway, she’s gone, there’s nothing more that I can do about her right now and we’ve got a ton of books to unload this morning.”
“Yes boss, back to work,” sighed Miami as she headed towards a box of books stacked neatly in the corner of my new bookstore.
I really lucked out when I got the unexpected opportunity to buy my own bookstore in New Moon Beach. As a kid, since I had no friends, I hid out within the pages of fantasies and mysteries. I loved stories where characters traveled through paranormal worlds. Tales about strange lands filled with unusual or creepy characters with special powers somehow made me happy. I could envision myself emerging from my wardrobe into the world of Narnia. And I just knew that I could be friends with the teens in Twilight. Harry Potter and I would have had a thing for sure.
"Mae, I was wondering, how did you ever find this bookstore deal anyway?” Miami asked. “I mean New Moon Beach is a long ways from Houston, Texas.”
“I guess I just lucked out. I’m not really sure what made me look through the Houston Chronicle ads one Saturday morning, but I’m sure glad I did. Once I saw the advertisement, I couldn’t seem to shake it out of my head. I’d just graduated from Rice University and after reading about a store for sale in California, I wondered if I had the guts to travel all the way from Houston by myself to check this shop out? And, even if I did, would I be able to secure a small business loan to start my own bookstore?
“I got one of those quirky feelings in my stomach, like this empty little shop was calling out to me. And before giving in to any of my fears, I’d packed my old VW full of my meager belongings, cashed in my small savings account and mapped out my trip to California.”
“You were a lot braver than I ever would be,” Miami said softly.
“Maybe. Or maybe, I just needed to push myself to take this chance. The ad had been short and sweet - a small beach shop available for sale. It appeared to be just the right size and the location, near a quaint beach community, looked amazing. After researching what a great place New Moon Beach was, I worried that it was too good to be true. I was sure that there must be an error because the price was so low. But when I called, the old lady who owned the shop assured me that the price was correct and welcomed me out for a visit.
“Funny thing, and I know that this may sound dumb to you, but it almost felt like the owner had been waiting for my call. So, off I went and much to my surprise, the shop was soon mine. The bank agreed to my loan telling me that they were in the business of supporting young female entrepreneurs. Was I lucky or what?”
“I wonder if it was something more than luck?” said Miami with a questioning look.
“Thinking back now, I’ve wondered that too. Especially since everything started happening all at once after I bought the property. The shop was great, it had an apartment upstairs for me to live in as part of the deal and the neighborhood was unreal. But that was just the beginning.”
“Almost like it was meant to be,” whispered Miami.
“It get’s even stranger, Miami. The day after I moved to New Moon Beach and into my apartment, a man showed up at my door claiming to be my father. He said that his name was Alistair Merriman and that he had only recently found out about my existence. Can you believe that?”
“Did you?” asked Miami.
“Well, not at first. I have to admit that his story sounded fishy at first. He quickly explained that about twenty years ago, he and my mother had a thing together and I was the result. I guess, for whatever reason, she never told him about me.
“Maybe she never really had the chance,” offered Miami.
“Could be. He said that after learning about me, he came right away to meet me. And brother, he had as many questions about me as I had about him.”
Alistair Merriman hadn’t appeared to be a kook. I mean, I didn’t get any of my strange warning vibes off of him and there was something especially kind about his eyes. So I’d let him in and we had talked for over two hours. Apparently Sister Madelyn had recently made her way to Alistair’s door. A really old nun by now, she told him that she had been plagued with guilt for not disclosing my existence to him earlier. She explained that she had made a promise to my mother, a burdensome promise that she no longer wished to carry to her deathbed. And so began his search for me. Imagine his surprise to find me just a few miles away.
Alistair told me all about himself and his family. He apologized over and over again for not knowing about me sooner. Either he was a really good actor or he really meant it. I wasn’t sure, but I guess I secretly hoped just a little bit that he meant everything he said. He never did say much about my mother. I presumed he was saving that for later, once he felt more comfortable with me.
I was shocked to learn that I had three half sisters, a stepmother and a slew of other soon-to-be-met relatives. I’ve got to tell you that I was more than a little surprised when the entire family made it clear that they were happy and committed to taking me into their flock. I was torn between letting fear rule me and rejecting the one thing I had always wanted - a family. Or, believing in them and accepting the enticing kinship that was being offered. Dangling the possibility of having a family in front of my heart was just too tempting, so I agreed to get to know the Merriman tribe.
The whole witch revelation was a complete shock to me. I had no idea that I was a witch like my sisters Olivia, Constance and Harmony.I just thought I was different. I didn’t know what it meant to be a witch or if I even wanted to be one… as if I had a choice that is. I still can’t help but wonder when I’m going to start cackling or feel the urge to ride a broom? I check my face numerous times a day to make sure that no warts have suddenly popped up on my chin or nose. And I can assure you that my father and his connection to the world of magic has been a challenge to accept.
But some truly awesome things have come from my move to New Moon Beach. I now have a blossoming business that I love, a family I hadn’t known I had and freakish magical powers that keep erupting and scare the death out of me. That’s an awful lot for an orphan from San Francisco to get used to all at once. I can’t help but wonder what the nuns would think if they ever found out. But then, maybe Sister Madilyn had known all along. That question was sure to plague me during one of my restless nights.
Draining her coffee, Miami rinsed the cup and slowly trudged off to open the dozen or so boxes that were stuffed with new inventory.
“No rest for this wicked witch,” Miami sighed as she pulled open the top of the first box. Miami can be so dramatic when she wants to be.
I knew that I needed to help her with the inventory, but the rumbling in my stomach had me longing for a cinnamon roll or two from Gino’s Bakery. The smell of sinfully delicious baked goods had been creeping over here all morning and I just couldn’t resist it any longer. My story had taken far too long to tell and I was well past hungry.
My desire for sweets is a common occurrence since my shop is just five doors down from Gino’s and I am a staunch sugarholic. I constantly have to fight the urge to dive into chocolate, cinnamon or caramel treats and Gino’s is the sure cure for my sugar cravings.
“I’ll be back in five,” I called out to Miami. “I’ll be back to help as soon as I go and get us some treats.”
Not waiting to hear her response I nipped over to Gino’s Bakery and walked into the middle of one very disturbing conversation. If the bakery hadn’t smelled so darn good and I wasn’t so hungry, I would have turned right around and left. After all, who wants to hear this kind of news after the crazy morning I’d already had?
A young police officer was standing at the bakery counter talking loudly; clearly trying to sound important and make points with Gino’s daughter, Angelica. I assume the officer thought sharing inside info on a breaking police story was the sure way to Angelica’s heart.
“They found him at the base of the cliffs and his body was a battered, bloody mess,” he said with his hands resting impressively on his gun belt.
“Was he already dead?” Angelica asked timidly, her dark brown eyes appearing more than a little troubled.
“Yes, ma’am. No one could survive that fall. He was dead alright, dead as a door nail. Some surfer found his body all broken up on the rocks. We’ve got guys out there now scouring the area for details. I guess the surfer used his cell phone to call us. Really freaked him out; threw up all over his surfboard. ”
“Yuck,” Angelica said with a sigh as she noticed my arrival for the first time. “Oh, Hi Mae, this is Officer Tim Tyler. He’s new to the New Moon Beach PD. Right Tim?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a proud smile that showed off some amazing movie star quality orthodontia. I wondered if he was born with those beauties or just had a good dentist he could recommend. I’ve always been embarrassed by my crooked teeth and want to pop for some braces as soon as I’m financially able.
“Tim was just telling me a gruesome story about what happened down off the cliffs. I need to go to the back for a minute, Mae. Can you please keep him company while I grab his donuts?” Angelica wiped her hands on her apron and mumbled, “I really hope this murder doesn’t hurt business.”
Angelica excused herself and I noticed that her face was pale, her eyes were watering and I swear I could hear her stomach churning. Clearly, she was having some kind of physical reaction to the cop’s storytelling.
Remembering my manners, I reached out to shake the officer’s hand, saying, “Hi Tim, I’m Mae Masters. I own the Literally Magic Book Store just down the street. Um, did I hear you say that someone was killed?”
Before I could remove my hand, a prickle of annoyance shot through Tim’s fingers and transferred to mine in the form of an electrical shock. Damn, I hate when that happens. Clearly I had pushed one of Tim’s buttons and he was unconsciously telling me to back off. At least that’s what I think the zip of energy meant.
Apparently unaware of the shock he had just inflicted on me, the young officer straightened his back and responded, “No ma’am, I did not say that. I said that a man was found dead at the base of the New Moon Beach cliffs. We don’t know if there is any foul play involved; the investigation has just begun. Could have been murdered, had an accident or even some kind of suicide; we just don’t know at this time. The victim was fully clothed, wearing what looked to be business attire; nothing else special about him that we can determine as yet.”
“He must have been on his way to work, don’t you think? I mean, who goes to the beach in a suit?” I said, suddenly remembering the black diva. I willed thoughts of her out of my head and asked, “When did it happen?”
“I was first on the scene at approximately six a.m. this morning. A surfer found him some time earlier. Dude told me that he didn’t see or hear anything; just walked out of the water and stumbled upon the body.”
“What a way to start a morning! Did anyone recognize the dead guy?” Angelica asked as she returned sipping water from a Dixie cup and looking a bit less pale.
“As I said before, we are still investigating. I really shouldn’t have shared so much with you ladies. Do me a favor and keep this to yourselves until the department makes an official statement, okay? I’ve got to get back to the station pronto,” Tim said rather nervously as he checked the time on his watch. “Thanks for the donuts, Angelica. The guys will love them.”
“You’re welcome,” Angelica said, beaming before turning to me. “The new guy at the station always gets stuck bringing donuts to his team. I felt sorry for him and threw in a couple cinnamon rolls too. He’s kind of cute, don’t you think? A little geeky, but still pretty cute,” Angelica said sweetly as she watched Tim slide his long legs back into his patrol car.
“I guess.”
I’m not sure what Angelica saw in him, but the straight laced Officer Tim Tyler type was definitely not my cup of tea. This might surprise you, but I go for the more free spirited, live and let live kind of man.
“That was one ugly story he was telling you. Kind of gave me the willies. I haven’t lived here that long; does this kind of thing happen often around here?”
Angelica made a face and said, “No, uh-uh. No way! I can’t remember anything like this ever happening here. Dead bodies and New Moon Beach do not go together; at least not as far as I know.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said. And I really was. “Would you please call me if you hear anything else? I’ve got to get back to the shop. Miami is going to kill me for leaving her with a ton of work. Oops, probably a poor choice of words,” I said with a nervous smile.
"You think?” responded Angelica with a giggle.
“What I do think, Angelica, is that you have an admirer. Something tells me that Officer Tim will be making a regular pit stop here to see more of you and your cinnamon rolls. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Do you have any of those cinnamon rolls left? I know that Miami would just love one and so would I.”
“Sure, give me a minute,” Angelica said as she closed the donut display case, still thinking out loud. “What a sad day. I keep trying to figure out who the dead guy might be. Was he married… have kids? Tim didn’t really give us much info about what the man looked like. Just went on and on about the blood and his neck and…”
I lost the rest of her words as she scurried off in search of my desired rolls.
Returning moments later and handing me a little white bag with a gold Gino’s Bakery sticker on it, Angelica continued, “This whole murder thing really creeps me out. I wonder if we have a killer living in New Moon Beach and I wonder if we know him… or her?” she said with an anxious glance towards me.
“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I said as I hurried, bag in hand, back to my store. A murderer here in New Moon Beach? What next? This whole morning was giving me a headache. First the weird visitor and now a dead body. I wonder if my dark diva and the dead man have anything in common?
I can have such a wild imagination when left to my own machinations.