Magic & Mystery Read online

  One

  Winterfield, Illinois

  The fire spread through the Tory mansion so fast the town’s small fire department couldn’t keep up with the blaze. Flames roared against the backdrop of the night sky, and a small, silver cat stalked away from the house in the shadows. The animal had been hiding in the garage, the only part of the house not consumed in flames, and now it was abandoning its former home.

  Sterling the cat, was beside herself with the loss of her owner, but there was no time to dwell. She knew where to go. There was only one witch in town with whom the cat wanted to become familiar. While everyone was gawking and gasping over the fire on the hill, the lovely kitty made her way to 777 Cornland Lane.

  She pawed at the door and, a moment later, a woman in her early thirties opened it. A smile spread across Belladonna’s face when she saw who had come to visit her.

  “Oh my, Sterling. What are you doing here? You know Elsbeth doesn’t like it when you come visit me too often.” Belladonna said as she bent down and scooped the silver cat up into her arms. Sterling mewled loudly and snuggled up to Belladonna as close as she could get. “You’re right. I don’t think she minds nearly as much as she carries on about it.”

  She had to shift the cat in her arm to scratch her now very itchy palm. Bella knew she wasn’t allergic to cats, so the itch in her hand could only mean one thing. Before she could mention the idea to her feline companion, something else caught her attention.

  That’s the moment that Belladonna, who had been previously watching a movie on her computer with her headphones on, caught her first glimpse of the fire blazing away at the Tory mansion.

  “You poor, poor dear. Well, I guess I’d better let you in then,” she said and closed the door behind her.

  Once inside, she set the cat down and went to get her phone. Belladonna wasn’t sure who to call, but she was sure she should probably call someone. She had to be the only person in town who didn’t know what was going on.

  At the edge of Belladonna’s yard, hidden behind a huge azalea bush, a dark figure watched the witch carry her new pet into the house.

  Tory Mansion (Or what was left of it.)

  Detective Benjamin Carmichael arrived on the scene as the last of Winterfield’s oldest and fanciest estates burned to the ground. The local firefighters were still trying to put out the blaze, but very soon, they would be doing nothing but watering ash. The fire had consumed the house almost entirely, and it would be doing everyone a favor by putting itself out. Even the garage was gone by the time Benjamin stepped out of his vehicle.

  He crossed the lawn and almost reached Fire Chief Higgins when the scream pierced the night air. It was already chilly, but the sound of terror in firefighter Cassie Holt’s voice gave the seasoned detective a chill.

  Everyone who wasn’t pointing a firehose at the flames ran around the back of the former house to the source of the scream. There behind the garden shed was Cassie, standing next to the body of Mrs. Elsbeth Tory.

  Ben had seen worse in his days working homicide in the city, but this event was probably one of the most horrific things the town of Winterfield had seen for a very long time. A murmur started to roll through the group of firefighters, police officers, and the village folk who had been brave enough to come close to the fire.

  Ben looked down the hill and saw the crowd of onlookers inching closer. Their curiosity was heightened by the scream. He knew he had to take control of the scene fast. There was a distinct possibility that the estate was now a crime scene.

  He grabbed the three police officers already present. “You guys need to get your crime scene tape and put it on the outside gate. Get everybody here who isn’t fighting the fire out. I’m going to call the chief.”

  The three officers nodded their heads and headed for their patrol cars. Ben pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the chief’s number.

  “I’m already on my way, Detective,” Police Chief Alex Frost answered without even saying hello.

  “How did you know already?” Detective Benjamin asked, astonished.

  “You’ll learn how things work around here soon enough,” Chief Frost responded and then cut the line.

  Ben shook his head and slid his phone back into his black slacks. Then he immediately took it back out. There was no forensics team in Winterfield, so he’d have to call in the one from Floret. He was confident they wouldn’t get much from the crime scene. It was so contaminated because of all of the people who had already stomped all over it, but it was best to call them in any way.

  By the time he got off the phone with the Floret City Forensics Team, the fire was out. Officer Terry escorted the rest of the firefighters out of the crime scene and then waited with Ben for the forensics team. The other two officers sat in their patrol car at the end of the Tory mansion’s driveway to keep everyone off the property.

  Once the team from Floret City arrived, Ben told the two officers guarding the driveway they could go home and get some sleep.

  “You can go too, Officer Terry,” Ben offered when he looked at his watch and saw how late it was getting.

  “Thanks, Boss. I’ll see you in the morning,” Officer Terry said and tipped his hat to the new detective.

  The forensics team was processing the crime scene until almost dawn. Ben didn’t know any of them, so he just stood back and watched them quietly. Chief Frost had shown up and stayed around long enough to tell Ben he was in charge. Frost had a brief meeting with Fire Chief Higgins before going home.

  The state arson investigator showed up about the time that forensics left, and Detective Ben wondered if he’d ever get the chance to poke about the scene. He was itching to look around, but he knew he’d have to wait until the site was cleared for entry.

  As the sun broke the horizon, the state arson investigator, Mr. Ledbetter, finished his investigation, gave Ben his card, and left. He mumbled something about possibly having to come back later, but he seemed exhausted and frazzled. Being woken up in the middle of the night to visit the scene of a murder will do that to you. But again, people around here hadn’t seen as much of that stuff as Ben had during his previous career.

  Detective Benjamin had hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with violent crime anymore after his move to Winterfield, but he was getting ready to poke around the ashes of a burned down mansion to find clues in a murder investigation.

  777 Cornland Lane

  Sterling stretched out in front of the fireplace in Belladonna’s parlor. She licked her paw and meowed loudly. Despite the fact that she’d just escaped a massive house fire, the small silver cat wanted a fire lit in the hearth.

  The Victorian house on the corner of Cornland Lane and Parker Street had six fireplaces total, but all of them had been converted to natural gas years before Belladonna bought the house. All she had to do was push a button and turn a dial, and a cozy fire roared to life. Sterling rolled over on her back and swished her tail across the rug in appreciation.

  Belladonna was still trying to call her best friend, Murielle, when the broom in the corner of the room fell over. “Company’s coming,” she said to Sterling and knelt down to rub the cat’s furry belly.

  A few moments later, there was a knock at the front door. Belladonna shuffled quickly to the front entryway. When she swung the heavy oak front door open, Murielle was standing there looking red-faced and frazzled.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot my phone at home when I went to the square to watch the fire.”

  “Then how did you know I was trying to call you?” Belladonna asked and stepped back so her friend could enter the house.

  “Witch, please, I always know when you’re trying to call thirty seconds before the phone rings. Apparently, it works even when I don’t have my phone,” Murielle said and bent down to pet Sterling as the cat rubbed against her shins. “Why is Sterling here? I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m glad the kitty didn’t burn up, but what’s she doing here?”

  “She was at my door. I didn’t ev
en know there was a fire until I opened it to let her in. I was in the den watching Practical Magic again,” Belladonna said and laughed when her best friend rolled her eyes at her.

  “Sterling always did like you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she burned down the Tory mansion just so she could come live with you.” Murielle started to chuckle, but then her face went ghostly white. She looked as though she might be sick.

  “What is it?” Belladonna asked as she rushed to her friend’s side.

  “That wasn’t nice. I shouldn’t have said that. Considering.”

  “Considering what?” Belladonna asked as she squeezed her friend’s shoulder reassuringly.

  “That’s what I came down here to tell you. I don’t know how it slipped my mind. Anyway, they found Mrs. Tory’s body out behind the garden shed. One of the firefighters. Um, Cassie Holt. She found her when she went around the back of the house.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible,” Belladonna said and brought her hands up to her stomach. She pressed against her belly as if that would stop the queasy feeling of dread rising in her.

  “You’re probably the only person in town that will feel that way,” Murielle said grimly.

  “Don’t be mean,” Bella chastised softly.

  “Well, not many people like her. In fact, I’m pretty sure you and Sterling are the only ones who did.”

  “People didn’t understand her,” Belladonna said as she bent down to scoop Sterling into her arms again. “Did they, girl?” The cat purred as Bella scratched under her chin.

  “Let’s get some tea and sit on the porch,” Murielle said and headed towards Belladonna’s kitchen.

  Belladonna cut up a peach while her friend quickly washed some berries from the refrigerator. The two women filled the bottom quarter of their glasses with the fresh fruit and then poured iced tea over it.

  They made their way out to Bella’s huge wraparound porch and sat down in the rocking chairs to watch the fire. Once Belladonna was situated, Sterling jumped into her lap and curled up.

  “Oh hey, Sterling. I didn’t even realize you’d followed us out here,” she said and petted the cat softly.

  The two women rocked and chatted until the fire at the Tory mansion was completely out. Soon after the blaze was gone, Officer Terry drove up. Bella and Murielle waved at him as he pulled his police cruiser up to the curb.

  “Ms. Murielle, would you like a police escort home this evening?” he asked with a hopeful smile on his face.

  “Why sure, Officer Terry. Let me grab my purse,” she said and stood up.

  “When are you going to give in and just go out on a date with that man already?” Belladonna asked and gave her friend a wink.

  “Haha. Soon, Bella darling, soon. I’m just going to make him work a little harder for it. I’m worth it, and I think he likes the challenge,” she said and retreated into the house before Belladonna could respond.

  “You make sure and lock your door tonight, Belladonna,” Officer Terry called out to her.

  “I will. Thanks, Luke.”

  He didn’t say the reason for the warning, but it was there hanging in the air. Mrs. Tory’s death would most likely have the whole town on edge for a while. Bella wondered if the new detective she’d seen at the coffee shop a few times was the one working the case. She didn’t know why, but the idea of him up on the hill investigating intrigued her. Actually, he intrigued her, but she’d never let on about that to anyone.

  “Bye, Belladonna,” Murielle said as she came bouncing out the door.

  Bella put Sterling down on the porch and got out of her rocking chair to hug her friend goodnight. It made Belladonna happy to see her friend falling in love. Even if Officer Terry was a werewolf. Ms. Nightshade was confident that her best friend was in good hands.

  Two

  Tory Mansion Crime Scene

  Once he was given the all-clear, Detective Ben walked into the burned down remains of the Tory mansion to have a look around. The fire had burned scorchingly hot, and there wasn’t much left besides piles of ash and cinder.

  It was fortunate that Mrs. Tory’s body had been found outside the blaze. Otherwise, it might have provided nothing useful to help Ben find her killer. That is, assuming she was murdered. At this time, Ben was going to proceed with the case as if it were a murder. He would investigate the crime as a homicide until he was told differently. Still, the notion that her death and the fire could have been accidental pecked at his mind.

  In a way, he hoped it was. Ben wanted the town of Winterfield to be the peaceful oasis he’d believed it to be when he moved here. This place was supposed to be his ticket out of the mad world he’d inhabited in his past life. However, if Elsbeth Tory was murdered, Benjamin would do everything in his power to bring her killer to justice.

  Several times during his search of the ruins, the detective found metal art and gilded picture frames that the fire hadn’t consumed entirely. The frames no doubt once held priceless works of art that the fire destroyed. It was a shame really. He could tell that Tory’s collection had at one time been impressive. Now it was all a charred mess.

  Surely one of the neighboring cities had a museum that would take what was left. Some of the sculptures could probably be restored. Nevertheless, there might be an heir who’d want them even if they were ruined. Detective Benjamin made a note to track down possible heirs when he was done poking around the crime scene.

  A long, black limousine pulled up to the gate at the end of the drive and stopped. A short, stout old man got out of the back and waved at Ben. Before he left his exploration to meet the man, Ben noticed a gold box poking out of a pile of ash. He took note of its location and then headed towards the limousine.

  “Hello, Detective, I’m Mr. Richards. I was Mrs. Tory’s attorney,” the man said and extended his hand to Detective Benjamin.

  “Well, that’s serendipitous. I was just wondering about Mrs. Tory’s next of kin. I’m Detective Benjamin Carmichael. I’ll be leading the investigation into Mrs. Tory’s death,” Ben said as he took Mr. Richard’s hand and shook it firmly. The older man had a surprisingly strong grip.

  “I’m afraid she has no known next of kin, Detective. She did have a will, though. Elsbeth left a significant portion of her personal fortune to the Humane Society of Illinois. The rest she left to a Ms. Belladonna Nightshade for the care and comfort of her beloved Sterling,” Mr. Richards said and rocked back and forth on his feet.

  “Sterling? I thought you said she had no next of kin,” Detective Benjamin said curiously.

  “Oh, haha, Detective. Sterling is Mrs. Tory’s cat. Oh my, did you find the cat? I certainly hope the poor creature wasn’t killed in the fire.” The little man started to ring his hands nervously. “She loved that cat dearly.”

  “I haven’t seen a cat, but the arson investigator didn’t report finding the remains of the cat. I’ll have to ask around. Out of curiosity, how much did Mrs. Tory leave to this Belladonna Nightshade for the care of her cat?” Ben crossed find next of kin from his list and added find cat.

  “Well, if you locate the cat, you’ll have met your first millionaire cat. The will provides one million dollars a year for Sterling’s care and comfort. The rest of the cat’s trust fund will go to the humane society upon her passing. Unless she has kittens. At that point, the remaining portion of the fifty-million-dollar trust goes directly to Ms. Nightshade,” Mr. Richards said as he began to rock back and forth on his heels again.

  “Holy wow!” Benjamin exclaimed. “The cat has a fifty-million-dollar trust?”

  “Yes, but unless Sterling has a litter, Ms. Nightshade will probably only get about fifteen of it.”

  “Does Ms. Nightshade know yet?”

  “No, I came here first. I couldn’t believe the Tory Mansion was gone. I had to see it for myself. Next, I’m afraid I have the grim duty to identify Mrs. Tory’s body. Then, if you’ve found the cat, I’ll inform Ms. Nightshade of her role in the estate. There’s no point in telling her if there’s
no cat. It was a pleasure to meet you, Detective Carmichael, but I must be on my way.”

  The two men shook hands again, and the detective watched Mr. Richard’s limo pull away. He stood in shock for a moment, rubbing the stubble on his chin. Ms. Nightshade was a very lucky woman, provided she liked cats. However, if she knew about the will, Belladonna was also a prime suspect.

  Ben needed to get down to the town and start searching for the cat. He wasn’t sure why, but suddenly that task seemed imperative. Before he left, though, he remembered the golden box in the ashes. He made his way back to it, and gingerly pulled what appeared to be an ornate jewelry box from a pile of cinder.

  It struck Detective Carmichael as odd that the latch seemed to have been pried open. The damage didn’t look like it had been caused by the fire, and upon opening the box, he found it completely empty. It was possible that someone had broken the latch on the box and stolen what was inside.

  It was even more possible that Detective Ben had ruined any chances of pulling fingerprints off the box by handling it. He cursed himself under his breath. Being exhausted had caused him to make a mistake, but that wasn’t an excuse. He promised himself that he would be far more careful from now on.

  When he worked on the city police force, Detective Carmichael was as sharp as a tack. Just a few weeks of living in Winterfield had softened his edge. He was going to need that edge to solve this murder. If it was a murder.

  He would give it one day and then Ben would become the biggest pain in the butt the coroner’s office had ever had to deal with until he got Mrs. Tory’s autopsy results. If nothing else, they should have a toxicology screen done within a day or so.

  Until then, he had a cat to find. There were no witnesses to the crime, but he still had to talk to people. He especially needed to speak with Ms. Nightshade. For reasons unknown to him, that thought put a little pep in his step.

  Detective Ben walked back to his car and got an evidence bag out of the trunk. As he was sliding the jewelry box into it, he noticed for the first time that the intricate design stamped into the gold was a dragon.