Inconvenient Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery (21 page)

“Oh, yeah. I like you just fine, Emily.” He looked at Ingrid. “Your friend annoys the hell out of me, but you aren’t so bad. Not really. But I couldn’t wait any longer for your divorce to be final. I needed Owen’s money and as long as he was alive and you were married, I didn’t have access to it. There was a business deal, and I needed the cash.”

“This was about money?” Emily asked, incredulously. She was mostly offended, and mad at herself that she was offended. But if she had to be murdered in the woods, it needed to be over something awesome like true love or an ambassador’s daughter who’d been kidnapped and was saved just as Emily covered the child with her own body. She deserved to go out in a blaze of glory. Damn it.

“He’s a dickhead, too,” Ingrid said. “We’ve established this.”

“Everything is about money, Emily.” Davis’s arrogant voice was more condescending than ever. “I already wrote a check from his account and put it in a Swiss bank account. Made it look like it was from him before he died. But then Melinda had to mess it up with her big mouth. So I shut her up. That’s fine, though. Now I don’t have to share the money.”

“You don’t actually think you are going to get away with this, do you?” Ingrid’s voice was laced with acid. And a touch of humor. “Also, your kids are effed up, aren’t they? They are, of course. Don’t bother to answer.”

Emily giggled at Ingrid’s irreverence to the murderer waving a gun in their faces.

Davis smiled. “Of course, I’ll get away with this. I’m going to kill both of you. And burn your bodies along with Melinda’s here so nobody ever finds you. They’ll think that you guys ran off with the money since you already look guilty, and I’ll tell everyone that Melinda left me. Nobody will look for any of you.”

Ingrid smiled. “The sheriff will definitely be looking for me, you dumb ass. Also her aunt is the most powerful witch on the island. You don’t have a chance in hell to get away with this. She’ll know we were murdered when I haunt her and then track you down to screw with you until you kill yourself to escape me. Also, and please realize this is true, that Hazel will remove your ability to use your man parts and leave you to be a girlfriend in jail. She can make you all alluring and sultry for your prison mates.”

“Plus,” Emily said, “ghost me will totally be whispering to them while they sleep until they slowly kill you. Super, painfully slowly.”

He pointed the gun at Ingrid and cocked it as he said, “I don’t believe in magic.”

“Run, Ingrid.” Emily shouted as she dove for Davis.

Ingrid leapt behind a tree, but not before using her magic to hold Davis in place for a moment. With the combination of Emily’s tackle and Ingrid’s magic, they knocked him down just as the gun went off.

Ingrid hurried from behind the tree, grabbed Emily’s arm, and they ran into the woods, holding hands so they wouldn’t get separated. Ingrid’s magic held Davis in place long enough to get well and truly lost but she felt it snap just as they ducked down near a thick tree and some massive brambles.

“I—can’t—breathe,” Emily huffed. “We have to slow down.”

Ingrid led them behind another large tree where they both struggled to catch their breath. “I’m gonna call Gabe. I’m certain he will object to this dickhead chasing his girlfriend through the forest and shooting at her. Also, you think a-hole believes in magic yet? I’m going to light his undershorts on fire either way.”

Emily laughed.

“Damn it all to hell. My phone is by my bed. Give me yours.” Ingrid searched through her purse. “All I’ve got is my wallet, car keys, and a can of hairspray.”

“Well, now what?” Emily said as Davis rounded into the clearing where they were hiding. Ingrid dropped to the ground and pulled Emily down. Em was so angry, it was too likely she’d dive for the guy again and who knew where the next bullet would end up?

“I hate that a-hole so hard right now,” Ingrid whispered. “But I can’t get my magic. I’m almost to pants-peeing scared, so my magic is slipping through my damn, inept fingers.”

16

Wednesday Night

They were squatting next to the massive trees of the Pacific Northwest, not quite peeing their pants, and Ingrid reconsidered the sanctity of bunny life.

“I’m feeling okay about bunnies dying for us now. When we get to a phone, I’m calling Saffron. I’ll pay her a small fortune to take care of this. Screw Karma. We should have done that already,” Ingrid said as she felt around for anything. Maybe a branch. Or a badger. Something to throw at that murderer. Car keys even. She dug in her purse finding gum, mints, lip stick. Nothing useful.

“Just give up,” he called. She wasn’t sure if he was calling out because he knew they were in this meadow-thingy or because he was hoping they could hear them. What did it matter?

His shout echoed as he continued, “Better for us all. You’re her heir, right Em? I probably should have killed her and waited for you to get the money and taken care of you after. Of course, Ingrid should have just rolled up and died after her husband did. She’s worthless without him.”

Her eyes narrowed across the clearing. The surge of fury at Davis’s words was just what she needed to grab her magic. Jackholes needed to be taught lessons. With big, big sticks.

Or fire.

“You two are the biggest idiots I have ever seen. You aren’t going to get away. I’ll make it quick. Don’t make me teach you a lesson before I kill you.”

Ingrid looked over at her friend, rolling her eyes to show what she thought of that suggestion. And as she did, her fingers wrapped around the bottle of hairspray at the bottom of her purse. She lifted it up and showed it to Emily.

“Sweet,” Emily mouthed as Davis stumbled past them.

“Where are you, you stupid whores? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“Oh,” Ingrid said, standing and holding the hairspray in front of her, “well, if killing us is messing with your schedule, let’s just get it over with.”

Emily crawled away from her side of the path, a branch in her hands. Ingrid grinned, hoping that Emily got in some good hits before Ingrid figured out how to blow Davis up. She was already poison ivy’d, had dead people gook, vomit, and the
woods
on her. What was bits of jackhole? Well worth it, that was what.

He lifted the gun at her, and she waved her hand. The wind should have snatched the gun from his hand, but he was holding it too tightly. She was angry, angry enough to let her magic run riot. She barely had control on the best of days. But she didn’t need control for what she intended.

“Give me that, jerkhole,” she said, and she snatched the gun with her magic, succeeding this time. Probably it was the fury, but she felt as though she could set the entire woods on fire now that she had a hold on her power. The gun flew just as Emily used her magic to swing the branch down on his head. Ingrid watched Emily magically swing her branch one more time across the back of Davis’s head for good measure.

“Nice one. Go for his kidneys and then the man parts,” Ingrid told Emily, shaking the bottle of spray. Emily set the branch to swinging as she leapt out of the line of fire just as Ingrid covered Davis in hairspray.

He batted at his face before saying, “You are the dumbest whore I have ever…”

But then Ingrid focused her will. Fire was her most reliable spell, and she set the him aflame.

He started screaming and rolling as Emily hit him again and then dropped the branch into his fire.

Emily summoned magic from the deepest part of herself and added fuel to Ingrid’s fire. “Man, it feels good to draw on my magic again Ingrid. You know? Really pull it in and toast that smarmy bastard.”

Ingrid smiled, happy to see her friends confidence come back but didn’t want to make a thing out of it. “This isn’t the time to boast, Em.”

“Ingrid!” A deep voice yelled from the trees. “Ingrid! Emily!”

“Oh, hey,” Emily said, lazily. “It’s the cops. You think we’re gonna get arrested for setting someone on fire?”

Ingrid shoved back her hair and said, “I refuse to go to jail until after I have a shower. And then a bath. And then another shower. And a pedicure. Over here!” she shouted.

Gabe came running out of the trees. He bypassed Davis, who was moaning low in his throat even though the fire had gone out, and picked up Ingrid, clutching her close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear, “I have vomit, dirt, and dead ho-bag gook on me.”

He laughed as he pressed her closer. “Okay,” he said against her hair.

Ingrid watched from the safety of Gabe’s perfect arms as Aunt Hazel followed Gabe’s path with several deputies.

Gabe kissed Ingrid’s hair before he set her back from him. “You do stink. Are you all right?”

“Well, karmically I think I might be screwed. I’m pretty sure that setting people on fire is bad right, Aunt Hazel?”

“He was trying to kill you?”

Ingrid and Emily nodded, and Emily muttered, “He’s foul. He killed dickhead and Melinda.”

“I figured,” Gabe said. “I’ve been looking for her for days. Damn it! I told you two to stay out of this. If you’d had, you would have been safe.”

“Rude,” Emily said. “Don’t yell at me. But good on you for figuring it out.” Emily slumped onto the ground at the feet of her aunt, leaning against her aunt’s legs. “How did you figure it out? Did you realize that everyone had the same STD?”

“What? No. Do you have it?” Gabe shook his head and scowled at them as he realized he sounded like them.

Ingrid grinned and bumped fists with Emily as Gabe said, “I followed the email and the orders for the poisonous herbs.”

“Clever,” Ingrid said, slumping down next to Emily. “We followed the whore path. I feel dirty now. Both outside and inside. Aunt Hazel, fix me.”

One of the deputies was radioing for an ambulance and another had run out of the woods. She wanted to think it was for handcuffs, but considering the state of the moaning bag of a-holery, she thought it could be for something like a first-aid kit or whatnot.

“Well, being a murder suspect has added some spice to my year and my memoirs, should I ever write them,” Emily said with a yawn. Ingrid could read Emily like a book, so it was as clear as day how she was remembering the good times with dickhead and what could have been. Ingrid shot Aunt Hazel a look that turned her gaze to Emily’s solemn face.

Aunt Hazel muttered, “Please. Did you actually do a successful spell? Tell me that you did.” Her ire was directed at both of them and caught Emily’s attention.

“I told you I can set things on fire,” Ingrid said, defensively. “I’m super good at fire, high heels, acne, and coffee. I’m not sure why you guys even learn anything else. It’s true that we stole that truth spell. And we had to get you to cleanse Emily.”

“And the locator spell,” Emily added with a snort.

“Twice,” Aunt Hazel said. “For the police, too, when Gabe realized that you were gone. He was…displeased.”

“Whatever,” Ingrid said, “So beyond those things, I think it’s just about making your high heels comfortable. If we’re off the hook, I need to get dead Melinda gook off of me. My skin is crawling. Also I have poison ivy. Can you help? Please? Pretty please?”

Ingrid batted her lashes at Aunt Hazel, but the aunt shook her head dramatically and said, “I’ll send Autumn over with it. I need a break from you two. But you owe me.”

Emily winced for both of them at that announcement. “Um, we totally stole compulsion truth serum from her. She might not want to help us with our poison ivy.”

Hazel scowled at the junior witches, “Well, there’s karma for you.” Her eyes softened when she looked at Emily. “Good work, baby. I’m proud of you.”

Emily smiled. “Thanks.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Okay, enough already. Maybe the whole coven needs a break from us.”

“Perfect,” Emily said. “We’ll do everyone a favor going to get pedis, buy rainbow wedges and bikinis, and going to St. Maartens.”

“Hey, Aunt Hazel,” Ingrid said suddenly. “How would you feel about having a massive SUV if I don’t have to get hexed, have poison ivy, and maybe a little pick-me-up? Oh and some more badass truth serum for Em. She’s addicted now.”

“Deal,” Hazel said instantly, before Ingrid could add anything else to the witch spell wish list.

•

Wednesday Night

Emily looked down at her buzzing phone skeptically. She knew it wasn’t going to be Melinda. She felt a tiny pang of guilt about ignoring Melinda’s attempts to bond. Would the outcome have been different if she'd responded to Melinda’s earlier efforts to reach out? Eventually Emily dismissed that line of thinking. In all her inept witchiness, there was no way she could turn back the clock. This wasn’t Harry Potter Land.

And the woman had been sleeping with Emily’s husband. It didn't matter that they were separated. And who knew how long that had been going on. Knowing those two, they were banging in the bathroom after every Thanksgiving dinner. There wasn’t room for a lot of remorse. But still she felt the weight of it. Damn it.

No, she told herself, forget them both. Forget Owen and that huge mistake. Forget Melinda--she was just Owen-baggage. Focus on the good instead. Being back with family, being here with Ingrid, that haunted sad look having faded from her eyes.