Moonlight Murder: An Inept Witches Mystery (18 page)

Ingrid put her hands on her hip.
“
I am not having sex with a dead person. Not even a ghost. And not even to torture Dickhead. I have standards, Emily.
”

Emily laughed out loud.
“
We are going to make him suffer, Ingrid. And I
’
ve got the best idea ever. Help me catch him. I need some sage and basil, I think. I can
’
t exactly read Latin, but it seems like a good guess. We use that for every other spell. That will summon him and then bind him on this plane, according to this book.
”

Ingrid
’
s turn to roll her eyes.
“
Emily, we can
’
t even dust with magic. And you want to summon, bind, and torture someone
’
s ghost? You think entirely too optimistically. Have you even met us?
”

Emily looked at Ingrid.
“
I
’
m done letting this guy mess with me, Ingrid. We have to stop this. Plus, it's good practice. If we can figure out to get rid of Dickhead, we can figure out what to do with my uncle.
”

That got Ingrid
’
s attention.
“
Oh, that
’
s a good point. Talk about a pervert. He
’
s constantly sexually harassing me. I feel undead fingers in the car. On my neck. In my hair. Down my back. What is it with your family and perverts?
”

“
My mom was not a pervert, Ingrid. Death magic. Not sex with dead people. Get it straight.
”

“
Whatever. I don
’
t even know how death magic is different from regular magic.
”

“
Obviously, neither do I. I just know that it
’
s called death magic and that we can use it, in theory, to screw with people who have passed to the other side.
”

“
Well, then, what could possibly go wrong?
”

They were interrupted by Hazel
’
s arrival. She walked in, paused, and then stared around the store. Her lips pressed tightly together and her gaze lit with an inner fire.
“
Ladies, are you kidding me with this bookstore? It
’
s in terrible condition. You know that Danna would roll over in her grave if she saw this.
”

“
What is with all the dead talk today?
”
Ingrid mumbled for Emily
’
s ears only.

“
What are you talking about, Ingrid?
”
Aunt Hazel snapped with none of the usual humor she found in the friends.

Emily jumped into the conversation, cutting Ingrid off.
“
Nothing, Auntie. Just all this murder going around in this town.
”

Hazel continued her glaring appraisal of the store, and Emily looked at Ingrid and shook her head slightly. She tucked the death magic grimoire under another book when Hazel wasn
’
t looking.

“
You two need to get this place under control. I have orders that need to be filled, and I will not have this bookstore make our coven look bad because you two are too busy getting pedicures and meddling in murder mysteries.
”
Without giving them a chance to respond, she continued.
“
Ingrid, quit wallowing in your break-up. You are too old for this. Emily, you
’
ve got magic to learn before you burn yourself out, or have you forgotten?
”

She held up a hand when they started to argue.
“
No. I don't want to hear it. I
’
ll be by in a week, and this place better be picked up and looking like something our coven can be proud of being connected to. I mean it.
”

She turned and stormed out the door.

“
Dang. What
’
s got her so worked up?
”
Ingrid asked.

“
I have no idea.
”
Emily watched her aunt
’
s figure disappear around the corner.
“
But she
’
s right. This shop is disgraceful.
”

“
Shut up, crazy dove, you sound like Hazel.
”

“
You shut up,
”
Emily said.
“
And it could be really cute. We need to do better. But not today. Right now we are finding this damn ghost and punishing him before we get rid of him. Then we will clean.
”

Ingrid sighed.
“
Well, okay. I
’
d rather exorcise a ghost than clean.
”

Emily pulled the book out again.
“
Here it is. Let
’
s summon him.
”

Ingrid handed Emily the two small packages of herbs she
’
d asked for.
“
I
’
m ready.
”

“
Ingrid, this spell is in Latin. I think.
”

“
Well, then how do you know it is the summoning spell?
”

“
It says
sumonis
. Sounds kind of like summon, don
’
t you think?
”

Ingrid laughed.
“
Sure, I guess, my smart dove. Hopefully we are summoning the right ghost. What if we are inviting the devil himself into our quaint little bookshop?
”

Emily burst out laughing.
“
I think our place is messy enough that the devil himself wouldn
’
t come in here.
”

“
Okay then, let
’
s do it, I guess.
”

Emily mumbled the words, waved her hands around in the air and then spun around in a circle.

“
Seriously, Em? A little dramatic don
’
t you think?
”

“
I have no idea what I
’
m doing. I
’
m just trying not to set anything on fire. This place is such a disaster that it would go up in flames in seconds. Even my hot but irritating fireman couldn
’
t get here in time to save it.
”

The room
’
s temperature dropped suddenly.

“
You feel that, Ingrid?
”
Emily whispered.

Ingrid nodded slowly.
“
Yeah, should we be nervous?
”

“
Possibly. If we see the devil, we should definitely make a run for it. And call Hazel, while we run.
”

“
Emily. Ingrid.
”
Owen
’
s voice filled the room. He sounded just as disgusted with them now as he had when he was alive. Snide. Insinuating.
“
What do you think you are doing?
”

“
Oh, look,
”
Emily said.
“
It
’
s Dickhead. Welcome to my bookstore, you cheating bastard. I
’
m so glad you are dead. And that you decided to haunt my bookstore. I
’
m gonna make you pay. Violence and mayhem is all you have left in your pathetic future.
”

Ingrid clapped her hands together.
“
Yay, it worked, Emily. Maybe you have a gift for the death arts.
”

Emily ignored her, already lighting a candle and chanting the next spell.

Ingrid spoke to Owen
’
s ghost.
“
You gotta hand it to her, she
’
s focused. And dedicated. You should probably be pretty nervous right about now.
”

As soon as Emily stopped speaking, Owen screamed, filling the bookstore with shouts of pain.

Emily laughed like a little kid.
“
Well, what do you know? It works!
”
She paused and then looked at Ingrid.
“
What do we do with him now?
”

•••

“
We need to look at this as an opportunity,
”
Emily said. Ingrid and Emily were staring around the bookstore. It was covered in dust
—
worse really than when they had first gone inside. It was an ever living mess. And now it was haunted.

Ingrid watched her friend carefully. That sounded almost gleeful. Considering that she was feeling somewhat heartbroken, it was hard for her to get Emily being gleeful.

“
I mean
…”

Ingrid raised a brow. The bookstore and the Camaro were haunted. That just made her
…
unhappy. As if they didn
’
t have enough problems.

“
Let me explain.
”
Emily ran her finger over a bookshelf, kicking up a cloud of dust.
“
Dickhead hated things to be messy. Dickhead hated poetry. He hated magic. He hated you. Oh man, he hated you so much. He hated classical music, especially anything with cellos. He hated the very smell of Indian food. Do you think he can smell now?
”

“
Didn
’
t he love bourbon? That expensive stuff?
”

“
I see that you see. He
’
s good and trapped right now, just listen to him moaning and wining. Let
’
s take our time torturing him.
”

Ingrid called for Indian delivery while Emily ran to the liquor store. While she was gone, Ingrid downloaded cello music and some really bad poetry to her iPad and set up the speakers she used to listen to music in the bath.

It took them about forty five minutes before she was standing on a chair in the center of the book store. She had a stereotypical witch’s hat on and a slinky black dress with red and white striped tights. Wishing she bought the footless tights, she’d cut the toes out on the off chance that she’d have the opportunity to torment Gabe. She held a ball of fire in one hand and in the other her iPad. It was taking all of her concentration to keep the ball of fire from burning her or falling to the floor, but she was managing it.

Barely.

They
’
d agreed that Ingrid had to read since Dickhead had hated her most of all.

Adding to her tenuous balance, she was reading some of the worst poetry of all time, which was probably why she didn
’
t hear the door open behind her.

“
What the hell is this?
”

“
We are torturing Dickhead,
”
Emily said. She ate a bite of paneer tikka masala and then swirled the golden liquid in her glass.

“
He
’
s dead,
”
Gabe said, eyes on Ingrid. She noticed them stray to her fantastic nail polish. It made her want to punch him in the gut after she threw herself into his arms. She reminded herself that she was super angry. And brilliant to have cut the feet out of her tights. Dueling emotions were her nemesis.

“
How are you doing that?
”
Kevin asked, arrogant mockery back in his tone.

“
Witch. Duh,
”
Emily replied.

“
I
…”

Ingrid grinned, focused her thoughts, and tried to put the fire out. Gabe
’
s presence, the combination of hurt, lust, and fury kept the ball of fire burning hot.

Emily calmly rose, walked over, and poured a picture of water on Ingrid
’
s hand.

“
My ex, may he ever regret being a self-righteous, condescending, thieving prick, died in the book store. We
’
re just showing him the error of his ways.
”

“
Poetry?
”
It was Gabe
’
s voice.

Ingrid knew she had been looking at him too long. She was so conflicted. She was so
…
a thousand things, a million. She wanted him. Needed him even. Wasn
’
t sure he
’
d ever forgive her even after he found the real killer. And if he did, would she ever forgive him back?