Felonies and Felines: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 4) Read online

  “Did you lock up last night?”

  “Of course, Miss Harper, I−“

  “Just checking.”

  I shoved the phone into my back pocket, Wyatt’s voice buzzing in my head that that was how screens got broken. Funny that he would protest to that, but not to going alone into a business that seemed to have been broken into. The Wyatt voice in my head had messed up priorities.

  Air rushing from my lungs as soon as I crossed the threshold, I blinked back tears at what I saw. The Wheel had been trashed. Tables lay on their sides, some dented, and the skates were strewn everywhere like someone had tossed them around in a fit. The disco ball had been dislodged from the ceiling and lay in pieces on the dance floor.

  Worse than any of that, though— even worse than the disrespect to the funk— was the perfectly good pizza that some hooligan had thrown right onto the ground. They hadn’t even eaten it! Monsters.

  Despite my callous thoughts, I was shaking inside. A couple of months ago, someone had broken into the loft. Before that, someone had left a dead body (my sleazy accountant) on the dance floor in here. Was it too much to ask that the bad guys didn’t invade my home? I’d lived without one for so long, and now I couldn’t even keep the one I’d been given safe.

  I walked into the office to find all the twenty-year-old magazines ripped and in a state of disorder on the ground. The cash register was popped open like someone had taken a crowbar to it. It never held more than a couple hundred dollars at a time, but it pissed me off that someone would rob me.

  On an altogether stranger note, there was a large, orange cat sitting on my desk. The feline looked lumpy and like it might have been run over in its past life. Looking up at me, the cat stopped licking its paws and gave me a haughty stare.

  "So, you admit it, do ya?" I mused, trying to put the cash register back together. "Stole the money for some catnip, I expect."

  He arched his back, stalking over to me and rubbing himself against my arm. It was a strange reaction because animals are usually more cautious around witches and warlocks. The cats in my back alley only tolerated me because I brought food.

  A long piece of red, velvet cloth came out from its wedged position in my cash register. I puzzled over it for a scant second before shoving it in my pocket and turning back to the feline.

  Scratching the haggard cat behind the ears, I said, "You're probably giving me fleas right now. Adding insult to injury."

  When I went to move away, he made a reproachful sound, one that grated on the nerves as well as the ears. Sighing, I picked the beast up, almost dropping his fat butt when my arms protested. I took the opportunity to look for a collar or any signs that he belonged to someone— as if anyone would pay for a cat this ugly. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing.

  Before I headed out to the parking lot, I sat him down near the dance floor and got him some water. He'd probably leave the way he came in when he was done, but I didn't have time to stick around for that. I was about halfway to my car when I realized that orange monster was still right at my heels. He actually matched the color of my car pretty well, and I mean that in the least flattering way.

  "Oh, alright," I said, shaking my head and opening the passenger side door for him.

  He jumped up, becoming a blur of fur for a moment, and settled in like royalty on a throne. As soon as I was in the car as well, His Majesty started actively shedding all over my upholstery. It hadn't been clean to begin with, but it just seemed like poor manners.

  It was still early, so most of the police station's parking lot was empty. No one could accuse the Waresville force of working too hard— that was for sure. At the moment, though, I didn't need any of them, so I was happy for their absence.

  Breezing past the receptionist who knew my face by now— and not just because I was Wyatt's girlfriend— I headed into the office area where all the desks were. Wyatt was bent over his, flipping through a huge stack of reports with a frown on his face. Normally, he loved his job; it was a chance to get paid for being a know-it-all, so the paperwork must've been exceptionally cruel today.

  He smiled when he looked up and saw me coming toward him: an easy, happy expression that made breathing a little hard. His face froze a second later, and I didn't think it was because I still had the cat with me.

  "What's wrong, Harper? Are you−"

  "Fine." Kind of. "But someone broke into the Funky Wheel."

  His face became carefully blank, but I was getting better and better at reading him.

  "I'm here to make a statement," I said. "Isn't that what you cops always want the civilians to do?"

  A nervous twitch of his hand sent his empty coffee cup crashing to the ground. "Er− yes. It's just... Right, I'll get the paperwork."

  What he'd meant to say was that an official report just wasn't my style. As an amateur sleuth and a professional busy body, I'd usually be off trying to solve this case myself. Unfortunately, I'd promised Wyatt and myself that I'd try to stay away from dangerous cases.

  But apparently, he'd already forgotten that promise, which was unlike him.

  He came back a couple minutes later with the paperwork he'd promised and a bonus: a beautiful woman. Walking with a sway in her hips that I greatly admired, her creamy skin was just a shade or two lighter than Oliver's. Dark hair flowed on for eons, it seemed, especially to a girl with chin-length tendrils. The woman had an effortless kind of grace that I could only match on skates, and even there, I didn't look like her.

  "Don't get me wrong," Wyatt said, picking up where we'd left off. "I'm ecstatic that you're here, but−"

  I cleared my throat, nodding at his companion.

  Wyatt, usually the southern gentleman, blushed with mortification. "Sorry. Harper Beck, this is my new partner, Alicia Hutchinson. We just got assigned to each other today. Alicia, this is my girlfriend."

  Her hand shake was firm and dry, but her smile was a little forced. I had that effect on people.

  "Lovely. Your business was broken into?"

  So much for small talk.

  I gave them a detailed account of walking in this morning, though I left out the bit about the red scrap of fabric. Clenching a hand around it in my pocket, I tried to think of a reason I'd keep it to myself if I wasn't going to investigate. I couldn't think of a single one, but the cloth stayed in my pocket and, for once, my lips stayed closed.

  While I talked with Alicia and Wyatt, I tried not to hate the other woman just for her looks and class. I'd long given up an ire for people better blessed in this world than I was, so I figured the reason behind my irritation was her proximity to Wyatt, which was absurd. Wyatt wasn't a cheater, and Alicia, though beautiful, was probably an excellent cop and not the least bit interested in stealing my boyfriend.

  The two of them went back to their boss to file the complaint, and I got up to pour myself a cup of awful coffee. I'd never had the coffee at the station, but I was somewhat of an expert about law enforcement— having spent a lot of my youth on the wrong side of the interrogation table.

  My face twisted into a bitter scowl when the first sip passed my lips. I promptly put the mug down.

  "You'd think someone who lives on leftover pizza wouldn't be so picky."

  If it was possible, my expression soured even more as I whirled to face the awful Officer Kosher. In his forties, he was a heavyset man with dangerously bushy sideburns. I wondered if anyone had ever lost a pencil or— god forbid— a finger in them.

  From day one, we'd been like oil and water. Unlike oil and water, though, we were constantly in a race to get the other one arrested for one crime or another. A couple of months ago, I'd accused him of pushing his girlfriend off a balcony to her death. Before that, he'd tried to have me locked up for poisoning a good chunk of the witches in town. Neither attempt had been successful for either of us.

  But, by god, we'd keep trying.

  "I'd say it's great to see you, but neither of us are drunk enough to believe that."

  He snorted,
and then changed gears, nodding to where Wyatt had disappeared with his new partner. "You met her?"

  "Yes." I prepared myself for him to tell me that Alicia was the prime example of what a woman should be, and I should take note.

  "I don't like her."

  Raising an eyebrow, I tried to hide my glee. Maybe there was something actually wrong with her! How fantastic would that be? "She's only been here a few hours. You just don’t like women."

  He shrugged. "I don't like women in law enforcement, true. Or female civilians that get in my way."

  "Any civilian that gets in your way? And here I thought what we had was special."

  "She's very”— he wrinkled his nose— "political. And friendly. To everyone."

  "Ah, I can see why she's aroused your suspicions."

  Wyatt emerged again with Alicia, and I stuck out my tongue at Kosher in parting, and he flipped me the bird. Like Wyatt, he considered himself a southern gentleman and always treated ladies with the utmost respect. Somewhere after the first two seconds of our first meeting, however, I'd stopped being a lady in Kosher's eyes. It was just as well; he'd never been a gentleman in mine.

  I walked toward Wyatt's desk, but he got up and met me halfway, motioning for me to follow him into the parking lot. I shot one last curious look at his new partner and then let myself be towed away.

  "I think you should investigate this case," he said, once we were out of the police station.

  I blinked, almost tripping over my own feet. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I think hell just froze over and pigs started to fly."

  Squeezing my hand, he said, "You love mysteries— just like me. Unlike me, you have an unhealthy relationship with the law."

  "Is it my fault the law never calls? Or sends flowers, for that matter."

  He gave me one of the looks he used on Cooper. "When I made you promise to stay away from cases, I meant murder and kidnapping and treason."

  I highly doubted there'd be a case involving treason in Waresville, but I didn't interrupt him. Boy was on a role.

  "As much as I hate it, the department's not going to do anything about a couple hundred dollars in damage and stolen property."

  "The department doesn't really do anything about anything, ever."

  "Harper−"

  "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I have your blessing to do my thing."

  What a strange concept. Investigating without keeping it a secret from Wyatt? What would they think of next?

  Chapter Three

  I left Wyatt, his new partner, and that awful Kosher to their police business, pealing out of the parking lot with a blur of smoke and orange. The cat made unhappy noises at the way my ancient car handled the curves. Everyone was a critic.

  As I pulled up across the street from the Funky Wheel, I did a horrible parallel park in which no part of the rear of my car was actually in the spot. Kitty prowled over from the hair-covered seat and plopped down in my lap. Stroking its head absently, I wondered where the strange cat had come from and how it would bode trouble for me. I wasn't particularly bothered, though, because everything boded trouble for me. Why not a fluffy love ball instead of a homicidal maniac this time?

  We got out of the car and walked over to Hanes' Magic Shoppe, a tiny magic store squished between two other businesses and across from the Wheel. I did a quick check to make sure my grandma's car was nowhere in sight. Though she owned the place, she hadn't stepped foot in there in years, leaving it entirely in Oliver's hands. Still, one couldn't be too careful about inopportune run-ins with a possibly ancient and definitely paranoid, grumpy witch.

  Walking through the front door, I almost tripped over a woman lying in the middle of the floor, blankets piled around her. She was wearing bell bottoms and a pair of circular sunglasses that hadn't been popular since Woodstock. Unfortunately, that was all she was wearing, and I got an eyeful more than I'd have wanted. Oliver, clothed only in his pink cape, was facedown next to her.

  I nudged him with my foot, keeping my gaze deliberately on his face. Blinking, he looked up at me in confusion and then down at himself in horror. I pursed my lips to keep from laughing as his naked ass ran into the back to get some clothes.

  Though I hadn't meant to wake her, the unidentified woman sat up straight, taking off her glasses so she could better look at me. After a moment, her face fell. "You're, like, his wife, right? I have the worst luck."

  "Of the past five years," I said, grabbing her shirt from the ground and handing it to her. "I look past his depravities because I'm secretly sleeping with his father."

  The woman left after that, stealing glances at me the whole way out. Keeping my face schooled to show nothing, I only allowed myself to giggle once the door chimed shut behind her.

  Struggling into a pair of pants, Oliver came barreling back into the room. He frowned when he saw the blankets and no girl. "For a non-practice, you sure have a great disappearing act."

  I rolled my eyes and headed up to the counter. "Please, you weren't going to call, anyway."

  There were two mismatched chairs behind the glass case that were our usual spot, and I collapsed into one, the cat hopping up to take the other. Oliver frowned at the large, orange fluff ball and moved it gently out of his seat.

  "Well, I can't now," he said, sounding like a petulant child— though Cooper didn't have the pout down quite as well as Oliver did. Maybe I should've sent the kid over for lessons.

  "You're the worst babysitter in the world," I told him, moving onto a subject that wasn't my friend's love life.

  "That's what they said after I let the Morsky twins get tattoos."

  "This is worse than permanent ink on a couple of eight year olds," I said gravely. "The Wheel was broken into last night— on your watch."

  "What?" He half got up and then fell back into his chair when the cat got closer, a greedy look in its eyes. "Who'd want to break in there?"

  I sniffed. "Someone with better taste than you, obviously. They trashed it a little and stole a couple hundred dollars."

  "Could've been worse."

  A chill invaded the room a second before the door opened, and we both turned to look at the woman standing there. She was graceful-looking even though she was conservatively older than dirt, her hair white and wrinkles marring her skin. She'd forgone the red robe she always wore around the house for an apron of the same color, giving her the "grandmotherly" impression. As far as I knew, she only used the kitchen to bake small children and mutilate puppies.

  "Hey, Gran," I said, gulping visibly. "What're you doing here?"

  The look she gave me would've been better suited to gunk on the bottom of her shoes. "As if I need an excuse to visit my own store."

  Oliver, unlike me, didn't have a healthy fear of my grandmother. Possibly because she doted on him like I could only imagine a grandmother would. Rising from his seat, which the cat quickly invaded, he went over to greet her with a big smile on his face.

  "Julia," he said, "you don't visit me enough. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  She smiled at him and reached up the pat his cheek, but then froze when she caught sight of the cat. "What is that?"

  Shrugging, Oliver said, "I didn't ask. Best not to encourage her."

  "I found him in my office this morning— damn feline hasn't left me alone since."

  I picked at my nails, trying to look unimpressed, while Grandma came over and picked up the cat. It wasn't nearly as friendly with her as it was with me, but it had enough brains not to hiss at the foul-tempered woman. She inspected him like one might a fishy hundred-dollar bill.

  She looked at me sharply. "Have you named him?"

  "Why would I name him? He's not staying." The last bit I said directly to the cat, who paid me no mind.

  Grandma smiled at that, though a little tiredly. All she said was, “He needs a name.”

  “Fine, Cooper can name him,” I said, picking up my cat and heading toward the door. “I’ll just leave you two to−“

  Somehow,
she was right in front of me before I could head out the door, handing me a list scribbled down on paper so old it was going yellow. “I need a few things.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re out and about for the first time in living memory.” Which might have been true. “Why not go get them yourself?”

  “That’s what I have a granddaughter for,” she said, turning back to Oliver. “How about some tea, dear?”

  I rolled my eyes so hard at Oliver, I thought they were going to be stuck in the back of my head permanently. Luckily, I dislodged them before I stepped on the gas, driving toward the school. It would’ve been a shame to mow down all of Cooper’s friends— or it would’ve been had he had any.

  He was a bit of an odd child— more interested in homework and drawing than playing kickball— which was probably why I loved him so much. He was a little misfit like myself and the rest of the crew at the Wheel. Though of late, he’d been hanging out with a girl named Anna, his first crush. That was certainly more than I’d had at his age.

  I was late, as per usual, and all the other kids had gone, leaving Cooper sitting on the front steps. I’d stopped apologizing for my tardiness weeks ago. For one, Cooper didn’t seem to care, and for another, it usually wasn’t my fault. Things tended to pop up when least convenient.

  “We’re going shopping, and you can’t tell your dad,” I told him as soon as he relocated the cat to the back seat.

  My sudden proclamation killed any question he might have formed about the animal. “My dad says lying is wrong.”

  “I’m very aware what your dad says. I’m also aware that he’d throw a fit if we told him we went to Melanie Gross’s magic shop— so we won’t tell.”

  “The woman whose house you broke into?”

  “Yes,” I said, pulling away from the school. “And we weren’t exactly friendly before that point. But she’s the only store in town that has all of the items on my list.”