Witching in the Moonlight (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 11) Read online

  Though Kosher hadn’t told me which motel he was at, there weren’t very many in the Waresville area. That, and the fact that Kosher was a predictable animal, made it easy to find his motel.

  After a word with the manager, I located the detective’s room, banging on the door without ceremony. He answered in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank, an uncomfortable moment for both of us.

  I slid past him, taking a seat in the only chair in the room, which rocked under my weight.

  “I’ve decided to take the case,” I told him. “Pucker up now, because I expect you to kiss my ass the entire time.”

  He didn’t look as cheerful at my proclamation as I would’ve expected. It was probably the “pucker up” bit, but I couldn’t resist.

  Rising and heading towards the door, I clapped Kosher on the back. “Cheer up, detective. If we work together, we can clear your somewhat good name.”

  “I think I’d rather go to prison.”

  I touched my hand to my heart, because this was a special moment. “That’s what I’d rather too. But I’ve got people that for some reason want you to stay on the other side of the thin blue line.”

  A beat passed in which he accepted his fate. “This won’t make me like you.”

  “On that cheery note….”

  Chapter Five

  I spent the better part of an hour going over everything Kosher remembered from the night Chris died. As it turned out, that was pretty much nothing. I mentioned to the detective several times throughout the conversation that he should probably give up drinking. The guy couldn’t hold his liquor.

  Once I was home, I climbed into bed and let what had started out as a nap turn into an all-night affair. When I woke up the next morning, Wyatt had already left for work, but I wasn’t alone in the bedroom.

  “What part of ‘couch’ don’t you get?” I mumbled into my pillowcase.

  “We should run, man,” Stan said from my bedside, hopping from one foot to the other.

  “From the police?”

  “No, like, recreationally, man. Through the neighborhood.” He leaned down, whispering in my ear with breath that could’ve corroded metal. “I’m jonesing.”

  My not-stoned employee then pulled me out of bed, made me put on workout clothes I didn’t know I had, and hustled me down the stairs like cattle. The outside air bit at my skin as the front door shut behind us, and I wrapped my arms around myself.

  Beside me, Stan was jumping up and down in anticipation. “You ready, man?”

  I snorted. The guy had spent his whole life clogging up his lungs and lying on the couch munching on junk food. I was pretty sure I could handle anything he threw at me. Especially since I had a lot of practice in running for my life.

  We took off, jogging down the sidewalk and past all the neighboring houses. Immediately, I noticed for the first time that Stan had significantly longer legs than mine. I struggled to keep up with him, waiting for him to run out of gas and slow down.

  It never happened.

  Fast forward five miles, and we were in the middle of nowhere. I was panting so hard spit was flying out of my mouth, there was a permanent stitch in my side, and Stan still hadn’t slowed down a lick. My legs were so sore; I basically loped after him, like I was running with a mountain in-between my legs.

  “How…are your lungs this good?” I wheezed.

  “Do you want to take a breather, man?”

  My pride bristled. “Just run, you freak of nature.”

  ****

  After sitting in the shower later that day until the hot water ran out, I waddled out to the car and drove Cooper to his play practice. I would’ve stuck around, but the thought of lowering myself into a seat was too much. I ruffled my kid’s hair and waved good-bye.

  When I got home, the other man in my life was waiting for me in a suit. While Wyatt was a suit type of guy, this was his “going out suit”. It was dark and highlighted all the right areas. I leaned against the entrance to our bedroom, watching him for a moment.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “I have a date,” he said, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

  “Anyone I know?”

  He shot me a crooked smile, and I melted into a puddle of goo. Walking over, I folded myself into his arms. Our reflection in the mirror was a strange one: polished next to chaos. But that didn’t bother me like it would’ve not so long ago. Wyatt and I worked. There was no need to question it.

  “I’m taking my wife out for dinner, actually,” he said, pressing a kiss against my temple.

  I gasped, making a show of trying to pull away. “You’re married?” In a more serious tone, I added, “You know I’m working tonight. I can’t leave Jeb all alone while he’s sick.”

  “I already cleared it with your felon,” he said dryly. “He said to have a good time and stop worrying about him.”

  That sounded like Jeb, though he’d left off the typical “Miss Foxxy” at the end.

  I knew when I was beat, so I headed into the walk-in closet and pulled a dress from a hanger in the back. It was green with sparkles that glowed like the moon on a starless night. I didn’t usually have occasion to wear it. A little thread of excitement raced through my veins.

  “This is pretty late notice, you know,” I called out to my husband. “I could’ve had plans.”

  I heard him laugh. “That’s the best part of being married: holding a trump card over all of your partner’s plans.”

  Slipping on a shoe, I let out a puff of air. “So, if I just walked into the station tomorrow and wanted you to clock out for a quickie, that’d be fine?”

  “My boss is an understanding man,” Wyatt said, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “At least about demanding wives.”

  His boss had been married five times and each of them had been a fiasco. At some point, you had to wonder if the problem is them or you.

  When I walked out of the closet, all dressed up, Wyatt stopped brushing his hair and looked me over. My cheeks heated up like it was the first time, and his smile took my breath away.

  “I know,” I said, doing a little turn. “I look beautiful.”

  He shook his head. “No, you are beautiful. Come along, Mrs. Bennett.”

  “After you, Mr. Bennett.”

  Thankfully, Wyatt didn’t take me to the seafood place. That restaurant would always hold the memory of Chris’s hand on my butt, though I’d never say as much to my husband. He wasn’t as forgiving of those kinds of incidents as I was. Good thing Chris was already dead.

  Instead, we went to Charlotte's, my mother-in-law's restaurant. It was the place he'd taken me on our first date when I'd just been trying to get information out of him about a murder. It had since become our place, and the waiter showed us to our usual table.

  The menus weren't necessary, so we sent her off with our order and enjoyed the sight of each other in the candlelight. I knew for a fact that it gave my pale skin a little color, and I felt a lot warmer in my skimpy dress than I had in the parking lot, despite Wyatt's jacket.

  "I have an ulterior motive for bringing you here," Wyatt confessed when our drinks hit the table.

  I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. "I'll bet."

  He grinned widely. "Besides that. Though if that's on the table...."

  Leaning across the table to straighten his tie, I said, "My dear, everything's on the table. Including on the table."

  "I think someone would tell my mother about that."

  "So what?" I teased. "We're married now. You're not going to stay a mama's boy forever, are you?"

  "Yes, ma'am," he said. "But I actually brought you here to grill you."

  I put a fluttery hand to my chest. "Aw, it's just like our first date. Wyatt, you old romantic, you."

  "Happy wife, happy life." His eyes creased around the edges, making him look even more distinguished. "I want to ask you about what you know about the case."

  Taking a sip of wine, I said, "No, you really don't."

  "Have you s
een Kosher since his disappearance?"

  "I've seen a lot of people. It's hard to keep track."

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair and messing it up. "You could be charged with aiding and abetting if anyone found out, Harper."

  He seemed a lot more worried about that than I was. What was another charge on my very long rap sheet? It might even show some diversity, if it were to come up in a job interview. See, not only am I proficient in thievery, I've dabbled in passively disobeying the law too.

  Harper Beck: a well-rounded criminal. I made a mental note to ask Wyatt to put that on my headstone. He probably wouldn't appreciate the joke now.

  I reached across the table and took his hand, feeling the familiar callouses and creases. "I'll be careful. Promise."

  His smile was wry. "Don't promise what you can't deliver. Just be smart. I'd hate to lock up my friend and my wife in one go."

  "On the bright side, it might be some kind of department record."

  "You're a silver lining type of girl, aren't you?"

  I blew him a kiss. "You got that right, baby."

  ****

  The next morning, I was awoken to the sound of Stan doing loud yoga right below me. Until that moment, I hadn't realized yoga could be loud. Trust Stan to be an overachiever at the one thing no one wanted him to succeed at.

  Groaning, Wyatt rolled over next to me, ramming a pillow down over his head. "Make it stop."

  We'd been up late last night, and it was clear my husband had been hoping for a much-deserved rest.

  "I'm kicking him out," I said. "Right after breakfast. His butt better get used to the curb."

  Wyatt's voice was muffled from under the pillow. "If only you meant that."

  Yeah, I wished I meant it too. Family was family, even if they woke you up at five in the morning. Maybe especially if they woke you up at five in the morning. After all, they were meant to annoy you.

  I grabbed a tea to go and left Wyatt still in bed. I had a list a mile long to get through today, so I figured I might as well start. The bug fought me a little when I turned the key, and I gave it a few more minutes, sipping tea in the driveway. It was early, after all. Allowances had to be made.

  After an adjustment period, I was roaring down the road, intent on spreading my misfortune. When I banged on Kosher's door, I had the pleasure of hearing a low, pained moan on the other side. I was like Santa, spreading cheer throughout the town.

  When Kosher opened the door, his five-o-clock shadow looking more like a full-on beard, he said, "Just let them arrest me already. It'll be less painful than seeing your face this early in the morning."

  "They'll take away your badge," I reminded him, stepping inside. Sarcastically, I hit myself upside the head. "Oh, wait! They already have that, because you were stupid enough to leave it at a murder scene."

  He had nothing to say to that, but he muttered under his breath the whole time he was getting dressed. Probably, his words were unflattering. To show how much I cared about his opinion, I happily sipped my tea, outwardly without a care in the world.

  Inside, I was dying for a nap. I wondered if I'd spend this whole mystery half dead on my feet.

  Once Kosher had finished powdering his nose and putting on a hat that would cover most of his face, we headed back to the scene of the crime. My bug didn’t do as well as Wyatt’s car on the unpaved roads, pitching us up, down, and every which way. It was a little reminiscent of that time I tried out a mechanical bull.

  We pulled up to the old bait hut, and I mentally prepared my nose for the onslaught. I'd probably be smelling rotten fish for days.

  Catching Kosher's arm when he would've opened the door, I said, "As soon as Sawyer sees you, hiding will be a lot harder. He'll probably call the police the moment we're in through the door. Maybe you should wait in the car."

  I wouldn't have brought Kosher at all, but I wanted him to walk me through all his actions at the lake last night, step by step in the same location. We were low on evidence that supported our case right now, and it was the only step forward I could see taking.

  He rubbed his temples, staying quiet for a moment. "You'll have to drop me off at the police station after this."

  "You're not real good at this 'on the run' thing, are you?"

  "Without the murder weapon or my confession, they don't have enough to arrest me yet," he said, though he didn't sound sure.

  I wanted to point out that insufficient evidence had never stopped the Waresville Police Department in the past, but I remembered my audience. If Kosher wanted to take a chance on the mercy and good sense of others, it was his court hearing.

  "Fine," I said, getting out of the car. "Turn yourself in. It'll be nice seeing you behind bars for a change."

  The washed out, wooden door gave an unholy scream when I pushed it open, so Kosher and I could slip inside. Apart from the strong stench of not-so-fresh fish, the shack was filled with junk. Old barrels served as tables and chairs. There were four counters that I could see, and only one of them was in use. On the walls there were pictures of big catches and decorative fishing poles.

  Sawyer was sitting back in a rocking chair that looked like it was about to give up the good fight. A cap with a visor was drawn down over his face, and the sound of his snoring filled the tiny room.

  Seeing a service bell so rusted it was no longer silver, I side-stepped some furniture and rang it. The sound startled Sawyer from his slumber, and he almost toppled out of his chair, right onto the grime-covered floor.

  "Miss Harper," he said, flashing a grin that was missing several teeth. "How sweet of you to come see me."

  I waved a hand. "Oh, you couldn't keep me away with a court order."

  The happy expression left his face when he saw my reluctant companion. "Hey there, Peter. You aren't wanting to go out on the water, are you? Aren't the police looking for you?"

  "It's a long story, Sawyer."

  With the ease of someone who'd been to the shack often, he perched on one of the nearby barrels, taking his cellphone out of his back pocket and placing it beside him so as not to crush it. I rolled my eyes and leaned against the least dirty surface I could find. What was it with men and fishing? If I lived for a hundred more years I'd never understand the attraction.

  Mostly, I couldn't imagine sitting still and quiet long enough to catch anything.

  “Alright then,” Sawyer said, going back to relaxing in his seat. The man wasn’t deeply bothered by much. I’d give him that.

  “So,” Sawyer said, an excited twinkle in his eye, “you’re here about Sabrina, right?”

  If I had been a dog, my ears would’ve pricked up but my tail would’ve also dropped at the mention of the lake monster. Unfortunately, as the lake monster was not even the murder weapon, so at this point, it wasn’t as important as the murder victim.

  I allowed myself a scant moment of disappointment that I had to make this all about Chris. Even in death, the man was finding ways to annoy me.

  “Actually, we’re here about Chris,” Kosher said after I’d been quiet for too long. He shot me a withering stare. “You knew him pretty well, right, Sawyer?”

  Sawyer puffed out his chest, his grin returning. I was beginning to get the feeling that Sawyer liked being the expert. Whether it was about Sabrina or Chris, it didn’t seem to matter.

  “Sure did,” he said. “He came out to the lake all the time. Almost daily. We’d gamble out on the lake when we weren’t fishing.”

  “So, he owed you money?”

  Sawyer shifted uncomfortably. “I guess so. I never really kept track. It was just for fun.”

  I’d seen people kill one another over pocket change, so I wasn’t sure I was buying this whole “not keeping track” thing. After all, no matter how much time Chris spent here, he was a newcomer to town. How deep could Sawyer’s affections be for him?

  “We’d talk about Sabrina too,” Sawyer said quickly, a dreamy haze taking over his eye.

  “And Chris was interes
ted in that?” Kosher asked.

  Shrugging Sawyer said, “I don’t know about that, but he was a good listener.”

  Kosher deflated a bit, and I knew he’d been hoping Chris had gotten in the water of his own volition, to get a better look at the beast. That didn’t explain the gunshot wound, but the man was facing life in prison. He was likely to be a little desperate.

  “Can you think of anyone besides the detective here that would want to hurt Chris?”

  Sawyer seemed reluctant to leave the subject of Sabrina. “Well…he did talk about this woman he was seeing. He said they fought just as much as they...” He drifted off and shot an apologetic glance my way. “Well, you know.”

  Yes, I did know, though I found it amusing and refreshing that Sawyer thought he had to protect my innocence in that department. While I was enjoying the new sensation, Kosher tensed up on the barrel, his knuckles and lips going white from strain.

  “Was….” He took a deep, calming breath. “Was it Vic?”

  My eyes shot open wide, because I hadn’t even considered that. Surely, my best friend would have told me if she was back with her disgusting ex-husband again. Then again, maybe she would’ve kept it under wraps. I would’ve been pretty ashamed if I were her.

  Sawyer shook his head, and the whole room visibly relaxed. “He talked about your girl a lot too, about wanting to win her back and all that. I told him it wasn’t his place to get in-between the two of you.”

  We asked Sawyer a few more questions about the woman, but it was clear Chris hadn’t gone into specifics. After Kosher and Sawyer spent a little time shooting the breeze, we headed out to the scene of the crime.

  Chris’s body was obviously gone, but other than that, the lake looked much the same as it had the day they found the body. The tape was still up, no one was fishing, and there were big, official signs telling us to keep away. I strode past them and took Kosher over to where Chris’s body had been.

  “He floated onto land over here,” I told him, watching his face.

  It gave nothing away.

  “He had a gunshot wound to the chest, and Sabrina had been gnawing on him.” I took a deliberate step back from the water.