Counterfeits and Cauldrons: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 6) Read online

  Ink.

  After saying our distracted thanks to Hardy, we sped down the road in my little bug, practically humming with excitement. Without ink, there wouldn’t be any money. And if it was going to disappear, the bills probably didn’t need the special ink the treasury used. People only needed to be fooled for a little bit. That made it harder to track, but we’d caught a lucky break.

  My foot came off the acceleration at that thought. Vic and I didn’t get lucky breaks. What we got was bad luck, followed by horrible coincidences, and a whole lot of misunderstanding.

  Vic seemed to be thinking the same thing too. “It’s a little easy,” she admitted.

  Still, we didn’t have any other leads. Continuing down the road, we eyed every dust cloud suspiciously, on high alert. Our good mood was nowhere to be seen, leaving in its place a bone-deep wariness.

  When we pulled up to an abandoned factory, one of many just outside of town, my bad feeling increased. It was a lot harder to figure out than a home address, since anyone could squat here.

  “Maybe we should climb in through one of those windows,” Vic said, pointing to the tiny holes a story up. “Surprise them if they’re expecting us to come through the front door.”

  “You think you can climb that?” I asked.

  She puffed out her chest. “Just you watch.”

  Getting out of the car, she shot me a cocky grin and ran over to the factory wall. I watched with numb astonishment as she grabbed onto a foothold, climbed up a few feet, and then slid slowly back down. She did this a few times, landing on her ass in the dirt, before running back to the car.

  I rolled down the passenger side window and waited for an explanation.

  “Obviously, someone put some kind of spell on the wall. Or butter.”

  “Obviously,” I said. Getting out of the car, I stretched. “Well, I can die now after seeing that. Let’s charge on in.”

  Our caution and wariness was unnecessary, because as soon as we got inside, it was clear no one was there. The whole place was just one big, barren room where equipment had once been. There were packages of ink on the floor, some empty. All of the green had been taken, and the rest lay at my feet.

  “Hello?” Vic called out, her voice echoing. “We’ve come to arrest you, evildoers!”

  I winced. Vic’s trash talk still needed work, and apparently, she wasn’t getting any good tips at the academy.

  Something glittered when the light touched it amongst all the dull clutter on the floor. Pushing a few things away, I picked up a scrap of material. It was blue and sparkled and was infinitely familiar to me.

  Vic squinted at the cloth. “Hey, where have I seen that before?”

  Grinning triumphantly, I said, “On Julio Ramirez’s chest.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Have you thought about what you’re getting Hope for Christmas?” I asked on the way back to Oliver’s. “A personality, perhaps?”

  Vic sighed. “She’s just upset about leaving her father. She blames me for it.”

  “I take it she doesn’t know he ran off with her babysitter.”

  “You take it well,” she said, giggling.

  “That’s what all the boys tell me.”

  We drove back, getting in separate cars and then going to pick up our respective children. Both Oliver and Cooper looked harassed, bruises forming on their faces and arms. When he saw my car, Cooper practically sprinted from the house, looking over his shoulder in terror to make sure Hope wasn’t following him.

  “She’s horrible,” Cooper whispered to me once we were safely in the car.

  His father had taught him to never talk badly about women, and confliction sparkled in his eyes. I figured we could make an exception just this once. Besides, I wasn’t the person to call him on it, I talked badly about everyone.

  “Watch it, Coop,” I said, barely hiding my grin. “We expect you to marry that girl someday.”

  Seeing someone walking on the sidewalk with hands in the pockets and slumped over in that way only a teenager could, I slammed on my brakes, almost sending Cooper flying into the dash. I pulled over to the side of the road, rolling down my window to talk to Jamie, Julio’s cashier.

  “Hey, Mrs. Bennett,” he said in greeting.

  I almost ran that brat over for his words alone. The only thing that stopped me was the complete respect in his tone. Supposing I couldn’t maim him for my own commitment issues, I kept my foot on the brake.

  “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

  He eyed me doubtfully for a moment, but when my big, friendly smile didn’t falter, he shrugged and got in the car. Rules of seniority and usefulness being what they were, Cooper was sent to the back seat, and he didn’t look happy about it. In fact, he was staring at Jamie with an expression I usually associated with Hope.

  “Just coming from work?” I asked, pulling away from the curb and in front of the almost blind, Old Lady Muriel. She flipped me the bird with surprising dexterity for a woman with arthritis in all her fingers.

  “Yeah, Julio left me to close up. He had to go to the bank.” Jamie played absently with his phone, not really paying attention to our conversation. “The counterfeit money and all that.”

  “Financial trouble?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a fine clothing boutique in an overalls kind of town.”

  “Fair.” A pause. “Julio seems very fond of you.”

  “He’s a good boss,” Jamie said, making a face. “I just wish he wasn’t making me dance in this stupid competition.”

  Nothing else he said was of consequence—something I find to be true of most of the words out of the mouths of teenagers. Still, he’d confirmed Julio’s motive. I had more evidence against the shop owner than I usually had to go on in my other cases. Maybe this time, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

  Jamie waved to us from his front porch, and then I set off toward the Victorian. Strangely, Wyatt was waiting for us on the porch, looking a little pale and shaky. I ran up to him, instantly worried, but when I opened my mouth to say something, he stopped me.

  “I put her straight immediately,” he said. “I don’t know where she heard—it doesn’t matter. I told her it wasn’t true; I swear, but she said you could probably still use them for future ideas…”

  Wyatt usually made the most sense out of everyone on this Earth, so to see him babble, words coming out all rushed and wrong, was like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs. I pushed past him, walking into the kitchen and stopping dead.

  Nancy was there, and though she was more than enough to freeze me in my tracks, it was what she’d brought with her that really stopped the blood in my veins.

  Every available counter space—tables, chairs, whatever—was covered with bridal magazines. They seemed to range from issues from last month back to before fire was discovered. There were squares of sample materials, pictures of flower arrangements, and the cake topper Nancy had at her own wedding.

  I was out the door and running to my car before I actually realized my mind had taken in all these things. Wyatt chased after me, trying to stop me before I got to the car, but it was like I had rockets on my feet.

  There was really only one hotel in Waresville, and though it called itself a hotel, it had achieved motel status at best. I sped past the security guard, who barely looked up from his paper, grumbling about this “god-forsaken town.” At that moment, and during many moments throughout my tenure in Waresville, I agreed with him.

  Vic was wearing only a Japanese style robe, reading a magazine about guns, and lying on a bed that sloped to one side. The shower was going, so I could only presume that that was where her whelp was. I flopped down next to her, making her flinch out of her skin.

  “How’d you get in?” she asked, putting aside the magazine. “The door was locked.”

  I held up my hand and wiggled my fingers. “Witch, remember?” A shudder went through my body. “He wants to marry me.”

  Not saying anything for a moment,
Vic eyed me. “That’s good, isn’t it? You love Wyatt. We are talking about Wyatt, right?”

  “I’ll make him miserable.”

  “Then he’ll run off with the babysitter. I hear it’s a great coping mechanism.”

  We talked about it for a few hours more, ignoring the snide comments Hope sent our way, and getting ready for that night’s dancing event. Vic, feeling left out after last night’s dress, had pulled out her tightest dress. The gold color of it made her look like one of the bricks in Fort Knox.

  My bad mood reached new levels of irritation when Oliver ambushed us at the door. Silently, Vic slipped away. I don’t know how she heard about what was going on between Oliver and I, but I was willing to blame it all on Wyatt. He had a big mouth and was, annoyingly, always trying to help.

  “Wyatt’s already over by the dressing rooms,” he said. “He’s been looking for you.”

  There was an unspoken question about why Wyatt wouldn’t know where I was, but I pushed Oliver aside and headed to the bathroom. I’d planned on wearing something a little more tasteful, but I was stuck with the dress I’d had in the back seat of the car. Without the matching, pink go-go boots, it wasn’t too costume-y for the competition. Still, it was short, tight, and not at all poufy.

  I saw Wyatt standing in line with the other contestants, back ramrod straight. He looked just as pale as earlier, his demeanor tense and worried. For a second, I just watched him, thinking about that first night we collided on a case and then, inevitably, every case since. He was the man of my dreams—the dream I’d never really dared to have—but I couldn’t be the woman of his.

  I went up to him anyway, letting him wrap his arms around me. He exhaled in relief and pressed his lips to my forehead, apologizing over and over for his mother. When he promised she’d never do it again, I smiled ruefully. A cop should know better than to make promises he couldn’t keep.

  "It was Julio," I told Wyatt by way of changing the subject.

  He raised an eyebrow. "And I'm sure you have physical evidence to back this up."

  "More than I usually have. Vic and I found his vest in an abandoned warehouse where ink for the counterfeit bills was being sent. That, and the financial trouble his store was in, makes him guilty as sin."

  Julio and Jamie's names were called, and we both fell silent as they walked past us, heading into the courtyard to dance. This time, Julio was wearing a violently yellow suit that gave the impression that you were staring straight into the sun. Jamie was dressed fashionably, but not too flashy, looking even younger than he was.

  When they got out onto the floor, they started dancing a fast salsa. I wondered idly if Julio had taught Jamie to dance, because he certainly seemed to know all the steps. His job was even more demanding than mine.

  "His business is one of the ones being hit by the counterfeit bills," Wyatt pointed out, going into cop mode. It was a little like a werewolf's transformation. One lost all higher reasoning and hygiene standards. "Why would he target himself?"

  "To throw the cops off his trail?" I mused, thinking it over. "Maybe he couldn't control where the bills went once he used them in this area, and it came back to bite him in the ass."

  "Then why continue? The counterfeits aren't showing any signs of slowing down soon."

  It was a good question, but it didn't exactly sway me away from Julio as a suspect. Once started, he may have needed to keep up with the counterfeiting just to keep his business from going under. Even if that wasn't the case, there was no way someone could wear that much pastel and be on the up and up. It was a statistical improbability.

  Sarah and Ben were up next, both looking dapper in a 50s inspired ball gown and tux. It was so similar to their regular style and mannerisms, I had to wonder if it was an intentional joke. Then, I remembered the Goodfellows, like the rest of the squares in this town, didn't have a sense of humor.

  While the Goodfellows were dancing, I noticed Oliver staring at me. I sighed heavily, motioning for him to pay attention while my eyebrows furrowed. I was going to have to do something about him, that was for sure. If he kept eyeing me in public, people would get the wrong idea. And golly gee, I just didn't want anything to tarnish my spotless reputation.

  Katy and Greg went on, the lady sporting a huge, sparkly rock around her neck. If it was real, it was worth more than my car. To be fair, my car was worth less than most things you could find at a grocery store. It was an impressive necklace, though, especially on a teacher's salary.

  When it was our turn to dance, Mrs. Debutante shot me a withering glance as Wyatt led me out onto the floor. No doubt it was because of the length of my dress. Acting as a mature adult, I stuck my tongue out at her just as the music began again. Before I could see her expression, Wyatt was twirling me away.

  This dance was faster than yesterday's and more complicated, too. I found myself racing to keep up with what Wyatt was projecting, following his moves, and letting everything else fade from my mind. Our bodies fit so well together, able to anticipate every move right before it happened. We knew each other, inside and out.

  The song seemed to end suddenly, leaving me gasping and a little confused. Yesterday's dance had seemed to go on forever, but now, I wanted more. Contenting myself to snuggle against Wyatt as we left the floor, I waited for the heated look in his eye to dull, but it didn't. I got the feeling I could wait forever for that moment and never have it come to pass. Not even Melanie Gross’s horrible score could take that high away from me.

  My partner excused himself to go to the bathroom, while the judges opened the floor to non-competing couples. I watched from the sidelines as Wyatt's parents danced a few feet from me. Despite our episode today, Nancy wasn't paying any attention to me, too busy making goo-goo eyes at her husband.

  For a terrifying moment, I felt a little breathless, left wanting. I could have that, I thought. All I had to do was marry Wyatt and spend the rest of my life with him. It could be us, decades from now, making eyes at each other on the dance floor.

  Sighing at the direction my thoughts had taken me, I drifted over to the table where I'd left my purse, along with all the other contestants' bags. Easily recognizable given that it was the big neon one. Standing next to it was that awful Officer Kosher, sideburns looking particularly bushy today.

  "Loitering, Officer? Isn't that against one of those laws you love so much?"

  "Wyatt ought to muzzle you," he said. "Do this whole town a favor."

  My eyebrow popped up. "He prefers to use the muzzle in private. Wyatt's not much of an exhibitionist."

  Not wanting the man in question to come back and see Kosher and I fighting, I reached for my purse. My mistake, though, was not taking my glaring eyes off Kosher. My hand collided with the bag and sent it crashing to the floor.

  Counterfeit bills that hadn't been there an hour ago came pouring out of my purse, littering the ground at our feet. Kosher and I both looked down, taking in the sight for a moment. Usually, this sort of "caught red-handed" thing would leave me with a sinking feeling in my gut. Right then, however, I just felt supremely annoyed.

  Kosher and I glanced back up at each other, a grimace on my face while his expression broke into a smile so sunny and jubilant, it reminded me of Julio's outfit. His cheeks turned rosy, and he looked about ten years younger.

  Whistling lowly, Kosher said, "Well, what do we have here?"

  I resisted the urge to stomp my foot, but it was difficult. "You know all that isn't mine."

  "What I know," he said, pulling out his handcuffs slowly and relishing every moment of this, "is that I've got a new suspect to question. Now, are you coming quietly, or do I have to use force?"

  Lips twisting, I held out my wrists. "Quietly. Looks like you'll have to get your rocks off some other way." A pause. "You do realize he'll tear you a new one for this."

  "Some opportunities are just too good to pass up."

  After a snap of the cuffs going into place, Officer Kosher perp-walked me out of Town Hall, bei
ng sure to pass everyone I knew in the process. Oliver seemed to be calculating a way to turn this into forgiveness for him. Vic, on the other hand, looked a little jealous that I was the one getting arrested. She liked to be in the thick of things—just like me.

  When I passed Wyatt's parents, Nancy was horrified to see me in cuffs. She ran right over to us, putting herself directly in Kosher's path. At this, he seemed a little uncomfortable, which just made me happy in a big way.

  "What do you think you're doing?" she gasped. "People will see!"

  "I have to take her in for questioning, ma'am," he said, hedging around her with the caution you'd show a six-foot crocodile. Personally, I'd take the reptile over Nancy any day.

  "Your boss will be hearing about this," she called after us.

  I made "oooo" sounds at Kosher as he put me in the back of the car. "Someone's in trouble. The whole Bennett household is gonna team up to kick your butt into next week."

  "That's because you have your hooks in them," he snapped, pulling away from the scene. "Everybody thinks you're god's gift to Waresville, but I know different."

  That got a laugh out of me, a good, long, loud one. "No one thinks that, Kosher."

  I could almost hear him gritting his teeth in the front seat. "They think you do a better job than the police. That you should be a detective!"

  If there were two people in the whole town that thought this, I'd be surprised. The fact that Kosher believed it, and that it bothered him this much, was interesting. Interesting in a "how can I use this against my enemy?" way. I hadn't figured out the application yet, but I was sure it was going to be delicious.

  "Don't worry, Officer," I said, sneering. "If you work really, really hard and eat all your vegetables, you can grow up to be just like me."

  Because of my comment or because he'd always hated me, he was not gentle in the least when putting me into a holding cell. While in there, he paced in front of it, probably trying to come up with insults that would top mine. He should have saved his brainpower.