A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set Page 16

  “If you live here, then why does it look like you don’t?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don't stay in this room,” Beau explained.

  Suspicion rose in Matt’s eyes. “Then what are you doing in here?”

  A sheepish shadow crossed Beau’s face. “Cleaning?”

  I shook my head. “Try again.”

  His eyes darted to the wooden drawers on the floor, the contents from inside scattered about. “Doing some restoration?” he offered.

  “Beau,” I insisted.

  The vampire gave up. “Fine. I was trying to find something.”

  “Of yours?” clarified Matt.

  “Yes?” The vampire attempted. His face dropped again under my brother's stern stare. “No,” he admitted. “I imagine I’m looking for the same thing that brought you here.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the pudgy vampire. “You mean, you're looking for Tipper’s will, too?”

  “Charli,” barked Matt.

  “We’re running out of time to beat around the bush. And if he’s already done some of the legwork for us, then what does it matter? It’ll be the talk of the whole town if it isn’t already. You can’t keep something like a lost will a secret for long.”

  “It’s not lost. Tipper told me where it is,” exclaimed Beau.

  “What? Where?” my brother and I shouted at the same time.

  The vampire grimaced and scratched his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t rightly remember.”

  I clenched my hands to keep myself from strangling the kindly but doddering old fool. “Think. Hard.”

  “I-I-I have been,” Beau stammered. “It’s all I can think about. Where Tipper told me he hid it. But my mind isn’t what it used to be. I’m over three hundred years old, you know. And after losing him, I’m having more trouble concentrating.”

  My brother stormed toward the vampire, but I stopped him. Anger and insistence wouldn’t pull the information out of Beau’s sieve of a brain. We needed honey to get the flies.

  “I miss Uncle Tip, too, Mr. Beau. But it’s very important that we find the will. We’re not the only ones looking for it, and the sooner we find it, the better,” I crooned in a soothing tone.

  The vampire offered me a sad smile. “He always talked about you. Was real proud you took off on your own. Said you reminded him of his favorite sunshine.”

  The mention of Tipper’s nickname for our mother softened Matt. “So, how much of the house have you searched?”

  “All of the downstairs. Including inside the kitchen cabinets and the oven, which I know doesn't make sense.” He chuckled and covered his mouth in shock at the jovial outburst.

  Beckoning us closer with a crook of his finger, he leaned in and spoke in a dramatically hushed tone. “I was supposed to go to you if I couldn’t find it. But I tried my best to remember where it was on my own. And then he up and died, and I got busy putting on the play in his honor. Now, Tipper’s no longer here. I miss him.” His voice became squeakier by the second, and by the sounds of his sniffs, the poor old vampire was crying.

  Matt mumbled under his breath in frustration, but I put my arms around Beau. I let Tipper’s friend purge himself in weeping sobs on my shoulder and patted his back, uttering reassurances. What would happen to him if Aunt Nora got her hands on the house and all of my great-uncle’s property? No doubt Beau would be out on his own in no time flat.

  Once the sobs turned into light whimpers, I ventured more questions. “How many of the bedrooms have you searched?”

  Beau took out a hankie from his pocket and blew his nose. He opened his mouth and pointed at the drawers, but a loud creaking of the front door interrupted him. All three of us cringed.

  I shot a glance at Matt. “Pixie poop. Who could that be?”

  My brother frowned. “I don't know. It could be another warden here to check on the place, although I'm not aware of any patrols scheduled for today.” He put his finger to his lips and maneuvered to the door to listen.

  With a high-pitched squeak and a quiet poof, Beau turned into a bat again and flew into the open wardrobe, hanging himself upside down on the clothes rail.

  As I closed the door to the piece of furniture, I whispered to him, “I’ll let you back out when this is all over.” I hoped he understood that I meant when the intruders were gone, not when we found Tipper’s will or figured out his murder.

  Joining Matt next to the door, I strained to hear the voices. My rapid heartbeat thrummed so loud in my ear that at first, it was hard to identify anything. But as whoever it was advanced toward the stairway, their voice echoed up.

  “I thought it would be harder to get inside. Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of warden protection in places?” asked a female voice. “Of course, I’m not surprised that a small town operation like we have here could screw up something like that.”

  Matt and I exchanged glances. “Aunt Nora,” we mouthed at each other at the same time.

  “I don’t know. But we can’t take too long. I’m not sure I agree with the plan,” a deep male voice countered. One that I had intimately known at one point.

  “That can’t be…” Matt whispered.

  I held up my finger to my lips, wanting more confirmation before I stormed down there and confronted my ex-fiancé.

  “That will is the one thing that stands between you and your development. Once I take the seat on the council, you’ll have the votes of me and your father on your side,” admonished my aunt as if she spoke to a child.

  “You’ll probably get the seat regardless. Why do you need to find his will?” asked Tucker.

  “Because what’s the Walker seat on the council without the Walker property that goes with it? And what if meddling old Vivian Goodwin attempts to put her grandson on the council? He may be my sister’s son, but that does not make him a Walker. He’s a Goodwin through and through, and then what power will you and your family wield in this town?”

  Anger boiled in my veins, and Matt’s muscles tensed like a cat ready to pounce. I kept a hand on him to keep him steady.

  We heard the sound of a drawer being pulled open. “There are too many places the old fool could have hidden it. This is a flawed plan,” said Tucker.

  “Keep searching,” my aunt hissed. Something like glass shattered on the floor. “And try to be more careful. I figured you’d be more enthusiastic. You need access to his property in the long run. Think of it as poetic justice, that you could get some of the land back into the Hawthorne name. That could be the legacy you leave your family.”

  “Father would like that,” admitted Tucker.

  Aunt Nora continued. “We’ve got to find that will and destroy it so that I can invoke that witch clause thing.”

  Tucker’s voice rose in volume. “But what about Charli and her family? Don’t they deserve to know if Tipper bequeathed them anything?”

  I listened, stunned at my ex’s concern. My disappointment in him wavered for a brief second.

  “Don’t mention her to me again.” The chilly vitriol that dripped off her voice could freeze a lake of lava. “You are marrying my daughter, bringing the bloodlines of the Walkers and Hawthornes together. Besides, she was never one of the family. She was a stray that my sister and her husband took in.”

  “That’s it,” gritted Matt. He emerged from the room. “Who goes there?”

  Our aunt squawked. “Matthew. You scared the devil out of me.”

  “As if,” I muttered, scooting part way into the hall so I could hear but stay out of sight.

  “What are you doing here?” Her voice had melted into sugary sweetness.

  “I think the same could be asked of you, Aunt Nora. What business do you have here?” my brother clipped.

  “Don't take such an impertinent tone with me, young man. I have more right to be here than you. After all, I'm his surviving niece. This house is practically mine,” she huffed.

  I crawled to the edge of the banister and looked down. Matt stood at the bottom of the stairs,
standing up straight with authority. Aunt Nora’s nose pointed in the air like usual while Tucker stood off to the side, guilt shrouding his entire demeanor.

  Matt shooed them toward the door. “This house is under the protection of the wardens for now,” he explained. “It’s still part of the investigation.”

  “Is that why you’re here, Matt?” asked Tucker.

  “Of course,” my brother bluffed. “It's my job to check on the property to make sure nothing has been handled or messed with. I’ll report that a small vase was broken when I searched the house. How does that sound?” He ushered them onto the porch.

  “What would we do without conscientious wardens like yourself, Matthew,” purred our aunt. “Come, Tucker.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Nora. You take care now.” My brother stood in the open doorway for a while.

  After an interminable wait, he closed the door again and rushed upstairs to find me prostrate on the floor. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

  “Like I ever listen to you.” Pushing myself up, I dusted off as best I could.

  “We need to get out of here,” Matt insisted. “No telling if they’re watching the house or what they’ll do. I don’t think I was all that convincing.”

  I started to make my way downstairs before I remembered. Running back to the room, I opened the door to the wardrobe. Beau flew out in a rush and hit the wall with a dull clunk. He poofed back into himself before his little bat body landed on the floor.

  Wringing his hands in concern, he rocked back and forth on his feet. “Who was it? Was it that angry guy again?”

  “What angry guy? It was Tucker Hawthorne. Is that who you mean?” asked Matt.

  “Or do you mean someone else?” I followed up.

  Beau glanced back and forth at us, becoming more and more agitated. “I don’t know.”

  Matt rubbed his forehead. “That’s a problem. Because now it seems there might have been multiple breaches of the warden’s protection, which is something we need to know about if we’re going to fix that.”

  “Focus,” I reminded him.

  “Right. Not the time. Beau here got inside because he was already living here.”

  “Not through the doors,” offered Beau.

  I stared at him, puzzled. “Then how?”

  His fangs grinned at us. “Flew down the chimney.”

  Matt blinked. “That’s a new one.”

  “Then how did Tucker or whoever else it was get inside?” I asked.

  “Perhaps there's some other way to get in here,” surmised my brother. “Which is more worrisome. I think I'd better report this to the warden station.”

  I grabbed his arm. “No, don’t.”

  “That's not your call, Charli.”

  “Think about it carefully,” I insisted. “If you tell the wardens, then more people will suspect that the will is somewhere here at the house. If one person can break the ward, then chances are there are other ways. Do you want all of Honeysuckle ransacking Uncle Tipper’s place?”

  My brother pondered my logic. “You have a point.”

  “Sometimes I do, you know.”

  He nodded in resignation. “Fine. I won’t report anything. For now. Mr. Pepperpot, as much as I appreciate your efforts, I think it's best if you leave the house.”

  The old vampire whimpered. “But it’s my home. Where am I supposed to go?”

  “You know, it might not be a bad idea to keep him here. He could keep up the search for the will. And he can watch over the house and stay out of trouble. By himself. Not talking to anybody.” I hoped Matt picked up on my hint how we needed to keep things as quiet as possible.

  My brother groaned. “Okay, he can stay. As long as he keeps searching.”

  Beau brightened. “I will. I know it’s here somewhere, although I don’t know why you aren’t using your powers that Tipper talked so much about, Miss Charli. Unless you can’t because of the curse.”

  My jaw dropped at the same time Matt’s did. “How do you know about it? Did Tipper tell you he was spellcasting it on himself? And how did you know I’m affected?” The questions came tumbling out of me.

  Beau covered his mouth. “I don't want to say. I don't want to get anybody in trouble or get taken into the warden station. We vampires have already endured enough.”

  “But nobody's supposed to know about it,” Matt complained.

  I shook my head at the two of them. “It doesn't matter if he knows about Doozy. More than enough people do. But Beau, I need you to promise me you won't tell anybody else. And to keep searching for that will. Can you do that?”

  The old vampire nodded with sincerity. He made a mark with his finger over his undead heart. “I promise. For Tipper, right?”

  I gripped his shoulder in agreement. “For Tipper.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  My grandmother hovered over me and placed her hand on my forehead for the hundredth time. I batted it away in frustration.

  “I don't have a fever, Nana. And I feel fine.” The first statement was true, but the second was a bold-faced fib.

  Time was not my friend anymore. The lack of progress in solving the murder plus the curse drained me, adding to the overall miserable mess of the situation. As much as I didn’t want to stay at home and rest, I needed to. But I didn’t want to be treated like an invalid.

  Nana touched my cheek with the back of her hand again. “I know, I know. I just wish there was something I could do for you, sweet girl.”

  “You mean other than mixing the gallons of nasty dark sludge?” I joked.

  “Don't knock the stuff, Charli. It’s the best thing that I've got for you. Believe me.” The dark circles under her eyes told the story of how hard she must be working to find another way to get rid of Doozy.

  “I know, Nana.” Obediently, I took another sip. “I just wish you could make it taste better. More like sweet tea. Or maybe chess pie in a glass.” I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand. “I don't suppose using honeysuckle syrup would help?”

  Nana frowned. “I did add some. But judging by the scrunching of your face with every sip, it never helps. Now tell me again about what happened at Tipper’s house.”

  Peaches jumped up into my lap and demanded rubs as I recounted the entire story of our failed mission. When I got to the part with Nora and Tucker, she raised her eyebrows but remained silent in that scary way that used to give me the willies. Like standing in the eye of a hurricane, knowing the storm was swirling around, ready to hit with powerful force at any second.

  Nana narrowed her eyes at me. “What else happened?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  “You know, you and your brother think too little of me if you haven't figured out by now that I can always tell when you're telling a fib. Let me guess, you attempted to use your magic to find the will against my explicit instructions.”

  I nodded, feeling like a scolded child with her hand caught in the cookie jar.

  “No wonder you look a hot mess today. I can't emphasize this enough, Charli.” She took both my hands and her warm ones. “You cannot, I repeat, you cannot tap into your magic anymore. I fear that if you do, it will fuel the curse even more. And you know what that means.”

  “I understand,” I whispered, my bottom lip trembling.

  “Do you?” She lifted my face with her finger on my chin. “You don't get how precious you are to me, and I would do absolutely anything to keep you safe. Even if that means I have to work a sleeping spell over you to slow the effects of the curse down.”

  “Nana,” I protested.

  “Promise me you won't use your magic again.”

  Without my magic, who would I be? In a town full of magical beings and supernatural creatures, I would stick out like a sore thumb. Would I have to live the rest of my life that way? Of course, who knew how long my life would last anyway if we couldn't solve the murder?

  “Drink it all down,” Nana ordered. “I should get started on the food for tonight. I wish tha
t I didn't have to do anything other than take care of you, but in my position, it's important that I be there.”

  I drained the glass. “I would never ask you to miss anything, Nana. And I won’t, either. The pig pickin’ will be too good not to go, and I don’t want to skip out on barbecue with all the fixin’s. And then there's the official Founders’ ceremony.”

  My grandmother took the cup from me. “Charli, I think that you should stay home tonight.”

  Scooching my behind on the couch, I sat up. “No way. There will be people there I need to talk to, like Jed. I’m not missing out on tonight.” I crossed my arms and hoped that Nana bought my confidence.

  She stared at me for a few seconds until her gaze softened. “I suppose there's no use in arguing with you. We’ll just go round and round. And against my better judgment, I won't cast a sleeping spell on you to keep you safe. You’re a Goodwin woman, and that means you're as immovable as a gargoyle. So, I’ll let you go to the pig pickin’.”

  “What about the ceremony?” I’d never missed one yet, and this year’s would be extraordinary.

  She shook her head. “With the absence of Tipper, I’m not sure how controlled the ritual will be. And with the addition of the strawberry moon to boot, I can’t rightly guess how much power will surge tonight. Or what that might do to you.”

  “I can’t live with what if’s, Nana.”

  She grabbed my chin in her hand. “And I can’t live without you, sweet girl.”

  Her words of anguished love crashed against me in harsh waves. Of all the people in my life, she and my brother tethered me to it. I tried to tell her how much I loved her, too, but the words caught in my throat.

  She threw her arms around me, careful not to squish Peaches, and rocked me back and forth, crooning sweet words in my ear and rubbing my back as the built up emotions broke the wall I’d erected and spilled out of me and onto her shoulder in the form of tears and sobs.

  A heavy knock on the door startled the two of us. Nana produced a lace handkerchief from out of nowhere and instructed me to clean myself up. She returned to the living room with Lily and Lavender in tow. I brightened in the presence of my two friends, but my hopes sank the second I glanced at their expressions.