Sweet Tea & Spells (A Southern Charms Cozy Mystery Book 3) Read online

  “I swear I wasn’t goin’ to, honey,” Matt shouted. “Birdy, I think you might be on your own today. I’m really sorry.” He hung up the phone before I could get another word in.

  Toast and coffee were all my stomach could handle for breakfast. I munched on the half-burnt bread with a thin layer of butter and a slather of homemade strawberry preserves outside on the porch, watching the dark clouds swirling above. With all of its blustering, the weather hadn’t broken into torrential rain yet. I could appreciate the beauty in the storm as much as the fearful power of it, too.

  Beau appeared at the edge of the property and walked toward the house. He joined me in one of the rockers.

  “Didn’t want to fly home?” I asked him.

  He fixed the few strands of hair still decorating the top of his bald head with his fingers. “Not in this wind and weather. I didn’t want to chance getting struck by lightning. What are you doin’ outside?”

  I scoffed. “Contemplating my sanity.” Thunder rolled in the distance, and I told my roommate about Clementine’s request.

  “Why in the world did you say yes?” The vampire gawked at me.

  I leaned back in the chair. “Because she surprised me by wanting me to do it in the first place. Also, maybe the two of us can get along, and that’s something my mom would want for our two families.” She would be proud of me if I could bridge the icy gap with Nora’s daughter.

  With a crack of lightning and another rumble of thunder, the sky opened up and rain poured down. Beau and I ducked inside and shut the storm out.

  “I get the feelin’ there’s more to your decision that you’re not sayin’. I’m here if you wanna talk, but if you don’t, I can respect that. If you need anything, you just let me know,” my roommate offered

  Sighing, I placed a hand on my hip. “What I need is for Nana to be here or my friend who knows how to do hair to be available and not be bakin’ a wedding cake.”

  Beau raised his hand. “I can fix your hair.”

  “No way. Can you?” I gaped at him.

  He grinned, and his fangs popped out over his bottom lip. “Sure. You don’t date a bunch of women and not learn how to fix their hair after you help them muss it.”

  I held up my hand to stop him from giving me any details. “Can you do a decent up do?”

  “Let’s take a look at your outfit and see what style might look best.” He bowed before me with a dramatic grand gesture, and let me run upstairs in front of him.

  I put on the dress, and he had me go into the bathroom so he could play with my hair. We settled on a low bun with loose tendrils framing my face. Beau told me to wake him up from his nap when I was getting ready, and he would fix it up for real. Impressed, I gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. He moseyed to his room with a faint blush pinking up his vampire pallor.

  When the time came to get ready in the afternoon, my roommate impressed me with his hairstyling skills. “You could ask Ms. Reva for a job at the salon,” I complimented.

  Beau chuckled, sticking another pin in to hold the bun. “I prefer to use my abilities in a more personal manner. But I think this might do the trick.” Handing me a mirror, he asked me to check his work.

  “It’s gorgeous, but I fear that the wind and rain will ruin it.” Loud thunder echoed my sentiment.

  Beau popped off the top of a can of industrial hairspray. “Not when I get done with it.”

  I emerged from the toxic fog, sure that my hair might stay where it was for days, even if I took out all the pins. Matt had promised he’d pick me up and take me to the Hawthorne house, so I hurried to finish getting ready. After clasping Mom’s string of pearls around my neck, I reached for the gloves to complete the look and paused.

  When I told Beau about why I’d said yes to Clementine’s request, I had been about ninety percent honest. But the last ten percent nagged at me. I wanted to see Tucker and Hollis up close. To look them in the eyes and examine if either of them were guilty of the crime I thought they were. At the same time, I didn’t want to make a huge scene, or an even bigger one than there would be with me being in the bridal party.

  Making a final decision, I found the elephant token on my bedside table and held it in my left palm carefully, slipping the glove on over my hand so that it hid the round piece of metal. I’d rather have it with me and be prepared than to need it and not have it.

  I heard the knock on the door over the noise of the storm and grabbed a lace shawl to wear over my shoulders, although it would be a poor shield from the messy weather. My fancy heels clacked on the wood of the stairs as I hurried down to answer another knock.

  Opening the door, I found Mason dressed up in a well-fitted suit and dark tie, all traces of his facial hair gone. He reminded me of a very famous British spy from the movies, but here in Honeysuckle, he was just Double Oh My, shaking my insides and stirring up some heated thoughts.

  His eyes roamed over my entire body in languid pleasure. “You look beautiful,” he uttered.

  “So do you. I mean, you look handsome. Although I kind of miss your scruff.” The wind blew some rain underneath my porch ceiling, and I tugged on the detective to come inside.

  Mason ran a hand over his smooth skin. “Yeah, between the wedding and Big Willie fussing at me to look more professional, it was time.”

  “Never mind the irony of a sasquatch asking you to shave,” I added with a chuckle. “So you’re taking me to the wedding?”

  His eyes took another gander at me, lingering on my low neckline. “Your brother called me, but to be honest, it’ll be my pleasure.” Realizing where he was staring, he cleared his throat, red rising in his cheeks.

  “How are we gonna get to your car without getting soaked?” I asked. “It took effort to look like this.”

  The detective stepped closer to me, fingering one of my loose tendrils of hair. “You’d look gorgeous dry or wet.”

  My eyes fell to his lips as he formed the words, and I swallowed hard. The grandfather clock chimed the hour and broke the spell of whatever pleasant tension blossomed between us.

  “All good detectives have to have at least a level three weather spellcasting ability to keep crime scenes dry,” he explained. “I can keep the two of us from getting our clothes ruined.” He walked me to the door.

  A gust of wind caught the wood when I opened it, and it blew back with great force. Standing on the porch, I doubted either of our abilities to make it to the car without at least our feet getting muddy.

  “I’ve already cast a spell on my pants and shoes just in case,” Mason answered my unspoken thought. “If you won’t think it’s too caveman-ish, I can carry you to the car to keep your feet clean.”

  Wanting him to expend as little magical effort as possible, I agreed, a bit embarrassed to play the role of damsel in distress. I threw my arms around his neck, and he bent down and lifted me with care and ease into his arms.

  Mason smelled like soap and a subtle spicy scent. He no longer looked like a bad boy version of himself, but I actually preferred his well-kept appearance. I snuggled in a little more than I needed to and leaned into him for support.

  “Here comes the spell,” he prepared me. A thin veil wrapped around us and expanded out a little ways.

  Mason walked off the porch, and the wind and rain beat against the barrier but didn’t reach us. We made it to his car on the road, and he placed me on my feet with gentle strength. I slipped into the passenger’s side and waited for him to get in the car before thanking him.

  We drove in comfortable silence, and I rubbed the spot where the token rested in my left palm with my right-hand thumb. Since I hadn’t decided what to do with it yet, I didn’t know whether or not to tell the detective about it. My inner debate lasted long enough until I remembered what the two of us were trying to work on. No walls.

  “I have a confession to make,” Mason blurted, beating my own admission by a mere second.

  Grateful and hesitant at the same time, I waited my turn. �
�Okay.”

  “Your brother didn’t call me to come pick you up. I volunteered to do it because I needed an excuse to be at the wedding.” He watched me out of the corner of his eye while avoiding a large puddle of water in the road.

  “So you’re forcing me to take you as my date? Why?” I asked.

  “Because I think there’s a good chance the killer will be there, and they’ll use the cover of the event to try and leave Honeysuckle.” Mason slowed the car down and stopped at an intersection, turning to face me. “You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  “Well, it’s not Sassy, like I said.” Pulling the fingers of my left-hand glove loose, I slipped it off and showed the detective the token. “I’m pretty sure that the person who gave this to Duke is either involved or committed the murder.”

  Putting on his hazard lights, Mason threw his car into park. He opened his palm for the token, and I let him examine it closer, explaining the information Beau had told me.

  “So what was your plan? To somehow connect the object to either Tucker or Hollis? And what if they had figured out what you were doing?” He held onto the item instead of giving it back.

  Truthfully, I hadn’t gotten very far in my plan other than taking the token to the wedding and trying to find an opportunity to use my newfound skills in connecting it to the groom or his father.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But what could they do to me in the middle of a wedding?”

  “And you would be willing to risk ruining your cousin’s day?” Mason pressed.

  I snatched the token back from him. “Why are you using me as a cover to go if you aren’t intending to do something yourself?”

  He blew out a breath. “You’re right.”

  Stunned at his admission, I touched his arm. “We should work together on this. You’re holding something back.”

  The rain pattered on the roof of the car and the windshield wipers sloshed back and forth. Mason ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it in that perfectly disheveled way. “We’ve got financial records of Duke’s. It took me a while to have some people I know track down his accounts, and I’m betting we haven’t found them all. The man was into some really bad stuff.”

  “How bad?” I pushed.

  “Remember how you thought Damien might have ties to a supernatural underground? If what we’re uncovering is correct, Duke definitely was a part of it. We’re just not sure how deep his connections went.” Looking at the time on the car radio, Mason pulled back onto the road and headed to the Hawthorne house.

  “How do you know all this?” I watched drops of rain dance across the surface of the passenger door window.

  “We figured out some of the code in his book from Sassy’s entry and…”

  “From mine?” I finished. “How much was I worth to him?”

  Mason’s expression darkened. “I don’t think we should talk about that now.”

  “Hey, no walls was your idea. Don’t hold back now,” I insisted.

  “If you insist on knowing, then I will tell you. But I think you may wish that I didn’t.” He turned down the road to our destination.

  Mason wasn’t asking me to trust him, only to consider my options carefully. The choice was mine, and curiosity forced my decision. “Tell me.”

  Disappointment flooded his eyes, but he held to his word. “Sassy’s entry had codes that, as best as we can figure out and because Tara likes to run her mouth, meant she was to be treated as a commodity to be sold to the highest bidder.”

  “Sweet honeysuckle iced tea. He wanted to sell her?” It took me a second to remember my own entry in the book. “Me, too?” I asked in a broken voice.

  Mason’s jaw tensed. “I told you that you wouldn’t want to know.” He drove up to the front of the house, letting the car idle. “Before you go in there, you should understand why I’m here with you. Duke was an information broker. He bought and sold specific knowledge through what he found out himself or what he was given by others he controlled or manipulated.”

  “And he was killed for that,” I said, spotting a very unhappy Aunt Nora glaring at me from the window inside.

  Mason put a hand on my knee. “No, you don’t understand. Someone gave him you. They told him about you and your talents as payment to him.”

  Now I understood. My stomach turned, and I dropped the token on the floor of the car. “And you think the person who gave him the information about me is in there.” I pointed at the front door.

  Mason unlatched his seatbelt and rummaged on the floor mat, retrieving the token. I expected him to confiscate it, but he held it out for me. The rain stopped falling, and the clouds parted enough to let a little light through, piercing the dreary darkness.

  I opened my left hand, and he placed the token in my palm, curling my fingers around it and holding my hand between both of his. “Whatever happens today, be careful. Whoever it is, they have to know that their ruse to frame Sassy won’t work for much longer and that their time is running out. A desperate person can react horribly.”

  Giving it some thought, I came up with a new plan. “If all of this involves any of the people you and I suspect, then we need to keep them within sight at all times. Also, let’s not give away our suspicions and act as normal as we can.”

  “In other words, do our best not to ruin the wedding,” Mason said. “So I’m here as your date and not a detective?” He opened his door and came around to my side to help me out.

  After readjusting the token and slipping the glove back on, I took his offered hand and slid out of his car. “Yes, you’re my date.” Using that term didn’t make me want to run for the hills, and it surprised me how much I kind of liked it. I slipped my arm through his and let him escort me to the house.

  Aunt Nora threw open the front door and came out onto the stoop. “You’re late.”

  I leaned into Mason and spoke in a low voice, “Or you could just arrest everyone, starting with her.”

  “Tempting,” he replied with a quiet chuckle.

  My aunt’s frosty glare didn’t scare me. “Sorry, Aunt Nora. Bad weather.”

  “I have to say, I almost wished you wouldn’t show up. But Clementine is waiting for you upstairs. Detective Clairmont, guests are expected to wait in the tent out back. Even the ones who weren’t technically invited.” She sniffed and attempted to close the door on him.

  I caught it and held it open, rolling my eyes and waiting for her to give up and go check on her daughter. When she was out of earshot, I spoke quickly to Mason. “I’ll be fine here. You go to where the ceremony will be and keep an eye out for the groom and his father.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The detective straightened and saluted me. Relaxing with a smile, he fixed the lace shawl around my shoulders and took my left hand in his. He tapped the token resting in my left palm under the glove. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “I will.” With a wave, I answered my aunt’s impatient call from upstairs and closed the door.

  How much could go wrong with me being the groom’s ex acting as the bride’s maid of honor and searching for a killer?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The inclement weather delayed the start of the ceremony, allowing more of Honeysuckle’s people to show up. I stood in the back of the room out of the way, watching Aunt Nora reposition the veil on Clementine’s head for the third time.

  “Stop fussin’, Mother. It looks fine.” My cousin pushed her mom’s hands away, staring at her reflection in the mirror and smoothing out the lace.

  “I wanted everything to be perfect for your special day, but you’re the one who wanted to push it to today rather than wait.” My aunt walked over to the window. “At least it looks like the rain’s stopped for the moment.”

  “Rain or shine, I don’t want to wait another minute to marry Tucker.” Clementine applied another layer of gloss to her lips and pursed them together.

  I admired her determination and appreciated this new version of my cousin, willing to stand
up to her overbearing mother. Smiling quietly to myself, I stifled a chuckle.

  “You can wipe that grin off your face, missy. I still think my daughter’s crazy for asking you to be a part of all this.” Aunt Nora sneered at me. “Although it would be poetic for you to have to stand there and witness my daughter marrying the man you couldn’t.”

  “Enough, Mother,” insisted Clementine, standing up. “We talked about this last night. You will do your best to be civil to your sister’s daughter from here on out. I’m sorry, Charli.”

  Not wanting to be the cause of a fight between mother and daughter today, I tried not to say too much. “It’s fine.”

  The photographer came in to take a few pre-wedding pictures. My aunt pasted a happier countenance on her face and cuddled up to her daughter.

  “How about one with the bride and her maid of honor?” the innocent photographer asked.

  “You don’t need one with her,” spit out Aunt Nora, her lips frowning again.

  Clementine pointed at the door. “Why don’t you go ahead to the tent and get ready for the ceremony since you’ll be performing it. We’ll take a few photos together and then get ready to make our entrance.”

  Aunt Nora attempted to protest but stopped when Clementine didn’t back down. She huffed her way to the door, stopping long enough to shoot me an icy glare. “I would be able to enjoy my daughter’s day if your grandmother hadn’t up and left so she could perform her duties.”

  “Consider this an opportunity to take part in a more intimate and personal way, Aunt Nora,” I suggested, doing my best to keep my tone light and indifferent.

  Stomping her high-heeled shoes on the hardwood floor, she clacked her way downstairs, leaving Clementine to take a couple of photos with me.

  “Thank you for doing this, Charli,” my cousin said in a quiet voice. “Today will be full of new beginnings.” She gave me a side hug, careful not to mess up her beautiful cream lace gown that was more fitted and modern than I would have expected for her.

  “I’ll go and see if they’re ready for you,” I offered. Once downstairs, I decided to take a shortcut through the kitchen to check and almost collided with Shelby. “What are you doing here?”