The Case of the Desire Spell Read online

  The Case of the Desire Spell: A Hillcrest Witch Mystery

  Hillcrest Witch Cozy Mystery

  Amorette Anderson

  Published by Amorette Anderson, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE CASE OF THE DESIRE SPELL: A HILLCREST WITCH MYSTERY

  First edition. December 23, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Amorette Anderson.

  Written by Amorette Anderson.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  ***** The End*****

  Chapter One

  “Penelope,” my calico cat, Turkey, transmits to me telepathically.

  “Shh!” I reply. “This is my favorite part.” My eyes are glued to the television set in front of me. Sherlock Holmes is about to outsmart the evil guy who kidnapped him. I mindlessly shovel another cheese puff into my mouth.

  “Penelope, I really think you should see this,” Turkey insists.

  On the screen, Holmes is speaking to his kidnapper: “The carriage turned right twice, and then I smelled freshly baked bread. I knew I was on Knottingham Avenue.”

  The cheese puff dissolves on my tongue. “Can it wait?” I ask my cat without looking over at him. “I really want to—”

  “No, it can’t wait. Unless you want to lose your PI license, and be unemployed.”

  “Hmm?” I’m about to pop another puff into my mouth, but Turkey’s words make me stop before it hits my lips. “What’s that about being unemployed?”

  I finally look away from the television, and over at him.

  He’s sitting primly on a throw pillow. As usual, my laptop is out in front of him. Ever since he learned how to control the touchpad, he’s spent hours a day cruising the web. I swear, he gains IQ points daily, at an almost alarming rate.

  “You have my attention,” I say. Then I pop my snack into my mouth and chew.

  “Turn the show off, then,” Turkey says. He glances over at the screen.

  “Do I have to?” I ask. I catch the whiny tone in my telepathic message, and immediately regret it. I’ve been working on acting more mature lately, and right now I sound like a six-year-old, refusing to go to bed. Regardless of the fact that this is my favorite show and that I’ve had a long day, my cat has asked for my attention. I’d better give it.

  I straighten up, and reach for the remote. Reluctantly but with a certain air of bravado, I press the off button. Sherlock Holmes fades to black. As I sit up, crumbs cascade off of my chest. I brush off my tee-shirt brusquely. A whole cheese puff tumbles off of me. Wow, how did I miss that one?

  “There,” I say, once I’m puff-free. “The show is off. You have my attention. What do you want to show me?”

  Turkey uses two paws to swivel the laptop so that the screen is facing me. “Read this,” he transmits to me, grimly.

  ‘Attention! Are you a graduate of Speedy’s Online Private Investigator Program?’

  Yes, yes I am, I think, after reading the words. I completed the coursework about five years ago, soon after I had to let go of my dream of becoming a cop.

  Let me explain. I grew up in the small mountain town of Hillcrest, Colorado. I always knew I wanted to be a police officer. I left town briefly to get my criminal justice degree, and when I moved back I immediately joined the Hillcrest Police Academy. That’s where my life-plan-train went off of the rails.

  I fell in love—hard—with my instructor, Captain Chris Wagner. One messy break-up (plus one accidental bullet wound) later I failed out of the academy. I was an emotional mess. Luckily, I found another way to fight crime: I became a licensed PI.

  So what if my licensure program was known as the worst in the industry? So what if some people called it a complete joke, a scam, and a waste of money? It doesn’t matter where you go to school—it matters what you do with the information afterwards that counts, right?

  Okay, some might argue with that. But it’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

  I keep reading.

  ‘Did you graduate more than five years ago?’

  Yes, again.

  ‘If you answered yes to these two questions, your license is about to expire! To keep it current, you are required to take Speedy’s Online Private Investigator License Renewal Exam!’

  I look over at my cat. “How did you find this?” I ask.

  “I was going over some of your coursework,” Turkey says. “In the last module, your instructor stated that you had to renew your license every five years. So I checked on the website.”

  “Have I ever told you how smart you are?” I ask, reaching out and giving his soft little head a pat. “Thank you. I’ll sign up for the quiz tomorrow morning, bright and early.” I reach for the remote, and then my bowl of cheese puffs.

  It’s time to zone out again.

  “Exam,” Turkey says. “It’s not a quiz, Penelope, it’s an exam.”

  “I’m sure I’ll do fine,” I say.

  I remember what my program was like. All of the quizzes were open book. Sure, I sometimes failed anyways, but if I really try I’m sure I’ll nail this renewal quiz—I mean, exam. No problem.

  “It is a problem,” Turkey says.

  “Hey! Were you reading my mind?” I ask.

  “I was feeling your mind,” Turkey says. “I’m your familiar, remember? I feel what you’re feeling, even when we’re not communicating telepathically. You have no secrets, Penelope. I’m an extension of you.”

  Right. When I started practicing witchcraft, about four months ago, I had to say goodbye to privacy.

  Oh, did I mention I’m studying to be a witch?

  Yep. I am.

  I inherited a book from an elderly woman in town. The old book, called ‘The Art and Science of Becoming a Witch’ (or ASBW as I like to call it), informed me that it was my destiny to become a witch. I only had one copy of the book, but I photocopied the pages and gave them out to my knitting-circle. Together, Cora, Marley, Annie, and I have been studying the book and learning spells.

  We also learned that along with the book, we’d inherited responsibility of a portal. You see, a gnarly dirt mountain pass that leads into Hillcrest is actually a portal that leads to other magical realms. As the new witches of the Earth, or Terra Coven, we’re supposed to guard the portal.

  My sense of responsibility for the portal is a big reason I’m so intent on learning to use my witchy powers, as quickly as possible. And as I learn to use my powers, so does Turkey. He started communicating with me telepathically, and he takes his role as my familiar very seriously.

  Like now, for example. He’s looking at me with his intense, green and yellow eyes. His little furry chin is set square, and his whiskers quiver.

  Though he’s looking at me with an air of gravity, I’m having trouble taking him seriously.

  He’s just so darn cute!

  I reach out and pet his head. Then, unable to help myself, I bend over and press my forehead into his. I nuzzle his head with mine while petting him under his chin until he starts purring. “I’m the luckiest witch in the world,” I transmit as I kiss the soft spot right between his ears.


  “Penelope—oh, that feels nice. Yes, scratch behind my ears like that. Oh...” His eyes close and his steely chin softens into an expression of happiness.

  “There we go,” I say, as his lips curve upwards into a grin. “There’s my little happy Turkey Werky.”

  When our snuggle session ends, Turkey shakes his head briskly. “You’ve caused me to completely lose my train of thought,” he transmits.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I think you were saying something about that quiz—I mean, exam.”

  “Yes! Exam. If you don’t take this exam within the week, Penelope, your license will expire. You won’t be able to practice as an investigator any more, unless you enroll in the school all over again.”

  “Well, I can’t do that,” I say. “That school was expensive. Five thousand bucks. I spent all of the money Mom left me.”

  “I know,” Turkey says. “That’s why you have to schedule this exam now.”

  “I’ll do it in the morning,” I say, reaching for my bowl of cheese puffs. “You said I have all week, right? I’ll just sign up for it tomorrow morning, and maybe take it the day after or something, once I’ve had a chance to look through my notes.”

  “Notes?” Turkey says, skeptically. “You hardly took notes.”

  “Well, I’m betting that the exam will be open book. We’re allowed to use any resources that we want. I’ll look up the answers online as I go.” I pop a puff in my mouth.

  “It’s not that simple,” Turkey says. He raises his whiskery little eyebrows. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We have to start preparing for this now if you want to take the test by the end of the week. For one thing, the exam costs one thousand dollars.”

  I nearly choke on my snack. With a sputtering cough, crumbs fly from my mouth. “One thousand dollars?” I transmit.

  “One thousand,” Turkey confirms.

  “For an exam? I already paid to get my license! They can’t force me to pay again—that’s highway robbery!”

  “Call it what you want, Penelope. It doesn’t change the facts. You have to take this exam if you want to keep working as an investigator.”

  “I don’t have a thousand dollars!” I say. “I have thirty-three dollars in the bank! And I’m going to have to spend that on your freaking gourmet cat food!”

  Turkey hangs his head. I reach out and pet him. “Sorry! Sorry. Money stresses me out. I didn’t mean to say that. I love it that your cat food costs me more than my own food—and it’s the only kind that you’ll eat.” I don’t love it. Turkey knows this.

  He can tell what I’m feeling. I see him frown.

  Shoot.

  I have to say something sincere.

  “Turkey, I don’t know what I would do without you. You mean the world to me. If you want to eat cat food that costs eight dollars a can, that’s fine by me. I’d spend a hundred dollars a can if it made you happy.”

  There. I’ve managed to say something honest. I mean every word of what I’ve said. I imagine that what I feel for Turkey might be a little bit like what a mother feels for her baby. I love Turkey with every cell of my body; I’d do anything for him.

  He is my baby. My fur baby.

  Turkey picks up on my loving thoughts, and lifts his chin.

  “I love you, too, Penelope,” he says.

  I smile. “We can figure this out,” I say. I turn back to the laptop screen. “How, I don’t know.”

  “They do offer payment plans,” Turkey says. He moves his paw to the touchpad, and begins scrolling.

  There, at the bottom of the page, I see what he’s referring to. In huge block letters, the page advertises the payment plan.

  ‘Short on cash? Don’t worry about it! You can purchase your renewal exam today by signing up to make four easy payments of $299 each!’

  “‘Easy?!” I exclaim. “Yeah, right. That doesn’t sound easy to me!”

  “Two hundred and ninety-nine dollars is better than one thousand,” Turkey says.

  “Yeah,” I agree. I give a sigh, and slouch back on the couch. “I guess that’s more manageable. Still not great, but better than paying a thousand all at once.”

  “We have to book it now,” Turkey says. “Your license will expire on Friday if you don’t take this exam this week, and there’s limited spots open. It’s not just an online, fill in the bubbles kind of exam, Penelope.”

  “It’s not?” I ask.

  Turkey shakes his head. “No. It’s a practical exam. An instructor will come here, to Hillcrest, and ask you to perform certain tasks. They want to see how you react to live situations, in the field.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Not at all. Here, look at this.” Turkey presses his paw into the touchpad, and a calendar pops up on my screen. “They have a calendar that shows instructor availability. There are only two spots left this week.”

  I see the entire month of November. I focus on today’s date, Sunday November 14th—and see that my cat is right. There are only two openings this week.

  “Tuesday or Friday,” I mutter aloud.

  “You’d better sign up for Tuesday,” Turkey says. “Friday will be cutting it too close. Your license expires on Friday.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Tuesday it is.”

  I click on the blue box, and a little notice comes up.

  ‘Congratulations! You have booked your practical exam with instructor Nadia Thomas for Tuesday, November 16th at 1 PM. Nadia will contact you to set up a meeting time and place shortly. You will receive an invoice for your payment within the day. Please make your first payment, or pay in full, prior to your exam. Thank you!’

  “I have to pay before I take the exam? How the heck am I supposed to come up with two hundred and ninety nine dollars by Tuesday?” I ask my cat.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Turkey says. “We always do.”

  I close the lid of my laptop. That’s enough for one day. My blissful zone-out session of the evening is officially ruined! There’s no way I can go back to mindless eating and television watching now that I have the exam—and the payment—on my mind. I scoop up my cat, and feel some degree of solace as he nuzzles the side of his face against my chin.

  I’m so grateful for my kitty.

  Together, we retire from the living room. I place Turkey on my bed and then go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Then I turn off the bedroom lights and crawl into bed next to Turkey.

  As I lay in bed, I start trying to work out all of the ways I could come up with $300 in two days.

  When my phone alerts me to a text message, I’m eager for the distraction. My brain actually hurts, it’s working so hard. I lift my phone off of my nightstand, and hold it up before me. The screen glows bluish white in the dark. It’s a message from Cora.

  ‘Hi, Penny! Sorry for the late message. I was wondering if you might want to come over for dinner tomorrow night around six. I’m inviting our whole group. I’m actually hoping that you could come a few minutes early, though, before Annie and Marley.’

  Hunh. That’s a bit strange. Why would Cora want me to come over before the others?

  I type up my response.

  ‘Sure! Dinner sounds good. Why do you want me to come over before the others? And should I bring something?’

  Her response comes back to me within seconds.

  ‘Great! I can’t tell you yet. Just come over at quarter to six and I’ll tell you then. You don’t have to bring anything—just your lovely smile. :)’

  Well. That’s sweet.

  Cora really is so nice. I’m lucky to have her as a friend.

  I set the phone back on my nightstand.

  Her message has served as a wonderful distraction. With the thought of seeing my friends tomorrow evening on my mind, and my cat nestled in close to me, I’m finally able to stop stressing over my finances.

  Within a few minutes, I’m drifting off into a nice, contented sleep.

  Chapter Two

  The next day I arrive at my office with th
e intention to buckle down to work. I have to figure out a way to make $300. Fast.

  I spend some time mulling over my problem in my little yoga supply closet turned office, knitting the whole time. After three hours of this, the Icelandic sweater I’m working on has grown considerably, but I find that I’m no closer to a solution than when I started.

  Caffeine. I need caffeine.

  Specifically, espresso—from my friend Annie’s cafe.

  That should kick my problem solving skills into high gear.

  I throw my messenger bag over my shoulder and work my way down the stairs. As I make it to the first floor of the Nugget building, I spot a figure by the yoga studio door.

  It’s a woman.

  A woman with blue hair.

  Azure Spincraft: A witch from the Air Realm—and not the nicest witch at that. In the past, she’s been manipulative and mean to me, and she even tried to break into my apartment once, to steal my copy of ASBW. She lives in the Air Realm (which is one of the five magical realms) full time, but rented out an apartment below me just to keep tabs on me. I haven’t seen her around the last few weeks, though.

  She’s standing close to a bulletin board full of fliers, dressed in bright blue leggings that match her hair color and a silver jacket. I see her reach up and pull a tab off of a sunflower-yellow flier.

  “Azure?” I say, as I approach. “What are you doing here in the Earth Realm?”

  Azure jumps when she hears my voice. I mean that literally. Her feet leave the ground. I must have really given her a shock.

  “Oh! Penny!” She says, as she pushes the tab of paper into the pocket of her skinny jeans, as if hoping that I didn’t see. Then she pulls her hand free and gives me a quick wave. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I was—uh—I was...” Her eyes dart left then right. She’s looking everywhere except directly at me.

  Weird.

  Azure is not usually this twitchy.

  Every other time I’ve interacted with Azure, she’s acted like she’s the queen of the universe, and I’m a lowly servant. Entitled, superior, and condescending are all words that describe Azure Spincraft.