Daggers & Donuts Read online

  He presses on, “And second, the dagger we found in Darla’s chest belongs to Cody Murphy, and the only fingerprints on it are his.”

  “Oh no,” Miranda blanches.

  “I don’t understand.” It’s a horrible crime, obviously, but why has Miranda gone pale?

  Miranda explains, “Cody Murphy is a bladesmith, and he owns the metal works shop called Cody’s Chromeworks. He’s also a skilled knife thrower who puts on shows at festivals throughout the summer.”

  “Oh. Okay,” I’m still confused by Miranda’s reaction.

  “Cody is Damien’s cousin!” Miranda says.

  “Oh,” I respond quietly, shaking my head. “No wonder he told me everything is chaotic. This makes things way worse than they already were. Do you think he could have killed her? Cody, I mean?” Gladys' gossip about Darla being involved with her boss Harold plays out in my memory, and I have a sick feeling in my stomach.

  “It won’t do any good to speculate until we have more facts about the crime, and those won’t come until tomorrow,” Drew warns. “My advice is to just enjoy ourselves tonight and tomorrow when we know more, then we can help.”

  I agree reluctantly. Drew works so hard we rarely get an evening to enjoy like this, and I want to relish every moment. I also want to watch Miranda’s firework display win first prize. Although if it doesn’t win, I’m not sure I want to be around her. She’ll be livid. Especially if she gets beat by this Penelope character.

  Still, despite my better judgment, I’m itching to get in the middle of all of this. I know, I know, every time I get in trouble with these things, I swear them off, but I can’t help it. And now, if Damien’s cousin is in trouble, I want to help any way I can.

  This one really is different. It’s not just some random crime. It’s tied to Damien’s family. And since I moved back to Crested Peaks, Damien himself feels like family to me. So that makes this extra personal.

  As I ponder all of this, I catch Drew staring at me. “You are staying put at least for this evening. I’d warn you to stay out of the investigation completely, but I know you’ll just ignore me. But at least for now, I’m telling you to stay here.”

  “I don’t want to be anywhere else, Detective McHotty,” I tell him hoping to distract him by calling him the name that Miranda and Damien first coined. He purses his lips together and scowls at me.

  “Nice try. Why don’t you magic some slices in this bread?” he says, handing me the freshly baked loaf.

  The four of us enjoy a decadent dinner full of bread, cheese, fruit, hummus, and wine. I love summer when fresh fruit bursts with color and flavor. Blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, and cherries are all at their peak and so delicious. I feel like I could eat the entire thing myself.

  Miles picked up some fantastic cupcakes at Chloe’s Cupcakes, owned by our high school friend and fellow witch, who recently left her job as a mortuary beautician – yes, it turns out there is such a thing - and opened a cupcake truck.

  Miles brought some delightful red velvet cupcakes swirled with red, white, and blue frosting, topped with enchanted glittering gold stars that wink at us just like real stars. Aside from poor Darla and everything Damien’s family must be going through, this has been one of the best evenings ever.

  When the announcer’s voice booms across the area, “Ladies and Gentlemen, please prepare yourselves for our evening’s spectacular firework show starting shortly!” Miranda and I look at each other and squeal.

  Then she reaches out to me and squeezes my hand. I’m so excited for her and nervous for me. I hope my display doesn’t look too amateurish. I know it’s just my first one, but it would be nice if people enjoyed it.

  “If the judges will please take their seats, we’ll get started.”

  Five judges gather to sit at a table on the podium. Three Supernaturals and two Non Supernaturals. As a judge, you can’t enter the competition, nor can any of your family members.

  Yes, Crested Peaks takes its fireworks competition seriously. The winner receives a whopping $500 in gift certificates to many of the area shops; which includes two ski passes good for any day during the winter. Did I already mention we take this seriously?

  Marcall’s Cafe donated a $25 gift certificate. That easily covers breakfast for two with coffee and a sweet to go. The show starts off with a display done by a witch who works at the pet grooming salon. It features numerous dogs and cats running and jumping about. It’s really cute, and the audience clearly appreciates it.

  The displays are mainly fireworks with stars and glitter and light, but the extra creative types add in features like laser lights and glowing streaks. The detail in some of the displays is extraordinary, and I have no idea how they do it.

  My display goes third, and because I moved back here from New York City, I thought it would be fun to highlight the NYC skyline along with famous attractions like the Statue of Liberty, a Broadway show, and the Empire State Building.

  Miranda helped me create the Statute of Liberty, bowing at the end. People applaud loudly, and Drew even grabs me and hugs me in the middle of it all; he’s so impressed. I’m pretty impressed, too, actually.

  Miranda is second to last. Her display is the actual shootout between Sheriff Thompson and a bank robber at the Hotel Glacier. Harvey was working as a bellhop at the time and was killed in the crossfire.

  It was Harvey’s idea, and the two of them worked on it together for nearly a year. The bullets seem to whiz over our heads and are so lifelike some of us duck in our seats. No wonder her shows are the stuff of legends.

  Everyone leaps to their feet at the end, shouting and whistling. The thunderous applause goes on forever. Harvey stands on the uppermost balcony of the hotel and just beams as he bows and waves to his fans below.

  I’ve never seen him so happy. Sometimes he gets grumpy when he feels left out in Crested Peaks. He has complained when he thinks we’re only seeking him out for information about what’s happening in the hotel. Can we help it if the hotel is frequently the hub of mysterious occurrences in town? But tonight, none of that matters, and he’s all smiles.

  Everyone crowds around Miranda, patting her on the back and shaking her hand. Several say it’s her best one yet. I’m so proud of her and know that I’m lucky that someone with her talent is my mentor and my best friend.

  Then she wins first prize with a 4 to 1 vote. When she vows to figure out which judge voted against her, Miles reminds her to take her win graciously. She can be a little competitive at times.

  Drew drives the boys and me home. The rabbits chatter non-stop about everything they did that evening, and they tell me Stumpy even liked my fireworks display. After Drew drops us off, I remember what’s happening in Damien’s family, and I’m glad the café is closed tomorrow.

  We originally planned to spend the day doing inventory, but now I think it will be just me. At least that means I get to sleep in. Now, if I can only convince the rabbits to sleep in. Stumpy is easy. I have to drag him out of bed to go to work as it is.

  I’ll text Damien in the morning to let him know he should stay home and be with his family. I’ll see what we have on hand in the restaurant and take something over to them.

  We were also going to work on the new donut recipe. So far, it’s top-secret, but it will be a little bit Damien, and a little bit me. But it can wait too. Whatever his family needs comes first right now.

  Chapter 5

  The rabbits let me sleep until all of 7 AM, which, when you own a breakfast café, is still considered sleeping in. I text Damien and tell him that he should take as much time off as he needs. I know first-hand what it’s like to be accused of a crime and how stressful it is.

  When I arrive at the café though, Damien is already there. He insists he needs the distraction. “I have to tell you something, but you can’t tell Drew.”

  “Is it about the case?” I ask.

  “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  I cringe. Damien himself has warned me repeatedly not to get involved in police matters. He thinks it’s too dangerous, and now he’s the one asking me to keep a secret. I remind him, “You know how mad Drew gets when I keep things from him. The best I can do is promise to keep it to myself only for the time being.”

  “If that’s the best you can do,” he pauses like he still isn’t sure he should confide in me. “I saw Cody and Darla arguing the morning that she was killed. But I guarantee there’s no way he’d kill anyone, ever!”

  “You saw them arguing?”

  “Yes, I noticed them from across the street, in front of Cody’s shop, but I don’t think they saw me. I couldn’t hear them. It was just obvious they were in a heated conversation.”

  “Did anyone else witness this?”

  “Yeah, I saw several people walk by and look at them as if they were curious about what they were fighting about.”

  “So, any of them might let the police know what they saw, or maybe heard, and know what the argument was about?”

  “I suppose,” Damien says thoughtfully.

  “You’re sure you don’t know what they were arguing about?”

  “Not a clue. I swear.”

  “I think we’re safe keeping it to ourselves for now. But if it looks like it’s relevant, one of us has to bring it up with Drew.”

  “Deal,” Damien concedes.

  “I have to tell you that yesterday, Gladys mentioned that she heard Harold the magician and Darla were romantically involved.”

  Damien looks defeated as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “If that's true, this looks extra bad for Cody, doesn’t it?”

  I gently rest my hand on his arm. “Keep in mind, just because Gladys heard something doesn’t make it true. She is wrong on occasion.”

  “I suppose. Hey, by the way, is Harold an actual wizard or--” Damien starts.

  “Nah. His magic is all sleight of hand,” I assure him. “It’s still a skill, of course, but it’s all manufactured. They don’t like to see real witches and wizards perform like that. The Supernatural Council feels it cheapens their gifts.”

  “I could see that.”

  “I sense that Harold is deceiving us, though.”

  “What do you mean sensed?” he asks.

  “Miranda thinks I may have some kind of limited psychic ability.”

  “Whoa!” Damien’s eyes widen. “That would be amazing! But how does it work?”

  “I’m not sure myself. It’s just that I seem to know things. But not all the time or anything like that. So far, it seems like it’s only under highly stressful or emotional situations. And it looks like it’s just now surfacing as I get better with my magic. When I watched Harold react to seeing Darla’s body, I immediately knew he had some kind of secret he’s keeping from everyone else.”

  “Do you think he killed her? Is that what you were sensing?”

  “It’s certainly possible. I don’t know for sure what the deception is. What I do know is that when it comes to Darla, he’s being dishonest.”

  “I know Harold and Cody don’t like each other,” Damien reveals.

  “Maybe because they were both involved with her? And they were jealous of each other?”

  Damien shrugs his shoulders. “I honestly don’t think so. But would I bet my life on it? No.”

  “Last night, Drew said they questioned Cody at the scene, and he has a weak alibi, so they haven’t arrested him, but he’s been ordered not to leave town.”

  “Yeah, my aunt said he’s at home alone, and not only grieving Darla but worried that he’ll go to jail for a murder he didn’t commit.”

  I nod my head. “I certainly know what that’s like. It’s scary and lonely.”

  “Do you mind if I go visit him? I know we’re supposed to be doing inventory and working on the new donuts today since the café closed, but now I think I should stop at his apartment and offer my support.”

  “Of course, I don’t mind! Go. Hey, maybe I should come with you? I can empathize with him, after all. Tell him to hang in there.”

  Damien looks at me suspiciously. “I don’t have to be a psychic to know that you have an ulterior motive for that. As kind and generous as I know you are, part of me thinks you not only want to offer your support, but you also want to question him about the murder.” Damien plants his hands on his hips and leans in close.

  My cheeks turn pink. “Um, well, I don’t think it would hurt after all. Just a few questions. Assuming he is innocent—”

  “He is!”

  “Then we need to find out who really killed Darla and make sure the true murderer is the one who ends up in jail, and not your cousin! Besides, if you get to blow off inventory, then I do too,” I state emphatically. Maybe a little too emphatically. Anything to get out of inventory.

  “Isn’t there some kind of spell you can perform to automatically do this, so we don’t have to?”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” I scratch my head. “I should ask Miranda.”

  “All right, let’s go see Cody.”

  Chapter 6

  We drive over to Cody’s apartment, and when he answers the door, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and his eyes are puffy from crying.

  “Hey, cuz,” Damien says grimly while giving him a bear hug.

  “Thanks for coming over. It’s still so hard to believe she’s gone. And especially in that way,” Cody swallows heavily as if he’s trying to push down the thought of his girlfriend being stabbed and then left in the park.

  “Cody, this is my boss, Charlotte.”

  “Hi Cody, you have my deepest sympathies.”

  “Oh, yeah, thank you,” he sniffles. “Damien always talks about how great you are.”

  I blush. “Oh, my goodness, I don’t know what I’d do without Damien.”

  “We just wanted to check on you and see how you were holding up,” Damien interrupts.

  “They tell me they found one of my daggers in Darla’s chest. Mine! And that my fingerprints are all over it. Can you believe that? They think I killed Darla! I would never, ever, even think about such a thing! What am I going to do, Damien?”

  “The police mentioned that you have an alibi for the time of the murder?” I probe.

  “Yeah, I was at the hardware store buying a garbage disposal. The police are asking for a receipt, but for some reason, I can’t find it.” He then points at the box sitting on the counter.

  “Then I came home and spent the morning installing it because my show wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon. The next thing I know, the cops are banging on my door telling me Darla is dead and they want to talk to me about it. I never even got to say goodbye.”

  At this point, he can’t hold back any longer, drops his head into his hands, and sobs loudly. I’m hoping to get some kind of reading from him too, but all I feel is pity and compassion for him. I can’t read him. And I can’t tell if he’s lying about anything.

  “Do you have any idea who could have done this, Cody? Did Darla have enemies?” Damien asks.

  He sniffles again, “I know the girl she replaced was furious.”

  “Why did Harold hire Darla in the first place? Did the other girl quit?”

  “No, she didn’t. Harold fired her without an explanation and then immediately hired Darla.”

  Damien and I exchange glances. That can’t be good.

  Damien takes a deep breath like he knows what he’s about to say is touchy, “Cody, I have to ask you this. Do you think something was going on between Darla and Harold?”

  “She swore there wasn’t.”

  “Did you believe her?” Damien presses.

  “Most of the time, I did. Honestly, I hated that guy. He was always getting into her business, telling her how she could do better than me and trying to give her a bunch of advice. He even tried to talk her into going to community college. What business was it of his?”

  “When he said that she could do better than you, is it possible he meant him?” I prod.

  “I suppose,” Cody responds with a shrug. “He may have wanted something, but I’m certain she didn’t.”

  “Who is the previous assistant? Do you know her name?” Damien asks.

  “Her name is Phoebe Reyes, and I think she’s working at the Kwik Kopies Copy Shop now.”

  When the doorbell rings, Cody slides his hand down his face and groans. “If that’s the cops again or another reporter, I can’t take it.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Damien says as he moves toward the door. “It’s your mom,” he declares with a sigh of relief after peering into the peephole.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Cody sighs.

  Damien opens the door for his aunt while taking the casserole dish from her hands. “I made you a lasagna, dear,” she explains while Damien puts it in the refrigerator.

  “Thanks, mom. This is Charlotte, Damien’s boss,” he explains when his mother looks surprised to see a stranger in her son’s living room.

  “Yes, of course, you took over your grandmother’s café after she passed. How lovely to meet you, dear. Damien speaks so highly of you,” she says, crossing the room to shake my hand.

  “I promise you, Marcall’s probably wouldn’t even exist right now if it weren’t for your nephew. He’s a genius in the kitchen.”

  “Did he tell you it all started with the EZ Bake Oven he got when he was three years old?”

  When I glance over at Damien, it’s hard not to laugh at the horrified look on his face. “Why no, he didn’t, and you must tell me more.”

  “No! That’s quite enough already, Aunt Iris. Charlotte doesn’t need to hear stories about me as a toddler.”

  “Well, why not, darling? She seems quite eager to hear them. Did he tell you that when he was only two years old, he told his mother that he wanted Micky Mouse underwear, and she said if he wanted big boy underwear, he had to use the big boy potty, so he did. Just like that!” Aunt Iris snaps her fingers for emphasis.