Roller Rink Witchcraft (Extended Edition): Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 1) Read Free

Because—“
    Sighing, I said, “We went out on a couple dates when we were both new in town, but he was a little grabby for my tastes, got it?”
    “Yet, he still does your taxes.”
    I gave him a toothy grin. “A good accountant is a find— even if he is a slime ball.”
    Without a thank you or a goodbye, Detective Bennett vanished into my roller rink to look at my murdered accountant. I stood there in my short shorts and wig for a few minutes before I shook myself.
    There was no point standing around waiting for them to finish. No way could I open tonight and feel good about myself. Heading upstairs, I fell into bed and thought about who was going to do my taxes now— that was, if this incident didn’t shut me down for good.
     

Chapter Three
    When I woke late the next morning, all evidence of the murder had been erased.  The yellow tape was gone, the blood had been cleaned, and Detective Bennett was nowhere in sight. Only the four clean stripes of floor where the duct tape had ripped away some of the Funky Wheel’s protective dirt covering were left.
    Without them, it might’ve been possible for me to think that last night was a dream— one I’d just woken up from. I could’ve called my pervert accountant and scheduled an appointment for him to stare down my shirt as he did my financials for free.
    A girl’s gotta use every tool she’s got.
    After leaving the Funky Wheel again, I walked across the street to Hanes’ Magic Shoppe— my grandma’s shop— for a little solace. She no longer worked there, leaving the running to my best friend, so it was actually possible that I could get a little comfort. Or at the very least, a little gossip on what I’d missed while I’d been passed out.
    The glass door swung shut with a bell punctuating my arrival. As no customers were in the store, I didn’t have to worry about holding anyone up, so I went up to the front desk and knocked loudly on it.
    “In a minute!” a rich New Orleans accent called from the backroom.
    “It’s not polite to keep your boss waiting,” I called back.
    Oliver Belafonte, a tall, skinny man with beautifully dark skin, poked his head around the corner, beaming. “The only way you become my boss is if Miss Julia dies.”
    “Fingers crossed,” I replied, plunking down in one of two mismatched seats behind the desk. “Hear about last night?”
    Oliver emerged completely, wearing his trademark purple cape, which brushed against the hardwood floor like a scratchy sweater against bare skin. Snorting, he said, “Please, I heard about that before it even happened. Too bad about his widow.”
    “I guess,” I said, shrugging. “But they’ve only known each other a couple months. Wasn’t she one of those mail order brides?”
    “From Russia, yeah.” He shot me a sly look. “Two months might not have been long enough to love him, but it looks like it was long enough to want to kill him.”
    “Two seconds is long enough for most women to want to kill Matt,” I said, eyes narrowing. “What do you know?”
    “They found Irina’s red hair all over his pants. And they figured out the rope and duct tape is from Hardie’s, but the police aren’t sure if that’ll lead them anywhere.”
    Leaning forward, I asked, “How do you— ow!”
    Something small poked me in the hip with all the force my tight shorts could muster— which was a lot. I pulled a small, white capsule from my pocket, eyes widening upon recognizing it.
    “What’s that?” Oliver asked.
    “A pill I found on the floor last night,” I said, biting my lip. “I was going to give it to the police, but I forgot. Guess I better head over and hand it over.”
    As I went to stand, he pulled me back into my seat with bone jarring force. “Are you crazy?”
    “That’s the popular opinion,” I said slowly.
    “If you give that to them now, they’ll get you for withholding evidence!”
    “I didn’t do it on purpose!” But I sat back, not making any moves to leave.