A Deceptive Potion Read online

  A Deceptive Potion

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2020 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Sign up for Constance Barker’s New Releases Newsletter

  I will never spam or sell your email address

  Follow me on my Facebook Page

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Thanks for Reading

  Chapter 1

  The Atlantic Ocean was as blue as I remembered it. It had been years since I made the trek from Goodsprings to the coast. Yet, I remembered the water and the sand and the bright sun. There were the birds too, the gulls and terns and pelicans that swooped and soared on the ever present wind. I remembered the sand between my toes and the small shells that covered the beach. I was not a big fan of swimming in the ocean; there were things in the ocean that liked to attack swimmers. But I did love to wade, watching the frothy water run over my ankles and shins. When the water rushed back, I liked the feel of the sand on my skin.

  Amerhist Island was a barrier island attached to the mainland by an old fashioned swing bridge. I loved the rattle of the planks as I drove across. The road led to the quaint, small town of Sunrise Beach, the typical touristy conglomeration of restaurants, gift shops, and marts devoted to swim suits, beach chairs, coolers, and towels, the essentials of beach lounging. Of course, intermixed with the other goods were the kites and pails and boogie boards that all the children loved. I noted the shops and eateries, and I actually looked for a smoothie shop. Back in Goodsprings, I owned and ran Happy Blendings, a smoothie shop where I designed and blended smoothies for the individual. I trusted my “smoothie sense” to choose the ingredients a person would need. While I didn’t find a smoothie shop, I did find some places I might like to try. I had come to Sunrise Beach to relax, after a harrowing murder in Goodsprings. My motto driving over was “food, drink, spa, sand”. My friends had paid for me to relax, and I was going to get their money’s worth.

  As an earth witch, I could cast a spell or two and control a bit of this and that, but I was committed to a vacation without magic. I had come for the sea air and a week without stress. I had left my business in the good hands of the coven—fire witch Tessa, air witch Mara, water witch Genevive, and fire witch in training Allie. I trusted them with my life and my livelihood. As far I was concerned, I was off the grid, incommunicado. I hadn’t felt so free in a long time. I still worried about my old house that seemed to want to fall apart, but the spell I left in place would keep out any riffraff. And my good friends and detectives, the Gallagher twins, had pledged to keep an eye on the place. So, I was pretty sure I had covered all the bases, which made the confrontation so exasperating.

  And it was all so unnecessary.

  I was window shopping, gawking really. There weren’t that many people about, which make staring easier. The display was made of homemade, wooden witches. I found the black, peaked hats rather cliché, and the hooked noses were something out of a fairy tale. Black robes and striped socks and small brooms, the witches were decidedly wrong and yet charming. I should have been watching as I backed up, but I wasn’t. I banged into the woman, who yelped loudly.

  “Look what you’ve done,” the woman said as I turned.

  I did look, and the woman’s white shirt was drenched in some sort of grape drink. It was obvious that the shirt would never be pristine white again.

  “I’m sooo sorry,” I said.

  “You should be,” the woman said. “My shirt is ruined.”

  “I’m sure I can get it clean,” I said. “Tell me where you’re staying.”

  “You must be insane as well as clumsy. There is no way this shirt will come clean.”

  I could have told the woman that a rather simple spell would make the shirt as good as new, but even if I did, the woman wouldn’t believe. Few non-magical beings believed in witches. That was a blessing at times. At this moment, I might have wished for a believer.

  “Let me try,” I said. “You might be surprised by how good modern stain removers are.”

  “MY DEAR,” the woman virtually yelled. “YOU OBVIOUSLY MUST BE AN IDIOT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? I WOULD WRITE IT DOWN, BUT YOU PROBABLY CAN’T READ.”

  I looked around. The people on the sidewalk were staring, witnessing my dressing down. While I would have loved to reason with the woman, there was no way to get past the animosity. It was like dealing with an angry child.

  “If you would like to discuss this later,” I said. “I’m staying at—”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” the woman said. “We have absolutely nothing to talk about.”

  Before I could utter another word, the woman spun and marched away, imperious to the nth degree. Angry enough to spit, I could do nothing but watch, and knowing that twenty people had witnessed the scene. I also knew I would feel bad for a while. I hoped not too bad and not too long. But I had tried to be fair. It wasn’t my fault the woman wouldn’t seek an accommodation. Yet, I had no desire to continue with my exploration of the town. I needed something to soothe my nerves. What had I seen at the spa? A mineral bath? That sounded perfect. And after the bath? I was thinking one of those fruity drinks with an umbrella in it. Maybe two drinks. Yes, that sounded about right.

  The Better-You Spa occupied a converted Victorian two-story just off the main street. I had no problem finding the house or the front desk where a perky teenager with red hair and freckles smiled. I guessed she was a summer hire and would be gone in the fall. I hoped she would avoid too much sun, as her skin was fair.

  “What sounds good today?” the teen asked.

  “A mineral bath,” I replied. “It soothes, right?”

  “It will take the edge off your day.”

  “When will it be available?”

  “Right now,” the teen said. “We’re not that crowded. In fact, the entire town isn’t that crowded.”

  “Why not? The weather is perfect for the beach.”

  The teen shrugged. “Who knows? It seems that every year we get less and less tourists. I’m not sure this place will last another year.”

  “You’re kidding. Really?”

  “When I was young, the beach was always crowded. Now, not so much.”

  “You still go to the beach?”

  “Not so much. Gotta work. I’m going to college in the fall.”

  “Sounds great. A word of adive...study.”

  The teen laughed.

  I might have wondered about the falloff of tourists, but at that moment, Clarisse fetched me. She led me to a room with a heated, mineral pool that bubbled with fresh scents. In two minutes, I was soaking in pampered luxury, sipping a melon and lemonade flavored drink. The warmth and froth made me feel like some sort of queen. I told myself that I could get used to the spa.

  By the time I left the spa, I was smiling, feeling very good. I strolled through the streets to my hotel, an older place, that was nothing like the boxy things that sprung up in beach towns. The DROP ANCHOR INN had been around for a hundred years, and while it had been renovated, it wasn’t as luxurious or quiet as the newer places. I found Mr. and
Mrs. Malis behind the desk. They smiled, but for some reason I sensed a tension between them. That was to be expected, I guessed. If tourists were getting more and more scarce, then the hotel was doing less and less business. I smiled back, knowing that I was going to do my part to boost their spirits.

  “Welcome,” Mr. Malis said. He was a smallish man with a pot belly that spoke to beer and pasta. A rather rakish mustache was probably meant to convey some sort of savior faire, but on him, it looked dated and worn—like the hotel. His smile was fixed, something for the visitors.

  “Is the bar open?” I asked.

  “But of course,” he said. “What can I get you?”

  “Sea breeze,” I answered. “With a cute little umbrella.”

  Mrs. Malis laughed. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Malis was large and hefty. She looked stronger than her husband and not so read in on style. She did possess the same, painted-on smile.

  “Coming right up,” Mrs. Malis said. “On the veranda?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  The “veranda” was the porch of the old hotel. It faced the beach and ocean. There was a street between the hotel and the sand, but the view was great. I found a chair at the end of the porch and wondered if I was supposed to call my friends and tell them how great my vacation was going. I decided that would be rubbing salt into a wound. They knew already that I was having a good time. I didn’t need to remind them that they were working. I would let them think that maybe it was raining, and I was confined to a stuffy, smelly room.

  Mrs. Malis arrived with my drink. “We appreciate you being here,” she said.

  “Business not so good?” I asked.

  “We’ve been here over twenty years, and this is the worst season yet.”

  “I don’t understand. The view is spectacular, and the whole town just drips with southern charm.”

  “It started four years ago. Everything was great until an early-season hurricane roared through. Beverly leveled a number of buildings and houses. It even disabled the swing bridge for a month. We lost the entire season. And you know how tourists are. When they start going to a new place, they keep going there. The old place is forgotten.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “The town has done a lot of outreach, but it hasn’t taken. We don’t have the water parks and miniature golf places other beach towns have.”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” I said. “You can keep all that. Give me the spa and the beach.”

  “I agree, but families take vacations, and they don’t spend all day on the beach like we used to do. You know, can’t have the little ones getting too much sun.”

  “Times do change,” I said.

  Mrs. Malis left me to my view and my drink, and I drifted into a kind of semi-sleep. The alcohol combined with the bath to dampen the brain activity. It wasn’t that I couldn’t think. It was that I no longer felt the need to think, to worry, to consider. I was content to watch the waves and the occasional ship that slipped past. What I didn’t see were wave runners or catamarans or even a surfer. There were a few walkers, one older man with a metal detector. This looked like a beach from yesteryear, not one moving ahead.

  When Mrs. Malis checked on me, I ordered a second Sea Breeze. The umbrellas were cute, and I was not in any hurry. When she delivered the drink, I engaged in a bit of conversation.

  “You’re a native,” I said. “Where would you go for dinner?”

  “Depends on your pocketbook,” she said. “But the best bang for the buck is the Blockade Runner. Great seafood, and their other dishes are good too. They don’t skimp on a glass of wine either.”

  “And where is that?”

  The directions were simple, an easy walk. Ten minutes each way. I could make that even after two drinks. I would make it back after a glass of wine. I settled deeper into my reverie. I thought of myself as floating on air. I was a cloud, fluffy and white and scooted around by the wind, whimsical.

  “What are you doing here?!”

  I turned to the obnoxious woman I had bumped into earlier.

  “If you’ve come to apologize,” she continued. “Forget it. I tossed the shirt, so I wouldn’t have to remember you.”

  I did my best to maintain my mellow mood, but the woman was beginning to get on my nerves.

  “Don’t tell me you’re staying here,” the woman said.

  “I am.” I stood and forced a smile. “But I assure you I will stay out of your way.”

  I didn’t hang around for any reply but whipped past her and up to my room. While the hotel was old, it did feature new locks on the doors, the kind where all you had to do was tap your card on the device. It made getting inside quick and painless, and after the woman, I needed something painless.

  I didn’t sneak out of the hotel for dinner, but I didn’t announce myself either. And I didn’t linger in the lobby or on the porch. The woman was so obnoxious that I knew I would be tempted to put some kind of spell on her. That would be against all the rules, but dangit, it was my vacation, and she was making it impossible. Wrapping my silk scarf around my neck, I turned away from the hotel and walked directly to the Blockade Runner. If I had found her in the restaurant, I would have thought she was following me.

  She wasn’t.

  The Blockade Runner lived up to the hype from Mrs. Malis. The meal started with delicious hushpuppies and drifted into a crusted grouper that went well with the Pinot Grigio the waitress recommended. Since I didn’t have Tessa, my Paris-trained, chef friend, to guide me, I relied on the staff, and they did not disappoint. The moon was rising as I walked back to the hotel. I ruled against a nightcap, but I did stand on the porch for a few minutes. The moonlight on the ocean looked like something from a photograph or movie, a silver streak on a moving black sea. The ocean at night always scared me. It possessed a power that had claimed the lives of countless thousands. That was enough for me. I would remain on dry land.

  In my room, I slipped into my pajamas and pulled open the drapes so I could see the moon. I opened a window slightly, so I could hear the ocean. Like most people, I found the sound of the waves remarkably soothing. Someone had once told me that the cadence of the waves matched that of the human heart, and thus, our affinity. I had never counted the waves or tried to match them to my heart. I would rather just believe. I liked to think we all carried a bit of our ancestors inside our bodies and minds. I had no proof of that, just a desire. I fell asleep with the waves.

  I woke in the middle of the night...with the

  SCREAM.

  Chapter 2

  There was a moment of indecision, as I worked to identify where the screams had come from. I sat up and knew it wasn’t me, or anyone in my room. That meant it was on the other side of my door. Unlike most people, I had never shied away from trouble. Courage or stupidity pushed me out of my room and into the almost dark hall. I wanted to write myself a note to remind the Malises to add some better lighting. But the shadows didn’t stop me. I hurried down the short hall. In a few steps, I came to the open door.

  One glance into the room told me that a woman was on the carpet, and from the pose, she looked dead. I couldn’t just accept that, so I ran and fell to my knees. That was when I recognized her. She was the woman who I had had words with all day. I could hardly believe it. Not that such a disagreeable woman wouldn’t have someone who wanted to kill her, but the coincidence struck me. Yet, disagreeable or not, I had to try to help.

  I knew enough to feel for a pulse and a breath, and I found neither. The woman was dead, although her skin still held a bit of warmth. I got to my feet and dialed 911. In a few seconds, I had the police and the EMTs on their way. I didn’t think either could do much under the circumstances, but that was the protocol. I turned on the lights and looked around. I saw no one. The glass door to the small balcony was locked. And as I had come down the hall and not seen anyone, I wondered just how the killer escaped. Of course, in the darkened hall, I might have missed something, especially as I was hardly fully awake. Still
, it was a problem.

  The police arrived first, and the two uniformed officers performed the same search for a pulse that I had performed. Then, while one of them searched the small room and adjoining bath, the other took me into the hall. Since there was enough damage to the room to indicate a struggle, the officers treated it like a crime scene. I stood in the hall as the EMTs arrived and pronounced what we all knew—the woman was utterly dead. That was when the officers called for a detective and a coroner, and I was escorted to a police cruiser. I protested my innocence, but since I had found the body, they wanted to talk to me. As I walked out of the Drop Anchor Inn, I noted Mr. and Mrs. Malis talking to another policeman. They both eyed me with more than a bit of trepidation.

  I sat in the cruiser for what seemed an inordinate amount of time. I told myself to be patient. From my interactions with the police in Goodsprings, I knew that investigations took time. To expect something different because I was sitting in a police car was illogical. So, I spent the time trying to sleep. There is something about blinking lights that denies a person sleep. The best I could do was doze and precious little of that. When the officer finally returned, I expected to be set loose with a bit of thanks for doing what a good citizen was supposed to do.

  I was terribly wrong.

  He didn’t turn me loose. Instead, the police officer took me to the station and placed me in an interrogation room, a small room with one-way glass and a camera in the corner.

  “Am I under arrest?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered. “Wanna be?”

  I laughed. “No, thank you. But why am I here?”

  “Because the detective told me to bring you in for questioning.”

  “But all I did was find the body.”

  “Like I said. I do what I’m told.”

  He left me to my own devices, never a hard thing for a witch. I thought of all the things I was going to do in my garden when I returned to Goodsprings, which might be sooner than originally planned. I wasn’t certain I wanted to remain in a town or hotel where people were murdered. Of course, I was assuming it was a murder. I was pretty sure it wasn’t suicide, and it didn’t look natural. Murder was the next choice. Luckily, it wasn’t too long before the detective arrived.