A Murder Most Rosy: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 3) (3 page)

"I know what a Communist is, you know."

I inclined my head sagely. "I'm glad they're teaching you about that in school. Far more useful than balancing a checkbook or how a credit card works." Then, just because I was mostly done teasing him, I said, "I was asking her about Ms. Nittleman."

"Oh." He became very interested with his cereal— more than was normal for a Bennett. "She was a nice lady. Nobody else said yes to being director of the play."

Shooting me a glance that was probably supposed to be subtle, Cooper bit his lip. I knew what he was going to ask before the words left his mouth, and the request sped towards me like a freight train. Or a bullet. The outcome was the same, either way.

Instead of outright asking, however, he said, "Volunteers can direct, too, if none of the teachers want to."

He looked so earnest and hopeful that I just wanted to smack him upside the head. Groaning, I said, "Cooper−"

"Please, Harper?"

Not letting his pleading get to me— much, anyway— I narrowed my eyes. "Why do you want me to do it?"

His cheeks turned pink. "Well... there's this girl."

"You don't say."

"She's Juliet."

"Uh-huh."

"I just... but if you were there..."

Avoiding saying yes or no, I switched back to the topic of murder— always a safe bet with myself and the Bennetts. "Do you know a teacher named Joel?"

His father's son to the very end, he didn't miss a beat with the abrupt one eighty. "Mr. Bunson. He's the music teacher."

Joel Bunson. Apparent confidant to the late Kara Nittleman. That would be enough to get a phone number or address.

I stood up, intending to head out to question the man, when Cooper bounced up.

He grabbed my arm. "If you talk to the principal about taking over as director, I won't tell my dad about you leaving me."

"I think your dad expects it of me," I mused, but I was secretly proud of the kid's blackmail. I knew he hadn't learned that from his honest dad.

I told him he had a deal, while I screamed on the inside. Proving I was a good babysitter, however, I called for a pizza before I left to head over to Joel's abode. As luck would have it, he didn't live too far from Wyatt's, and I barely had to drive the temperamental bug for more than a few minutes.

An older man with aggressively fluffy sideburns answered the door. He was a bit older than I expected, especially since Kara had only been twenty-eight. Maybe there was some kind of mentor-tutor relationship here.

"Mr. Bunson?"

"Yes?" he said, not opening the door any farther. Smart man.

I stuck out my hand. "Harper Beck. I'm working with Detective Bennett on Ms. Nittleman's case."

Lie. Lie. Double lie. Hopefully though, it was a lie that Wyatt would back up if it came to it— more out of desire to keep on my good side and in my bed than anything else.

Not taking my hand, he nonetheless opened the door to let me in, a frown creasing his face. "I thought Kara's death was ruled a suicide. Why are the police involved?"

"We're just covering all our bases."

Joel led me into his plush, but cheaply-furnished living room. Declining all offers of drinks or food, I sat on a purple couch that threatened to swallow me whole. I felt very much like Noah in the whale's mouth, but I tried not to let on.

"I've already talked to Mrs. June," I said, trying to add a little credibility to my story. "She told me that Kara was paranoid and on edge these past few weeks?"

A wave of grief overtook his face for a moment— probably brought on by my use of past tense. Then, with a true teacher like fashion, he was all business. "Yes, she felt like someone was following her. She heard strange noises in her house at night. Kept receiving flowers and chocolate, too— no card."

"And you think it was real?" In that moment, I wished I had one of those little notepads to write on. It would've been very 1920’s detective of me.

He frowned. "I saw the gifts myself."

Double bingo.
In one day, too. I was getting speedier at this whole mystery solving business.

"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her or had any issues with her?" I asked.

Pausing, Mr. Bunson seemed to struggle with himself. "No."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Remember, I already talked to Mrs. June."

That was a shot in the dark, pure and simple. I was mainly relying on the gossiping tendency of grade school teachers. I just hoped they didn't let me down.

"Alright," he sighed. "There was this one man. They dated a couple times, but she wasn't really interested. Kara said he didn't take it very well when she broke it off."

I perked right up. Like they say, it's always the lover. "Name?"

When he told me, my good mood evaporated like someone had used the power of the sun on it. A tiny seed of excitement unfurled in my gut, but I didn’t let it affect me. Just because I wanted someone to be guilty— so I could stick it to the bad guy once and for all— didn’t mean they were.

But man, a girl could dream.

I called Wyatt on the way back to Cooper’s school— really, I was spending too much time there lately for someone who’d graduated a
long
time ago. And I hadn’t exactly had perfect attendance even then.

He answered with a curt "Bennett" that was so cop-like of him, I almost giggled.

"Don't you use your caller ID?"

Pausing for a moment, he no doubt heard the sounds of cars and semi-busy roads outside the bug. "Shouldn't you be watching my son?"

"Don't worry, I left him with a box of matches and called all the convicts on parole that you helped put away to let them know he was home alone."

"Considerate of you."

"Equal opportunity," I told him wisely. I hadn't called for chit chat, but I hadn't successfully worded what I wanted to say in my head yet. "Your son has a crush."

There was the clang of something being knocked over, and Wyatt cursed— likely about the object falling, not his son's affection. "What?" A pause. "On who?"

"He didn't say."

"But you know."

Grinning, I tried not to derive too much enjoyment over how well Wyatt had come to know me in such a short amount of time. For someone who was used to being a little off-kilter, on the fringes of society, it was an addictive kind of feeling— belonging. Getting too attached and then losing it...

"I'm headed over to the school," I told him.

"Third time today," he said dryly. "Considering a job change?"

I shuddered at the thought. "Your son convinced me to play director, so I can help him woo his woman."

"He's always my son when he's in trouble, and your favorite kid when he's slipping you information." He sighed. "His argument must have been pretty good if it's getting you to spend time with children."

"Not particularly," I said, pulling into the same illegal spot as before. I was pretty sure everyone in town could recognize my bright orange bug and connect it to Wyatt by now— the likelihood for ticketing was low. "He just looked at me with his big, sad eyes and told me he needed me."

"That's my boy." There was something strange is his voice, though. "Why didn't he tell me?"

Ah. Jealousy.

Pulling out the big guns, I did my best Cooper impression. "My dad never has any trouble with the ladies. He looks at them and they always fall for him." That last part was probably more me than Cooper— at least I hoped.

The tension was gone from Wyatt's voice when he laughed. "So, if I were to head over to the school and stare you down..."

"Probably best not to test it in a family-friendly environment." Then, because I was tired of trying to think of a tactful way to speak my mind, I said, "I think Officer Kosher killed Ms. Nittleman."

To his credit, he didn't miss a beat. "Of course you do. You don't like him."

In all fairness, it was a mutual dislike. When people had been poisoned by a magic potion, I'd been Kosher's first suspect. He'd also arrested me for breaking into a fellow witch’s house— the fact that I did it had no bearing— and he was a regular jerk to me whenever our paths met.

That wasn't why I thought he did it, however, just why I hoped he did.

"He and the victim went on a couple dates, and word is that he didn't take it well when she broke it off. Surprising."

Wyatt considered that for a moment. "Apart from the fact that Ms. Nittleman's death was a suicide, Peter didn't kill anyone. He's a good man once you get to know him."

I snorted in an indelicate fashion. "You always take his side."

"There aren't any sides."

"Says the one straddling the fence." The principal's office was in the middle of the deserted school, and I knocked twice on the door and waited. When I heard something rustling behind it, I said, "Gotta go."

By the time Mrs. Winston answered, I'd already hung up on him. The principal was a plump, stressed-looking woman. Her purple suit was wrinkled, and her heavily hair-sprayed ‘do was crooked and messy.

"Harper Beck," I said in introduction, taking the seat she offered me. "Cooper's..."

I trailed off, because I didn't really know how to explain my relationship to my boyfriend's son. Partially, I'd taken some role in his upbringing, though I didn't live with them, but I couldn’t really put a name to it. Wingman didn't seem appropriate, either.

She nodded, though, as if I hadn't hesitated. "I know who you are. Cooper speaks of you often."

Aw. My insides warmed up, but then I thought of all that the kid could report on me to his teachers and wished the brat would've kept his mouth shut. My parenting style was best kept a secret between people who could understand my sarcasm and black humor.

"Right. Well, Cooper wants me to help out as director since you're short a−"

I cut off abruptly as Mrs. Winston jumped out of her chair, rushing toward me like a football player— but I wasn't holding any ball. My hands went up in subconscious self-defense, but the woman just grabbed them and shook one with aggressive friendliness.

"Bless you," she said, looking close to tears. "I've been on the phone all day trying to find subs to take over Kara's classes for the year— tons of interest. But no one will even touch this play with a ten foot pole."

That sounds promising
, I thought sardonically.
So happy I signed up
. It was a little like volunteering to go check for land mines in Vietnam, I supposed. That kid was lucky I was crazy about him.

"I could cancel the play," she continued, "but with all that's happened... I'd just feel horrible doing that to the students."

"I don't have any formal drama training," I told her. Just a flair for the dramatics.

She waved a hand, a big grin on her face. "Neither did Kara. Oh, this is perfect! Thank you so much, Miss Beck."

Half bemused, half fearful, I found myself being pushed out of the office— seemingly so I could leave before I changed my mind. Wondering what I'd gotten myself into, I went back to my bug and headed toward Wyatt's again. I'd probably left Cooper alone enough, and I'd apparently need insider information on the theater department.

______

The first practice was that night, and Cooper and I left Wyatt alone in the Victorian at about seven. Both of the men in my life seemed thrilled by this new development— Cooper because I was going to help him get the girl, and Wyatt because he figured this would keep me out of trouble and danger. The latter waved at us as we took off, a relieved smile on his face.

As soon as Wyatt was out of sight, Cooper turned to me with a serious expression on his face. “Her name’s Anna, and she’s playing Juliet.”

“Anna. Juliet. Got it.”

He made a face. “I’m Romeo.”

“That makes it easier,” I told him, a little puzzled at his dismay. “You two are in love in the play.”

Sinking down in his seat, he said, “I never say the right thing. Dad always says the right thing.”

I didn’t point out that he was scripted, so there was no way to say the wrong thing— unless he was trying to insult Shakespeare. His words were also so much like my earlier imitation of him that I almost laughed.

“Trust me,” I said, “your dad puts his foot in his mouth all the time.”

He gave me a thoughtful look that was very perceptive for an almost eleven-year-old. But then again, Cooper was mature for his age. “Dad likes you.”

I wasn’t sure why he felt the need to say that. “Of course, he does. I’ve bewitched him.”

Cooper laughed at that— probably at the thought that his invincible father could be caught unaware by my magic. The sound was so guileless and happy that I found myself laughing too.

Just as we were about to head into the theater, Cooper stopped me outside. The noise from within told me that most of the kids had arrived and were being their rambunctious selves.

“Watch out for Chase Wiser,” he said before running into the auditorium to likely find his bonny lass.