Murder Above the Fold Read online

  “This was her favorite place, so I knew she would come up here on the night before her wedding, and I waited. All I wanted to do was talk. I swear I never meant to hurt her.”

  “But that’s not what happened is it, Bryer?” Mag asked, her voice low.

  There was no need for him to answer as they watched the scene play out: Blossom’s surprise at seeing Bryer there, the naked yearning on his earnest face, the question that burst from him. Do you love him? Her answer. Yes.

  The pain and the fury welling up in him and the desperate move to pull her close, to kiss lips that hardened against his. Blossom pulling away, waving her hands in anger. What is wrong with you?

  Beyond reason, Bryer reached for her again and then it happened. Evading him, she’d paid too little attention to her surroundings. She danced away, her movements too fast and too hard to stop the inevitable.

  Already knowing how this would end, Mag trained her eyes on the flesh and bone man as he watched the memory play out.

  “I killed her. I killed Blossom,” Bryer’s face crumpled.

  Chapter Twenty

  Upon hearing Bryer’s confession, Mayor McCreery’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. He was about to spring into action when Clara shushed him and held him back with a firm grip on his forearm. “Let him finish. She’ll make sure he doesn’t get away.”

  Tense shoulders hovering around his ears, the mayor sank back onto the bench to listen. Pale moonlight slanting across his face cast his eyes into shadows deep enough they looked like holes in his face.

  “I loved Blossom, truly,” Bryer said, his voice cracking with desperation. “It broke my heart when she came back with Dylan. I’d waited for years. Never even looked at another woman. More than anything, I wanted her to be happy. At least, that’s what my head said. But my heart felt differently. “

  “That night, I had my bag packed for my trip. I didn’t want to stick around for the wedding; even the thought made me sick. I was just getting on my bike when I saw her twirling around up in the clock tower, and decided I couldn’t leave without at least telling her how I felt about her. She needed to know, and I thought maybe if she remembered the bond we’d shared, she might change her mind, so I blurted out that I loved her.” His fists clenched and loosened, then clenched again.

  “I’ll never forget the look on her face—it wasn’t love she felt, but pity. I could see it in her eyes, but I didn’t care, and I did something stupid, something desperate; I kissed her.”

  Watching it all play out in front of her, Mag saw it happen just like he said. Young Bryer, the fire of passion kindling in his eyes, grabbed Blossom and planted one on her. A different kind of passion overcame her as she pushed out of his embrace, her arms waving in the air while she railed at him, and being typical of his gender, Bryer thought that meant he should try again.

  The second time, his hands clutched at her arms, and she had to try harder to get away. The momentum sent her backward with too much force.

  “It was an accident; I didn’t push her, but I killed her just the same.”

  Bryer’s breath hitched and he paused, his eyes glazed over at the painful memory.

  “Blossom was still alive by the time I got down to where she landed. I tried to leave, to call an ambulance, but I could tell they were going to be too late. I told her how sorry I was, and her last words to me were I know.” Hoarse now, he barely got the words out.

  “I felt the life go out of her, and I panicked. Just took off and pretended to have left the night before.”

  Bryer’s pain and remorse, though evident, did nothing to quell Mag’s need for justice. Had he not gone on to murder again, she might have considered offering him a fraction of the forgiveness Blossom had displayed. Then again, maybe not.

  “And what about Marsha Hutchins? She break your heart too? And Leanne Snow? What did she ever do to you?” Mag demanded, drawing out the information she needed—the information she knew was being fed straight to Mayor McCreery.

  “I never meant to hurt anyone with that fire. In fact, I never meant to hurt anyone at all. I saw the layout Marsha was putting together for the commemorative edition, and I just knew someone was going to see my bike in that photo and connect the dots. When I stopped by the office that night, I thought I could get her to pick a different one. Marsha didn’t take the suggestion and began to get suspicious. I saw realization dawn on her face, and I knew I was done for. She wouldn’t let go of the photos and tried to run away from me, out the back door.

  “She fell. I know you won’t believe me, but that’s what happened.” Rising to swipe through his hair, Bryer’s hand trembled.

  “When her head hit the corner of the printer and she went still, I knew I had a choice to make. I couldn’t stand the idea of having the cops swarming all over me. Couldn’t stomach the thought of a trial, of having to rehash everything I’d done.”

  Useless sniveling weasel, Mag thought and longed to hit him with a series of spells. She pictured him covered in pus-filled boils and felt slightly better.

  With no idea he rode the edge of her temper or what Mag’s temper made her capable of doing to him, Bryer continued, “Earlier, Leanne had mistaken me for Perry, and when Marsha was lying on the floor, it seemed like fate had dealt me an opportunity. Nobody need know I’d been anywhere near the office that night.”

  A set of headlights lit the shadows as a car turned down Main Street, and picked out a glitter of tears on his face. The sight of them might have softened Clara’s heart, but Mag’s remained hard as steel.

  “I chose self-preservation like anyone else would. Staging an accident had worked for me once, so I carried her to the bridge and let her fall.”

  Mag resisted the urge to upchuck her peanut butter and liverwurst, and instead spit vim and vinegar, “She was still alive, wasn’t she?”

  “I think so,” Bryer whispered before finishing his story. “When I found out the paper was still going to print, I tried to destroy the evidence. I had no idea Leanne was inside the building when I started that fire. I never meant to hurt her.” His eyes flashed and then turned black as he trained them on Mag’s frail body. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you.”

  Bryer made a move to lunge at Mag, but unlike the other women he’d harmed, she saw it coming and was prepared to fight back. Wishing Blossom and Marsha had possessed even a fraction of the power she had at her disposal, Mag whispered a command to the wind. At her bidding, the air thickened, slowing Bryer as he lunged. He saw the smile on her face as she lifted her cane, and rapped him on the head with the polished handle, but could do nothing to stop the blow.

  When asked later how it happened, he refused to admit he’d been taken down by an old lady. Nonetheless, Bryer Mack hit the floor with a thud.

  When Clara burst into the clock tower on Mayor McCreery’s heels moments later, Mag stood over Bryer’s prone form with a mixture of pity and disgust dripping off her face.

  “What happened?” The Mayor looked from Mag to Bryer in disbelief that a seemingly decrepit old woman could have bested a strapping man so handily.

  A tiny white lie tripped off her tongue with ease, “He lunged for me, but got tangled up with my cane.”

  Clara, who watched McCreery’s face with interest while he digested the information, thought she detected mild skepticism and an unwillingness to argue, considering a two-time murderer had been handed to him on a silver platter.

  “I don’t know how you managed to wrangle a confession out of him, but you can rest assured he’ll be held to the letter of the law. Chief Cobb is on his way, and I’ll need you both to make an official statement. You’ve done this town a great service, and I want you to know that I won’t forget it.”

  With a conspiratorial wink, he dismissed the Balefire sisters, instructing them to wait in the quad while he stood watch over Bryer. Mag almost offered him her cane just in case.

  For once, Hagatha had done as she promised and remained hidden in the shadows until Mag an
d Clara returned to solid ground.

  “That was spectacular,” she cackled, rubbing her hands together. “I haven’t had this much fun in years, and you really came through, Hagatha. Great show,” Mag showered praise on Hagatha since, without the ulexite caper, she and Clara would have had no way to expose Bryer’s indiscretions.

  Clara wholeheartedly agreed. “I know we foiled your plans for the festival, and I hope you’ll agree it was for a good cause.”

  Hagatha nodded, then grinned like a child. “This is certainly going to get Penelope’s knickers in a twist. It’s us against them now, you know. Poetic justice, I say. Thought they were going to recruit the famous Balefire witches to keep tabs on old Haggie. Thought me a loose cannon, hell-bent on exposing magic to the town of Harmony. Joke’s on them!”

  “You mean that’s not your goal?”

  “Heaven’s no! All I want is for the witches in my coven to act like, well, witches. This nonsense about not doing magic in public is ludicrous. Where do they think we’ve been practicing for the last few thousand years? Utter hogwash. I don’t need babysitters. You can either help me or hinder me, but I’m going to do what I want, when I want. I’ve earned that right.”

  Without waiting for a response, Hagatha blinked out of sight, leaving Mag and Clara alone and staring at one another.

  ***

  A tinkling of bells preceded Leanne Snow into Balms and Bygones, and when Mag and Clara looked up from the stack of profit and loss reports they were studying, both sisters had to do a double take. Barely recognizable, Leanne had finally begun the transformation of Clara’s wishes. Where once a caterpillar timidly meandered from one bit of camouflage to the next, a butterfly now proudly flitted, exposing her beautiful wings for all the world to see.

  Gone was the troweled-on makeup and the guarded expression of a woman who doubts her worth; for the first time, Leanne looked comfortable in her own skin, and her easy smile even put a lump in Mag’s throat.

  “Hello, you two.” Her voice was still slightly scratchy, but had markedly improved in the few days since Bryer’s arrest and her release from the hospital. “Dylan’s been keeping me under lock and key since I got home, but he fell asleep while putting the baby down for a nap so I took advantage of the situation. I wanted to come and thank you in person.”

  Clara crossed the room in three strides, and treated Leanne to a warm hug. “No thanks necessary. We’re just happy you’re all right. You look amazing, by the way.”

  Mag surprised Leanne, Clara, and even herself a little bit when she stepped forward and mimicked Clara’s gesture, wrapping her arms somewhat awkwardly around Leanne.

  “We heard Marsha’s cousin decided to take on management of the newspaper office. The Harmony Holler will live to see another day.”

  Leanne’s mouth turned up into a gleeful smile. “You know what? I quit. And I couldn’t be more thrilled to start a new chapter in my life. Dylan just got a big promotion at work, and he said he’d rather I not return to that office after everything that’s happened.”

  “Does that mean Perry’s planning to rebuild?” The idea of supplying him with vintage office furniture lifted Mag’s spirits.

  “He is, and Marsha’s cousin will be taking over Harmony Holler. I think it’s a fitting tribute to her memory.” Leanne’s let a crooked grin hold back sentiment long enough to keep from tearing up again.

  “Besides,” she grinned again, “If I get bored, I could always join your Moonstone Circle, you know, give back to the community.”

  “It’s not as much fun as it looks,” Mag offered her personal point of view.

  “How can you say that? This year’s celebration was positively magical.”

  The end

  Thanks for reading about Mag and Clara’s first adventure. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as we enjoyed writing it.

  Read on for an excerpt of Mag and Clara’s next case, Murder on the Backswing

  For the second time since moving to the sleepy coastal village of Harmony, Clara and Mag Balefire find themselves involved in a murder investigation—only this time, catching the killer means clearing the Balefire name.

  As if trying to catch a murderer isn’t enough, the mischievous elderly leader of the local coven seems intent on exposing magic to the entire town. However, things aren’t always as they seem when it comes to ancient magic and those powerful enough to wield it.

  Can’t wait to find out what happens next?

  Join ReGina’s Page Turners group and get news and updates plus a new release alert whenever a new book comes out. To be notified when a new book is available by Erin Lynn, join her reader group.

  Other series by ReGina Welling and Erin Lynn

  The Fate Weaver series

  Featuring Lexi Balefire, a matchmaking witch with a certain something extra. Her story is full of magic, romance, zany family antics, and intrigue.

  A Match Made in Spell

  All Spell is Breaking Loose

  To Spell & Back

  No Chance in Spell

  Spell Hath No Fury

  A Cold Day in Spell

  The Mag and Clara Balefire Mysteries

  Featuring Mag and Clara Balefire. Sassy sisters, witches, detectives.

  Murder Above the Fold

  Murder on the Backswing

  Murder Below the Waterline

  Haunted by Murder

  Ponderosa Pines Mysteries

  Nothing bad ever happens in the weird little town of Ponderosa Pines…until someone dies.

  Cat Killed A Rat

  Crafting Disorder

  Caught in the Frame

  Bait and Snitch

  Also by ReGina Welling

  The Psychic Seasons Series

  A little mystery, a little romance, and a paranormal twist hit Julie Hayward when the ghost of her grandmother shows up with some interesting news.

  Rings on Her Fingers

  Bells on Her Toes

  She Shall Have Music

  Wherever She goes

  Earthbound Bones

  Earthbound Wings

  Excerpt from Murder on the Backswing

  “Unbelievable,” Margaret Balefire muttered as she raised a pair of magically-enhanced high-resolution binoculars to her eyes and studied something across the street. Her sister, Clara, wondered how she could see anything at all, eyelids narrowed to slits as they were.

  “What now? Is Mrs. Green not picking up after her Corgi again?” Mag tended to take the watch half of the term neighborhood watch to the extreme, even though she’d never be caught dead joining such an organization. In fact, the only group to which she deigned to claim membership was the local witch’s coven—and even then, Mag participated only grudgingly.

  She cocked her head toward Clara and directed a glare in her sister’s direction. “No, Miss Smarty Pants, it’s Taylor Dean, that mailman of ours. He just put Georgia Macomb’s package under the rain gutter, and it’s pouring outside. Yesterday he left our mailbox door open and the check for that console table I sold last week got completely soaked. I had to use a drying charm, and it was still wrinkled so badly the bank cashier gave me a dirty look.”

  “Are you sure the look was about the check or the fact that you like to bring her half the morning deposit in quarters? I know you think I’m too uptight about using magic for personal gain, but doesn’t irritating the teller count as mischief?” Clara shot back.

  “It counts as entertainment, Mag said, adjusting the binoculars, “which is in short supply around here. Stop being such a downer.”

  Clara raised one eyebrow at the statement and opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but the bell tinkled above the door of the shop, signaling the entrance of a customer.

  Clara turned her attention to the new arrival and offered the harried-looking middle-aged woman a welcoming smile. “Welcome to Balms and Bygones. I’m Clara, how can I help you?”

  “Angela Sinclair,” the woman nodded, looking around. “Nice to meet you. I hear you carry the b
est anti-aging face cream this side of Port Harbor. That true?” The customer, who Clara only vaguely recognized, looked skeptical as she took in the contents of the shop. Since moving to Harmony and opening the store a few months prior, Mag and Clara had been asked why they’d chosen to peddle the odd combination of botanicals and antiques at least a hundred times—basically, by just about every person in town.

  Clara shrugged off the unspoken insult and instead forced the corners of her lips into an even deeper smile, “You’ve heard correctly; I make all the products myself, with locally-sourced ingredients. And my mother, Margaret, deals in antiques. We can sell you a beauty arsenal, plus a cupboard to keep it all in.”

  Proving true the adage that whatever a witch sends out into the world comes back to her threefold, Angela Sinclair caught Clara’s infectious good mood and cracked an answering grin. “I’m not in the market for furniture, but show me what you’ve got that can help with these crow’s feet.”

  While Clara peddled her wares, Mag returned her attention to the street where the mailman had delivered three more batches of letters without seeming to care whether they’d made it to the addressees intact. Cursing under her breath, she watched as he ambled down the front walkway and bypassed the “open” sign on the shop door. Without bothering to knock or ring the bell, Taylor deposited a package on the front stoop and continued down the block, not caring that it was raining.

  “Rat bastard!” Mag exclaimed, causing Clara and Angela to whip their heads in her direction.

  “I don’t know how that man keeps his job. I can’t have been the only one to notice he’s completely incompetent.” She griped.

  Clara shot daggers at Mag and attempted to usher Angela to the other end of the store, “I’m sorry about my mother. She takes mail delivery very seriously—a sign of her advanced age, I think.”