spies and spells 02 - betting off dead Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter One excerpt of Spies and Spells

  About the Author

  Also by Tonya Kappes

  TONYA

  KAPPES

  Betting

  Off

  Dead

  Spies and Spells Series

  Book two

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Tonya Kappes. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Author Tonya Kappes, P.O. Box 176988, Ft. Mitchell, Ky. 41017

  Acknowledgements

  This book is dedicated to all my readers who have fallen in love with Mick Jasper and Maggie Park as much as I have!

  I want to thank Cyndy Ranzau for the amazing editing. I also want to give a huge shout out to Jessica Fischer for the amazing cover design and bringing the story to life in a photo.

  A special thank you to the Kappes Krew, the reviewers, and the bloggers who have helped spread the word about my novels. Without you, there would be no me! You make my dream a reality and I love every minute of it. I hope I do not disappoint you!

  And last but not least, I want to thank my very own real life partner, Eddy! He allows me the time I need by keeping up with our boys, fur babies, house work, suppers, and everyday life while I write.

  Also by Tonya Kappes

  Olivia Davis Paranormal Mystery Series

  SPLITSVILLE.COM

  COLOR ME LOVE (novella)

  COLOR ME A CRIME

  Magical Cures Mystery Series

  A CHARMING CRIME

  A CHARMING CURE

  A CHARMING POTION (novella)

  A CHARMING WISH

  A CHARMING SPELL

  A CHARMING MAGIC

  A CHARMING SECRET

  A CHARMING CHRISTMAS (novella)

  A CHARMING FATALITY

  A CHARMING GHOST

  A CHARMING HEX

  A CHARMING VOODOO

  Spies and Spells Series

  Spies and Spells

  Betting Off Dead

  Get Witch or Die Trying

  Grandberry Falls Series

  THE LADYBUG JINX

  HAPPY NEW LIFE

  A SUPERSTITIOUS CHRISTMAS (novella)

  NEVER TELL YOUR DREAMS

  A Laurel London Mystery Series

  CHECKERED CRIME

  CHECKERED PAST

  CHECKERED THIEF

  A Divorced Diva Beading Mystery Series

  A BREAD OF DOUBT SHORT STORY

  STRUNG OUT TO DIE

  CRIMPED TO DEATH

  Bluegrass Romance Series

  GROOMING MR. RIGHT

  TAMING MR. RIGHT

  Women’s Fiction

  CARPE BREAD ’EM

  Young Adult

  TAG YOU'RE IT

  A Ghostly Southern Mystery Series

  A GHOSTLY UNDERTAKING

  A GHOSTLY GRAVE

  A GHOSTLY DEMISE

  A GHOSTLY MURDER

  A GHOSTLY REUNION

  A GHOSTLY MORTALITY

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter One excerpt of Spies and Spells

  About the Author

  Also by Tonya Kappes

  Chapter One

  “Oh, Miss Kitty,” Auntie Meme trilled. “You naughty, naughty owl.” Only Auntie Meme’s voice was more sarcastic than scolding.

  Closely followed up by the yipping of King, Mrs. Hubbard’s Yorkie.

  “Naughty nothin’!” My witchy antennae picked up the subtle increase in tension in Mrs. Hubbard’s voice. “I’m calling the ASPCA because I’m sure, well, maybe not real sure, but I’d put my plastic flower garden on the line that keeping an owl as a pet is not within the law.”

  My heart stopped not only because Mrs. Hubbard meant business when she bet her plastic flower garden on anything, but also because Miss Kitty wasn’t just any ordinary owl. She was a rare species that wasn’t indigenous to the United States.

  “I’ll take that bet!” A scream clawed in Auntie Meme’s throat. “Who in their right mind plants plastic flowers? You go through all the hassle of digging and planting, so you might as well plant the real deal. But then again, you’d probably kill them.”

  Auntie Meme and Mrs. Hubbard were not fond of each other and that was putting it nicely.

  That woman is meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes, Auntie Meme would say about Mrs. Hubbard. Mrs. Hubbard would say, Your aunt is crazier than a shit house rat. Whatever that meant.

  “I don’t think that stealing a package from your neighbor’s front porch is within the law.” Auntie Meme’s voice held uneasiness spiced with irritation.

  “I reckon I’m gonna go on in and call the law. Shooo old black bird!” Mrs. Hubbard’s voice carried into the open window of my bedroom. “Come on, King.”

  King yipped and yapped. Miss Kitty, unfazed, sat on the railing of Mrs. Hubbard’s front porch.

  “I dare you.” Auntie Meme’s voice slid through my veins like a cold needle. She wasn’t going to play nice anymore, not that she ever started out nice, but we didn’t need her doing something to Mrs. Hubbard. The neighbors would notice right off, since she wouldn’t be at the nightly circle when all the old women on Belgravia Court gathered to gossip.

  We’d spent the better part of our lives in Old Louisville flying under the radar, trying to look like the people who lived around us. As we’d gotten older, it’d gotten harder and harder. And Auntie Meme has gotten crotchetier and crotchetier. She’s been waiting for the perfect time to throw a little bad luck Mrs. Hubbard’s way and this little confrontation just might’ve been that tipping point, especially when it came to Miss Kitty, Auntie’s owl that just so happened to be her familiar. So Mrs. Hubbard’s threat of calling the ASPCA wasn’t going along with our plan to fit in.

  The Jack-and-Jill bathroom between my sister’s bedroom and mine was dark. The door to Lilith’s room on the other side of the bathroom was closed. Was she listening to the bantering goi
ng on outside our windows? Or was she really asleep? Either way, it didn’t matter, she wasn’t going to stop Auntie from exposing us. Especially now that she’s found her life’s mission. Mine, I’d yet to fully understand.

  I rolled out of bed, the old wood floor creaked underneath me, which I was sure alerted the rest of the women in my family I was up. I parted the curtain and was nearly blinded by the bright early morning sunlight that would soon brighten our door an hour later due to the daylight savings time change in a week. Something my family loved. The shorter the days, the happier we were. Only because we did our best work at night.

  Auntie Meme and Mrs. Hubbard were nose-to-nose. Auntie Meme’s red hair was stuck up all over her head like it always was; she was wearing her blue silk kimono, with the blue stars on it, loosely belted around her waist.

  “Shoo you old black bird! Get off my flowers!” Mrs. Hubbard was fighting both Auntie Meme and the black bird that I’d seen perched on her porch a few times over the past couple of days. Both seemed to be stubborn because neither of them moved.

  Mrs. Hubbard looked as if she’d just been to the hairdresser. Her short grey hair was cut into a perfect bob just below her ears and neatly parted on the left side. Her hands planted on her hips, her brows cocked up under her side bangs. Of course she had on her staples: pearl earrings, pearl necklace and black pleated slacks. The only difference in her day-to-day outfit was the color of her cardigan. Today her choice happened to be green, as in grass green which didn’t go well with the color of her skin, but that was my sister’s Lilith’s job to make her over. Not mine.

  Mine was to keep the peace between us and the neighbors on Belgravia Court.

  “And that hair of yours.” Mrs. Hubbard tsked. “You know the sayin’ ‘road hard and put up wet’?”

  Auntie Meme wiggled her fingers and swung her arm above her head. It was the moment she’d been waiting for. And I was about to squish that moment like a bug.

  “Auntie! Whoohooo! Auntie!” I threw the window up and hung my head out. “Miss Kitty!” I yelled and the owl’s wings spread, pumping a couple of times before she lifted off Mrs. Hubbard’s front porch railing.

  Miss Kitty hovered over Mrs. Hubbard for a moment too long.

  “No, Miss Kitty!” I screamed but it was too late. She’d left a right nice sized present on Mrs. Hubbard’s head before she flapped her wings a couple of times and landed on my windowsill.

  “Whoooo, whoooo.” Her brown eyes innocently blinked.

  “You know better than that,” I scolded Miss Kitty and grabbed my robe off the chair. “Stay!” I ordered her to stay in or on the house.

  I ran down the hall and shoved my arms in the sleeves of my robe as I darted down the stairs. I flung the front door open, cringing when it smacked the wall in the entrance hall, hoping against all the super witchy powers in the world that the stained glass on the heavy wooden door hadn’t broken.

  There was no time to waste, Auntie Meme had both hands up in the air and if I didn’t get to her in time, Mrs. Hubbard, I’m sure, would be turned into the wartiest frog Belgravia Court had ever seen.

  “No, no, no, no.” I slid up behind Auntie and yanked her arms down. I stuck mine up in the air and did a little gig around her. “Halleluiah!” I threw both my hands up in the air. “Praise the Lord on this beautiful, fine crisp fall morning.” I elbowed Auntie. “Right!”

  Auntie threw me a cold, hard-pinched expression. Glances were exchanged between the two old women who were both gnawed with anxiety.

  “What is wrong with your family?” Mrs. Hubbard lowered her eyes. She stumbled backward and used her hand to feel for the railing going up her stairs. She took one step backward and up. “Y’all have gone and lost your ever lovin’ minds. Both of you.” Mrs. Hubbard shook her finger at us climbing another step before she turned on the balls of her feet and scurried inside her house, slamming the door behind her.

  “Maggie Park.” Her voice brimming with distaste after I spoiled the little spell she was about to unleash on Mrs. Hubbard, “You just ruined it. I need an eye of newt for the book club meeting and I almost had two eyes.” She grabbed me by my elbow and dragged me across the front yards. “I could’ve had four if I’d turned that little yapper into a newt too.”

  “Oh, Auntie.” I sighed an exasperated sigh. “You’ve got to be more careful and let Mrs. Hubbard roll off your back.”

  “That woman puts her nose into our business and I’m telling you as sure as I’m standing right here under the strawberry moon that she’s more dangerous to us in mortal form than she is in amphibian.” Auntie Meme clapped her hands.

  “Squawk!” Miss Kitty flew down from my window on the third floor of our home and landed on Auntie’s arm.

  “Maggie Park! What did I tell you about flinging the door open?” Mom hung over the second floor balcony, her long black hair was parted down the middle and fell over the railing. The second floor porch was right off of Mom’s room and I was sure she’d seen everything that’d happened between Auntie and Mrs. Hubbard, but was taking her anger out on me.

  My eyes drew up the red three-story home with the double porches on the front left side of the house. There were two large windows on each level opposite the porches. Two dark grey pillars were built on the brick wall to the open porch leading up to the large wooden door with long skinny decorative windows on each side and the same door with the stained glass that held our heritage. One glass panel was a witch hat, another a black cat, and the third a full moon.

  “Good morning, Park family.” Abram Callahan came skipping up the front walk with a big smile on his face. His messy blond hair was damp as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. His green eyes sparkled under the dawn sun. “Did y’all see the strawberry moon?”

  I grabbed the edges of my robe and gripped it together.

  “Abram, what are you doing out and about so early?” I asked knowing that I didn’t have an appointment, nor did I care about the strawberry moon. I gave Auntie the stink eye, knowing she was up to her old shenanigans of matchmaking.

  Abram Callahan and I had been friends since we were kids. He grew up on Belgravia Court.

  He was a local mechanic that was really great at electronics and circuits in specialty cars. I never understood why I couldn’t just swipe my hand toward my car and fix whatever needed to be fixed, knowing that my car was one of a kind.

  Auntie Meme had Miss Kitty, Mom had Riule the cat and Lilith had Gilbert, the macaw. Me, I had Vinnie, a 1965 red AC Cobra.

  “Have you seen Boomer this morning?” he asked and twisted his head side-to-side.

  “You mean this little fellow?” Auntie Meme bent down and picked up the grey tabby. She deposited him in Abram’s arms.

  “There you are.” As Abram ran his hand down Boomer’s back, fur flew everywhere. “He’s been slipping out at night and I’m not sure why.”

  “Does he feel okay?” I bent down and looked at Boomer. His eyes weren’t as vibrant as I’d seen them.

  “He’s not eating as much as he used to.” Abram’s eyes slid up to mine. It was an unspoken look between us. A look that meant he wanted me to work a little magic.

  Boomer looked at me and I smiled. His little mouth turned up but only I could see. He and I had a special bond. Boomer didn’t have nine lives; he’s had triple that. Belgravia Court was next to Central Park and St. James Street was a busy street in Old Louisville that ran alongside Belgravia Court. Abram and I loved going down to Central Park to play and Boomer happened to follow us, only he played Frogger on St. James Street. Just like the game, a car squished him. He was dead.

  I’ll never forget the look on Abram’s face when we heard the car that hit Boomer skid as the driver swerved the car to miss him, but it was too late and Boomer was lying on the ground. The driver and Abram were standing next to the car bawling their eyes out. I bent down and touched Boomer, springing him back to life.

  Abram wasn’t stupid and he knew something weird had gone on. The whole
witchy thing was supposed to be a big secret. Abram and I pinky-swore that we’d never talk about it again and we didn’t. So it was natural that when I turned sixteen and Mom had given me my familiar, a 1965 AC Cobra named Vinnie, Abram became my familiar’s sole mechanic.

  Mom and Auntie loved Abram. He was loyal to the family. Never asked questions. And certainly didn’t question the odd equipment under Vinnie’s hood.

  “You will come in for biscuits and gravy,” Mom appeared at the front door. She ran her hand over the stained glass, her gesture letting me know that she still wasn’t happy with me flinging the door open. If she only knew it had been for our family’s own good, she might’ve been a little more understanding.

  “You know I will.” Abram put Boomer back on the ground and jetted up our front steps, following Auntie inside.

  “What’s wrong?” I bent down and patted Boomer. He let out a few meows. Nothing a little touch couldn’t fix. “You are fine.”

  He scurried down the courtyard after I ran my hand down him. He stopped in the middle and looked back at me before he ran off toward their house.

  Belgravia Court was still asleep, except for Mrs. Hubbard. It was an odd place to live.

  The houses were so close together, I couldn’t spit out my side bedroom window without hitting the neighbor’s house.

  Belgravia Court was a close-knit community with everyone in everyone else’s business. Our little slice of heaven was peacefully tucked away from most of the noises of the city. All the Victorian homes were built back in the 1980’s and faced each other across a green courtyard that ran three blocks. At night, gas lights provide the illumination taking one back into another time. It was what Mom was going for when she moved us here. The old, familiar feel of yesteryears.

  Not just us. Given our heritage and all, we tried to keep a low profile. Thanks to Auntie and her on-going feud with Mrs. Hubbard, that was a hard thing to do.

  “You sit right here.” Auntie patted the open seat next to Abram when I walked into the kitchen. I cocked a brow. Mom slid me a sideways glance; a slight smile curled the edges of her lips.