Poison My Pretty: A Cozy Witch Mystery Read online

  Copyright © Amity Allen

  February 2017

  All Rights Reserved.

  Edited by Kelli Collins and Kat Duncan.

  Proofread by Marla at Proofing Style.

  Cover Design by Rachel Olson at No Sweat Graphics.

  Interior Design by Jovana Shirley at Unforeseen Editing

  No part of this book may be distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes, copied, or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied for reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Recipes

  About Amity Allen

  Blue police lights flashed in my rearview mirror.

  Beep! Beep! The rapid sound announced a police car. The noise that police cars made just shy of a full-on siren, but enough to get a person’s attention. And make my gut clench.

  I squinted into the mirror to see the sort of flashing apparitions that zipped across my field of vision when I felt one of my migraines coming on. But this time, the lights were real, and they belonged to the law.

  “What’s that? What did you do, Poppy?” My friend Skylar Pierce sat in the front seat next to me. Skylar had always been a beauty. She had a French look about her with big brown eyes, those full lips that were all the rage, and soft dark hair that always looked amazing. I should have asked her to come to my house early and help me get my makeup put together before we left. I’d had so many people poking, primping, and dressing me when I was on TV that I wasn’t confident in doing it for myself.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think I was speeding.”

  Crumbs! I actually tended to drive on the slow side, but in Hollywood there had always been so much traffic that I didn’t have a lot of practice driving unless it was bumper to bumper on the 305. Driving was only one of the things I had to get used to, coming back to my hometown of Fairhope, Alabama.

  We were on our way to the “welcome party” for a beauty pageant for little girls. Skylar had been hired to do the makeup for several of the contestants and when one of the “celebrity” judges slipped on an overly ripened mango in Piggly Wiggly and wound up in traction, Skylar convinced me to pinch hit. I have a history of doing impulsive things like saying “yes” before thinking through the consequences, and this was one of those times.

  It was a warm and sticky September evening. Nothing like the crisp, fall air they were getting up North. No, down along the coast our summer extended well past Labor Day. My hope was always that we’d feel something of a season change by Halloween, but so far there was none in sight.

  Skylar had made us late as usual, no doubt fussing over her own makeup, so I might have been going a teensy bit over the speed limit. Honestly, my mind had been on other things, so I hadn’t been paying close attention.

  I drifted onto the shoulder and rolled to a stop. Anticipating the police officer’s request, I rummaged around in the console of my car looking for my registration. My house was less than two miles from the convention center where the pageant was being held. I couldn’t get that far without getting into trouble?

  The police officer tapped on my window, and I jumped.

  Skylar giggled. “Easy there. You all right?”

  I’d always had a trigger startle, and it wasn’t unlike me to gasp out loud at the slightest surprise. My friends and family members had been teasing me about it for as long as I can remember.

  “Yes. I got this,” I said, rolling down my window as I asked in my best Southern drawl, “Is there a problem, officer?”

  He sported baby blue eyes, a head of thick, wavy brown hair, and a chiseled jaw that looked like it belonged more in Hollywood than here. He wore a name tag that said “Officer Goodnight” and for some reason I found that charming, like he was the hero of a child’s bedtime story or something.

  “Ma’am, do you realize how fast you were going?”

  I made a face. Ma’am? I wasn’t old enough for him to address me that way. “No, I’m sorry, I really have no idea. You see, I’m late to something.”

  “What could be so important that you are going fifty in a thirty-five-mile per hour zone?”

  I gulped. “Well, nothing, when you put it like that, but I’m on my way to the bay for a party for the Bloomin’ Belles Beauty Pageant. You know? The one for the little girls that’s going to be at the convention center this weekend?” Normally I wouldn’t expect an officer of the law to be up on the schedule for little girls’ beauty pageants, but the police station was in the same building as the convention hall, just on the opposite end, so I thought he might be aware of it. “I’m a judge so I really shouldn’t be late, which I already was, that’s why I was in a hurry.”

  “License and registration.”

  I rolled my eyes. So he was big on throwing around the “ma’ams” but he couldn’t be bothered with a please?

  Reaching across Skylar, I rummaged through the glove box until I located Aunt Cricket’s registration and a copy of her insurance. I handed them to him, and without a word he walked back to his squad car to make sure I’m not an escaped felon or whatever it is police officers do back there.

  “He’s hot.” Skylar twirled a lock of her hair.

  “Hmph.” She thought every man over sixteen was hot. Ever since I could remember, Skylar had been boy crazy, and even though I had to agree with her on this one, she didn’t set the bar very high.

  “He’s going to give me a ticket.”

  “Mmhmm.” Skylar nodded. “You got any gum?”

  “No,” I answered, and I was starting to wish those lights had been a migraine coming on, because lately I had come to the disconcerting realization that whenever I saw those strange lights and my head started to hurt, time stopped for a few moments. It would have been nice if time had stopped a few minutes back, when Officer Goodnight decided to turn his radar on me.

  When time first stopped like that it really freaked me out, but it didn’t surprise me as much as you’d think, because for the past five years I had been in Hollywood, playing a witch on television. My job was to act out bizarre, magical things happening. Since I’d been pretending it for so long, when reality and fiction collided, I just thought I needed some more sleep.

  I hadn’t been crazy enough to think that I was a witch with magic powers, but when I started to exhibit these unexplained time lapses it wasn’t completely out of my realm of experience. Sure, the things we did on the show were made up, but my life for the past few years had been rather strange anyway.

&n
bsp; As soon as things started to get really weird, I called my aunt, who had raised me since I was a baby. To my surprise, she told me that my mother had been a witch herself. Then, as if it was a sign from the universe, my TV show was canceled.

  The day after it wrapped, I caught a flight home. I had come home to try to figure out what the heck was going on with me.

  Officer Goodnight appeared at my window again, and when he said, “I’m going to have to write you a ticket,” he didn’t look nearly as handsome.

  “Yes, sir,” I groaned.

  It was times like these when I really wanted to know if I could harness my supposedly magical powers so I could control his mind. Convince him he just needed to let me off with a warning, but so far I didn’t know enough about how to influence other people that way. Hopefully, that would change if I experimented more. That is, if my aunt could give me some guidance.

  Out of nowhere, a splitting pain drove through my head like a spike.

  Squinting my eyes, I tried to plant the thought “let her off with a warning” into his brain.

  He just looked at me funny. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  “Peachy.” I squinted again.

  “Okay, so when does this pageant start?”

  “In a couple of hours, but we’re supposed to be there early. About ten minutes ago.”

  He scribbled on a piece of paper then handed it to me. “I’m sure it will still be there when you arrive. Slow it down, all right?”

  I gave him a salute before taking the piece of paper.

  As the paper passed from his hand to mine, I closed my eyes, concentrated real hard, and gave it one more try.

  Suddenly, Officer Goodnight appeared to freeze right in front of my eyes. Looking around, I saw that Skylar was frozen too—mid-lipstick application.

  Cosmic cowpies!

  My stomach did a small flip, and I was wondering how I could make the most of this situation. Screwing up all my courage, I took the ticket and the carbon copy on his pad of tickets and ripped them both up.

  Looking around, I made sure there was no one else watching, then I slipped my hand into the police officer’s pocket and retrieved his cell phone.

  Opening his contacts, I added “Poppy Parker” and my phone number to the list and slipped it back into his pocket. That way, in case it ever came up, he might think the reason he’d pulled me over was to get my number, certainly not to give me a ticket.

  A few moments later, Officer Goodnight shook his head and ran a hand over his face.

  He stepped back from my car and tipped the edge of his hat. “Be more careful in the future, okay?”

  Wow. He didn’t seem to notice anything had happened. I looked over at Skylar who also appeared unaffected as she continued touching up her lipstick.

  “Yes sir, officer. Have a blessed day.” That was something people said down here in L.A. (Lower Alabama), and I was trying to get back into the home vibe.

  His smirk indicated he found it amusing.

  “Bye, officer.” Skylar batted her eyelashes and waved.

  He raised his hand, his wave much more severe than her flirtatious one.

  “Let’s go!” Skylar nudged me with her elbow.

  “Just a second,” I hissed back then I waited for him to leave before I slowly pulled back onto the road.

  “It’s just that if we don’t get there soon, Heather Morgan is going to kill us,” Skylar warned.

  When we drove down the bluff into the park, the breathtaking view of Mobile Bay filled me with that tender feeling you get when you see something beautiful yet as familiar as the back of your hand. I had to hand it to Fairhope; our little town was still one of the best-kept secrets in America. The picturesque streets were lined with quaint little shops, the corners dotted with colorful flowerbeds that changed every six weeks. Matching floral baskets hung from the lampposts as you walked from one Fairhope landmark to another. These were the same streets that hosted Christmas and Mardi Gras parades, offering goodies in the form of a MoonPie or a string of plastic beads, and a bit of magic for residents, both young and old.

  Tonight’s party was being held at the man-made beach that edged the bay. A two-mile expanse of sand that butted up to a stand of oak and cypress trees that provided not only a gorgeous setting, but also significant shade. This event had been planned to give families coming from out of town a chance to get together. The adults could connect and catch up while the children ran around and played on the beach. According to Skylar, the “pageant people” knew each other the way people who traveled in car shows or dog shows did.

  As I pulled my car past the guard box, I made eye contact with the guard and pointed to a sticker on my windshield allowing me entrance as a resident. He gave me a thumbs-up and waved me past. I followed the circular drive around and parked at the end of the row of cars alongside the beach.

  “Finally, we’re here!” Skylar loved to celebrate the obvious.

  We got out of the car, and I managed to gather up the massive arrangement of hydrangeas with Mylar balloon sea creatures and carry it to the main gazebo. Apparently under the sea was to be the theme of the pageant, which would start bright and early at nine a.m. tomorrow.

  “Sorry I was grumpy earlier, Poppy. I’m really glad to have you back,” Skylar said.

  “I’m glad to be back.” I’d only been home for a few days so I was still dealing with the slight culture shock. Life in Fairhope was a lot slower than it was on the West Coast. I liked it, but it would take some getting used to again.

  “But I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I muttered as we walked over to where the party was happening.

  This weekend, dozens of hopeful beauty queens of the pint-sized variety and their parents had converged upon our small city to compete in the Bloomin’ Belles pageant. After that judge hurt herself, Skylar, who was acquainted with the director, had told her I was on my way home and offered my services.

  As someone who’d lived her last few years in the spotlight, I’d been asked to do a lot of things—hawk slow cookers and pose for risqué magazines for starters. I said no to those by the way, and until now I’d never judged anything more complex than a soda taste test at the grocery store. But I guess you can never underestimate the power of B-list celebrity.

  Out West, I’d been one of a zillion teen TV stars, but back home I was one of the biggest stars. The only one bigger than me was the Atlanta Falcons star wide receiver Julio Jones, who graduated from Foley High School down the road. Even though Hollywood was impressive to most Americans, down South even a couple of Oscars couldn’t trump football, and Julio had been to the Super Bowl

  But the fact that most people had grown up watching me on TV, or at least their kids had, meant I was recognized everywhere I went, and because on the television series they used my real name for my character, I could expect to be greeted with resounding cheers of “Poppy Parker!”

  Not that I minded, but I was trying to settle into a more inconspicuous life, now that I’d realized I had some sort of superpowers that I needed to learn to deal with. I thought going into the flower business with my two best friends, Skylar and Mads Pierce, would help me blend back in and give me time to figure myself out.

  So tonight, Skylar and I were pulling double duty. We were both here to deliver the flowers, but I was also a judge for the pageant, and Skylar was the hair and makeup stylist for several of the contestants. In both cases, it wasn’t great for us to be late to the welcome dinner.

  As we approached the party gazebo, an overly made-up woman in a floral pantsuit strode angrily towards me. “Here you are! I have been looking all over for those.” Heather Morgan stood with hands on hips, her hot breath shooting out her nose in such a way that at any moment I expected her to start pawing the ground and perhaps gore whoever got in her way.

  “I’m terribly sorry. I got stopped on the way over here.”

  “She got a ticket.” I knew Skylar was trying to be helpful, but I was afraid anything
we said now was just going to be used against us.

  “You got a ticket? That’s the last thing we need—lawbreakers being associated with Bloomin’ Belles!” She threw her hands in the air.

  I didn’t think that telling her that I ripped up said ticket after I cast a spell on the police officer would do much to improve her mood, so I murmured, “I was trying to hurry.”

  Heather rolled her eyes. “At least you’re finally here. I was about to call out a search party. But remind me not to recommend The Flower Shoppe to anyone I know.”

  She snatched the arrangement from my arms, sniffed, and turned to place it on whatever table she’d intended.

  “Told you we shouldn’t be late,” Skylar muttered.

  I almost reminded her that her not being ready on time was the reason we were originally running late, but it would only increase the tension between us, and right now, she was the only person I knew here. I looked around at the sea of unfamiliar faces and decided to avoid any more conflict with Skylar.

  “Wow, that was some greeting,” I said.

  “Heather isn’t known for her kindness. Or come to think of it, her manners,” Skylar said.

  “What is she known for?”

  “Basically the opposite.”

  “Ah.”

  “She thinks because she’s in charge of this pageant no one can tell her anything. Her husband is the head of the hospital. A few years ago, she went from running the women’s organization over there to heading up pageants. But her reputation for being a dragon lady precedes her. Most people are scared to death of her. I know Josephine is.”

  “Who’s Josephine?”

  “Josephine Prince. Don’t you remember? We went to school with her until middle school, when she moved out west somewhere. She’s a pageant coach now. She’s working with my girl, Allessandra. We’re on the same team this weekend.”

  “Team Allessandra?”

  “That’s it.”

  I wondered at what point it became a conflict of interest that my friends were working with one of the girls I’d be judging, then I wondered how much that even mattered.

  “Let’s get something to drink.” I nudged Skylar towards the gazebo, where I could see coolers that I hoped were filled with ice and beverages.