Read Online A Potion to Die For: A Magic Potion Mystery by Heather Blake - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Blake
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that it worked.
What I wondered about most was what had been in that bottle
after
my potion. That smell . . . I shuddered. Pushing it out of my thoughts for now, I said, “I have some wild carrot, ginger, and thyme for a homeopathic hangover cure. . . . It’ll probably work well enough.”
Ainsley clutched my arm. “Well enough isn’t good enough. Unless I pay a small fortune, Francie is the only one who will keep my kids for me. You know my mama won’t do it.”
Oh, I knew. Ainsley’s mother claimed she drew the line at caring for one mischief maker. She also claimed that I had been a bad influence on Ainsley during our growing-up years.
As if.
Plus, Ainsley’s mother was best friends with Dylan’s evil mother, Patricia.
Enough said.
“Francie doesn’t ask much,” Ainsley said. “Only a box of wine and a hangover potion. We have to get those magic drops.”
“How?” I asked. “The sheriff’s office has the shop closed off.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Where there’s a will, Carly Hartwell, there’s a way.”
“Break in, you mean?”
“Well, of course we have to break in to the shop. Didn’t you hear how Francie’s the only one who will look after the Clingons? I
need
that hangover potion before I go home. Besides I don’t think it’s breaking in if you own the place.”
She had a point. “Well, I suppose one quick run into the shop won’t hurt anything.” Nelson’s dead body had already been hauled away—I wouldn’t be disturbing him none. “Plus, I still have all those love potions to make . . . Having the drops would set my mind at ease about that.”
“Well, you don’t need to worry about those love potions now,” Ainsley said.
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“Haven’t you noticed that no one’s here?”
I glanced up and down the street. There were still a few neighbors rubbernecking from the accident, but Ainsley was right. No one was lining up to get my love potions.
“Where are they?” I asked, my nose wrinkling in confusion.
“Not coming.”
“Why not?” I asked for the second time in a few seconds.
“It might be because they think your potions done poisoned Nelson and Coach Butts and don’t want to be the next one carried away by the coroner.”
I gaped at her.
She shrugged. “I told you it was a hot mess.”
“Coach Butts is perfectly alive, thank you very much.”
“Barely, so I hear told.”
“More than barely.” I might have been pushing it with that one. He’d looked downright awful on that stretcher. “People really think I’m guilty?”
“I don’t know about guilty, necessarily. But they think your potions are tainted.”
My potions were magical, not poisonous.
Something darker was at work here. Something stronger than my magic.
Something evil.
• • •
“Don’t tell me you’re going to let a little crime-scene tape stop you from getting into your own shop,” Ainsley prodded.
Some leopards just couldn’t change their spots.
And her mama thought I was the bad influence? Ha!
We stood at the mouth of the alleyway that ran behind the shop. The emergency vehicles had gone and all that remained was limp yellow tape strung across the back door of the Little Shop of Potions. The roads around the Ring were busy as the tourists came in for the weekend.
“You know I’m not above bending the law from time to time,” I said. “B—”
She jabbed a finger at me. “You better stuff that ‘but’ I hear coming right back down your throat, Carlina Hartwell.”
She stood a good four inches shorter than me, but I was pretty sure she could take me in a street fight, no problem.
In all honestly, I had no qualms about breaking into the shop.
My jitters came from the memory of Nelson’s body on the break room floor. I wasn’t sure I was prepared to see what was left behind.
I shuddered at the memory of all that blood, but then pulled myself together. If I could poke prissy Patricia Jackson in her dimpled derriere with a
What I wondered about most was what had been in that bottle
after
my potion. That smell . . . I shuddered. Pushing it out of my thoughts for now, I said, “I have some wild carrot, ginger, and thyme for a homeopathic hangover cure. . . . It’ll probably work well enough.”
Ainsley clutched my arm. “Well enough isn’t good enough. Unless I pay a small fortune, Francie is the only one who will keep my kids for me. You know my mama won’t do it.”
Oh, I knew. Ainsley’s mother claimed she drew the line at caring for one mischief maker. She also claimed that I had been a bad influence on Ainsley during our growing-up years.
As if.
Plus, Ainsley’s mother was best friends with Dylan’s evil mother, Patricia.
Enough said.
“Francie doesn’t ask much,” Ainsley said. “Only a box of wine and a hangover potion. We have to get those magic drops.”
“How?” I asked. “The sheriff’s office has the shop closed off.”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Where there’s a will, Carly Hartwell, there’s a way.”
“Break in, you mean?”
“Well, of course we have to break in to the shop. Didn’t you hear how Francie’s the only one who will look after the Clingons? I
need
that hangover potion before I go home. Besides I don’t think it’s breaking in if you own the place.”
She had a point. “Well, I suppose one quick run into the shop won’t hurt anything.” Nelson’s dead body had already been hauled away—I wouldn’t be disturbing him none. “Plus, I still have all those love potions to make . . . Having the drops would set my mind at ease about that.”
“Well, you don’t need to worry about those love potions now,” Ainsley said.
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“Haven’t you noticed that no one’s here?”
I glanced up and down the street. There were still a few neighbors rubbernecking from the accident, but Ainsley was right. No one was lining up to get my love potions.
“Where are they?” I asked, my nose wrinkling in confusion.
“Not coming.”
“Why not?” I asked for the second time in a few seconds.
“It might be because they think your potions done poisoned Nelson and Coach Butts and don’t want to be the next one carried away by the coroner.”
I gaped at her.
She shrugged. “I told you it was a hot mess.”
“Coach Butts is perfectly alive, thank you very much.”
“Barely, so I hear told.”
“More than barely.” I might have been pushing it with that one. He’d looked downright awful on that stretcher. “People really think I’m guilty?”
“I don’t know about guilty, necessarily. But they think your potions are tainted.”
My potions were magical, not poisonous.
Something darker was at work here. Something stronger than my magic.
Something evil.
• • •
“Don’t tell me you’re going to let a little crime-scene tape stop you from getting into your own shop,” Ainsley prodded.
Some leopards just couldn’t change their spots.
And her mama thought I was the bad influence? Ha!
We stood at the mouth of the alleyway that ran behind the shop. The emergency vehicles had gone and all that remained was limp yellow tape strung across the back door of the Little Shop of Potions. The roads around the Ring were busy as the tourists came in for the weekend.
“You know I’m not above bending the law from time to time,” I said. “B—”
She jabbed a finger at me. “You better stuff that ‘but’ I hear coming right back down your throat, Carlina Hartwell.”
She stood a good four inches shorter than me, but I was pretty sure she could take me in a street fight, no problem.
In all honestly, I had no qualms about breaking into the shop.
My jitters came from the memory of Nelson’s body on the break room floor. I wasn’t sure I was prepared to see what was left behind.
I shuddered at the memory of all that blood, but then pulled myself together. If I could poke prissy Patricia Jackson in her dimpled derriere with a
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