Be Careful What You Witch For (Unexpected Witchcraft Book 1) Read online

  “So you'll help us? You haven’t even seen the rest of the building yet. Don't you have to run the hardware store?” I ask.

  “Not really, I own it with my father and we fill in for our employees when they need time off. We could just hire another person. I just started a contracting business with Nate so I'd need to talk to him but he usually follows my lead on things.”

  “Plus, once this place is a huge success, we can tell everyone that you renovated it and send business your way.”

  “That would be helpful. Honestly, I’d love to strike out on my own. Working with my father can be tense. I love the man, but sometimes it’s just too much.

  “Well, let me show you what exactly you're signing up for.” We descend the stairs to find Joy fiddling with the locking mechanism on the secret entrance. “Did you figure it out?” I ask her.

  “Yep. There's a button on the side next to lock for the poster case. Here watch,” Joy explains as she swings the frame back against the wall and it clicks into place. She then runs her finger down the side and another click emanates from inside the case. The poster frame swings open once again.

  “I'm impressed so far. How about you take me on that tour you promised?” Brent asks.

  “Sure thing.”

  I try ignore Joy's silly grin and the kissy face she keeps making whenever Brent turns his back. The way she acts, you'd think that she was 17 instead of 27. I pull my headlamp from my pocket and secure it on my head. Of course Brent pulls out a mini Maglite from his pocket. First, I show him the concession area and the small galley kitchen where we plan on doing our baked goods once we get an oven. Popcorn may as well stay on the menu though.

  To my untrained eye, it doesn't look like it needs much work except new appliances. I'm sure that Brent knows what building codes we need to follow. The small hole in the wall is still the only way to gain access to the auditorium. When I crouch to enter, Brent puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “Here, let me make that a little bigger. This wall needs to go anyway.”

  Joy and I stand back, watching in amazement as he lifts the sledge hammer easily. He swings from the side of his body like a baseball player and with a few strokes easily clears most of the drywall. Brent uses his ungloved hands to remove the loose plasterboard that's left. After a few more well-

  placed strikes at the remaining wood, the door to the auditorium is open once again. Standing back with a satisfied look, Brent’s eyes meet mine and my heart skips a beat.

  “That’s much better. Now you won’t have to crawl in and out anymore.”

  I let Brent take a few steps into the auditorium first so he can see the beautiful wood carvings on the posts that hold up the balcony. I smile as I watch him run his hands along the aged wood, marveling at its beauty.

  Chapter 6

  “It's great, isn't it? There are little details everywhere. I’m sure you saw the molding in the apartment upstairs.”

  “I certainly did,” he replies walking farther into the theater. “What happened to all the seats? Are they stored somewhere?”

  “That's a good question. Joy, did you happen to see any theater seats somewhere in the basement during your exploration earlier?”

  “There were at least a few, but there could be more. We missed a lot of the storage areas down there last night,” Joy replies.

  Brent is staring at the hole in the roof now. I walk ahead of him into the auditorium to where all the racks of weird vials are gathering dust.

  “That hole is obviously top priority. I won’t lie, I'm worried about the integrity of the rest of the roof.”

  “That sounds expensive. Can you fix it?”

  “Nate’s not much of a conversationalist, but he’s a great roofer. If it’s held up this long, we can probably save it.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I see that nice pond you have in front of the stage. Might be good for fishing?” he laughs as he joins me by the shelves. “What's all this?”

  “I have no idea, but it's meticulously labeled and arranged. The language isn't even written in a real alphabet,” I explain as I hand him a small bottle with a stopper. The liquid inside swirls of it's own accord. Brent inspects it curiously.

  “Too bad I'm only here to fix up the building. You'll have to figure this mystery out on your own,” he says as he places the bottle back on the shelf carefully. “So where to next?”

  Chapter 7

  “Follow me to the Library of Spookiness, otherwise known as the balcony.” I point my light behind us. The stairs creak and groan as we traverse them. Once we're at the top, Joy rushes over to the book that she thinks is human skin and holds it up for Brent to see.

  “You want creepy, here's your creepy right here,” Joy says.

  Brent takes the book from her hands and slowly turns it over. I can see by his expression that he has the same sinking feeling about its authenticity.

  “This book should definitely not be your go to party topic,” he says as he hands it back to Joy. She gives me a smug look as she puts it back on the shelf.

  I open the door to the projectionist booth and while I know I could easily lead him into the basement by taking the stairs behind the stage, this entrance is more fun. Brent raises his eyebrows when I point to the ladder and shines his flashlight down it. Joy flips the lights on and jumps on the ladder. Brent follows and I head down last while they wait for me at the bottom.

  “Pretty cool so far, huh?” I ask.

  “Yeah, this place is great. I wonder why no one else has ever bought it,” he says.

  “Maybe they had forgotten what a treasure it was. Although, someone has been in here. Those books and strange items in the auditorium had to have come from somewhere.”

  Until I said those words aloud the idea hadn't really sunk in for me. Someone did own this place after it was a theatre and they decided to fill it with those strange occult books and weird odds and ends. They did it with meticulous care, but didn't bother to clean up the theater. The idea is slightly disturbing but whoever they were, they are long gone. I'm so lost in my own head that I don't even notice that Joy led Brent away. I hear their voices down the tunnel with the dressing rooms. When I catch up with them they are standing in front of the first room which is locked tightly.

  “Say that again, Joy?” Brent asks.

  “I want you to bust this door in. What if there's some great antique just waiting to be discovered?” she reasons.

  “I'm with Joy, but don't hurt yourself,” I say as I walk up to stand next to Brent. He shrugs his shoulders and tries the knob, but it's still locked up tight.

  “Let me go get that popular sledgehammer. I hope there's a way down here that isn’t just a ladder?” He looks to us for an answer.

  “Of course. I'll show you a neat trick,” Joy replies excitedly and runs off with Brent in tow.

  They head towards the small spiral staircase that leads to the kitchen behind concession stand in the lobby. I stay put in front of the door. The air grows colder unless I’m just imagining it? Rubbing my arms, I get the sinking feeling that whatever we find in this room isn't going to be as cool as Joy thinks it will be. As I finish that thought, I hear them coming back from around the corner. That secret passage is really handy.

  “No, she's totally in to you,” I hear Joy saying. Discretion, much?

  “Who's totally into who?” I ask when they come around the corner, my hands on my hips.

  “What? Nothing, nobody. I wasn't saying anything,” Joy replies sheepishly.

  Brent chuckles as he steps up to the door and takes a stance with the sledgehammer held at the ready. “I really hate to break this door so I hope that if I knock the knob off it will open. Sound like a plan?” he looks at me.

  “Yes, that's a great idea. Much better than just busting it down,” I say, directing my gaze at Joy.

  With one clean swipe of the hammer, the knob flies off and clinks as it hits the ground. Brent gives the door a little nudge with the head of the
hammer, but it doesn’t budge. Setting the hammer down, he pulls his flash light out and shines it through the hole where the knob used to be.

  “Well, it appears there something is wedged against the door.” he says as he braces his shoulder against it and begins to push.

  A loud scraping emanates from inside the room. Something very heavy must have been placed against the door. Sweat starts to form across Brent's brow, but he just takes a second to reposition himself for a better footing. Joy claps her hands as Brent finally creates enough space for us to enter the room.

  My bad feeling gets worse as Joy slips in first before I can stop her. Brent smiles at me and wiggles his wide shoulders through the opening. With my heart in my throat, I plunge myself into the room. The lights come on and I expect some monster to jump out and attack us. To my relief it looks pretty much the same as the other dressing rooms. An antique vanity sits against the wall but all of the bulbs are shattered. The armoire that had been pushed against the door looks to be made of some really nice oak. But if the door was barred shut from the inside and there is no other way out, then…

  “Joy don't open that!” I shout and reach for her but it is too late.

  A blood curdling scream escapes her lips as a corpse falls from the closet at her feet. Brent reacts quickly enough to catch her as she passes out. Time stops and I find myself staring down at the partially mummified body lying on the floor. The pink cardigan and floral print skirt tell me that the corpse is a woman. She was holding something fragile in her hand that is now shattered into a thousand tiny indigo pieces across the floor.

  “Penny!” Brent's voice is far away, but it's enough to bring my mind back to the present and time speeds up again. “Penny, we have to get Joy out of here and call the police.”

  I nod my head, still numb from head to toe. Brent struggles to get Joy's limp body through the slim opening. Instead, I go through first and we slide her through the door, handling her like a rag doll. In the hallway Brent lays her down on the cold cement. He removes his flannel shirt, rolling it up and using it to elevate her feet while I hold her head in my lap.

  “Joy, wake up.” I whisper softly as I stroke her hair gently.

  “She's probably in shock. That was not what I was expecting to find that room,” Brent says while kneeling on the ground next to me. “You handled that extremely well, Penny”

  “Me? You caught her mid fall and are just acting like crazy things happen all the time,” I reply.

  “Maybe I’m used to it. I served in Afghanistan. Things were pretty intense over there every day,” Brent explains in a hushed tone. I can tell that he's hesitant to say any more about it, so I don't ask.

  “Look, she's starting to move,” I say excitedly. “Joy, it's me. Wake up.”

  “Penny? What happened?” she starts to ask before her eyes go wide as her memory returns. “What are we still doing here? Get me out of here!”

  “Can you walk?” I ask.

  “I'll be able to with some help.”

  Brent helps her sit up and steadies her as she gets to her feet. I pick up his flannel shirt, draping it around Joy's shoulders. Leading the way, I direct us to the quickest way out of the basement. The door to the alley is standing open, even though I locked it from the inside last night. Whatever, no time to worry about it right now.

  Once we're outside, we make our way around to the front of the building. Brent gets a water bottle from his truck for Joy. I pull out my cellphone and dial the police. The sun has passed its apex by the time they arrive. It's just the coroner, his assistant, and one cop.

  The police officer takes all of our statements. He and Brent seem to know each other pretty well. They make small talk while the coroner and his assistant remove the body from the dressing room. Joy is still shaken but in better spirits than she was an hour ago. I sit with her on the curb in front of the Beacon. With my arm around Joy's shoulders I'm still wondering why that woman was barricaded in the room. What was she hiding from in that closet? The idea that someone died in the theater doesn't bother me as much as it bothers Joy.

  “Why don't you take Joy back to the motel. I'll stay here and lock up for you.” Brent offers as he comes to stand next to us.

  “You would do that?” Joy asks looking up at him.

  “Of course,” he replies, nodding his head.

  “That's very sweet of you,” I reply, smiling at Brent. The drive back to the motel is spent in silence with Joy staring out the passenger window the entire time. Whenever I try to talk to her, she doesn't respond. Back at the room, I watch as she gets her pajamas on and crawls into bed.

  “Joy, do you need anything?” I ask, trying to mask the worry in my voice.

  “I just want to sleep right now. I'm fine Penny, really, but right now I need to be alone to process what happened. Could you give me a few hours alone?”

  “OK, I'm going to head on over to the Beacon and maybe I can catch Brent before he leaves. Will you promise to call me if you need anything?”

  “Yes,” Joy responds.

  With one last look over my shoulder, I flick the lights off and close the door gently. My mind is flipping through all of the scenarios that would lead someone to die in the basement of the Beacon alone. It would be a lot easier to narrow them down if I knew who owned the place then. Maybe I'm missing something that could tell me who that poor woman was.

  Or maybe I should just ask around. It is a small town after all. I would ask the owner of the antique shop next door to us, but she closed up shop immediately when the police pulled a body out of the theater. I can’t really blame her. The general store on the other side of us is closed, so that really only leaves one place. The police station.

  As I’m walking toward the end of the downtown strip, I take note of the hours of operations on all the shop doors. The sidewalks really do roll up at six o’clock around here, that’s not just a small town stereotype. People are coming in and out of the pizza shop, the only place still open. We should stay open later, at least during tourist season. There wouldn’t be any competition.

  I’ve never actually stepped foot inside a police station before. Do you knock first? The deputy at the front desk waves me inside as I’m standing at the door hesitating.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Hi, um…” I stammer. “I’m one of the owners of the Beacon Theater.”

  “And…” the young cop says.

  “You know, the place where that you guys pulled a body out of earlier today.”

  “Oh. That.” Yeah, that. Why isn’t this a big deal? It can’t happen every day around here. “I believe the responding officer already took your statement at the scene.”

  “He did, but there isn’t any crime scene tape up or anything. Should we just avoid the room where she was found until you send someone out to gather more information or do we need to stay out of the theater altogether?”

  “What makes you think your place is a crime scene?”

  Did he seriously just ask that question? “Because there was a dead body barricaded inside a closet in a tiny basement room.”

  The officer rolls his eyes and picks up the phone. “Let me get Detective Sheffield. He’s the one handling the case,” the young deputy informs me, and he may as well have used air quotes on the last word.

  “Penelope McAllister, aspiring entrepreneur,” Detective Sheffield says as he emerges from the back offices. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted to let you know that my associate and I want to help with the investigation in any way we can. The theater needs a lot of renovations and—”

  “That’s an understatement,” the cheeky deputy at the front desk mutters. This kid is younger than I am and needs a kick in the pants.

  “Anyway,” I say, “I was about to go back to cleaning up when I realized that I could be contaminating your crime scene, so I thought I’d drop by to make sure I�
�m following proper procedure.”

  “Crime scene?” Deputy Sheffield replies. I swear he’s trying not to laugh.

  “Yeah...”

  “Honey, there is no crime scene because there isn’t a crime to investigate.”

  “But there was a body in the building. A dried out corpse.”

  “Yes, and that’s very tragic, but not especially surprising.”

  “What?” I gasp. “It certainly came as a surprise to me.”

  The detective gives me a warm smile, his cheeks dimpling on his round face. “I’m sure it was.”