FAMILY MAGIC (THE FLOWER FARM MAGICAL MYSTERY SERIES Book 1) Read online

  "I mean real food for a lab, not woo-woo food for a fussy pixie dog."

  Indignation flamed up my body. Yes, I was driving the fancy car and wore the expensive clothes, but I was still a Bracken. Cut from the same cloth as my biased brother.

  "I may have lived a city life, but I know how to feed a big dog. Whether you choose to believe it or not, the city may have cleaned me up, but you can't wash the country out of me that easily."

  He picked up three of my bags with one hand.

  "Yeah, right."

  "I'm changing the subject to a safer topic,” I said, following behind him with my makeup case and carry on. “What happened to Moon Lake? It's lost its vibrancy."

  "That is not a safe topic. Not even close."

  CHAPTER 8

  Pulling my rented Mercedes into my driveway, I studied the grounds. The white colonial-style house with a wrap-around porch and bay windows stood proud. Micky, my caretaker, had done an excellent job of keeping the outside of the house and grounds in superb condition. The windows were clean, the yard well-groomed. The perennial beds Grams planted years ago mulched. A white rabbit sat on the porch under the bay window, munching on a twig.

  With my makeup case under my arm and my carry-on in my left hand, I unlocked the door and waited for the energy to hit me. Aside from a cardboard and plastic taste in my mouth, the energy felt light and welcoming. Micky had been an excellent caretaker. I needed to write him a note and give him a bonus.

  My home was one of the few things I owned. My apartment in L.A. belonged to the company I worked for, as did most of the furnishings and my professional and evening wardrobe.

  Today, the few things in my apartment I did own filled one little pod. By now, that pod was on a truck headed this way. There was something solid about walking into a home I owned, free and clear. The inside looked a bit chaotic. Over the years, I gathered items I loved and shipped them here. Most were in the house’s two back rooms. A few pieces were scattered throughout the house. A part of me immediately longed to go through them, but I couldn't. I needed to disappear until this whole serial killer thing blew over and they figured out how my company was connected.

  "Faith…Faith...FAITH."

  I'd heard him. I was just elsewhere.

  "Where do you want me to put these?"

  I turned around to see him holding five of my suitcases and Sampson's leash. I'd forgotten about Sampson. He'd been so quiet. The white cat had worn him out. First time since I'd had the pup, he wasn't jumping around like a huge flea.

  "Just put them there by the door." I ran my hand over the marble countertop.

  "I'd feel better if I put them in the bedroom."

  Really, like the location of my bags would keep me here.

  "Don't worry. You have my word. I won't rabbit during the night. What's with the lights in Dad's house? Did he rent it to someone?"

  He put the bags down in front of the bay window.

  "Um, No, he didn't rent it. Dad's back in town. Been back about a month."

  Shock tumbled in my solar plexus.

  "Mom?"

  "She's in and out."

  "More in or out?"

  "More in. She..." He shook his head.

  What was he going to say? Mom probably came in for booty calls. We didn't need to discuss their sex life.

  "Just thought I should warn you. The Jasmine Place has occupants on and off, too, including a mouthy cat and dog. Something tells me Sampson will enjoy himself."

  "How is Mr. Jasmine?"

  "Long story," was all he said.

  "Wow, Abracadabra has gone from ghost town to metropolis in a couple of months."

  He stepped in front of me and looked into my eyes.

  "What aren't you telling me, Faith?"

  At least he didn't bark it out this time. I so wished I could tell him. But he'd only hate me more.

  "I'm just anxious to get started on my vacation. My schedule has been packed. The paperwork buries me every night. And on top of that, corporate politics. I'm exhausted."

  All of it was true—every word of it.

  "I don't believe you, but I won't force it out of you either." He opened the door. "I should tell you. You have a niece. I have a daughter. Her name is Tiffany." He stepped out onto the porch.

  What? I had a niece, and no one bothered to tell me.

  "Whoa. Hold it right there. Way to bury the lead." The words escaped my mouth.

  He stopped and turned but didn't face me directly.

  "Tiffany is seventeen. Anita was her mother." His voice trailed off.

  I joined him on the porch. Whoa. My subconscious was processing faster than my conscious.

  "What do you mean was her mother?"

  "Anita was murdered two months ago. Tiffany moved in with me. The only reason you didn't meet her today was that she's on a school trip. Won't be back till late tonight."

  "How long..." I sat on the porch railing, holding onto a support beam. Wow, this was a lot to process—the poor child. Arie loved Anita with his heart and soul. He had since they'd been kids. But there was always someone else before him in her life.

  In high school, he dated Sheryl. And he loved Sheryl deeply. Then she was murdered.

  When he started dating Anita again, I was happy for him. Hoped she'd revive the old Arie. But then they weren't dating any longer. No one seemed to know why. I had called to let him know I cared. He never responded.

  "I've only known about Tiffany for a couple of months."

  "Wasn't Anita married to some big-time restauranteur in Chicago?"

  He nodded. "Yes, he was killed too."

  Anguish filled my body. I knew a little about losing my parents. Mine were alive, but they'd been otherwise occupied.

  "That poor child." Tears streamed my cheeks. Something inside me sent me into my brother's arms. I hugged him for the first time in years.

  CHAPTER 9

  Bang, bang, bang came from my hotel door. Why? I had the day off. Sampson had jumped off the bed, his toenails clicking against wood floors. Wait. Hotel rooms don't have hardwood floors. The killer found me. A door opened far away.

  "Faith, you'd better be here. I know you did not run off and leave Sampson here. Even you wouldn't do that."

  I came awake. I was home in Abracadabra. The voice belonged to Arie.

  "I'm coming up."

  "You don't need to do that. Give me a minute." I heard my mouth say. Thankfully, some part of me was awake and rational. Everything came back. Mr. Raymont's body. Arie. His boss. His daughter. What a mess. No vacation.

  I threw the covers off. Pain shot up my arm. I couldn't help myself last night. Once Arie was gone, I dug the peanut butter, bread, and jelly out of my carry-on and munched on it and some cookies while I went through the treasures I'd sent home over the years. I'd gone to bed about 4 AM. The wall clock said 7:30 AM. Was it right? Did I know? Did it matter? Less than four hours sleep. How was I supposed to face Attila the Hun?

  "You are a Bracken. You'll find a way." Something said to me. What was it? I wasn't sure. Must not be fully conscious. That was it, right?

  "Let me get dressed. I'll be right down."

  Arie’s voice grew softer but continued. Either he was talking to himself, or someone else was downstairs. At first, I thought it was my traitor dog, but I heard a second voice. Sounded male. Dad maybe. I grabbed a pair of black leggings and a cerulean pullover knee-length sweater and dragged a brush through my long dark hair. Slipping my feet into my baby pink satin slippers, I ran down the stairs.

  Blake stood by the front door. Arie, dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt with a brown windbreaker, stationed himself at the stairs' bottom. It didn't take my superpower body language reader skills to know they were NOT happy. They'd dug until they found my secret. How should I play this?

  "Let me guess. You talked to Harvey," I said, descending the stairs.

  "No, we read about him in an FBI file a friend of Captain Bloom's faxed."

  Captain Bloom. We w
ere doing formal now. I had wondered how long that would take. Now, I had my answer. They turned as soon as they learned my secret. So much for Family Love and Magic.

  "I see."

  "Do you, Faith?" Arie's eyes narrowed. "Because now, Blake's butt is on the line."

  Blake crossed his arms.

  I couldn’t do this without coffee. Oh right. I couldn’t go shopping last night because I was under house arrest. I walked over to the sink, pulled a red glass from the cupboard, and drew a glass of fresh well water. Water grounds the spirit. I needed to drink a five-gallon jug.

  "So, since you've seen the file, you already know the story."

  Blake stepped forward.

  "I'd like to hear it from you. Your brother is ready to haul you down to the station and call Special Agent Wallbanger."

  "Is this your guys' version of Good Cop, Bad Cop?" I looked from one to the other.

  "Faith," Arie's eyes squinted as his voice grew softer.

  "Okay, sit down. I'd offer you something, but Arie wouldn't let me have my keys or my wallet so that I couldn't stock the cupboards."

  "We'll stand," Arie said.

  "Fine, suit yourselves." I walked around the couch and sat in my emerald winged back chair. I'd taken the plastic off both last night. The sturdiness of the chair gave me strength.

  Arie and Blake didn’t move.

  "Six weeks ago, Bonnie—our scheduler—sent me to a home in Hollywood. I drove up and found the homeowner stuck between the bars of the wrought iron fence. Luckily, as is my fate in life, I'd gotten lost, and at the time of the murder, I was on video at a local animal shelter where I'd stopped to ask for directions. The intake specialist at the front counter remembered me because the woman ahead of me thrust her piglet in my arms and raced out the door. I was questioned and released."

  "And then what happened?" Blake asked.

  "I was dating my immediate supervisor at the time. We went to the Bahamas for two weeks so I could regroup. We came back. I did a couple of consults. No problem. The third consult was in Arizona. As usual, I got lost. I stopped at a trail ride place to ask for directions, and I helped apprehend a runaway horse. I took a picture with the horse and trail boss and arrived at my appointment forty-five minutes late, where I found the homeowner on his marble steps just outside the front door. I called the police. They came. After extensive questioning, they checked my alibi, and I was released."

  "Go on," Arie said.

  I took a deep breath to try to judge their reactions. Neither of them moved a muscle. I couldn't read them.

  "I took another week off, saw a therapist, and then I was sent to our top boss’s Conservatory. He wanted my opinion on the energy flow in his new edition. I got lost. When I stopped at a Farmer's Market, I found Samson tied to a pole in a booth. If no one took him, he was going to a kill shelter. How could I resist? I took a picture with the lady who ran the booth. I arrived only fifteen minutes late because they'd told me the appointment was an hour earlier than it had been. The maid told me to go around to the Conservatory. I found the owner of our company planted upside down in a banana tree. I called the police. I was taken to the station about three hours later. Special Agent Harvey Wallbanger arrived. He questioned me for hours before releasing me. There have been two more bodies since. Wallbanger calls me every couple of days. He thinks I'm a serial killer. He hasn't said it to my face, but I know he thinks I'm a serial killer."

  "Continue," Blake said, looking at his notebook.

  "Between Harvey dogging me, the bodies, and my ex-boyfriend supervisor ending our relationship, I had to get away. I intended to do my consult yesterday, swing by here to let Sampson run, and then get on the road to wherever we landed. But instead, I'm here, and you're questioning me like I'm a serial killer and not your sister." I looked into Arie's eyes.

  They softened a bit.

  "Does that account fit with the details in your file?" I asked, tears flowing down my cheeks. I rubbed my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater.

  CHAPTER 10

  "Why didn't you call me after the first body?" Arie raked his hand through this hair.

  "And why would I do that?" I didn't want to call you after Raymont Manor, but...

  "Because I am your brother and a cop."

  I bit the side of my mouth.

  "Sure, I'm the screw-up sister who never does anything right and is a flake selling 'snake oil'. I'm going to call my hero cop brother."

  "I never called you a screwup." His hands were on his hips with his feet under them.

  "Hah! More times than I can count." I turned my head away. I couldn't stand to look at him.

  He dropped onto the couch opposite me.

  "Well, you and what you do confuse me. But I would have helped you."

  I turned my head back to him. His last comment had cost him something.

  "How, you couldn't erase the image from my mind. I had an alibi." My eyes teared. I hadn't cried one tear before I arrived in Abracadabra, and yet here I was close to tears every minute. "Don't you think I wanted to? I wanted my big cop brother to hug me and tell me everything was all right—that he'd handle it. I thought about it, I called the garden center hoping that a part of the big brother I remembered was inside you, but the machine said you were closed for the day. I left a message."

  "We closed the day of Anita's funeral," he almost whispered and paused before continuing. "That doesn't explain the other murders."

  "By the time the second body dropped, I'd already been through it once by myself. I'd called. You hadn't responded. I'd been living a long time with no one having my back. Why would I expect or ask for anything different?"

  "Had I known I would have been there. You've never been alone."

  Really? It sure felt like it. But looking at my brother now, being in his presence, I knew the hero part of him would have come to my aid.

  "Yeah, well, it's in the past. I've handled it. Every time there's been a body, I've had an alibi with pictures, a person, and an animal."

  "That doesn't change things." Arie raked his hand through his dark hair again. By the time we ended this conversation, he was going to be bald.

  "If I may interject," Blake said. He left the doorway where he'd been standing and took a seat on the light pink couch next to Arie.

  "While you have a legitimate alibi and aren't a murder suspect, I've got to wonder how and why someone picks your consultations to drop bodies, as you put it."

  I took a breath. Him saying ‘I wasn't a suspect’ were words I needed to hear.

  "Trust me, that thought has crossed my mind. That's why I planned to disappear. My apartment is packed, and on a truck, headed here. Micky promised to meet the driver and unload my stuff into the spare bedroom."

  For just a second, it felt good to sit in a chair I owned, in a house I owned, on property I owned. Surrounded by land, my family—no matter how estranged we were—held. For a second, the ground beneath me felt stable. And then I remembered Special Agent Harvey Wallbanger.

  "Did one of you call Harvey?"

  "You've talked to him that many times you call him by his first name?" Blake asked, leaning back on the couch.

  "No, I just refer to him as Harvey, so he isn't so scary."

  Blake looked at Arie. Arie shook his head.

  "You've not called him yet?" I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I figured Harvey would be pulling in any minute.

  "No, not yet," Blake said. "I should have called him this morning. But I wanted to talk to you first."

  I caught Blake's eyes.

  "Thank You. You've been nothing but kind."

  Arie huffed at that statement.

  "Blake's butt will be in deep trouble if he doesn't call Special Agent Wallbanger." Arie snickered as he said the words. He tried to gloss over his slip.

  "See, as mad as you are, you can't keep a straight face and say his name."

  For just a second, the Arie I remembered from our childhood appeared, and then he was gone. I would miss
that look.

  I leaned across the arm of my chair for the drawer in the end table. Blake tensed. His hand moved towards his gun. Arie's eyes grew wide. They didn't think I would pull out a gun. Did they?

  I retrieved my all-time favorite deck of oracle cards. I'd missed this deck. Not quite sure how I knew it was in the drawer, but I did. Shuffling, I said a silent prayer as I concentrated on the image on the back of the cards—silently asking for guidance. After shuffling eleven times, I pulled a card. Arie's eyes rolled. He hated woo-woo. I flipped the card over.

  CHAPTER 11

  A face and a bear appeared on the card.

  “I'll be right back."

  The two men exchanged looks. Arie shrugged.

  I ran up the stairs and returned with my phone.

  Flipping through my contacts, I found the number I needed. Putting it on speaker, I waited for him to answer.

  "Special Agent Wallbanger."

  "It's Faith Bracken. I found another body last night." Except for the sound of a page flipping, there was a moment of silence.

  "I'm glad you called. My system alerted me a few moments ago. Someone ran your name. Stay where you are. I'll be there in two hours."

  "I’ll be here." My gut clenched while waves of terror and bleakness fought inside me. I gave him my address. Could I deal with Harvey again? Not really. But this time, perhaps I had backup.

  Blake touched my hand.

  "Thank you. You did the right thing."

  I sure hope so.

  Arie went to the back door to let Sampson out.

  "When is your moving truck arriving?" He asked on his way back.

  "Friday."

  "While I'm waiting for the FBI, is there anything you need moved?"

  Blake stood.

  "Yeah, while we wait, we might as well do something constructive."

  Wow, I didn’t see that one coming. So like Arie. When it comes to emotional family stuff, Arie works instead. Let him off the hook, Faith.

  "You two don't have to be here. I can handle Harvey by myself." Not that I wanted to, but I had experience.