The Case of the Desire Spell: A Hillcrest Witch Mystery (Hillcrest Witch Cozy Mystery) by Anderson Amorette

Author:Anderson, Amorette
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amorette Anderson
Published: 2018-12-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

I spend most of the next day in my office, trying to piece together the clues that I have.

I even draw up a ‘mind map,’ which is something that I learned about in PI school. It’s a chart full of bubbles connected by little lines. Inside the bubbles, I’ve written in fragments of information. ‘Azure—dark circles under eyes,’ says one bubble. Another reads, ‘Silas—canceled dinner plans with Cora, Tuesday night,’ and another says, ‘Azure—applying to be yoga instructor?’.

The more I stare at those little bubbles, the more my head spins. By four in the afternoon, I’m practically crawling up the walls of my office. I know that a big part of being a PI involves thinking, but like I said, I’m more of an action girl.

I’ve used about every ‘focusing’ trick from Jumper Strongheart that I know. I’ve done deep breathing, stretching, and meditation breaks. I’ve set my intention on focusing on my case. I even knit furiously, to help me concentrate. I finished the front panel of my sweater, but didn’t get any closer to figuring out how the clues fit together.

On top of that, as the afternoon stretched onward, I’ve become more and more anxious about my dinner date with Max.

It is a date, isn’t it? I mean, he said ‘we’ll light some candles.’ Friends don’t usually eat dinner by candle light. Friends eat in front of the television, or out at a noisy bar.

I’m going to be in Max’s apartment—alone with him. What should I wear? Should I go home and shave my legs? How should I do my hair?

Whew. Hold up. I need to just chill out. It’s just dinner—with Max Freaking Shire. Ahh!

I’m starting to hyperventilate.

I scoop up my messenger bag, and head for my office door. I need some fresh air.

That, and I need to go home and shave my legs.

I rush home and then spend over an hour in the bathroom, building my confidence for dinner. This includes performing the Power Spell, reciting all of my affirmations ten times in a row, and singing Shania Twain’s ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman’ at the top of my lungs, into my hairbrush while dancing around the small bathroom.

This combination of things does the trick.

By six PM, I’m feeling about as ready for this dinner date as I’m ever going to be.

“Well, don’t you look nice,” Turkey says, as I walk into the living room.

He has the Hillcrest Town Crier spread out in front of him, but he’s looking at me.

“Do I?” I say, giving a little spin.

I’m wearing a black cocktail dress, my cowboy boots, and a little black sweater. I’ve straightened my hair so it doesn’t look quite as messy as it usually does, and I’ve put on a touch of shimmery grey shadow over my eyelids. Hopefully, the makeup will be visible despite the thick plastic frames of my fake glasses, which I’ve added on as my final accessory. I don’t even consider leaving those at home. I always wear my glasses.

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