In The Potion Perilous Deep: A Murder, She Witches Mystery by Kat McGee

Author:Kat McGee [McGee, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Paranormal Cozy Mystery
Publisher: Towering Pines Publishing
Published: 2023-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

“Find the wand and magnifying glass I lost during the attack,” she barked, her voice hard-edged and commanding. The scene was chaotic, with deputies scurrying about and Huntersmith orchestrating their movements like a conductor leading an orchestra. Hands on her hips, the detective stood on the pond’s bank, her gaze fixed upon the deputies as they used other paddle boats to chug out onto the water, their legs pumping furiously. They headed towards the center of the pond, where the body of Zed Greenleaf floated, a silent witness to the darkness that had befallen our town.

As the deputies hauled the boat back towards the shore, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister lurked beneath the surface, waiting to strike again.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Elzadora asked, her voice a stir of snarky curiosity in the breeze as she balanced on my shoulder. “This town is turning into a regular whodunit.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Such mysteries aren’t rare in our fair little town.” My chest ached from the captured air, which I slowly released. “Detective,” I said in a low tone, “you might want to bring Wilhelmeen, the antique shop owner, in for questioning.”

“A deputy’s already on his way to Gatlinburg,” Huntersmith said, her voice laced with determination. “But first, we go to the station and check the evidence room.”

“And leave an active crime scene?” Elzadora gaped.

“If it means eliminating the idea that there’s one more threat out there, yes.”

Once back at the station and flanked by Elzadora and me, Huntersmith led the way to the evidence room. The atmosphere was tense, the silence broken only by our synchronized footsteps echoing through the dimly lit corridors.

“Here it is,” Huntersmith announced, stopping before a nondescript door. She unlocked it, and we stepped into the evidence room. It was an unsettling blend of sterility and stale air, a testament to the importance of the items housed within its confines. My eyes scanned the shelves, taking in the taped boxes holding clues to past and present cases.

Huntersmith led us to a line of nondescript boxes meticulously labeled and stacked on industrial shelves. With a solemnity that seemed to permeate the room, she donned a pair of latex gloves and opened one of the boxes. “Blanche’s leftover bazaar potions.”

Each bottle she lifted seemed to hold the promise of being the one—etched, unique, the absent piece to a complicated puzzle. Yet, as she reached the bottom of the box, her movements lost their fluidity, her shoulders lifting toward her ears. “It should have been here.”

“The third bottle with the etchings is missing?” I ventured, my voice a whisper in a room that suddenly felt like it shrank.

She nodded, her eyes narrowing as she processed the situation. “It was never cataloged, never officially in evidence, but according to the overall count, Blanche’s inventory sheets, and the receipt from the antique store, it should be among these.”

Elzadora’s snark, a reliable constant, was held at bay by the gravity of the moment. “It’s like searching for a ghost? One we’re not sure exists, but whose presence—or lack thereof—changes everything.

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