Three Witches and a Killer: Wicked Western Witches Book 1

Three Witches and a Killer

Wicked Western Witches

Kendra Ashe

CopyrightÓ 2016 Kendra Ashe

All Rights Reserved

Lavine Press 2016

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Wicked Western Witches

Who hasn't thought about turning their ex into a brain dead zombie?

Something sinister is afoot in the town of Shadow Crossing.

Sadie Costello's life has just been turned upside down. When she returned to her hometown of Shadow Crossing, she'd hoped to put a recent and very messy divorce behind her and start anew, but not everything goes as planned.

Sadie has accidentally turned her ex into a zombie and now she has to keep him hidden in her closet until she can reverse the spell.

That's just the start of her problems. Life is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

As part of her starting over plan, Sadie opens the Shadow Crossing Detective Agency, Spooks Included. Her father isn't fond of the spooks included part, but she thinks it's appropriate in an old town known for its witch presence and other odd creatures.

Almost as soon as she opens doors for business, Sadie gets an anonymous client who's convinced that someone is out to kill the heads of the five witch families known as the CO5.

This is bad news, considering her Aunt Selena is the head of one of those families. It isn't long before the killer strikes again and there's no telling who will be next.

With her aunt a target, not to mention the fact that she is in desperate need of money, Sadie takes the job, which puts a great big target on her back.

To say she is having a bad month is putting it mildly. Not only is Sadie trying to catch a killer, but she finds herself in the middle of the Costello family feud between her father and aunts, and then there is the feud between the Petrova and Trevil families. That one could get real messy.

The new head of the Petrova family is extremely hot and mysterious, but then there is the head of the Trevil family. Tristan Trevil is drop dead gorgeous and he's hiding something.

A note of warning to readers easily offended by sarcasm, colorful language, and strange characters: read at your own risk. Three Witches and a Killer is the first book in the Wicked Western Witches series.

Chapter One

I was falling to my death, which I actually found welcoming due to the pounding in my head.

But life is never so simple.

Suddenly a robotic voice was blaring in my ear.

“Your father is calling you on your mobile device,” the mechanical voice kept repeating over and over.

So it was only a dream and I was still alive.

The fact that I was still alive brought a smile to my face, but that only lasted a few seconds, just long enough for my head to really start throbbing.

Thanks to that annoying ringtone, the throbbing in my head now felt more hungry worms burrowing into my brain.

What had possessed me to think it was cute? Of course, that was before my dad was calling to check up on me three times a day.

I managed to dig the phone out of my pocket just before it went to voicemail. Sending Dad to voicemail on a Monday morning wasn’t a good idea. He’d be over to dump ice water on me faster than I could max a credit card.

“Hello.” My greeting came out sounding more like a moan.

I sounded half dead, but I could blame it on my drunk and disorderly weekend.

It was a small miracle that I’d made it to my office at all.

“What do you mean, hello? Isn’t this a business number? Should you be answering the phone so casually?”

Sure enough, it was Dad. His condescending tone gave him away.

“Sorry … how’s this? Shadow Crossing Investigations, spooks included,” I recited the greeting I’d been practicing for weeks. I even managed to force some cheer into my voice.

“You should have settled on a different name … and for hell’s sake, Sadie, drop the spooks included,” he grumbled.

“I can’t. Remember, I’m going to specialize in paranormal investigations, not just stalking cheating, no-good husbands.”

“Whatever,” he sighed. “A courier stopped by to drop off something for you, but I told the guy you’d moved shop. I sent him over there.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“I hope you’re ready to work. You might actually have a client,” he put, unnecessarily.

Like I wouldn’t be ready if someone offered me a job.

Well, I’d be ready as soon as I nursed away my hangover.

“I’m ready,” I lied.

Since we weren’t on a video call, there was no way Dad would find out I was fibbing. It wasn’t like he could see me sprawled across my desk and using a stack of copy paper as a pillow.

Still, I felt a little guilty for fibbing to my dad. He might be a little grumpy but I knew he only wanted me to succeed. Besides, he was right about being ready in case I had a new client come in.

It wouldn’t look too good if someone happened to bypass the buzzer in my empty lobby and walked right into my office to find me passed out on my desk.

Forcing myself into a sitting position, I winced inwardly when I saw that my crystal pyramid paperweight lay on the floor in two pieces.

“Are you still there?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, I was just looking for some coffee.” This was true. After finding some aspirin, my next mission would be to down a pot of coffee.

“I’ll be ready. Don’t worry,” I promised.

“Good! You need a real case.”

“I’ve had a real case! Actually, I’ve had two,” I shot back, momentarily forgetting that I was talking to my father.

“I don’t think finding some old lady’s lost cat and chasing a spook out of a so called haunted mortuary counts,” he groused.

“Hey! I made five big ones on that mortuary case.”

“I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but five twenties is a far cry from five big ones.”

I hated it when Dad was right, which was most of the time. That was probably because he’d been the District Attorney for a lot longer than I’d been a private investigator. Heck, I’d only been a PI for a few months, and until last week, I’d worked out of Dad’s office.

The county hadn’t been too kosher with that arrangement so I didn’t have a lot of choice but to rent my own office.

It was really for the best. I was sure Dad got tired of me blasting the radio and dancing around the office, which was the main reason he’d finally agreed to cosign on a loan. He wasn’t real happy with the name I’d chosen, but he’d get over it.

“Can we continue this later. I need some coffee and aspirin.”

“I suppose, but we
will be
continuing this discussion later … and you better hope you do have a new case. The payment on your loan is due at the first of the month.”

“I won’t let you down. I promise. I’ll get that payment to you if I have to mug old Dudley Kennedy when he’s on his way to his backyard to bury his money.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” There it was - that exasperation in his voice that was usually there whenever he thought I was going over the top with something.

“You know I’m not serious.”

“Well, call me at lunch and give me an update.”

“Will do,” I promised.

I barely had time to dig into my desk drawer for some pain reliever when I heard the lobby buzzer.

One day I’d actually be making enough that I could afford to hire a receptionist. Until then, I had to depend on the buzzer to let me know when I had a potential client, or in this case, a delivery.

I really was a lot more professional than the state of my office would suggest. Although I might not appear to be the most organized person, I did graduate at the top of my class at UCLA, at least I was at the top of my class in the Criminal Justice Program. For a year, I’d even worked with a private investigator in Reno, but that all changed when I caught my husband lying to me. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught him lying to me either.

We hadn’t been married long when I discovered that lies were just about the only thing that came out of his mouth. He was a habitual liar. Mickey would lie, even if the truth sounded better.

It took a year to realize just how messed up in the head he really was. That’s when I finally packed my bags and headed home to Shadow Crossing. It was a good escape plan, except for the not having a job part.

Dad suggested I open my own detective agency. It was a great idea, except I didn’t have money. I was sure Dad totally regretted his suggestion the day he came into work at the county building and found that I’d set up my agency in the corner of his office.

It was completely against the rules but I’d never been one for following rules anyway.

The buzzer sounded again, spurring me to move a little faster.

The folding table the buzzer sat on didn’t exactly portray the image of success, but at least it matched the folding chairs that I’d put out for visitors to sit in.

I entered the lobby to find a man standing next to the buzzer. He was wearing a brown uniform and appeared exceptionally sprite for a Monday morning.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

Although I was doing my best to sound professional, my voice was too scratchy. I didn’t need a mirror to know I looked terrible. I could see it in his expression.

“Um … I have a delivery for a Miss Mercedes Costello.”

“That would be me.” This time, I made more of an effort to sound human.

“Okay … I just need your signature,” he said, handing me a handheld device with a screen.

I quickly scribbled something that resembled my signature.

When I was done, he handed me a large cardboard envelope.

“Thanks,’ I muttered.

I was ready to tear into the envelope when the delivery guy cleared his throat.

“Is there something else?” I asked.

Well … did you know you have a bunch of paperclips stuck in your hair?”

Horrified, I reached up to run fingers through my hair. Sure enough, my fingers caught on metal objects that definitely felt like paperclips.

“Thanks, but actually, I was just trying out a new style idea,” I said, giving him a sheepish grin.

“Okay then. Have a good day.”

“You too,” I called after him as he was leaving.

Returning to my office, I dropped the envelope on my desk, momentarily forgetting the prospect of a new case.

I had more important things to worry about, such as paperclips in my hair. I made my way to the little restroom attached to my office.

Leasing an office with a restroom was a little more expensive, but it was better than going next door to Moonlight Real Estate and asking to use theirs.

That’s where my nemesis worked. I had no desire to deal with Pinky Bradford more than I absolutely had to. My old classmate’s real name was Penny Bradford, but she’d been known as Pinky since she dyed her hair pink during her senior year at Shadow Crossing High.

We’d been enemies since the day Pinky started bullying me in the eighth grade. She hadn’t changed much.

Having my own restroom was a luxury I’d insisted on. I could make do without artwork on the walls and leather chairs in the lobby, but not a restroom.

Flipping on the light, I peered into the mirror and immediately wished I hadn’t. The paperclips hanging from my tangled hair was just the tip of the iceberg.

Normally, I had shoulder length brown hair. It was still the same length, but now I had streaks of blue on each side.

Although the weekend party was pretty hazy, I was sure I would remember someone dying my hair blue.

Mora Mortem sure knew how to throw a party, but that was to be expected. Mora liked to party, which was probably why as soon as she came back from college she’d purchased the Raven’s Nest Tavern & Inn. Mora even restored the second floor so she could rent out a few rooms and make use of the
Inn
part in the name.