Murder At The Museum: A Witch Cozy Mystery (A Bluebell Knopps Witch Cozy Mystery Book 4) Read online

  Contents

  Murder At The Museum

  Disclaimer

  Special Offer!

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Contact Nancy McG

  One More Thing

  A BLUEBELL KNOPPS COZY MYSTERY

  Book 4:

  Murder At The Museum

  By

  Nancy McGovern

  Rights & Disclaimer

  This is entirely a work of fiction. All people, places and events contained have been completely fabricated by the author. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are completely coincidental.

  Murder At The Museum Copyright © 2016 Nancy McGovern

  http://www.Facebook.com/AuthorNancyMcG

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any manner or used in any way without advanced written permission by the author.

  A Special Offer!

  To receive updates & special offers on my books PLUS a FREE COZY MYSTERY STORY, please sign up for my newsletter by CLICKING HERE! I’ll also tell you more about joining my Street Team, through which you can receive FREE COPIES of my books in return for honest reviews! It’ll be so much fun!

  Dedication

  This book is for Imani. The future looks so bright!

  Chapter 1

  Hair So Blue

  “Bluebell, the thing about knowledge is, once you have it, you can’t undo what you’ve learned.”

  “I need to know,” Bluebell said. “I need to know what’s in the basement.”

  “Are you very sure?” Mathilda asked. “You may not like what you find.”

  “I want to know anyway,” Bluebell said.

  “All right then.” Mathilda stood up. “Come with me.” She extended a hand to Bluebell.

  Knowing that she was about to change the course of her life, Bluebell took a deep breath. Then, looking into Mathilda’s eyes, she took her hand, and headed to the basement.

  *****

  Jolting awake, Bluebell blinked her eyes. Beside her, Mathilda, her godmother and teacher, was driving the car along a stretch of highway surrounded by trees turning various shades of red.

  “You shouldn’t fall asleep in the passenger’s seat, you know,” Mathilda said.

  “Yes. Sorry.” Bluebell nodded. “I was just… it’s the funniest thing. I was dreaming about the basement. Or rather, just before.”

  Mathilda’s lips drew together. “I see,” she said.

  Bluebell reached into her knapsack. It was a pretty little thing covered with floral designs that her parents had got for her while traveling through Morocco. From inside, she drew out the scroll Mathilda had presented to her two days ago.

  “You keep re-reading that, don’t you?” Mathilda asked.

  “Wouldn’t you?” Bluebell said. “I mean, what it says about me, if it’s true, it changes everything.”

  Mathilda sighed. “It changes nothing, Bluebell, except that now you know.”

  Bluebell read it out loud again, though by now she had memorized the single short stanza within the scroll.

  “Hair so Blue, Neon Flame,

  The halls will echo with her fame.

  Death shall follow where she goes,

  Until the day she meets her foes.”

  “Well?” Mathilda shrugged. “What of it? You’re not the only witch who has neon blue hair. I have it myself.”

  “Come on, Mathilda. Sutter himself said that this prophecy was meant for me, did he not?” Bluebell said.

  Mathilda nodded. “Every witch has a prophecy linked to his or her name when they are born. Mine said I was destined to create chaos and then joy. I didn’t think too much of it. You’re obsessing.”

  “Death shall follow where she goes,” Bluebell said. “No, Mathilda, I’m not obsessing, I’m very scared. If this prophecy is true at all, it means that in one way or another, I was directly responsible for every murder that has happened around me, and I know there have been far more than there should be!”

  “Well, any non-zero number is appalling when it comes to murder,” Mathilda agreed. “You’ve had three already since you came into your powers. I realize it must be tough. Still, I’m a little afraid to be doing what we’re doing.”

  “It’s either this, or I spend the rest of my life as a hermit,” Bluebell said. “I’d rather live alone in the woods forever than cause anyone to suffer.”

  “You shouldn’t be giving yourself a life sentence for something you’re not responsible for,” Mathilda said. “The prophecy is not a curse!”

  “That’s what it feels like,” Bluebell said with a sigh. “In any event, thank you for taking the time out to bring me to the seer who first made this prophecy, Mathilda. I would never have found her without your help.”

  “I’m bringing you to her, Bluebell, but you can’t let anyone in the magical community know,” Mathilda said. “This is a secret between the two of us. All right?”

  “I never did understand why,” Bluebell said. “Why are you so reluctant to see her anyway?”

  “Well, first of all, Rebecca Brentwood is… and was… one of the most dangerous witches in existence,” Mathilda said. “Second of all, she chose to be excommunicated and stripped of her powers. The people who do that are very rare, and with the exception of accidental meetings, us witches are forbidden to meet with them. What we’re doing is technically against the laws that the magical ministry abides by.”

  “It’s necessary,” Bluebell said, “and you’re not going to break any laws, Mathilda. That’s why I asked you to drop me at the town limits. After that, I’m the only one who will technically be breaking the law, and I’d rather have my powers taken away forever than live with… with death as my shadow.”

  “A dangerous choice,” Mathilda said with a sigh. “Yet I understand why you feel the need to do this. Be careful, Bluebell.”

  Bluebell nodded. “Tell me again, she hasn’t changed her name, has she?”

  “No. Rebecca has been living in the small town of Katydid’s Tooth for the last twenty years,” Mathilda said. “The town, as you can imagine, has no witches in it. So you’ll have to pretend you’re non-magical while you’re there.”

  “Not a problem,” Bluebell said with a smile. “My own town, Lledrith, isn’t very magical either, and I’m always pretending.” But her smile wavered a little, as she wondered if she’d ever see Lledrith, or her parents, or her best friend Nolan again. She loved her town so much and she couldn’t bear to think that she might be bringing danger and death to it.

  No, Bluebell thought, taking a deep breath. She would meet with Rebecca, and find out the meaning of the prophecy, and how best to defeat it, and if that didn’t work, she would… she didn’t really have a plan, but going to live in the woods seemed like the best idea.

  “Well, here we are.” Mathilda pulled into an exit, and then parked the small green sedan on a shoulder. “Katydid’s Tooth. Funny name for a town, don’t you think?”

  “A katydid is a kind of cricket, isn’t it?” Bluebell shrugged. “Thanks again for helping me find the woman who prophesied about me, Mathilda.”

  Mathilda sighed. “If anything happens, or if you need anything
, just call me, all right? Promise me you won’t do anything rash until I’ve had a chance to talk to you. No running away.”

  But Bluebell only smiled as she got out of the car and swung her knapsack around her shoulder. That was a promise she could not keep. She waved goodbye as Mathilda turned the car around, and kept waving until the car was a distant speck on the horizon. Then, with a sigh, she turned around, determined to find her destiny in this new town. Slowly, she began walking toward the town centre.

  *****

  Chapter 2

  Officer, Not a Gentleman

  Mathilda had dropped her a few miles away, and Bluebell was glad she had on a good pair of sneakers. Her shoulders were aching already with the weight of her knapsack, though she’d tried her best to pack as little as possible. She didn’t intend to stay long anyway, just a day or two, perhaps. Just until she could meet Rebecca Brentwood.

  Walking to town, Bluebell thought about how her life had changed in the last few years. Turning 21 was supposed to be a celebration, yet she had woken up the morning of her birthday accused of murder! When she’d finally recovered enough from that first trauma, she’d gone on a double date with her best friend, only to find herself at the centre of yet another crime, the death of a circus ringmaster. Finally, most recently, she’d been invited to join an exclusive coven, only to have the head priest of the coven be murdered the same day she arrived! The chain of events made one thing obvious - the prophecy was telling the truth. She was like a magnet for murder, attracting it wherever she went. But how could she possibly live her life knowing this? Since she’d learned this terrible truth, which lay hidden inside a scroll in the basement of the coven’s gothic house, she’d barely been able to sleep at night. Anxiety about whose death would be next had kept her up.

  She was lost in thought, trudging along the shoulder of the highway, when a police car turned on its flashing light behind her. What now? She sighed, and stopped, turning around.

  The car, an old Ford model, still had its lights on when the officer got out. He leaned in, spoke on the radio for a little while, then shut it all down. He stood up, and gave her a disarming smile as he walked toward her.

  Good Lord, he’s handsome, Bluebell thought to herself. Almost blindingly so, with his dark hair and deep green eyes. He looked about her age, but already had lines on his forehead, no doubt from stress on the job. Still, he looked perfectly fit, with the build of a linebacker, though he moved as smoothly as a gymnast.

  “Hello, officer,” she said, standing a little straighter, and sucking in her own stomach. “How can I help you?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” he said. “Just saw you walking and wanted to make sure everything’s all right. ID please?”

  She handed it over, he examined it, nodded, and gave it back to her. “You’re from Wisconsin. That’s a long way to walk.”

  She laughed, self-conscious under his gaze.

  Goodness, the man must make the most hardened criminals want to confess.

  She felt like confessing herself, and she hadn’t even committed a crime.

  “I… um… I drove mostly, I was visiting some friends and…” She trailed off, wondering what lame excuse she could give. Not that she needed an excuse, she was a citizen of the proud and free United States. She didn’t need an excuse. So why did he make her feel like she did? His body language wasn’t quite aggressive, but he wasn’t being very friendly either. His smile was hard, and his eyes were cold.

  “Got business here in Katydid?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” she said. “Any reason you’re asking?”

  “Oh no reason,” he said. “Honestly, we don’t care much for hitchhikers here in town. I just wanted to warn you, in case you got a less than friendly reception.”

  “No hitchhikers? Is that official policy?” she asked.

  “No, not official policy.” He smiled. “Just… we’ve found that too many of them have different ideas of what makes a good time. A couple years ago, Angie’s place was trashed up when a drifter decided to shoot some coke in the back. She was killed.”

  “Oh,” Bluebell said. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, she was a really good lady,” he said. “Made the best pancakes. We were sorry to lose her. But, basically, we’ve been a little unfriendly since in town. I’m not trying to scare you off or anything, just saying you might want to take your business elsewhere.”

  Bluebell nodded. His tone was a little insulting, but she didn’t want to antagonize him. Besides, she understood, kind of. “I’m not into drugs, and I’m just here to meet an old friend of… of my mom’s.” She made up the last part on a whim.

  “Oh? Who’s that?”

  “Rebecca. Rebecca Brentwood,” Bluebell said.

  Immediately, there was a change in him. He relaxed perceptibly, his smile becoming genuinely warm. “Rebecca Brentwood? Oh that’s nice. So you’re the new intern?”

  “Um…” Bluebell didn’t know what to say.

  “Yeah, Miss Brentwood mentioned she needed one soon. Her assistant’s just up and vanished two days ago,” he said. “Oh anyway, where are my manners? I’m Keith Dunkirk, Deputy Sheriff of Katydid’s Tooth. Pleased to meet you, Miss Knopps.”

  “Just Bluebell, please.”

  “Just Bluebell it is. Can I give you a ride, Bluebell? I know the way, and you look tired.”

  “I’m all right,” Bluebell said with a smile. “I’d rather walk, thanks.”

  “All right then.” He nodded. “I’ll see you around.”

  Was that a warning, or was he trying to flirt with her? Bluebell couldn’t quite decide. She smiled anyway. “Good day, Officer Dunkirk.”

  “Ah, townies call me KD,” he said. “I guess you’re going to be one of us if you take the job.”

  She had no intention of taking the job, but his eagerness made it hard for her to tell him so. Tired of lying, she nodded, and for the second time that day, waved until the car was a speck on the horizon.

  *****

  Chapter 3

  Katydid’s Tooth

  By the time Bluebell got into town, she was starving. The pleasant crispness in the air, and all the fall colors she was surrounded with, had made her think of apple pies and pumpkin soup, so that she was nearly salivating by the time she saw a big billboard advertising food.

  Couldn’t hurt to grab a bite before she met Rebecca, Bluebell thought. In fact, she should get some coffee too, so that she’d be alert. She walked over to the converted Victorian mansion which had Angie’s written on it, and felt a little shiver go down her spine. This was the place KD had been talking about, the restaurant whose owner had been murdered by a drifter.

  She was sure that she’d be met with angry looks when she walked in, but to her surprise, the restaurant and its patrons were warm and inviting. They eyed her with some curiosity, but the looks were mostly benevolent.

  She chose to walk up the counter, drop the knapsack at her feet, and take her time scanning the menu.

  “What’ll it be?” The owner was a friendly looking man with a bald spot behind his head and thick-framed glasses. He was huge at almost 6’5, but wore a very floral apron, making Bluebell think of a big bear dressed in a chef’s hat.

  “Um, just some coffee,” Bluebell said. She was still deciding on the rest.

  “I can hear your stomach grumble from all the way over here,” he said with a smile. “How about our special? Roast chicken and caramelized apple over rye bread, with feta cheese.”

  “That… that sounds incredible, actually,” she said.

  “Coming right up.” He shouted the order to the kitchen, got out a big red mug, and poured hot black coffee into it. Just the smell made Bluebell feel a little more human. She was wondering if she should ask him a little about Rebecca, when something wet touched her ankles. She jumped a little, and looked down to see a small terrier sniffing at her. His intelligent brown eyes gazed up at her with a pleading look.

  “No, Colby! Off, boy!�
� The man seated next to her called the dog, and immediately, the little guy jumped back and lay down under his master’s stool.

  “Sorry about that.” The man smiled. “I’m Barry.” He offered her a hand, and Bluebell shook it.

  “Bluebell,” she said.

  “New in town, Bluebell?” he asked.

  “Just passing through. I’m actually here to see Rebecca Brentwood.”

  “Ah, the old witch.” Barry gave her a mischievous smile. “I know her somewhat. Quite a looker. Finest blue eyes I’ve seen in the state. Colby here loves her, I think.” He nudged the terrier with a toe, and got an adoring look sent up at him. “No, Colby, I ain’t sharing my pie.”

  “Oh.” Bluebell didn’t really know what to say. The man seemed nice enough, but there was something a little off about him. He had a large gray beard that reached nearly to his belly, for one, and eyebrows that looked more like pieces of cotton stuck onto his forehead. His smile was yellow, but genuine. But there was calculation in his eyes. What did he mean, calling Rebecca a witch? He was a normie, a non-magical human, so surely he shouldn’t know she was a witch. Or was Rebecca still carrying on with magical activities?

  “So what business do you have with Rebecca?” he asked. “Interviewing her for the job of assistant?”

  “Er, no, not exactly,” Bluebell said. “I mean, I’ll think about it.”

  “The museum’s a fine place to work,” he said with a nod. “Not as fine as this diner right here, but a decent place nevertheless. What with Halloween coming up, there’s always a rush down at the museum.”

  “Oh?” Bluebell decided to let him keep talking, he seemed to do just fine with minimal responses from her.

  “Oh yes,” the man said. “Museum of Witches, isn’t it? Our very own mini Salem.”

  Bluebell took a breath. This was definitely illegal. Very illegal. Witches weren’t allowed to distribute information on themselves to normies! What was Rebecca thinking?