Voodoo Hoodoo is Complete Doodoo: Diva Delaney Mysteries, #2

By Anni Jayde

Diva Delaney finds herself embroiled in a new mystery when she is asked to search for a missing witch. She is a psychic medium, not a private investigator, but she agrees as a favor to her Aunt Isabel. She soon discovers that more than one witch has been kidnapped from the nearby town of Verity Falls.

With the aid of some local ghosts, Diva needs to get to the bottom of this latest puzzle. She will need to call on magical assistance from her cousins and even one of her enemies. Haydn Creighton has been her secret obsession since she was a kid. Even though he's engaged to a snooty and slightly unstable British witch, Diva can't get him out of her mind. She already owes him a favor for accepting his help. After this latest mess, she could be digging herself in too deep to extricate herself.

Just to complicate things, Diva's cousin, Courtney, has decided she wants to marry Drew McTavish. The sheriff has no idea the lengths magical folk will go to in order to get what they want. He still firmly believes the supernatural isn't real and he isn't at all prepared for what will soon be coming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seize The Night Agency
• Release date: Nov 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393495611

Book preview

Chapter One

MY BODY WAS ACHING and my mind was foggy from lack of sleep when the alarm blared to life. Jerking awake, I groaned, then dragged myself out of bed. Jess took one look at me when I limped to the bathroom and made herself scarce.

Taking a look at myself in the mirror, I could see why she’d fled. My eyes were red-rimmed and dark bags crouched beneath them. To say I’d had a rough night would be an understatement. Nearly being fried to death by an unhinged witch had given me nightmares. Finding out that Haydn Creighton, ridiculously hot warlock and my enemy by birth, was engaged had left me feeling strangely hollow.

I stripped the band-aids off my calf to see angry red scratches where my grandmother’s evil black cat had attacked me. I now had cuts and bruises on my knees to add to my collection of injuries. Strangely, the cat scratches on my right shin were almost healed, which shouldn’t have been possible since they were only a couple of days old.

Muttering beneath my breath about the crazy conjurers that infested Hollowood Grove, I took a long shower and felt slightly better when I stepped out. Jess was waiting in the tiny living room when I emerged fully dressed for work in my usual blazer, stretchy shirt and trousers. How are you feeling? she asked me warily.

Great, I said flatly. I’m ready for another eventful day filled with insane clients who might end up trying to kill me.

She managed to contain herself for all of two seconds before she started giggling. Ignoring her laughing fit, I searched my fridge for junk food, but couldn’t find any. I would have to stock up at Nina Rivers’ bakery to get my sugar fix. Settling for cereal, I scoffed it down and checked my watch. My family was sure to hear about the events of last night soon. I wanted to be gone before they could question me about the part I’d played in the debacle.

Fran and her two ghostly cohorts floated through my door and moved to surround me. Word has spread about Becca Reinhart, the leader of the terrible trio told me. Fran was overweight, had red hair fashioned in Shirley Temple curls and a blue bow with white polka dots in her hair. Her dress matched the bow perfectly. Her outfit looked more suitable for a doll than a woman in her thirties.

Everyone in the magical community knows the old bat went crazy, Maryanne added, hitching her sagging boobs up. They instantly fell back into place as always. She wore a tight white dress and blonde wig that sat slightly askew. For reasons unknown, she’d styled herself after Marilyn Monroe.

No one thinks you killed Edward Creighton anymore, sweetie, Reginald added. At least no one in the magical community does anyway. His slim body was clad in tight black pants and a purple satin shirt with paisley patterns. He wore his black hair slicked back and his shirt open to reveal his bony chest. A thick gold chain with a peace symbol hung around his neck. We all thought it was tacky, but none of us was mean enough to say it to his face. Not that he could do anything about the necklace anyway.

Jess drifted over to join the conversation. Has there been any further word on what happened to Mrs. Reinhart?

Fran shook her head, chins wobbling slightly. She’s disappeared, she replied. At least that’s what the normals are going to think.

We all know what really happened to her, Maryanne said wisely. Her voice was husky, as if she’d been a six pack a day smoker when she’d been alive.

Death by dismemberment, Reginald said gravely. That’s Coven law for murdering their own kind.

The Creightons have their own form of justice, Fran reminded us. But I expect they probably sliced and diced the old biddy.

I could feel myself grimacing as white spots began to dance in front of my eyes. Stop talking about slicing and dicing, I complained. Unless you want me to puke my breakfast back up.

Eh, we’ll get our entertainment any way we can get it, Maryanne said, then cackled. She’d been dead for several decades and was bored most of the time.

I have to go, I said. I’ll be late for my first client.

We’re going to scout the town and see if we can pick up any juicy gossip, Fran said. All three phantoms glided back outside.

Turning to Jess, I looked her up and down. Are you going to change before we leave? I asked, then snickered at the glare she sent me.

Very funny, Diva, she said sourly. Jess had died in the eighties and was cursed with permanently crimped blonde hair and an electric blue headband. Her eyeshadow was an exact color match for the headband. She wore a hot pink t-shirt, acid wash jeans, blue legwarmers and ratty sneakers. Ghosts couldn’t change their appearance and wore the outfits that they’d died in. To my discomfort, there were a couple of spirits in town who had died in the nude. I did my best to avoid them.

Opening my front door, I jerked back a step out of reflex when I saw Bryce lurking in front of me. Your grandmother has summoned you, he told me gravely. She is waiting for you in the parlor.

Uh, oh, Jess murmured. She must have heard about what happened last night.

She’ll have to wait, I said to the butler. Both he and Jess gasped in shock. No one kept Lilla Delaney waiting. She was the matriarch of our family and she was also a powerful witch. Her hexes were legendary in the magical community. I have a client due to arrive in a few minutes, I explained. She’s coming from out of town and it’s too late to reschedule her appointment now.

Mrs. Delaney is not going to be happy, Bryce predicted dourly as I locked the door.

I walked through him when he didn’t step out of the way. Grandma is never happy, I retorted, shivering at the brief cold sensation of passing through the phantom.

Look out! Jess shouted as a small black animal streaked towards me.

Letting out a screech, I ran for my car, but didn’t quite make it in time. Claws raked my left calf, crisscrossing the wounds that already existed. Luckily, my band-aids blocked some of the stinging cuts. Damn you, Satan! I shouted, futilely shaking my fist as the cat took off for the mansion. His real name was Sylas, but Satan was far more accurate.

Bryce almost cracked a smile before drifting towards the main house. He couldn’t relay my message to Grandma, but she would get the hint when I didn’t turn up. If I’d been a witch like the rest of my family, she would have held more sway over me. Since I was just a normal with a couple of perks, I had slightly more leeway that the others.

You should get Eve or Courtney to hex that evil cat, Jess said when I climbed into my car. She drifted inside to take a seat on the passenger seat.

They wouldn’t have the guts to, I told her as I drove away. Grandma would curse them both with warts for the rest of their lives if they did anything to that horrible little imp.

Maybe you can get someone else to make Satan disappear, she mused.

Like who? I asked curiously.

I bet Haydn would do it, she suggested slyly.

Yeah, I’m going to ask the most powerful warlock in town, who happens to be my enemy, to make a cat disappear, I said with a snort. One does not make one’s mangy animal disappear, Jessica, I said in a fake upper crust British accent while looking down my nose at her. One is too high and mighty for those sorts of lowly shenanigans.

Shrieking with laughter, she soundlessly thumped her hand against her leg. That was spot on, she told me. You’d better hope Haydn never sees you mocking him like that.

What could he possibly do to me? I asked with a morose shrug. I’m already cursed. We both fell silent at the reminder of the curse that had plagued me for the past eight years. I was determined to put an end to it, but I would have to deal with Haydn in order to achieve it. As the new owner of the Creighton Bookstore, I would need his permission to access the spell books that I intended to peruse.

Chapter Two

PARKING IN THE ALLEY behind my building, I let myself in through the back door. The smell of fresh paint hit me as soon as I stepped inside. It was a reminder that my office had just been renovated. The ceiling and the walls looked brand new. The only thing that marred the new look was the lime green carpet and two hideous chairs that were an exact color match for it. They hulked on the other side of my battered desk, mocking me with their ugliness.

I hope Courtney can find some new fabric to cover those monstrosities soon, Jess said with a smirk.

Me, too, I agreed glumly. Making coffee, I unlocked the door just as a vehicle pulled up outside. My first client had arrived promptly on time. She climbed out of her car, glanced across the road at the Creighton Bookstore and shuddered. I had to admit it was a bit spooky. The façade was painted in shades of green, white and gray and was pleasant enough. The interior was a different story. It was dim, murky and gave off a sinister vibe. What she couldn’t see was Bartholomew lurking in the window. He was just a fuzzy outline right now. He’d been called to a séance a few days ago and was still recovering from it.

Opening the door for her, I took in my client’s appearance. Her car was expensive and so were her clothes. In her early forties, she had impeccable honey blonde hair and subtle makeup. Clearly, she had money, which made me wonder if she’d come to see me about her partner. I handled far too many cases of cheating. She’d been vague on the phone, as were a lot of my clients. I’d told her to bring something that had belonged to the person she’d come to see me about.

Reading the sign that said ‘Diva Delaney: Psychic Medium’ in black letters on the cracked window of my door, she approached me. You’re Diva Delaney? she asked skeptically in a cultured accent.

Yes, I replied and held my hand out. You must be Mrs. Fogarty. We shook and I caught a few images from her. They were of the people closest to her. One face stood out more than the others. He was a handsome man around her age with deep laugh lines radiating out from the corners of his eyes. Please, come in, I said and gestured at the chairs. Would you like some coffee?

Yes, thank you, she said, wrinkling her nose at my lime green chairs. She gingerly took a seat on one while I headed for the kitchen.

This chick has class, Jess said in approval. You should dress more like her, she suggested.

My new client wore a tailored cream colored suit, white blouse and a pearl necklace. I can’t afford to dress like her, I whispered to my bestie.

You have money, she said. Getting you to spend it is almost impossible, though.

Turning my back on her, I didn’t want her to see my guilty expression. No one knew my secret plan to buy a house in town where I could live among the rest of the normals. I just didn’t fit in with the other Delaneys. Being the only normal in a family of witches sucked.

Making two cups of coffee, I put the mugs, milk and sugar on a tray and carried it to my desk. How do you take your coffee, Mrs. Fogarty? I asked.

Black is fine, she replied, eyes roaming my office. I love that vase. The flowers are gorgeous.

We both looked at the vase and flowers I’d purchased from my Aunt Janet. They’d cost me fifty bucks, but Courtney had cast a preserving spell on the flowers. They were showing no signs of dying yet and she’d told me they could last for a month or two. My aunt works in the local florist shop, I told her. She picked them for me.

Your aunt has good taste, Mrs. Fogarty said with a pitying smile, glancing at the chair she was reluctantly perched on. She obviously thought my taste was severely lacking.

What can I help you with, Mrs. Fogarty? I asked.

Taking a deep breath, she trembled on the edge of tears before responding. She clutched her designer handbag on her knees and met my eyes. My husband was supposed to return from a trip two days ago, but he hasn’t come home. He isn’t answering his phone and no one can get in touch with him.

What did the police say? I asked. This sounded more like a job for them than for a psychic medium like me.

That they’re looking for him and they’re doing everything they can, she said flatly, clearly without any trust in their abilities. I’m a very wealthy woman, Ms. Delaney. I’m afraid Hugh has been kidnapped by people who wish to extort money from me.

Why do you think that? I asked.

This was slipped beneath my door yesterday, she said and pulled a note out of her purse. It was an ordinary white sheet of paper and it was in a plastic bag.

Did you show it to the police? I asked as she handed it to me.

Read it, she said in response.

I flipped the bag over and Jess crowded in beside me to read it out loud. We have your husband. Give us ten million dollars in cash, or we’ll start cutting him to pieces. If you tell the cops, he’s a dead man. We’ll give you further instructions about where to bring the money. The note had been typed on a computer, then printed out.

I don’t usually deal with kidnappings, I told my client with a sick feeling in my stomach. This is kind of out of my scope.

Tears stood in her eyes, but she looked almost angry. The reason I came to you is because I believe the kidnapping is fake.

I blinked at her and Jess goggled. Does she think her husband is behind it? my bestie asked.

Do you think your husband is involved in the plot? I asked.

That’s exactly what I think.

Why?

Hugh is my third husband, she said, looking down at her expensive purse. My previous two husbands turned out to be cheating scum. At first, I thought Hugh was different. He was attentive, loving and I believed he truly cared for me. Her expression darkened. Then I started seeing signs he was just the same as the others. I found lipstick marks on his shirts, then he started coming home reeking of someone else’s perfume and making up excuses for why he had to stay late at work.

I was in familiar territory now. Sadly, the stories were always the same. I might be able to help you, I said. I’ll have to touch the note, which will compromise it if you need to give it to the police.

Waving her hand dismissively, she gave me a stony look before replying. If Hugh is involved in this scam, the police will be able to dig up the information they need to arrest him. I just need my suspicions to be confirmed before I take that route.

Now that I had her permission, I opened the plastic bag and slid the note out. Holding it by the edges, images formed. I saw her husband sitting in a small, dim room with two other men and a woman about his age. The brunette had her arm through his possessively and was glued to his side. While attractive enough, there was something about her that put me on edge. She gave off definite vibes that they were more than friends. The male accomplices were in their thirties and looked like they’d come from the wrong side of town.

"Are you sure this is going