Revenge is Sweet, But Kind of Sticky: Diva Delaney Mysteries, #4

By Anni Jayde

Diva Delaney has had a rough time lately, but things are about to get much worse. Her good friend, Nina Rivers, has a hunch that the psychic medium is in danger. While the witch only has moderate power, everyone in the magical community knows that her instincts are never wrong.

Although she is aware that someone means her harm, Diva can't allow herself to hide away. She has a job to do, even if the work comes in the form of hunting for a missing cat. Thanks to Satan's unpredictable attacks, she doesn't particularly trust felines anymore. This isn't the most glamorous case that she's ever accepted, but she needs to pay her bills.

It isn't easy to narrow down where the mysterious danger will be coming from. Another case comes up that will put her in jeopardy as she follows the trail of a thief. Then there's Gillian Farque, Haydn Creighton's fiancé. The witch is the jealous type and she has her sights set on Diva. Conjurers aren't allowed to cast magic on normals, but their feud is starting to spiral out of control. The only solution is for Diva to stay away from Haydn, which will be easier said than done since she still owes him so many favors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seize The Night Agency
• Release date: Nov 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393819271

Book preview

Chapter One

WINCING AT THE SHRILL tone of my panicked potential new client, I held my cell phone away from my ear until she finally took a breath. Try not to worry, Mrs. Nadeau, I said as patiently as possible while rolling my eyes at her dire emergency. I’ll be at your house in half an hour. I’m sure we’ll be able to find your missing cat before anything bad happens to her.

Staring through my window at the bustle going on outside, Jess waited for me to hang up before she turned around and spoke. Your business has really picked up since you and your Aunt Isabel helped solve that murder case a week ago.

People aren’t as ashamed to call on me for help now, I agreed. In the past, barely anyone from Hollowood Grove had used my services. Most of my jobs had come from the surrounding towns. Now I had both normals and magic users calling me to help them with all kinds of weird things. That was okay with me, since weird was right up my alley. Searching for a missing cat, however, was something new. Thanks to Satan’s unpredictable attacks, I was wary of felines.

Heads up, Jess warned me as she looked out the window again. The Sheriff is coming this way. He looks kind of intense.

Drew had been avoiding everyone in my family since the love potion Courtney had given him had finally worn off. He refused to believe that magic was real, but he knew something strange had happened to him. I suppressed a chuckle at the memory of him standing in the rain holding a gigantic old boombox over his head and bellowing at my cousin to marry him. We were never going to let her forget this. It would live on in the Delaney legends as one of the dumbest things a witch had ever done.

My amusement died when Drew pushed my door open and his hazel eyes locked on me. He entered, closed the door, then crossed to my newly refurbished chairs and sat down. Who’s been murdered this time? I asked dryly.

How did you know I was here about another murder? he asked suspiciously.

You’ve got to be kidding, Jess groaned, not that he could see or hear her.

I was joking, I replied to his question, suddenly feeling queasy. Has someone else been murdered?

Unfortunately, yes, he said and rubbed his face with one hand. Average in height, he had wide shoulders and a delectably muscly body. He looked good in his tan and brown uniform. We’d dated for a very short time a couple of years ago and he’d been punished by the curse when he’d kissed me. He still had the scar on his temple where he’d received stitches for his infraction.

Fran, Maryanne and Reginald swept through the wall and into the room. We have news! the leader of the Three Stooges said, then did a double-take when she saw Drew. Oh, he’s already here. Damn it! I hate it when the gossip travels faster than we do.

Who died this time? I asked, flicking a look at the phantoms. They were busting to blab the news, but they also wanted to hear what the sheriff had to say.

I think it’s the author who was stalking you a week ago, Drew replied.

I didn’t kill him, I said automatically and he frowned that I thought I could be a suspect again. What do you mean ‘you think’ it’s him? I asked. You don’t know for sure?

The corpse was left exposed to the elements in the woods just outside of town, he said. The body isn’t in great shape, but the clothing matches what Mr. Kline was wearing when he was last seen in town. I found his white sedan dumped on a dirt road deeper in the woods. The two front tires were flat, which was strange.

Do you know how he died? I asked while fighting the urge to either pass out or vomit. Aunt Isabel had blown out the author’s tires with a spell when he’d tried to follow us to Verity Falls on our rescue mission to save a reporter from being murdered. It seemed he’d never made it back to town after that.

He was shot in the head execution style, he told me. An autopsy will need to be performed to determine whether there were any extenuating circumstances.

We all know Diva wasn’t the shooter, Maryanne said in her six pack a day smoker voice. She missed that witch she shot at when she was standing only four feet away from her. The terrible trio cracked up, but Jess was too worried to join them this time. She drifted over to stand next to my desk.

How long has he been dead? I forced myself to ask.

It’s hard to say, but probably about a week.

That confirmed my suspicions that he’d been killed the night he’d tried to follow my aunt and me. Why are you telling me this? Maybe he really did believe I was a suspect and was lulling me into a false sense of security by pretending he thought I was innocent.

His expression became guarded and he contemplated me before reaching into his pocket and handing over a note in a clear plastic bag. This was left in a watertight bag on the body. I couldn’t see another bag inside, so he must have placed it in an official evidence bag.

I was reluctant to take the note from him. The last time I’d fallen for that trick, I’d been framed for murder. This time, I didn’t take the note out of the bag and just held it gingerly by the edges.

What does it say? Fran asked as the ghosts crowded around behind me to read it over my shoulder.

‘This is what happens to anyone who trespasses on my property’, Jess read out loud. What does that mean?

What does it mean? I repeated, handing the note back. I still didn’t get why Drew was telling me about this. Apart from being stalked by Nigel Kline for a couple of days, I didn’t have any connection to the author.

This was also left on the body, he said and drew another clear plastic bag from his pocket.

He held it up instead of handing it to me. It was a photo that had been taken from a distance with a zoom lens. The blood tried to drain out of my face when I saw it was a photo of me. I don’t feel so good, I said, then slumped sideways as I fainted.

When I woke up a short while later, I was surrounded by both the living and the dead. Let me through, Dr. Becket said, then pushed his way through the small crowd and knelt beside me. What happened? he asked, pushing me back down with a hand on my shoulder when I tried to sit up.

She fainted, doc, Drew replied. Nina Rivers must have seen me faint from her bakery window. She’d come running and Tyrone Ferrell from the butcher shop next door must have followed her. To my surprise, Haydn Creighton was also looming over me.

I’m fine, I said groggily and the doctor helped me to my feet.

She’s in danger, Nina said with fear glimmering in her eyes. In her fifties, her sandy brown bowl cut hair looked disheveled, as if she’d run her hand through it. She wore a frumpy black dress and a white apron that was covered in ingredients from baking. A bit overweight, she carried most of her extra pounds in her chest. Someone is going to try to kill her, she added. Both Dr. Becket and Haydn gave her sharp looks. They were warlocks and they probably knew about her hunches and how accurate they were.

There’s no evidence that Diva’s life is in danger, Drew said with a frown that Tyrone shared. They were both normals and had no idea about the magical world. I’d tried to tell the sheriff that witches and warlocks were real, but he stubbornly refused to believe me despite all the evidence that he’d seen.

Nina’s hunches are never wrong, Reginald said in a hushed voice that I heard clearly. The other ghosts nodded in morose agreement.

Why did you faint? Haydn asked, then pursed his lips as if he was affronted by my lightheadedness. At twenty-six, he was only two years older than me, but he was so British and snobby that he seemed far older sometimes. His black hair was perfectly in place and his blue eyes held a hint of wickedness he could never quite hide. As always, he wore an expensive suit. It was navy blue and had faint white pinstripes that matched his shirt. His tie was navy blue as well. I had to hand it to the Creighton men, they all had impeccable taste in clothing.

Drew just told me that the creepy author who was following me around was murdered, I replied, sinking down onto my chair again. A photo of me was left on the body, along with a note.

What did the note say? Tyrone asked. He was a tall, muscular black man in his thirties with close-cropped ebony hair. He unconsciously flexed his biceps and they strained against his tight white t-shirt. He didn’t like his friends being threatened. Although he was just a normal, I still wouldn’t want him for an enemy.

Mr. Kline was shot in the head, I replied. The note said that that was what would happen to anyone who trespassed on the killer’s property.

Silence fell at that and no one had anything to say. Nina’s hand crept to her throat fearfully and Tyrone put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. Haydn’s brows drew down and he scanned me from my head to my waist. The rest of my body was hidden behind my desk. I felt a tingle of magic as someone cast a spell. I couldn’t exactly ask which of the magic users was responsible when there was a couple of normals in the room. It hadn’t harmed me, so I would have to worry about it later.

Diva doesn’t need this many people in her office, Dr. Becket said, motioning for everyone to leave. I’d like a word with her in private, he added.

Everyone filed out and Drew paused in the doorway. Call me if you see anyone following you, or if you feel threatened by anyone. I nodded in agreement and he left.

What was that spell you cast, doc? I asked when he was gone.

What spell? Dr. Becket asked as he took a seat on the edge of my desk. In his late fifties or so, he had graying hair and bushy eyebrows. He was trim, fit and could always be counted on to be discreet.

Never mind. I guess Nina must have cast it.

You can feel magic being cast? he asked in surprise. I nodded, still feeling queasy that someone had murdered Nigel Kline because of me. Normals can’t usually feel magic, he said. Reaching forward, he placed his hand on my head. I felt another tingle sweep through me, but it felt different from the other spell. I was pretty sure he was just delving me. He jolted in what seemed like shock, then his face smoothed out. I can’t find any damage from your fall, he reported, but his voice sounded almost strained. You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t make a habit of fainting.

That only happens when I see blood and gore, or photos of myself that have been left on bodies, I reassured him.

Or when you try to kill a bug, Maryanne added, then cackled when I glowered at her.

I have to go to a client’s house, I said, checking my watch. What do I owe you for the house call?

Nothing, he replied, waving away the offer of payment. Be careful, Diva, he warned me as he stood. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about how accurate Nina’s hunches are.

I know, doc, I said with a heavy sigh. The ghosts will watch my back.

Damn right we will, sweetie, Reginald said, eyes fierce and hip jutted cockily. Dr. Beckett couldn’t see the phantoms, but nodded dubiously and left.

Chapter Two

I TOOK MY PURSE OUT of the drawer of my battered desk, then locked the front door. Walk-ins weren’t common, but I changed the sign to one that said I’d be back in an hour. That should give me enough time to drive to Mrs. Nadeau’s house, find her missing cat and return.

Wait! Jess exclaimed when I headed for the back door. Let us check to see if it’s safe first, she added in a scolding tone.

Good idea, Fran agreed, transforming into guard mode. All four phantoms swept through the door to check that the coast was clear. They’d acted as my spectral bodyguards for a short while when I’d had two men stalking me. One had been Nigel Kline and the other was a private investigator.

I hadn’t seen the PI since he’d followed the author to my house. I hoped his employer had given up on trying to convince me to date him. Assuming he’d been hired by Carl Hannah, that was. My ex-client had admitted he’d hired a man to look into my finances and my personal life. He’d mistakenly thought it would impress me. He’d been very wrong about that. Instead, all I’d felt was violated and enraged by the intrusion on my private life.

It’s clear, hon, Reginald said, sticking his head through the door. His narrow face, slicked back black hair and thin body made him seem a bit like a weasel wearing human skin, but he was a good guy. He’d been wearing tight black slacks, a purple satin shirt with paisley patterns and a thick, tacky gold chain with a peace symbol when he’d died.

I stepped outside, locked the door and hurried over to my battered blue car. It was tempting to buy something that didn’t look like it was going to fall apart at any moment, but I was saving my money for something else. My dreams of buying a house of my own had almost been thwarted by Haydn Creighton’s fiancé. Thankfully, Gillian Farque hadn’t managed to divest me of my savings after all, but the price for Haydn paying for my stupidity was going to be high.

Farque hadn’t been in Hollowood Grove for long, but she’d already made my life miserable. Not only was she engaged to the warlock I had a secret crush on, she’d lumped me with a fifteen thousand dollar bill to have her sports car fixed. Sure, I’d crashed into her bumper, but she was rich and she could easily afford to pay for the damage. Her insurance would most likely have covered it anyway. My family was also wealthy, but I refused to rely on the Delaneys for money. I preferred to earn my own way.

Gillian didn’t know her fiancé had paid for the repair bill. If she’d found out, she would have hexed the crap out of me by now. I was doing my best to avoid her so she would never discover the truth. One thing I was lousy at was lying. If she asked me point blank if I’d paid for the damage to be fixed, she would instantly know I was fibbing when I answered her. Fortunately, I was a normal, so we didn’t exactly move in the same circles. Besides, the Creightons were our enemies and we didn’t spend any time in their company if we could help it.

What was the news you had for us? Jess asked the Three Stooges when we were all seated in my car.

Just that the author was dead, Fran replied. She was chubby, with red hair that had been styled in fat curls like Shirley Temple had once worn. She’d died wearing a blue dress with white polka dots and a matching bow in her hair. The dress did nothing to flatter her figure, but