Some Delusions May Apply: Wayward Spirits Cozy Mysteries, #2

By Amber Fisher

What Do You Get When You Mix Astrology and Murder? All Signs Point to a Cosmic Case of Trouble.

 

Disgraced socialite Temperance Swift is at a crossroads. After narrowly escaping jail for torching her East Coast mansion, Temperance is completing a year-long rehabilitation program in sleepy Haven's End. But her new guardians are the Greek Furies, and they insist she has untapped abilities that could change her destiny forever – if Temperance could just unlock them. Yeah, right.

 

Skeptical but dutiful, Temperance agrees to try astrology as her "witchy" calling – and hopefully speed her return to high society. But when a local reporter turns up dead in a high school bathroom, the stars align to place Temperance at the helm of a murder investigation. And she'll need more than a star chart to lead her to the killer.

 

Wait until her sorority sisters hear about this.

 

Joining forces with Simon Savage (a.k.a. Cupid), the Swift & Savage duo follows a constellation of clues leading to crooked institutions and a rollicking scandal. But when their sleuthing brings shocking secrets to light, Temperance and Simon must quickly uncover other hidden truths…or risk learning how far someone might go to keep them in the dark.

 

This lighthearted cozy mystery features an unforgettable cast of oddball characters and a cunning plot of deception and murder. For readers of witty small-town mysteries, Optimal Delusions serves up a cozy blend of humor, intrigue, and charm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amber Fisher
• Release date: Mar 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223980759

Book preview

Chapter One

Iam not a fan of cows. This is not something you know about yourself when you’ve spent your whole life traipsing back and forth between Manhattan and Connecticut, usually chauffeured by a guy in a sleek black cap whose name you barely knew. (I think it’s Jeffrey, for the record, but it could also be Maurice. Memory has never been my strong suit.) In fact, so little did I know about cows that I genuinely thought a milkmaid could just walk up to one and squeeze, and milk would just come pouring out. 

Either that’s totally not how it works, or I was just terrible at it. Both are equally likely.

With my hands on my hips, I scowled at the beast before me. Look here, Hera. This isn’t my idea of a good time, either. But if you cooperate, we can both be done. Until you do, we’re stuck with each other whether you like it or not! 

Hera simply mooed in response.

Ambling toward me through the muck, a pail swinging from her fingers, Penny whistled her appreciation. You must be in some kinda truh-ble, she said, shaking her head, eyes twinkling. What did you do to tick off Alex? Leave your muddy shoes in the henhouse? Forget to put away your laundry? Left the seat up after you peed?

I don’t lift the seat to pee, I said absently. When I realized what I’d just said, my head snapped up, and I gave Penny a horrified look. Penny, do you lift the seat to pee? 

The teenager dragged a stool over from the corner of the pen and handed me the bucket. Only on the days I’m rehearsing a musical. Peeing standing up is good for the diaphragm. 

I started to tell her I didn’t think that was true, but then I shut my mouth. It was probably another of Penny’s tall tales, and I wasn’t in the mood to engage her nonsense. I sighed instead. I didn’t do anything to make Alex angry—at least, nothing more than usual. For no good reason I can see, Alex hasn’t liked me since the day I got here.

Penny didn’t even try to argue with me—that’s how true my statement was.

I’d arrived at Three Sisters Halfway House for Wayward and Endangered Spirits at the beginning of spring, and now we were deep in spring’s armpit. I wasn’t supposed to be here—a fact Alex, one of the three sisters who ran this place, never let me forget. Three Sisters was a rehabilitation center for broken supernatural creatures—beings who had lost their magic, lost their way, lost their touch, or were just…lost.

As a human woman, I was supposed to go to a rehabilitation center for broken human creatures after I set my house on fire. Which I know sounds bad, but I had just found out my husband of five years had two other wives, so I wasn’t exactly having a good day. The judge in charge of my case gave me a choice—jail time or a year at a facility where I could get my life together. 

I chose the latter, but on days like today, I wondered if that was the right choice. Because besides being a rest home for supernaturals, the three women who ran the place were the Greek Furies—divine arbiters of human punishment.

And I was absolutely being punished.

Well, the key to milking Hera is that you gotta treat her like her namesake. Penny dug the stool legs into the ground and plopped down. Hand me that bucket. 

I gave her the bucket, brow arched. Treat her like her namesake? You mean the goddess Hera?

Penny blinked, surprised. Do you know any other Heras? Because I’ve only ever just met the one. I mean, the other one, besides this one.

You’ve met Hera? I gaped, hardly knowing where to start. You’re not messing with me, are you? It’s impossible to tell sometimes. This place messes with my sense of reality.

I’m not messing with you, Penny said. I wish I were. Hera is a real…witch, if you know what I mean. She positioned the bucket beneath Hera’s udders and gave me a solemn look. Okay. Now, here’s what you gotta do. Penny patted Hera’s flank. First, compliment her. Tell her she’s the most beautiful cow you’ve ever seen. And you have to mean it, or else she’ll know. 

I blinked. You want me to compliment the cow.

Obviously! Penny insisted. Hera is vain. She won’t give up the goods unless you stroke her ego. Do you want to get this over with or not? 

I hung my head and took a deep breath. This was ridiculous, but what choice did I have? I stood up straight, and in a clear, confident voice, said, Hera, you are the most stunning, gorgeous cow I’ve ever seen.

Hera swished her tail and mooed approvingly. 

Penny nodded. Good. Now, threaten to take away her golden cowbell if she doesn’t cooperate. 

My eyes flitted to the cow’s neck. She’s not wearing a cowbell, I said. 

Penny gave me an exasperated look and made a growling noise deep in her throat. Of course she’s not wearing it; it’s made of gold. This is a farm, for crying out loud, not the Ritz Carlton. Now tell her. And be real mean about it.

I pinched my lips together. You want me to threaten the cow.

Boy oh boy, I thought you wanted my help. But if you’d rather do this yourself—

No, don’t go, I said as Penny started dragging herself to her feet. I’ll do it.

The girl dropped back onto the stool. Feeling like the world’s biggest idiot, I wagged my finger at Hera. If you don’t give up the milk, I’m taking away your golden cowbell, you stubborn beast!

Hera mooed in protest and stomped her hoof.

"Now apologize and call her Your Grace, Penny said. Before I could argue, the girl pointed at the cow. Do it."

My deepest apologies, Your Grace, I said through gritted teeth. I did not mean to offend you.

Perfect! Penny exclaimed. You’re a natural. Now sit down and squeeze those udders!

Penny jumped to her feet, and I took her place on the stool. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed Hera’s teats and started milking.

But just as before, nothing happened.

I don’t understand! I cried, frustration getting the better of me. I did everything you said. So why isn’t she—

What on earth are you doing to that animal?

I turned to see a tall, impossibly blonde woman striding toward me, her beautiful face twisted in a disbelieving scowl. She wore a pair of pristine overalls and a large straw hat to hide her milky skin from the sun.

It was always strange seeing Colette in her work clothes. I was used to seeing her floating around the cottage in various silk robes. As a forgotten goddess with no followers, Colette was almost always in a bad mood. But what she lacked in personality, she made up with style. Colette was a sight to behold, even in her denim one-piece.

I gestured at the cow. I’m trying to milk Hera, I said. I did everything Penny said, but—

Penny, Colette interrupted, doesn’t know the first thing about cows. You’re holding the udders wrong. Do I have to do everything myself? Get up. Let me show you.

I scrambled off the stool, and Colette took my place, her expression rearranged into a neutral mask. She grasped Hera’s udders with a firm yet gentle touch. Pale blue milk immediately started streaming into the pail. You have to be delicate yet confident, Colette said. Grasp the base firmly, but don’t yank. Squeeze in rhythm while pulling down in a smooth motion.

I watched her technique carefully, clenching my hands in time with Colette. Wow, you’re really good at that. How long did it take you to learn?

A while, Colette said with a disinterested shrug. When I first arrived here, I was terrified of all the animals. So naturally, Alex assigned me to work with Hera first. Aside from Phaedra, she’s the most ornery animal here. But now we have sort of a grudging camaraderie.

I see that, I said. And you didn’t even have to compliment her or threaten her or anything.

Colette glanced up at me, her brow wrinkled in dismay. Compliment the cow? What are you talking about?

I opened my mouth to explain when Penny burst into laughter, pressing her hands against her lips to hold back her glee. Wow, I can’t believe you fell for that, she said, her whole body vibrating joyfully. Oh man, oh man. That was so great. Threatening and complimenting the cow? Good gravy, there’s a sucker born every minute. Not that you’re a sucker. Well, maybe just a little one. 

My cheeks burned as I glared in embarrassment. That was a nasty trick, Penny.

The look on your face was priceless! Penny chortled. You were so earnest, pleading with the cow. I wish I had a picture!

That’s enough of that, Colette scolded, though her lips twitched. Don’t you have something better to do? Go do your chores before I tell Alex how you’ve wasted your time.

Aww, don’t be such a spoilsport, Penny said, grinning impishly. I was just having a bit of fun.

Before either of us could retort, Penny skipped off, still laughing at her joke.

Colette stood up and gestured for me to take her place. Okay, now you try.

I sat down, took a deep breath, and grasped the udders as Colette had shown me. To my delight, milk spurted out in a steady stream. I did it! I exclaimed. Holy cow—no pun intended! I’m actually doing it! I’m making milk!

Well, the cow’s doing all the making, Colette corrected, but you’re getting it out, which is a win. It just takes proper instruction. Keep at it until the pail is full.

I kept up the milking as Colette padded away, off to perform her own chores. I hadn’t been at the task long before my arms started to ache. As I rested my arms and rubbed my shoulders, a familiar voice called over, interrupting my flow. Temperance? Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you all over!

I turned around to find Meg on the other side of the pen, beckoning toward me. I gestured at Hera. I can’t right now, I said. I’m busy. What’s up?

It’s something we should discuss in private, Meg said. Would you please come to my office after you’ve had a chance to clean up?

My heart skipped a beat. Meg rarely summoned me to her office out of the blue. I wondered if something was wrong. Of course, I stammered. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done.

I finished milking Hera with shaking hands, my mind racing. What could Meg possibly want to discuss with me privately that couldn’t wait for our regular one-on-one sessions? Had something happened with my court case? Were they sending me to jail after all? A million possibilities swirled through my head, each worse than the last.

I wasn’t serious when I said I might’ve made the wrong choice to come here. At the thought of really, actually having to go to jail and wear one of those orange jumpsuits, my stomach threatened to toss my cookies.

When the pail was finally full, I rushed to wash up and change into something that didn’t smell like manure. I knocked on Meg’s door with a lump in my throat. At her call to enter, I slipped inside.

Meg smiled warmly as I entered. Please, have a seat. She gestured to the sofa across from her desk.

I sat down, twisting my hands anxiously in my lap. Did something happen with my case? I blurted out. I can’t go to jail, Meg.

The therapist frowned. Your court case? No, I have nothing to do with that. I wanted to talk to you privately about…well, what you saw a few nights ago. My sisters and I in our garb? With our wings?

I let out a huge sigh of relief, closing my eyes as I sank back into the sofa cushions. Oh, that, I said. You want to talk about the crazy-pants scene I witnessed to make sure I’m not about to self-harm or…

Or set this place on fire, Meg agreed, nodding. Which wasn’t what I was going to say at all, but it was a fair completion of the thought. Most people would be freaked out at what you saw. You probably have so many questions. Would you like to talk about it?

I sat back in my seat, twiddling my thumbs. The truth was, I did want to talk about it. More aptly, I wanted to gossip about it in a Did you hear how many pounds Kimmie Jordan had sucked out last week? kind of way.

But one of the many downsides of life at the farm was the utter lack of anything like a bored housewives’ grapevine. Not that there was a single soul I could confide this particular bit of gossip to. Nobody would believe me, and I’d probably be shipped off to Johns Hopkins for a lobotomy or something.

I shifted nervously in my seat. Honestly, I haven’t had much chance to process this, I said. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to stay focused on the conversation and not let my mind wander too far. It’s a lot. You’re a…goddess, I said, the word feeling funny in my mouth. And I’m not religious. Or I wasn’t. I don’t know what to think right now. I’m just trying to keep it together and move forward.

Meg nodded slowly. That’s understandable, she said. She folded her hands in her lap, waiting for me to continue.

When I remained silent, she cleared her throat and continued. Well, if you have any questions or need help with anything related to what you saw, I’m here, she said gently. It can be difficult to face something so…unconventional.

I chuckled without humor. It’s definitely unconventional, I agreed. Unconventional didn’t even begin to cover it. Wearing neon legwarmers in summertime was unconventional. This was something else entirely.

Anyway. I forced myself to smile like I wasn’t having an existential crisis. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?

Meg’s eyebrows shot up, and she jumped a little, like my question surprised her. Actually, yes, she said. I know you’re still not convinced that there’s anything special or supernatural about you. But you’re here, in a place humans cannot come. So.

I said nothing because there was nothing to say. I’d run out of arguments defending my humanity. At this point, I was willing to let Meg believe whatever she wanted.

The therapist got up, walked to her bookcase, and plucked a book from the shelf before returning to her seat. She placed the text on the desk and pushed it toward me.

I want you to read that, she said. I know Tarot cards turned out not to be your cup of tea. So perhaps predicting the future isn’t your kind of magic. But maybe this is.

I leaned forward, keeping my hands in my lap. It was a big book, and to be honest, I wasn’t much of a reader. I was more of an audiobook and podcast kind of girl. I read the title aloud. "This Is Your Sign: A Witch’s Guide to Discovering Inner Power Through Astrology." I scrunched my nose. Astrology? Really? Doesn’t that seem a bit…New Age?

Meg leaned her head to the side, smiling a cryptic smile that I already didn’t like the look of. Labels are just words we use to keep ourselves safe from change. Why don’t you take that with you and see how it feels? Maybe your power is hidden in the stars.

Glumly, I reached for the book and flipped through the pages with disinterest. I don’t know why you’re making me jump through all these hoops, I complained. "Meg, if you’re a goddess, shouldn’t you just know what my power is?" Assuming I had one, of course, which I didn’t.

But Meg’s smile quickly dipped toward a frown. I’m afraid that’s beyond my ken, she said. My sisters and I are not omniscient, Temperance. Even though Alex does sometimes come off like she believes otherwise. But the truth is, there is too much to know and not enough time.

I frowned, disappointed. That wasn’t what I’d learned in Sunday school, but I guess not all gods are the same or something. I don’t know.

And even if I could tell you everything about yourself, Meg continued, it wouldn’t do you any good. The point isn’t for me to tell you what your power is. It’s for you to figure it out yourself. The tools and guidance I offer are only that—tools. Only you can decide who you are. True knowledge comes from within.

I groaned inwardly at the New-Agey sound of that statement. But Meg seemed so sure about all of this, and honestly, I was getting tired of fighting it every step of the way. I threw up my hands in resignation. Okay, I said reluctantly. It’s worth a shot.

Meg smiled in approval. Good. Now there’s just one last thing for us to discuss. Your new work assignment.

I perked up at the sound of that. Anything had to be better than milking Hera. I’m getting a new job? Already?

Meg clucked her tongue against her teeth. "Well, from what I hear, you don’t exactly have the bovine touch. She made bovine rhyme with divine and giggled at her own joke while I fought down the urge to stick a finger down my throat and gag. The administrator of Bright Horizons, the alternative program at the public high school, needs another pair of hands. The theater arts teacher is out on maternity leave, and the woman subbing for her broke an ankle and landed in the hospital. The administrator stepped in to be the substitute herself, but she needs help. I think you’d be perfect for the job."

I stared at Meg for a moment, completely dumbstruck. Alternative program? Working with…what, troubled kids and pregnant teenagers? I stared in disbelief. You think I’d be perfect at that?

When Meg didn’t reply, I barked out a laugh. "Meg, I know you might not be hip to the ways of mortals, but I grew up in fancy boarding schools with private tutors coming out my yin-yang. I don’t know the first thing about what alternative kids might need. Let alone how to nurture them. I gaped, shaking my head. They won’t want anything to do with me. They’ll know I’m a fraud. Kids aren’t stupid."

Meg tsked and dropped me a wink. You have more to offer than you think. Plus, you don’t have to do this alone. She pointed at the tome resting in my lap. Use astrology to light your path.

I stiffened. Meg…

Of course, the therapist interrupted, folding her hands and leaning across the desk, if you really believe it’s too much for you, you can always stay on as Hera’s milker. Your destiny is in your hands. She sighed, looking put out. "It’s community service, Temperance. It’s not a lifetime commitment."

I pinched my lips and sank back into the cushions with a shrug. All right. When do I start?

Meg shined a bright smile on me. If you leave now, you’ll just make it in time.

I gaped at her, incredulous. Meg, I reek of cow!

The therapist grimaced. Yes, I suppose I could have timed this better. Well, it can’t be helped now. Maybe no one will notice. Oh, and the woman you’re looking for is named Haley Winter. Break a leg!

Chapter Two

By the time I got to the high school, I was a wreck. I was sweating like a pig as I rushed into town, trying to make it on time. My hair was a mess, I hadn’t showered, and I probably looked like a deer in headlights. If kids could smell fear like dogs, I was done for.

Still, it was either this or Hera. So I squared my shoulders, held my head high, and marched into the school, leaving a trail of eau du cow in my wake.

Haven’s End High School was nothing like the academy I attended as a teenager, but it was serviceable. The broad, brick building had a neatly manicured lawn with hardy bushes covered in freshly strewn ground cover. Nondescript, but I’d seen worse. In movies, obviously.

As I walked up the steps, my pulse racing, my skin pimpled over with the certainty that someone was watching me. I glanced up, peering into the windows, and saw a young face smirking behind the glass. A girl, probably 14 or 15, watched me with a haughty expression. A moment later, she was gone.

Great. I’d just gotten here, and already they were gawking.

I found the administration office without trouble. A middle-aged woman sitting at the front desk was