Witch Doggone Killer Read online

  Witch Doggone Killer?

  Superior Bay Witch Doctor Mysteries, Volume 1

  Paula Lester

  Published by Paula Lester, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  WITCH DOGGONE KILLER?

  First edition. May 29, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Paula Lester.

  Written by Paula Lester.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  About Paula Lester

  Chapter 1

  “But I need Norton’s records today. Right now! And they need to show that he’s up-to-date on his shots. Can’t you just print them for me?” Trudy Close stomped her foot, which was clad in a ballet-type shoe—the kind I always admired but could never wear myself. Not only were they not at all suited to my job as a veterinarian, but they also just did not look good on me. Maybe it was my foot shape. Or maybe it was just part of the overall curse that seemed to affect me when it came to fashion. No matter what I tried to do to be fashionable and chic, I usually just looked dorky or frumpy. Truly, I looked best in a white doctor’s coat with scrubs underneath, a pair of tennis shoes, and a ponytail. Luckily, I owned the clinic, so I could dress that way every day.

  I fought back a sigh and managed to keep my voice even and pleasant. “I’m sorry, but Norton actually isn’t up-to-date on his vaccinations. You’ll have to make an appointment and bring him in. Catherine can help you with that.”

  My receptionist shot me a look that let me know pretty clearly what she thought of my plan to push Trudy off on her. She was always a difficult client at best and, at worse, could be downright grumpy. I returned Catherine’s glare with a bright smile, which drew a stronger scowl.

  Trudy set her jaw. “I don’t have time for that. I need to get my application for Norton to enter the dog show turned in today. And he can’t join if he’s missing vaccines.”

  I really wanted to tell her that Norton’s vaccine was eight months overdue, and that some planning ahead would have helped her avoid this situation. But I bit my tongue. A small-town veterinarian had to play it cool . . . do her best to grin and get along with everyone. The last thing I needed was to develop a reputation for being hard to deal with.

  I was already losing enough clients to the vets over in Red River.

  Really regretting the fact that I’d gone to the lobby to grab a file and gotten caught in this discussion, I said, “Can you run and get Norton and bring him back around . . .” I looked over Catherine’s shoulder at the schedule on her computer screen and bit my lip. It was packed. “Four forty-five? I’ll squeeze you in.”

  Catherine gave me another look, which I took to mean she was irritated with me double-booking myself. I avoided eye contact with the receptionist and focused on Trudy, who frowned and sighed as though I’d just suggested she give up eating for a day or two. “I suppose. But I can’t do that time. I’ll get Norton and be back in ten minutes.” She spun on her heel and marched out without waiting for affirmation of the demanded time slot.

  Cautiously, I snuck a glance at Catherine. Her normally sweet, round cheeks were flushed, so they almost matched the mauve lipstick she’d chosen for the day. She plucked at the blonde hair at the nape of her neck. “Hey, that new pixie cut looks nice on you,” I said cheerfully, hoping to avoid a tongue lashing.

  “You already said that.” She groaned. “We already have two appointments coming in within the next half an hour. How are you going to squeeze Norton in?”

  I winced. “I’m sorry. I just thought it would be better than arguing with her. Norton’s a good dog. I can do the vaccine quickly by myself. Just put him in my column, and I’ll figure it out.”

  Catherine sighed and clicked her computer keyboard. “Fine. But no more squeezing people into the schedule today, okay?”

  “I’ll try.” I grabbed the file I’d gone up front for in the first place and opened it, rifling through to the last entry to scan it.

  The bell over the door rang, and I looked up to see Dory Weston enter the clinic. Internally, I winced. Dory was the biggest busybody in Superior Bay, Michigan. She made it her duty to know everything everyone was doing at all times. And to let everybody else know about it too. I really didn’t have time to deal with her. Why hadn’t I gone to the back of the clinic when I had the chance instead of hanging around behind the reception desk to read the file?

  Catherine smirked at me before greeting Dory. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Well, honestly, I just came in to see how you all are doing.” Dory was wide-eyed, gray hair proofing around her face in wisps that made it look like she had a silver halo. Her face was quite smooth for her seventy-some years. She wore a purple and yellow track suit and a bright violet smart watch.

  “Oh, everything’s fine,” Catherine said as I inched my way toward the hallway that led to the back of my clinic and safety.

  “Really? Dr. Morgan!”

  Shoot! She caught me. Fixing a smile to my face, I turned around slowly. “Oh, hi, Dory! How are you?”

  “I’m just fine, dear, but the question is—how are you? I heard Arthur Wiggins raised the rent on you again.”

  How in the world did she know that? I’d only just opened the letter from my landlord’s lawyer that morning before appointments started. I wondered what to say.

  But Dory didn’t wait for a response. Always rock-solid about her gossip, she apparently didn’t need my confirmation. “You know, I think it’s just terrible how Arthur owns so many buildings in Superior Bay. It’s like a monopoly! And he raises the rent more than he should. You know, dear, you should really consider buying your building, so you won’t have to rely on his whims.” She looked around and sniffed. “This building is getting kind of old, though, isn’t it?” She clucked her tongue and looked sympathetic. “Needs a lot of updates.”

  “It’s not so bad.” My eyes followed hers. Sure, the building was a few decades old, but I’d repainted everything when I moved my business into it five years earlier. I paid to have the floors buffed and waxed once a month and kept up on other maintenance as well as I could. I loved my little clinic with its soothing lavender walls and white furniture.

  Dory waved a hand. “No, no. Of course, it’s not bad, dear. It’s adorable.” Her tone was one you’d use to tell your best friend her new glasses were stylish when you thought they looked like something out of the nineties.

  “I was over at Stroves’ Bakery this morning, having coffee with the ladies, and Janine told me that you’ve been losing clients to the clinic in Red River.” She clucked her tongue again. “That’s really too bad. But I suppose it’s understandable. They have more vets on staff, better hours, and Janine says they even have lower prices. Can you lower your prices, Dr. Morgan?”

  I felt my jaw clench and had to consciously release the muscles. The last thing I needed was a cracked tooth. I didn’t have the time or money for a crown. “Um. I’m not sure that will be feasible, but I’ll look into it. Thanks so much for stopping by. I’m sorry, but I have to run—I’m quite busy today. Last minute dog show exams and all that, you know.” I waved the file at her, hoping
she’d take a hint and move along.

  But Dory clapped and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Oh, the dog show! Isn’t it just so exciting? I’ve been going for over twenty years, but I still look forward to it just as much as I did the first time.”

  I nodded and tried to creep closer to the hallway. “Yes! The dog show is incredibly fun.”

  “And so good for our little town too. Just think of all the people who come for it. People bringing dogs to show, people coming to see the show—why, it brings so much money into the community.” She stepped forward as I backed away, and for a terrifying second, I thought she may follow me into the back of the clinic.

  “Ms. Weston, did you hear about the new dog grooming shop opening over on Spring Street?”

  As Catherine expertly diverted Dory’s attention, I silently blessed my receptionist for her intervention and dashed down the hallway at a sprint, skidding into the treatment area. I glanced over my shoulder to be sure Dory wasn’t following and then closed the door to the lobby. “Shew! Made it!”

  A low, rumbling chuckle drew my gaze to the main worktable in the center of the room. My associate veterinarian, Jeremy Miller, stood petting a Persian cat and grinning at me. “Running away from a client, Dr. Morgan?”

  “No! I’d never do that!” I said with mock indignation. “I was running away from a friend of my aunt who isn’t a client and doesn’t even have an animal.”

  “Dory Weston?” he guessed.

  I groaned. “How’d you know?”

  Jeremy chuckled again. “I think she may be stalking me. Everywhere I go in Superior Bay, she’s there. Yesterday, she popped out from behind a display of magazines when I was at the bookshop and scared me silly. Wanted to talk about my cousin, Cleo, in Red River and whether she was ever going to find a beau.” He shook his head. “And who still says beau? And how am I supposed to know that? Plus, I don’t care whether Cleo gets married or stays single.”

  I crossed the room to give the Persian a ruffle on the ears. “But Dory cares.”

  “Yeah. Apparently enough to hide behind a magazine rack.” Jeremy turned his attention to the cat. “She has a scratched eye. I need to get some drops in it, but she keeps trying to bite me. I’m waiting for Theresa to finish putting another client in a room so she can hold this fuzzy girl for me.”

  I set aside my file and snuggled up to the cat. “I’ll hold her.” Theresa was one of my two veterinary technicians, but everyone in the clinic, including me, pitched in wherever we were needed.

  Jeremy thanked me and disappeared into the walk-in supply closet across the room.

  “No! Don’t hold me! He’s going to do something horrible to me!” The Persian gave me a wide-eyed look of panic, allowing me a good view of the injured eye, which looked cloudy and wet with tears.

  “Shh. It’s okay,” I whispered. “Don’t let him hear you. And, of course, he isn’t going to do anything horrible. He’s trying to help you, you silly thing.”

  “But it’s going to hurt,” she whined.

  “It’ll sting for half a second and then feel better,” I insisted. “Now, hush. He’ll be back in a second. You know we can’t let him hear you.” I gave her a squeeze to punctuate my order and whispered in her ear, “And don’t bite.”

  I discovered I could understand animals and they could understand me when I was about eight. I’d gone to my Aunt Druida, who’d taken care of me since my parents disappeared when I was three, and told her about it. She’d let me in on the secret—she was a witch and so was I. My mother had been one too, and it went on up our family through the maternal line. She’d always told me I could do more things than communicate with animals, but that was really enough for me. I already wanted to be a vet back then, and my new ability made it easier.

  Jeremy returned to the treatment area with a bottle of eye drops, and the cat squirmed in my arms. I squeezed her tighter and tipped back her head so the other vet could drip the liquid in her eye. She hissed and shook her head but didn’t try to scratch us.

  Catherine entered the treatment area. “Dr. Morgan, Mr. Wiggins just called. He said he’s bringing Rocky over right now for a vaccine.” She sounded apologetic. “He didn’t give me a chance to tell him you were completely booked—just told me he was coming and hung up.”

  I sighed and handed the angry cat to Jeremy, who headed into an exam room with her. “Okay. There’s not much I can do about it, I guess.” Then I had an idea and raised my eyebrows. “Maybe I can talk him into leaving the rent where it is and not raising it. I’ll draw out my exam on Rocky and talk his ear off about it.” I grinned. “I’ll make him ready to agree to anything just to get me to shut up.”

  Catherine laughed as she headed back up front. “Get into Room One,” she called over her shoulder. “Before you get even more behind schedule.”

  I popped into my office to drop off the file for later review and took the opportunity to stuff some muffin into my face. Then I went into the exam room to see my next patient. When I came out a few minutes later, Korbin, the second of my two vet technicians, was in the treatment area. His dark hair was rumpled, and so were his scrubs. He mumbled a good morning at me but kept his eyes on the task in front of him, wrapping up surgical kits. When Jeremy came out of his exam room and shut the door, Korbin jumped, eyes darting around like a wild bird’s.

  I frowned. Korbin usually wasn’t so jumpy. He was acting like he had a hangover or something

  “You know, sometimes I wish I was more like you.” Jeremy’s words drew my attention away from the technician.

  I patted the mousy brown hair of my ponytail and waggled my eyebrows. “You jealous of my great fashion sense?”

  He snorted. “That too. But I was talking about your uncanny diagnostic abilities.” He dropped a file onto the treatment table. “I’m having trouble figuring out what’s wrong with Gunther.”

  I looked around his arm at the file. “Oh, Leslie’s Great Dane? What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s limping. I don’t know if it’s his hip or knee. I guess I’ll have to take some X-rays to figure it out.”

  “Mmm. Sounds like a plan.” My mind skipped around as I wondered how to get a moment alone with Gunther to ask which joint was bothering him. A glance at my watch let me know I didn’t have time. Jeremy’s X-rays would have to give him his answers.

  I took a deep breath and headed up to the lobby to check for Arthur and Rocky. If my landlord was already there, I didn’t want him waiting too long. As I exited the hallway into the lobby, I glanced at the front desk, but it was deserted. Catherine must be putting another pet in an exam room or something. My eyes cut to the right, where we had a small waiting area for clients. Sure enough, Arthur was there.

  I felt the corners of my mouth pull downward. Was my landlord sleeping? He slumped forward in the white wooden chair, his wispy white hair falling forward out of its usually perfectly coiffed combover. Rocky had his front paws on his owner’s knee and was nosing at Arthur’s hands. As I watched, the leash slipped out of those hands, and Arthur made no move to catch it. Rocky nudged again, and Arthur slumped sideways.

  Darting forward, I barely caught the man before he crashed to the floor. But his full weight landed on me. Arthur was a big man, around six feet with a wide girth, and it was all I could do to get him pushed back into a seated position. His head cranked backward and banged against the wall.

  Rocky was going nuts, barking and whining and bouncing around, jumping on both me and Arthur and then running around in a frantic circle.

  Even though I didn’t need to do it to know he was gone, I tried to find Arthur’s pulse anyway. I shouted for help, and my staff stormed into the lobby as though they were one creature instead of four different people. Jeremy and Korbin helped me get Arthur onto the floor, and we started CPR. I heard Catherine call 9-1-1. After what seemed like half an hour but must have been far shorter than that, Theresa got on her knees, put her arm around me, and whispered, “I don’t think this is working.
”

  I checked Arthur for a pulse again, but there was nothing. His skin felt cool. My technician was right. There was no bringing him back.

  Then the front door slammed open, and a mass of uniformed people swarmed in. It didn’t take long for them to declare Arthur dead. Some of the EMS workers stayed with the body while others went back outside.

  I hugged myself, and Theresa rubbed my arm. “Do you want to sit down, Dr. Morgan?”

  I glanced at her, and the kindness and concern radiating toward me from her face made me feel better . . . warmer right away. “I think that would be a good idea.”

  Catherine rolled her reception chair around the front desk, and Theresa guided me into it.

  “Did anyone see what happened to him?” I looked around at their tense faces—they all shook their heads.

  “I greeted him when he got here,” Catherine said. “I checked him in and then went to get an exam room ready for him. I had to get a new box of Kleenex for the room and it was extra hairy from Gunther, so it took a little longer than usual for me to get it done. I heard you yelling from the lobby.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

  “Was anyone else in the lobby when you left Mr. Wiggins?”

  I jerked to the side so I could see the speaker, who was behind Catherine and Theresa. “Crosby. What are you doing here?”

  Crosby Patterson was one of my three best friends. We’d grown up together, basically more family than friends, since we were both around three or four years of age. He was also a Superior Bay police officer.

  He shrugged and cracked his knuckles before pulling out a small notebook and pen. “Because someone died in your lobby. The coroner is on his way, and I have to be here for that. In the meantime, I need to ask some questions of those of you who were here when Mr. Wiggins died. Catherine, was there anyone else in the lobby when you went to clean the room?”

  She shook her head. “No, it was just him.”

  “How about when you found him?” Crosby looked at me. He was so cute. His sandy-blond hair with the perfect waves that always lay just right, even when he didn’t comb it and just ran a hand through it because he was busy, always made me smile.