The Magic of Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

tilted sideways in his chair and pulled a Swiss army knife from his pants pocket. As he flicked open the smaller blade, he said, “I was a boy scout, I’m always prepared.”
    Settled on Roger’s lap, the cat smacked his hand with her paw. Then she glared at me. C’mon, knock off the flirting and get to it, she seemed to say—well, that’s what her growl sounded like.
    I slit the tape and raised the cardboard flaps. Inside was what appeared to be a very old book. Without removing it from the box, I carefully lifted the leather cover. The words on the first page were faded. Still I was able to make some of them out.
    “What is it?” Roger asked.
    “Seems to be someone’s diary.” I suspect I sounded puzzled. Why would my mother send me something like this?
    Between the next two pages was an envelope addressed to me. Inside was a note. I’ve been holding onto this, Mom wrote, hoping the line that’s led from Sarah Goode would end with me. Apparently it hasn’t, so I’m sending you this. Please, Emlyn, try to make better use of this than some of our ancestors have.
    Elvira sniffed the book and purred.
    Quickly, I refolded the letter.
    Roger leaned over, peered into my eyes. “What is it?” he said.
    “It’s…um, it’s…” I stammered as I searched for a lie he might believe. I didn’t want to tell him my mother had sent me Sarah Goode’s Book of Shadows . A guy like Roger—his life was built on the belief every mystery could be logically explained, and magic is nothing but sleight-of-hand. He’d remarked about that the night we saw David Copperfield perform at the Seneca Niagara Casino. The fastest way to end our friendship was to tell him I’m the latest in a 350-year line of witches. If I said that, he would stare at me as though I’d winked at him from a third eye in the center of my forehead. Then he’d leave and not come back. Oh, he’d be polite about it—Roger’s always polite. But our friendship would be over. I mean, if it ever got out Detective Roger Frey of the Niagara Falls Police Department had a witch for a friend, he’d die of embarrassment. Or maybe he’d have to resign his position or even move to Rochester or something. If he did, who would plow my driveway then knock on my door to share my morning coffee and help me with the Sunday crossword puzzle?
    What? I already said I have a vivid imagination.
    As if Sarah Goode’s book was catnip, Elvira dropped her head on it, mewed, and rubbed her paw across her face. Roger shoved her aside, and leaned over to see, I supposed, what caused my concern.
    Before he could remove the book from the box, I closed the flaps.
    “It’s, uh…um, just an old family diary,” I said. It wasn’t much of a lie. A Book of Shadows is a diary of a sort. Witches record their herbal mixtures in it, and the words they chant to work their magic. My friend, Rebecca Nurse, had explained that when she showed me hers.
    “Gotta be something more than a diary to startle you like this,” Roger said.
    I glanced at the coffee pot and raised my mug. “Yours must be cold by now. I’ll get you some more.”
    “Emlyn?”
    It’s tough having a cop for a friend, especially a perceptive one. Only the truth would satisfy him.
    “Uh, well…there’s, uh, something I ought to tell you.” I crossed my fingers. I hoped when I told him about my family and what was in my genes, his reaction wouldn’t match what I’d imagined.
    His elbows on the table, his head in his hands, he locked his eyes on mine. “You can tell me anything. You know that, don’t you?”
    I took a deep breath—
    A fan of the pugilistic art might say I was saved by the bell. In this instance, a bell didn’t save me from having to confess my heritage. That was accomplished by the song Roger’s cell phone played.
    He reached around to his quilted jacket, pulled the phone from the pocket, and looked at the digital display. Holding up a finger to indicate our conversation wasn’t over, he