I Put A Spell On You

When Harmony McLeod – Harry, for short – discovers one of her employees dead in the reception of the exclusive spa she owns and runs, she is shocked, upset and more than a little spooked. You see, Harry is a witch, and her speciality is the ‘spiritual counselling’ that she offers her clients alongside the massages and yoga – in other words, she gives them spells to help deal with specific problems. So when she senses dark magic in the air at the crime scene, she suspects sabotage from another witch.

But who would want to kill her receptionist, hurt Harry and destroy her business? Surely not her cousin and fellow witch Esme? She and Harry may have had their differences, but they’re still family. And her colleague Xander has been a rock for her since her last breakup, and works so hard at the spa. He’s keen to learn magic skills to help out, and if he had some grievance then Harry would know – wouldn’t she? But as more unexplained events continue to unfold, Harry starts to suspect even her closest friends. It’s lucky that DI Louise Baxter is willing to go the extra mile to try and help solve the mystery – and the fact that she’s easy on the eyes hasn’t escaped Harry either…

Also available by Kerry Barrett

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

I Put a Spell on You

Kerry Barrett

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Kerry Barrett 2014

Kerry Barrett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781472095244

Version date: 2018-10-30

KERRY BARRETT

was a bookworm from a very early age, devouring Enid Blyton and Noel Streatfeild, before moving on to Sweet Valley High and 1980s bonkbusters. She did a degree in English Literature, then trained as a journalist, writing about everything from pub grub to EastEnders. Her first novel, Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered, took six years to finish and was mostly written in longhand on her commute to work, giving her a very good reason to buy beautiful notebooks. Kerry lives in London with her husband and two sons, and Noel Streatfeild’s Ballet Shoes is still her favourite novel.

Big thanks as always to Darren, Tom and Sam for their support. Thank you to Jo for providing me with excellent information about police procedures. The advice was hers, but any mistakes are all mine. Thanks to the team at HQ Digital – Lucy, Victoria and Helen – for all their help, and thank you to everyone who read Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered. A special mention must go to Star Poling, whose husband Phil bought her the chance to name a character in the book in an auction to raise money for my friend’s little boy, Ted, and who chose to be killed off in the very first line. Find out more about Ted’s fund at http://treatmentforted.com.

For Mum and Dad

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

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

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Epilogue

Extract

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

She was dead. There was no question about that. She was slumped in her chair, head slightly to one side, blonde curly hair in front of her face, and her eyes open and glassy.

“Oh shit,” I said. “Shit.”

I walked towards her, not sure what to do.

“Star?” I said, though I knew she wouldn’t answer. “Star? Wake up.”

She didn’t move.

A chill came over me and I started to shake.

“Star?” I said again. Nothing. I took a breath and picked up her wrist, feeling for a pulse. Her skin was cool and smooth and there was no sign of life. Carefully I put her hand down, feeling close to tears but knowing I had to keep it together.

“Star, I’m going to phone for an ambulance,” I said, wondering why I was talking to her. “It’s going to be okay.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialled 999. The operator was so nice, telling me to how to check for a pulse properly this time. She kept me talking until a paramedic arrived, just one, in a car.

“What’s her name?” he asked, going quickly to Star’s side, lifting her wrist and looking at his watch.

“Star,” I said. “I think she’s…she’s not breathing…”

He gave me a sympathetic look and a quick nod. Then he gently let Star’s wrist go.

“Do you know if she was taking any medication?” he asked.

“She’s got a heart condition,” I said. I pointed to Star’s bag, which was tucked under her desk. “I expect her pills are in there.”

“Could you find them for me, love?” he said. He was busy listening to Star’s chest and taking her pulse again.

I scooped up Star’s bag, found two bottles of pills and handed them over, just as an ambulance pulled up outside, along with a police car. The paramedic looked at the labels then showed them to his colleagues who had just arrived. They all exchanged a glance.

“I’m very sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do.”

I felt dizzy and let one of the paramedics steer me towards a chair.

“I expect the police will have some questions,” he said, handing me a bottle of water.

I watched the Christmas lights twinkling gently in the window and thought how out of place they looked now the festivities were over and Star was dead. I felt I should start taking them down but I didn’t want to move.

It was like a strange nightmare as the room, which had been empty apart from Star sitting working at her desk when I headed to my office earlier, filled up with people – the three paramedics, two – very young-looking – policemen in uniform, and an older female detective – about my age – in a silvery grey suit. I sat still and watched, not sure what to do.

One of the policemen took a step towards me.

“Miss McLeod?” he said.

“Ms,” I snapped.

“We’ve got some questions,” he said carefully.

He asked me all about Star, about her heart condition – which I didn’t know much about except she joked about her ‘dodgy ticker’ – whether she was married, or had kids. When I said she was divorced, the policeman excused himself for a second to speak to his colleagues, then sat down again.

“We’re sending someone to speak to her parents,” he said. “Were you the last person to see her?”

I nodded.

“She was here alone,” I said, feeling guilt wash over me. “She should have been home by now, but she wanted to talk to me and I was too busy. I think she was waiting to see me before she left.”

I looked over at where Star still sat.

It felt like I was there for hours, answering questions and wondering what would happen next.

Eventually, one of the paramedics came up behind the policeman and spoke quietly to him. Too quietly for most people to hear. But not me.

“There’s nothing more to do,” he said, nodding in Star’s direction. “We’re going, and we’ve arranged for her to be taken to the morgue.”

“Oh no,” I said to myself. I wasn’t used to being in situations I couldn’t control and I felt horribly helpless and out of sorts.

The policeman asked me some more questions. He was very capable, I thought, looking at him, for someone so young.

“We’re going to have to seal off the area,” he explained. “Just until we know what’s happened. I don’t think there’s any crime been committed but we have to make sure.”

I was relieved. Criminal activities weren’t good for business. Then I felt bad for being relieved. Crime or no crime, Star was still dead.

More people had arrived.

“Undertakers,” the policeman murmured to me.

I watched as they brought in a stretcher and carefully lifted Star onto it. One of them shook out a blanket and, as he pulled it over her face, I caught sight of her expression. It was fixed in a kind of horrified grimace. She looked terrified. So terrified, in fact, that I gasped out loud.

“I know it’s a shock,” the policeman said with a sympathetic pat to my arm. “We’re pretty much done here but I’m going to leave someone outside tonight. I’ll get you a lift home.”

I moved away so he couldn’t touch me again.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m fine.” I really wanted to be on my own to take stock of the situation. I needed time to think about why Star’s face would have been so scared.

The undertakers picked up the stretcher with its sad burden and we all stood, respectfully silent as they took Star outside. Then the policeman who’d asked me all the questions picked up my bag.

“Do you live nearby?” he said.

“Five minutes,” I said, trying to make it sound even closer. “Really, I’m fine to walk.”

He looked unsure. He glanced at his colleague then back at me. I gave him a fierce look and he handed me my bag.

“I’ll get someone to call you tomorrow,” he said. “Check you’re OK.”

I gave him a half-smile, then I slumped onto one of the sofas in the waiting area, exhausted and emotional. I couldn’t quite understand what had happened. Star was so young, only a couple of years older than me. And the expression on her face – that scared – terrified – expression had really unsettled me.

The police had huddled by the door, talking to another officer who’d just arrived, while they started taping off the entrance and, now the room was quieter, I realised what else was unsettling me. It was magic. Everywhere.

I’m a witch, you see. Always have been. And I’m a really good one. That’s why I could hear the police when they were talking too quietly for anyone else to eavesdrop on them. It’s why I could ‘persuade’ the officer to let me walk home alone and it’s why I could see there was magic in the room.

Witchcraft isn’t just a hobby for me – it’s my career. I run a website called inharmony.com (Harmony is my name though everyone calls me Harry) which is a bit like Mumsnet but for witches. And I run this spa, which is also called In Harmony. Star is my receptionist. Or she was.

I walked over to Star’s desk. Magic hung in the air. You can’t see it, magic, but it tends to hang around for a while after it’s happened. Good magic – our sort – often just shimmers a bit. Black magic is heavier, more like an unpleasant atmosphere. Not everyone can see it, but I believe everyone can feel it – it’s just we know what it is and you don’t.

Star wasn’t a witch, so I had no idea why there would be magic hanging about her desk. Except, she’d been trying to talk to me all day. I’d not seen her for a while – I’d been away on holiday at the start of December and then the spa had been closed over the Christmas break and today was our first day back at work. Like I’d said to the police officer, Star had been desperate to grab five minutes with me. But I’d had back-to-back clients and I hadn’t had a minute. I knew she had been waiting for me to finish this evening so we could talk.

I had an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Uneasiness, perhaps, or maybe just guilt that I hadn’t been there for Star when she wanted me. I glanced over my shoulder to see if the police officers were watching me, but their attention was all on each other, then I opened the filing cabinet next to Star’s desk, where she kept all our HR records, and started to flick through… Her surname was Poling but I couldn’t find anything under P. Filing had never been Star’s strong suit. Frustrated, I waggled my fingers. Silvery shimmers flew from the tips and the files ruffled in an invisible breeze. Then, slowly, one file rose up above the others in the cupboard. ‘Star Poling’ it said along the top.

“Gotcha,” I said.

I opened it to check Star’s address was written inside, then I opened my bag and stuffed it inside. Taking a last look at Star’s desk, I left the building. I politely thanked the police for their time, as though they’d been customers who’d booked a spa day, handed over my spare keys, and left.

It was freezing. I thought it might snow though it hadn’t yet, and it was dark. I huddled down in my coat and pulled my hat down over my ears, feeling sorry for myself and very alone as I tramped along the main road to home.

I was unsettled. Really unsettled. We – me and my family – had had a rough couple of years. About eighteen months ago my mum, Suky, had been diagnosed with breast cancer and at the same time we’d been the target of a pretty nasty hate campaign aimed at driving my mum out of the café she runs with my Aunt Tess – who’s my mum’s twin sister. I’d split up with my girlfriend Natalie, leaving me with financial troubles and a broken heart, and my cousin Esme – Tess’s daughter – had almost ruined her own love life. It wasn’t a great time for any of us.

Thankfully Mum was now well on the mend, the café was secure once more and all the trouble seemed to be behind us – at least it had been, until now. I was really worried this might be the beginning of another bad patch. Though, obviously, it was going to be a whole lot worse for poor Star’s family. I shivered as I hurried along in the biting wind, desperate to get home and hoping I’d have the flat to myself for once. I shared with my cousin Esme who rented a swanky New Town flat in Edinburgh from a banker friend of her boyfriend. It was huge – too big for her on her own – so I’d moved in when I sold my place in Leith to fund the spa. Ez and I were like sisters with all the bickering, sniping and affection that entailed. Esme and I were living together like a couple of students – though without the fights over who cleaned the loo – as witches we could simply do the cleaning with a wave of our hands. Things were fine until she decided she missed her boyfriend too much. Jamie was a GP. He had been planning to take over his dad’s practice up in Claddach in the Highlands, where we’d all grown up. But his dad wasn’t ready to retire quite yet and after rekindling their teenage romance, he and Esme were inseparable… So we all ended up living together. I adored Esme, and I loved Jamie, who’d been a brilliant support to my mum when she was ill. But even so, our living arrangements weren’t exactly where I’d intended to be in my late thirties, but needs must, I told myself, and it was a great flat.

Anyway, after everything that had happened, I was desperate just to be by myself and as I walked up the stone stairs that led to our front door, I crossed my fingers that Esme and Jamie were out tonight.

Chapter 2

I was out of luck. As I opened the door I was greeted by the sight of Esme and Jamie snogging. They sprang apart when I came in and grinned at me, identical stupid love-sick grins. In the mirror on the wall opposite I caught a glimpse of my reflection; my face was ashen and my lips white, stark against my dark brown hair. Then I looked at Esme, who was glowing with health and happiness.

“Why are you standing in the hall,” I asked, though I didn’t really care. Then I burst into tears.

Esme exchanged a glance with Jamie – he looked concerned, she looked more pissed off. Then, together, they bustled me into the kitchen, and sat me at the table. Esme put the kettle on and Jamie found a bottle of brandy in one of the cupboards and poured me a stiff measure.

I knocked my drink back in one mouthful and wiped my eyes carefully to avoid smudging my make-up.

“What’s happened, Harry?” Esme said.

I shuddered.

“God it was awful,” I said, reaching for the brandy bottle.

“I’d been with clients all day – I hadn’t had more than five minutes to myself all afternoon,” I explained glugging brandy into my glass. “Star wanted to speak to me though, and she said she’d wait for me to finish. So when I was done, I went into reception. And that’s when I found her.” I took a long jagged breath and stared into my glass.

“Who?” Esme said. “Who did you find?”

“Star.”

“But you wanted to see her, surely?” Esme looked confused and I rolled my eyes.

“Not like that,” I said.

“Why, what was she doing?” asked Jamie.

“She was dead.”

Esme gasped.

“I’ve been with the police for hours,” I continued, rubbing my forehead as I thought about how to explain it all. “The paramedics said it was a heart attack and the police aren’t suspicious. And yet…”

“And yet…” repeated Jamie.

I leaned forward so they knew how important this was.

“I saw her face,” I whispered. “She was terrified.”

“Really?” Esme said doubtfully. “Can you tell?”

“Oh you can tell,” I said, with all the wisdom of a woman who’d seen her first corpse just a few hours earlier.

Jamie nodded.

“You can, actually,” he said. “I’ve seen all sorts of strange facial expressions on bodies.”

Esme shivered and I scowled at her.

“That’s not all though,” I said, perhaps slightly over-dramatically. “There was magic there. Dark magic. Hanging – you know how it does – like a heat haze. Over Star’s desk.”

“Oh that’s not good,” Esme said with a shiver. “Do you think something sinister has happened? Something that could have hurt Star?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said. “I just don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt her.”

“Is Star, erm, was she, you know?” Esme began.

“A witch?”

She nodded.

I shook my head.

“She was interested,” I said. “Actually she was really interested. She was always asking me stuff and I’d helped her out a few times with advice and explanations about spells and things. I know that was why she took the job in the first place. She dabbled in a bit of aura cleansing and she did a lot of our yoga classes. But she wasn’t a witch – not by birth. It’s not in the terms and conditions of our contracts, you know.”

I call my spa a holistic life centre. We offer things like yoga, acupuncture and Pilates, slightly more off-the-wall things like Reiki and aura cleansing and, what I like to call, spiritual counselling. That’s spells to you and me. People come to see me, they tell me their problems and I give them a spell to help. My mum, Suky, and Esme’s mum, Tess, do a really similar thing in their café up in the Highlands – it’s where I got the idea from, if I’m honest. They sit people down with a cup of tea, have a chat, find out what the problem is and cast a spell to help. Sometimes they don’t even wait to be asked. I took it bigger, giving people the chance to ask for help online. But I found I was missing the personal touch, so now I’ve gone back to basics – meeting clients at the spa and offering them one-to-one counselling. We’ve not been going that long, but it’s all working out brilliantly – or at least it was. Until our receptionist turned up dead.

I pulled Star’s HR file out of my bag.

“She wanted to tell me something,” I said. “Maybe she was worried about something – or scared even – so I’ve had an idea. This is her address. I thought we’d go round and…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Jamie. “You’re not going anywhere. You can’t break into a dead woman’s flat.”

“I agree,” Esme said firmly. “Even I know Star had health problems and she didn’t always look after herself. If the police don’t think there’s anything to worry about, then we should listen to them.”

I got up from the table.

“You didn’t see her face, Ez,” I said. “I can’t get it out of my mind. And I can’t help thinking that it must have had something to do with me. It’s my business, after all. What if she was just in the way? What if I was the real target?”

We all stared at each other for a moment and I could see I’d struck a chord with Esme. It had been awful when we’d been targeted before – one of the worst times of our lives.

I saw Jamie catch Esme’s eye and shake his head ever so slightly. She looked at me and I could tell she was wavering. So she was a lawyer and I was asking her to break into a house. We wouldn’t get into trouble – we had ways round that and she knew it.

The ring of the doorbell made us all jump. Esme gave me a glance that said ‘we’ll talk about this later when Jamie’s not around’ and went to answer it. Jamie and I looked at each other awkwardly. I thought Jamie was lovely and, like I said, I’d always be grateful for how caring he was with Mum, but he could be a bit risk-averse sometimes.

Esme poked her head round the kitchen door.

“Harry,” she hissed. “The police are here.”

Alarmed, I followed her back out into the hall. The tall detective I’d seen at the spa stood there.

“Harmony McLeod?” she asked, showing me a warrant card.

I nodded.

“DI Louise Baxter,” she said. “I just have a couple more questions about what happened today.”

“Let’s go into the living room,” I said, directing her. She walked into the room, looking round her – I could tell she was taking everything in. Then she turned round and smiled at me. She was very pretty.

“Call me Harry,” I said. “Please sit.” She sat on the sofa and I sat opposite her. Esme, who’d followed us into the room, perched on the arm of my chair nervously. She was one of those people who always got stopped on her way through customs because she looked guilty even when she hadn’t done anything and she was very twitchy now.

“I’m Harry’s cousin,” she said in a rush. “My name’s Esme. McLeod. Esme McLeod. I’ll help you as much as I can.”