Carnage in a Pear Tree Read online

  Carnage in a Pear Tree

  Dakota Cassidy

  Copyright

  Carnage in a Pear Tree

  Published 2021 by Dakota Cassidy

  Copyright © 2021, Dakota Cassidy

  ASIN: B09FCY1X9L

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from Dakota Cassidy.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.

  Acknowledgements

  Cover artist: Katie Woods

  Editor: Kelli Collins

  Author’s Note

  Welcome to Marshmallow Hollow Mysteries! Set in the wintery seaside (and totally fictional) town of Marshmallow Hollow, Maine, where it’s all Christmas all the time, and murder is hung by the chimney with care! I’m so excited to introduce you to Halliday Valentine (Hal for short), Atticus Finch—her crusty hummingbird familiar—her small gang of crime solvers, and the quirky folks from her beloved hometown.

  Please note, this series is a bit of a spinoff of my Witchless in Seattle series, in that Hal and part of the gang were introduced in book 10 of the series, titled Witch It Real Good. But there’s no need to read the Witchless series if you haven’t.

  That said, this is an ongoing series (not a standalone) and there might be some underlying mysteries that may linger from book to book, but I promise to wrap up the central mystery with a big, fat bow by each book’s end! Though, please keep in mind, Carnage in a Pear Tree picks up right where One Corpse Open Slay left off.

  Also note, I’m taking artistic license with places and names of things in the beautiful state of Maine—thus, any and all mistakes are mine and certainly not meant to offend.

  Lastly, Christmas is my absolute favorite time of the year. I love everything about it, the decorations, the music, the gathering of friends and family, and most of all, the hope the season brings.

  I hope you all love Hal, her friends, and her tiny little Christmas town as much as I do!

  Dakota XXOO

  Chapter 1

  “A witch.”

  Uh-oh, all that wonder and awe in his voice was gone, replaced by the reality of the situation. His girlfriend was a witch.

  I nodded and winced at Hobbs’s flat tone. “Live and in person.”

  He inhaled and let out a slow breath. “Lemme say this from jump so you’ll understand where I’m coming from. I’m curious by nature already, but you’ve just confessed something incredible—almost unbelievable. Not only that, but it’s a revelation average guys like me only see in movies or on TV, so I don’t know what’s ridiculous of me to ask or not, okay? All I know about witches is what I’ve heard or read…or whatever.”

  “Right…” I answered slowly, unsure where he was going with this.

  “That said, I’m probably gonna ask some stupid questions along the way.”

  Smiling, I nodded. “No questions are stupid, Hobbs,” I assured, turning to face him as I tucked the blanket around us and smiled as warmly as my face would allow.

  I’d just broken the news about how I’d solved a crime with my magic, and to say the information was jarring, if not fantastical to a human, was to say the Civil War was a petty squabble.

  Squaring his shoulders, Hobbs finally asked, “Okay. You ready?”

  “Like a roast turkey whose timer’s popped.”

  As Christmas music played softly in the background, I watched him internally wrestle with himself before he asked, “Do you ride a broom?”

  I giggled. “Okay, some questions are stupid.”

  Hobbs winced. “I did make a disclaimer.”

  I grinned. “And I’m only kidding. Go on. Ask away.”

  “Do you ride a broom?” he repeated in his light Southern lilt.

  I gave him a blank stare. “Oh. You were serious.” Shaking my head, I answered, “No. No broom.”

  Now it was his turn to stare blankly at me.

  “Hobbs?”

  He cocked his head. “Everything I was gonna ask you just flew right out of my noggin. Yet, I have a million questions.”

  I hesitated only a moment before I decided to rip off the rest of the Band-Aid. If I was going to get this out in the open, I might as well go all the way.

  Stroking my newly adopted kitten Barbra’s tiny head as she purred contentedly in my lap, I didn’t bother to temper my words.

  “While you think of them, there’s more you should know.”

  The only reaction he had was the lift of one eyebrow. “Do I need more alcohol for the ‘more’ part?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll get some wine—”

  “No need,” I murmured, snapping my fingers. A bottle of Hobbs’s favorite red appeared, cork already removed, with two glasses.

  I figured I might need a drink, too.

  To his credit, he managed to remain mostly still. Well, except for the clench of his jaw. He poured two glasses and handed one to me before he gulped his until it was gone.

  Rolling his head to ease his obvious tension, he slapped his thighs as though he were mentally preparing to have a tooth pulled without anesthesia. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s the more?”

  “Atticus.”

  His strong bearded jaw shifted, but only a little. It was his eyes that gave him away this time. They went a little glassy and faraway. “Your hummingbird?”

  “My hummingbird familiar. You know, like my guide—”

  He held up a hand to stop my explanation. “I know what a familiar is.”

  My eyes went wide. “Do you then? How do you know about familiars?”

  He shrugged and looked over my shoulder at the Christmas tree. “I know stuff, too. I’m not just some dumb cowboy from Texas. I lived in Boston for a while, you know.”

  I fought a smile. “Well, big city boy, bet you didn’t know he talks…”

  Now he made a face, as though I’d really gone too far. He sat back with a chuckle and took a gulp of his wine. “Oh, c’mon. He does not.”

  “Does too.”

  “Listen, Detective Lacey, I can buy… Wait. I do buy the witch thing because of that ball of light and the wine you produced out of thin air, but a talking hummingbird? Mmm, no. I didn’t just fall off the chicken truck.”

  “I thought it was the turnip truck?”

  “Where I come from, it’s chickens.”

  “Okay, Texas, if you say so, but I’m telling the truth and I can prove it.”

  Now he shook his dark head, very clearly and quite firmly in the negative. “Nope. Not buyin’ it.”

  “But I do talk, Digby Dainty, and if you intend to court my beloved little poppet of a witch, you shall make the appropriate adjustments,” Atti said as he flew into the living room and hovered by the Christmas tree, his wings fluttering at lightning speed.

  Now Hobbs jumped up and looked around, clear suspicion in his eyes. “That was Stiles, wasn’t it? Stiles? Come on out, bud. Joke’s over, but spot-on British accent. Well done.”

  Atticus flew right into Hobbs’s direct line of vision, flapping his wings furiously. “I assure you, I’m no joke and this is no fake accent.”

  I saw the muscles in Hobbs’s legs flex beneath his jeans as he reached behind him and felt around until his hand touched the couch, then he plopped back down, grabbing for the wine to pour more.

  I rubbed his muscled arm and smiled in sympathy. “You okay?”

  He gulped another half glass
of wine before he said, “No. Yes. I’m not sure. But I think mostly yes.” Then he shook off whatever was troubling him and said with more conviction, “Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”

  “Well, there’s something to be said for the good ol’ boys from Texas, isn’t there? If nothing else, they give good face,” Atticus muttered with his usual dry sarcasm.

  “Oh, Atti,” I chided. “Shush. We just told him witches are real and that you can talk. Let the man process. Don’t be a toad about it.”

  But Hobbs held up his hand. “No, no. He’s right. If I’m going to court you, there are adjustments to be made. Apparently, one is a talking bird.”

  “Hummingbird, fine sir,” Atti corrected.

  “Hummingbird,” Hobbs acknowledged. “My apologies. No offense meant. Anyway, if courting you means you can produce bottles of wine out of thin air, who am I to complain?”

  Atti buzzed to situate himself in front of Hobbs’s face, his wings racing. “No. She absolutely will not use her magic with such careless abandon. We live amongst humans; we must behave as such in order to coexist properly. Thus, any and all alcoholic beverages or otherwise will be purchased at the liquor store.”

  I sighed, scooping up Barbra to nuzzle her against my cheek. “What Atti means is, I’m not supposed to use my magic unless absolutely necessary because if I get too used to doing things with a little abracadabra, I might slip and get caught. Also, we’re not allowed to use our magic for personal gain. So forget that horse ranch in Spain.”

  Hobbs just stared at Atti.

  “Hobbs?” I gave him a nudge.

  He shook his head as though he’d been lost in thought. “Sorry, but this takes some getting used to. I mean Atticus, um, talking.” Then he reverted his gaze back to me. “So you were saying you can’t whip up a Maserati, right?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Right. Nothing for personal gain.”

  “But you wouldn’t be personally gaining, I would.”

  “Ahem!” Atti loudly cleared his throat. “Familiar still here. There will be no Maseratis. There won’t be so much as a Big Wheel, thank you very much.”

  Now Hobbs laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I was just joking, Atticus. I promise not to take Hal down the path of the wicked for my own personal gain. No Big Wheels for the mere mortal.” There was a moment of silence where Atticus, in his typical stoicism, didn’t laugh at his joke, before Hobbs gave me a sheepish look. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we’re good, right?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was asking out of hope or terror. “Hold that thought.”

  Hobbs lifted his chin as Atti landed on my shoulder to lean into my ear, his deep voice tickling my eardrums. “Surely you’re not going to, are you, Halliday?”

  I knew exactly what he meant. “Of course I am, Atti. I have to tell him everything.”

  Hobbs sat quietly as the fire crackled and Stephen King, my favorite bulldog, stretched and yawned from his bed beside the flames.

  This wasn’t going to be fun. To find out that all this time he’d been snuggling up to my reincarnated grandmother out in the barn might change the dynamic of not just our relationship, but theirs.

  Nana Karen loved, loved, loved Hobbs, and he loved her. He gave her carrots all the time—which as you know, she hates, but she accepts them because they’re from Hot Sauce Hobbs, as she calls him. They’d developed a relationship, and to find out she’d been deceiving him all this time could feel like a real betrayal.

  Add in that she was reincarnated in a reindeer’s body, and this might just be the tipping point for my new boyfriend.

  Out of the blue, Hobbs laughed as though he’d realized something. “It’s Karen, right? Is she a weredeer?”

  Was that a random observation or did he think all my animals talked? But then, I guess most of mine did, didn’t they?

  Still, I blinked, dumbfounded. “A weredeer? What the feck’s a weredeer?”

  “You and Stiles read paranormal romance novels, right?” When I nodded, he said, “Then y’all know what I mean. Like a werewolf, but not? A hybrid shifter.”

  Suddenly, it hit me—out of all the paranormal romances Stiles and I read, some had shifters—some even had more eclectic shifters like werebeavers. Not my preferred reading, mind you (I’m a vampire-werewolf hybrid girl, myself), but I knew what Hobbs meant.

  What I wanted to know was how Hobbs knew about them.

  But then, Stiles loved a good, steamy romance novel, especially a paranormal romance, and I was being sexist for thinking men didn’t read them.

  Then I wondered, if Hobbs did read them, why he’d never mentioned it during the many book swaps Stiles and I had right under his nose.

  How else would he know about hybrids and weredeer?

  Anyway, I understood what he was getting at about my nana. “Ah, I get it! You mean vampires and demons and stuff, right?”

  He nodded with a smile. “Yep.”

  “Um, nope. Karen isn’t a…uh, weredeer.”

  “Phil? Is Phil a werecat?” His sultry Southern accent grew thicker and his eyes grew more hesitant.

  I patted him on the knee and smiled to reassure him. “No. Phil’s just Phil. An ornery, only-wants-to-be-loved-when-he-wants-to-be-loved mongrel of a whole cat, but all cat. Now, Karen…?”

  I heard Hobbs fight a gasp and then he poured more wine, taking a long swig. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

  Sighing, knowing this could break him, I gave him a guilty look, but I knew I had to say it or I’d chicken out. “Karen is my nana Karen—reincarnated…as a reindeer…”

  He stared at me long and hard before he said, “So all this time I’ve known her, she…?”

  “Yes.”

  “She can…”

  “Talk? Yes.”

  “So when we were investigating…”

  “The murder she was indirectly involved in?”

  If you’ll recall, earlier this month, nana was hauled off to the animal pokey and we thought she’d witnessed a murder. She didn’t see a thing. But now I’m sure Hobbs was wondering if she really had, and if we’d talked about it.

  Hobbs nodded. “Yes.”

  “No. She didn’t see anything, but she was in the vicinity.”

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing along his tan neck as he clung to the wine glass. “And all the carrots I feed her every day?”

  I grinned. “She hates those, by the way, but she really likes you, so she takes one for the team.”

  Now he looked downright uncomfortable. “Has she told you…”

  “Told me what?”

  He pulled himself to the end of the couch and set his glass down. “Never mind. Listen, I have an early meeting tomorrow. Can we finish our talk later in the afternoon? Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I responded stiffly, unsure why he appeared so uncomfortable all of a sudden.

  Hobbs leaned down, tipped my chin up, and gently kissed my lips. “I promise we’ll talk more tomorrow, Hal. I meant what I said earlier, I just didn’t realize how late it was.”

  “Okay,” I murmured, my heart tight in my chest as he grabbed his jacket and called to Stephen King, who reluctantly waddled toward him with a yawn.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hal,” he called over his shoulder and then he was gone, the door shutting so quietly, the bells on it hardly jangled.

  “Bye,” I whispered…and I rather thought it really was goodbye.

  “Halliday?” Atti said, nudging my ear.

  I gulped to keep tears from falling from my eyes, my throat tight and stiff. I really thought Hobbs was going to be the one. I really, truly did. “Yes?”

  “Don’t project. He said he’d speak with you tomorrow. Hobbs is, if nothing else, a man of his word. If he said he’ll speak with you tomorrow, he’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

  Scooping up Barbra, I nodded, scrunching my eyes to thwart tears. “I’m sure he will. I’m going to bed. It’s been a long night.”

  “
Halliday…” I heard the warning tone Atti took, and I knew he meant well, but I didn’t want to be reminded of Hobbs’s words. I was reading his body language—and his body language said this was all too much.

  I was too much.

  A crazy witch, her talking hummingbird familiar, and her reincarnated grandmother were just too much for Hobbs Dainty.

  And that was really too bad, wasn’t it?

  I am what I am.

  Period.

  Chapter 2

  “You wanna talk about it, young lady?” Nana Karen asked as I mucked her stall, the cold, early-morning air invigorating me, jolting me awake after a fitful night’s sleep.

  I hadn’t heard a peep from Hobbs, not even a text, leaving me anxious and maybe a little angry.

  “I don’t.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Hallie-Oop. Tell your nana what’s wrong. I can’t bake you cookies anymore to make it better, but I sure can listen. Got the big ears to prove it,” she joked, rearing back and shaking her antlers at me.

  I wasn’t ready to talk about last night. Hobbs had hurt my feelings, and I was still in the process of chalking him up to being like every other man instead of the rare unicorn I thought he was, and I hadn’t adjusted yet.

  I’d like to blame how I felt to being hot off the heels of a murder, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the trouble.

  I’d really tried to be careful—to keep my feelings and fears in check—to go slowly, but daggone if Hobbs hadn’t wooed me anyway. Daggone if he hadn’t made me feel like there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t understand or that we, as a potential couple, couldn’t overcome.

  Daggone if he hadn’t made me trust him. Or more accurately, I’d let myself trust him.

  This morning, I felt empty and a little bit abandoned by Hobbs. Maybe that was because I put too much stock in his strength, in his constitution. Or maybe I was simply being too sensitive.

  Nana nudged me with her cold nose. “Halliday Valentine? Answer me.”

  “Hush, Karen. Let the child mope. She’s quite adept.” Atti flew in and landed on the railing of Nana’s corral to scold her.