Dying to Break Free: The India Kirby Witch Mystery (Book 3) Read online

  The India Kirby Witch Mystery: Book 3

  DYING TO BREAK FREE

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission for the publication / use of these trademarks.

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  The India Kirby Witch Mystery Series

  Book 1 – Dying to be a Star

  Book 2 – Dying to be Married

  CHAPTER 1

  The sign read Welcome to Cherrytown, Mississippi. The place no one wants to leave, except someone had crossed out wants and written gets in angry black pen.

  “Oh gosh, look at that,” India Kirby said with a giggle, pointing at it.

  Xavier Bradford glanced across at her from the driver’s seat. His dark eyes were bright, eager to please. Much of the journey he’d been justifying his town’s, and family’s, shortcomings to her. “It’s all good underneath,” he’d kept saying earnestly. India, for her part, wondered what he was making such a fuss about, and began to wonder if he didn’t consider her snobbish.

  “Sounds a bit spooky,” she said with a smile. “Or just real bitter.”

  “It was some stupid guy from my high school, apparently,” Xavier said. “Bleated on about how he disliked black people all through school, didn’t put any work in or do anything constructive. Then when he didn’t get a college place because his grades sucked he started whining about Affirmative Action.”

  “Uh!” said India. “Sounds like a real piece of work.”

  “Yeah,” Xavier said, draping his hand over the steering wheel, then quickly added, “but don’t worry, most here are good people.”

  India looked out the window as they passed a beautiful white church. “That’s good to hear.” The church was tiny, made out of clapboard or cheap siding, India couldn’t tell, and probably cost just a few thousand dollars to make. But it had these beautiful stained glass windows in the front, taller than a person, a bright crimson door that contrasted with the pristine walls, and a large white cross that jutted up into the blue sky. Nestled in a blooming garden of flower bushes India didn’t know the names of, it looked like a truly special place. “That’s so… wow.” India wasn’t religious in any sense, her family only having headed out to church in Wisconsin at Christmas and Easter, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off it, and turned her head as they drove past.

  Xavier laughed. “Funny what a person notices when they come to a new place for the first time. I could pass that church a thousand times and not think anything of it. That’s where I went every Sunday when I was growing up.”

  India shifted in her seat. “Oh help, does that mean we’re getting close to your house now?”

  Xavier looked at her in surprise. “Are you nervous?”

  “Yes!” India had styled her long dark hair that morning, using a flat iron to put some waves in it and curl it at the end, but now she pulled it back into a ponytail, and kept fussing with it, unable to keep her hands still. “What if your family don’t like me?”

  “Of course they’ll like you,” Xavier said. Then it was his turn to look a bit nervous. “But what if you don’t like them?” He’d grown his hair out into a small afro, and had headed to the salon to have it braided back into tiny cornrows which curled and wisped as they fell around his shoulders. India thought it made him look younger, more innocent somehow, maybe because the style made his big wide brown eyes stand out more. He looked so cute to her that she wondered if criminals would be intimidated enough by him at all. He was still vying for promotion to Detective. As India looked at him, she felt a rush of gratitude. It was so good to have a boyfriend who cared. Her ex Jake back in Wisconsin had been of the treat-‘em-mean-keep-‘em-keen school of thought.

  “If they raised you, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna love them,” India said.

  “Well, we’ll soon…” Xavier looked up at the road in front of him. “Oh, man.”

  They’d pulled into a clean residential street, full of green stretches of lawn out the fronts of mostly new looking houses. Each one had freshly painted siding and white porches that ran the length of a full wall, or even wrapped around. One particularly large home stood out on the corner, with bay windows, upstairs balconies on its second and third floors, and even a round turret right in the center. It looked quite gothic, but still elegant, painted from top to bottom in a feint shade of muted green. Quintessential Southern charm, India thought.

  But the man in front of them certainly didn’t typify the same. Distinctly uncharming, he was red faced and waving at them in a most hostile manner. India was quite scared for a moment before she collected herself. It certainly was not the best welcome. Xavier pulled his Ford to a halt and rolled his eyes. “Listen, don’t worry about it, that’s just crazy old… Hello, Mr. Quinn, how are you doing today?”

  Mr Quinn had marched over to the window, quick despite the limp in his gait. Up close, his sweater was grubby and his pale hands were smudged with dirt. As he bent down to look in the window, his round creased face put India in mind of an agitated pitbull. “It’s you,” Mr Quinn said gruffly to Xavier. “And who’s that?”

  “This is India Kirby,” Xavier said. “She’s a lifeguard back in Florida, and my girlfriend.”

  And a witch, India thought. That was slowly becoming part of her identity, too, but sometimes it made her feel a huge gulf between her and Xavier. At times the burden of not telling him felt too great, and she resolved herself to spill it all out and let the chips fall where they may, despite her magical mentor Luis’ dire warnings. But she never went through with it, perhaps because she’d managed to solve two murders with her ever growing powers, and who knew when she might need them again?

  “And this is Jim Quinn,” Xavier said. There was a smile in his voice, but when he turned to face India, he raised his eyebrows with emphasis. “Our neighbor.”

  India manufactured a smile for this horrible man. “Good morning, Mr Quinn.”

  He looked down at his watch. “It’s afternoon, actually. Five minutes past noon. Lost your job in Florida, did you, Zachary?”

  “It’s Xavier, and no, sir. I just took some paid time off to come see my family.” He looked over to India, his expression warm. “And so India can meet them.”

  “Lovely,” Mr Quinn said, like a nasty smell was lingering around. “Well, remember not to walk over my lawn. Or be noisy.” For the first time, his eyes seemed more animated. “Actually, you’ve come back to town on a good day. I’ve called a meeting at my home.” He looked at India, then pointed back to the three story home with the turret and balconies. “That’s my home.”

  “It’s very nice,” India said, knowing that’s what he wanted her to say.

 
“It’s a darn sight better than nice,” he said. “That’s Queen Anne architecture, you know. Well, of course you wouldn’t know. Anyhow, that place was an absolute wreck when I bought it. No one wanted it, the estate agent said. Can you believe how stupid people are? Sure, it was run down, but it had good bones. Excellent bones, in fact. But I was the only one smart enough to see that. So I swooped right in, scooped it up for next to nothing, then nurtured it to what it is today. You know, I could put that on the market for ten times what I paid for it and no one would bat an eyelid? Not that I would ever sell. I’m not selling, got that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Xavier said, like he’d heard it all a thousand times before.

  “Good,” Mr Quinn said, quite forcefully. “Well, you’ll come to the meeting this evening. It’s about the rightful boundaries, the properties in this street, and other important matters. I expect you to be there, Zachary. And you may bring your friend Isabelle.”

  Neither of them bothered to correct him.

  “Sure,” Xavier said. “We’ll be there.”

  Mr Quinn smiled for the first time, a horrible fake grin that didn’t light up his watery blue eyes. “Wonderful.”

  Xavier nodded and drove into the dead end where three smaller houses clustered.

  “What a creep,” India said.

  “Don’t even get me started.”

  India giggled. “Neighbor from hell?”

  Xavier gave her a weary grin as he pulled the Ford into the driveway. “Think I’d prefer the devil himself to move in.”

  India looked up. In front of them was a white house with a large light gray roof, the upstairs windows peaking out in their own framing. A porch covered the whole front wall, while pink camellia bushes flourished in front of a neat lawn. “So this is where you grew up?”

  “That’s right.” He threw another nervous glance at her. “You like it?”

  “Of course!”

  At that moment, the front door opened and a very excited looking middle aged lady stepped out. She was fairly svelte in her sweater, jeans and apron, and her dreadlocks were twirled back in a neat chignon, with just a few loose in back, draping over her shoulders. “Xavier!” she said, running down the steps toward him.

  “Hey, mom.”

  She gave him a tight hug, then turned to India, all smiles. “This must be the lovely India.”

  Her manner was so warm India couldn’t help but like her at once. “Hello, Mrs Bradford.”

  “Oh, you’re so polite! You must call me Valerie.” She then proceeded to squeeze India in just as big a hug as she’d given her own son. “Aww, Zave has told me so much about you.”

  India giggled. “Not all bad, I hope.”

  Valerie put her arm around her and laughed. Her gold earrings glinted in the sun. “None of it was bad. Now, we’ve gotten a huge order, so Nadine and Demetria and I are getting super busy in the kitchen.” She steered India toward the house, while Xavier got their overnight bags out of the trunk. “We’ll have to talk while we work,” Valerie continued, “but of course I’ll set you out some tea and cake. You do like cake, don’t you?”

  India grinned as they stepped up onto the porch. “Hmm… possibly more than I like your son.”

  Valerie laughed a friendly, tinkling laugh, then led her into the house. The first thing India noticed was the smell, a warm aroma of cinnamon and cloves and dough and sweetness. Then her eye turned to the décor. “Wow!” India said. “Your home is so beautiful.” And it really was. The perfect mix of old-time elegance and modern sleek, the house practically burst with charm. It had an open plan theme, with the stairs slightly off center to the left, a large living room on the right, and a kitchen and diner partly obscured by the stairway. These rooms both had incredible glass paneling to the back, showing off a garden blooming with cream and pale pink flowers, and a large open decking porch that looked perfect for a barbecue and outdoor dining. The room itself featured plenty of dark wood. A chaise longue, three seater couch, and two armchairs all had different upholstery, but each pattern was equally elegant. A gorgeous stained glass chandelier in four tiers hung from the ceiling.

  “It’s what I like to call eclectic,” Valerie said. “Spending a weekend trawling through the old kooky antique shops is about my favorite pastime.”

  “Hey!” a cheery voice called from the kitchen.

  Valerie and India stepped in to see a young woman rushing toward them. Her thousands of tiny little braids were held back in a bun on top of her head, and she wore fashionable thick rimmed glasses in a vivid violet shade. She also had on an apron, and her hands were covered in dough. She held them out as she gave India a hug. “I’m Nadine, Zave’s younger and much more fabulous sister.”

  “Hey,” India said, smiling from ear to ear. She loved his family already.

  Nadine turned to a 30-something woman and nodded. “That’s Demetria, our neighbor.”

  “Hi there,” Demetria said with a friendly wave, then got back to stirring some batter in a glass bowl. She carried a lot of extra weight around her middle, but had such a pleasant, pretty face.

  “Hey,” India said.

  “Xavier’s dad is out on a job right now,” Valerie said, “but you’ll meet him later. He has to be back in time for the meeting.” She said it with a mocking gravitas that made India laugh. Then she gestured toward the polished walnut dining table. “Take a seat, pretty girl. Let’s fix you some sweet tea and cake.”

  Xavier came in, dragging the bags behind him and giving a pretend pout. “What about me, huh, momma?”

  “Oh, you silly boy,” Valerie said, heading back to the kitchen and putting the kettle on the stove. “Of course I’m not going to forget you.”

  Throughout the afternoon, India felt all warm and fuzzy inside. The cupcakes, laid out on beautiful floral plates, were delicious, and India was hard pressed to choose her favorite. She and Xavier shared them all, and he declared the coffee cake with the chocolate frosting to be his favored choice. India couldn’t make her mind up between the red velvet with perfect cream frosting, the chocolate with chocolate and caramel striped frosting, or the banana cake with chocolate hazelnut buttercream. In the end she plumped for the last one, and Valerie snuck her another of the same right from the tin.

  Between the cakes and the friendliness, soon India found all her nervousness had melted away, and her mind was even running away with her – maybe she and Xavier should move in together in Mississippi, just to be close to his family, she thought. Although she loved her own family in Wisconsin, they were somewhat detached, India felt. At least much less demonstrative and affectionate. India had always craved that kind of closeness and warmth (and she’d later figured that was the reason she’d tried so desperately to get her ex to love her when he was clearly disinterested), and though she’d come a long way in feeling good about herself and who she was, being part of such a warm family was so appealing. Soon her imagination had bloomed, and she was picturing her and Xavier sitting on a wraparound porch in a house of their very own, watching their little caramel-skin girl toddling up and down in her frilly church dress. India saw tea parties on the lawn with bunting and lemonade, and smelled baking and fresh bread.

  After an afternoon of chattering and eating far too many delicious cupcakes, it was time for them to head out to Mr Quinn’s dreaded meeting.

  “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Valerie said to Xavier and India. “It’s certainly not what I’d want to do on vacation.”

  “I don’t mind,” India said. “To be honest, I’d like to see the inside of that house. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Valerie smiled. “All right.”

  Nadine sashayed by as she twisted her braids into a new style, hairpins in her mouth. “But whatever you do, don’t ask Mr Quinn for a tour. You’ll be there until sunrise, with him jabbering on about wainscoting and crown molding and how incredibly brilliant he is.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “I won’t be making t
hat mistake, then,” India said.

  They left a short while later, at the same time Mark, Xavier’s father, pulled his truck up on the sidewalk in front of Mr Quinn’s house.

  “Hey, babe,” he said to Valerie when he climbed down, then gave her a quick kiss. He looked stressed, but found a smile. He had plenty of wrinkles around his eyes, a light dusting of black stubble over his chin, and work clothes on, but he had an air of dignity about him. He’d passed that onto Xavier for sure. “And this must be India.”

  “Hi there, sir,” India said, accepting his handshake. “Great to meet you.”

  “Call me Mark,” he insisted, then gave Xavier a hug. “Son.”

  “Hey, dad.”

  Demetria puffed out a long breath as they continued up toward the big house. “This man is going to have us sitting around for ages,” she said. “As if people don’t have better things to do.”

  “Right?” Nadine said.

  “Plus Eric texted me to say he had a hard day at the office,” Demetria said. “I don’t think he’ll put up with Jim rattling on and on. But of course he won’t say anything, and then he’ll be grouchy for the rest of the night. And I’ll have to put up with it.”

  Valerie gave her a sympathetic squeeze on her arm. “No doubt I’ll get cornered by Anita.” She looked at India and said, with some flourish, “The laaady of the house, thank you very much. And be told in some passive aggressive way that everything I’m doing with my life is worthless.”

  Mark slipped his arm into hers. “And that you’re married to a good-for-nothing who can’t provide you with a rambling gothic mansion.”

  “Provide me with a scary house like that, I’m filing for divorce,” Valerie said with a smile. “And you’re a good-for-everything.”

  “Oh help,” Nadine said, then nudged India. “You’ll have to excuse the lovebirds, here. They’re always super lovey dovey.”