Midsummer Night's Mayhem by Lauren Quick

became obvious to her. “Poisoning,” she whispered the word and knew exactly why Juniper was in her yard, or more specifically, her garden .
    Clover set her cup down in the grass and took off up the stone pathway to her garden that was divided into small sections—flowers, vegetables, mossy pathways, and fragrant nooks with sitting areas. When she reached the white picket fence, she saw two officers trampling through her tender plants with their wands raised, casting glowing purple-hued identification spells. Not surprising, they couldn’t identify the plants by sight alone.
    “You could have asked me,” Clover said when Juniper reached her side. “Maybe I can help.”
    “Now you want to help.” Juniper smirked.
    “If it keeps you from trampling my garden.” She shrugged. “What was it? The poison?” Curiosity bloomed inside her.
    “You know I can’t tell you anything.” Juniper’s expression was unflinching.
    “I know you don’t understand, but I do want to find Oliver’s killer.”
    “Why not leave it up to us? Why are you getting involved?” Juniper turned the sharp gaze back on her.
    “Oliver didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, and neither did I. I’m doing this for both of us.” Whether it sounded selfish or not, it was the truth.
    “And the closet. Don’t forget the closet,” Juniper said sarcastically.
    A sweaty young officer hurried up to Juniper. “We didn’t find any belladonna,” he blurted out and then his eyes darted from Juniper to Clover and he realized his mistake. “Sorry.”
    Juniper gave an exasperated sigh. “Well, keep at it. I’m not satisfied yet.”
    A shiver went up Clover’s spine. “That’s a terrible way to die.”
    Belladonna was also known as deadly nightshade. The lethal dose of poison would have completely shut down Oliver’s system, rendering him sick and helpless. The plant was deadly, but not entirely uncommon. In decades past, witches gifted in the healing arts, who knew how to handle it, occasionally used the herb as a medicine, but in Clover’s opinion, only the foolish used it anymore since there were more modern and safer remedies. In the wrong hands it was a potent poison. “Are you sure Oliver wasn’t using it medicinally?”
    Juniper unlatched the garden gate. “I think we’ve said enough. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
    “You’re not going to find any belladonna in there,” Clover said. “I don’t grow any poisonous plants.”
    “That might be so, but it doesn’t mean we aren’t going to look.” Juniper nodded and joined the other officers.
    Clover had to get moving. At least now she knew a little bit more than she had when she woke up—someone had poisoned one of her party guests—but the how and why still lingered. She always considered poison to be the coward’s murder weapon. Today was not going to be an easy day. First thing she needed to do was get her hands on a homemade pie.

    Clover pulled at the hem of her dress with one hand while balancing a blueberry pie in the other. The black dress was tight and riding up in the back. She rarely wore black and the one black dress she owned had been a lot bigger the last time she tried it on. It must have shrunk in the wash. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Oliver Yearling’s house. His son’s hovercraft and a string of other vehicles were parked out front. Clover believed in tradition and wanted to give her condolences to Austin.
    A frazzled young witch with frizzy blonde hair and wearing a black mini dress swung open the door and didn’t wait to greet her before motioning her inside. “Austin, another witch is here!” she called over her shoulder. A sleek cat howled and dashed out the front door. The witch rolled her eyes. “Cocoa, come back here. You just let out Oliver’s familiar.”
    “Sorry,” Clover said, though technically it wasn’t her fault Cocoa made a break for it. “I’m Clover Mayhem. His neighbor.”
    The witch’s