That Old Witch!: The Coffee Coven's Cozy Capers: Book 1

by M. Z. Andrews

  “Well, we know one thing. He took our book. Find the book, find the murderer,” said Phyllis. “And when I find that man, he’s not going to know what hit him!”

  “We’re going to find him and turn him over to the police,” said Gwyn. “He deserves to spend the rest of his days rotting in a jail cell for what he did. Death is too good for him!”

  “I agree with Gwyn,” said Char.

  “Not me,” said Loni, rubbing her hands together. “I think we should teach him a lesson. You don’t mess with a witch in our coven!”

  “Settle down, Loni. First, we have to find him,” said Phyllis. “I only wish I knew where to start looking.”

  “We’ll figure it out in the morning,” Char assured her. “Come on, girls. We need to get home and get some rest, so we have our wits about us tomorrow. We’re going to need all the sleep we can get.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” whispered Gwyn. “Not after seeing that!”

  Loni rubbed her head. “Me either.”

  “And what are we going to do about this?” asked Gwyn, pointing to the cauldron. “Kat’s ashes are in there! We haven’t spread them around her garden like we said we were going to.”

  Char frowned. “Can we truly put her to rest now?”

  Phyllis looked down into the pot. “We let the water evaporate out. Once we’ve figured out who did this to her, then we’ll put her to rest.”

  The girls all exchanged glances before Gwyn finally nodded after swallowing back the lump in her throat. “We have to get him, girls. For Kat.”

  22

  The next morning after Char pulled on her favorite pink visor, she slipped on the darkest pair of sunglasses she owned and headed for the front door. Her head throbbed as it hadn’t in years. If things had been different, she’d have called Phyllis and Gwyn and canceled coffee that morning, but things weren’t different, and they now had a murder to solve.

  Char glanced down at Vic, who had just hopped down off the sofa. “I can’t believe you want to go to Linda’s for coffee with me. You never want to go with me to have coffee with the girls.” She held the door open for him, and he trotted outside, his spry little tail curled high in the air.

  “There’s usually not a murderer running around Aspen Falls,” he said, following Char down the front steps. “I have to keep my little love muffin out of harm’s way!”

  Char stopped walking and shot her husband a wry smile. “What are you going to do if a murderer comes after me, Vic? Growl at him?”

  “Trust me, sugar buns. In our wedding vows, I promised to love and care for you, and I’m not going to let the little fact that I’ve been turned into a dog stop me from holding up my end of my vows.”

  “Suit yourself, but I promise I can take care of myself. Besides, I’ll be with the girls.”

  “No, we’ll be with the girls,” said Vic, panting happily as he bounced next to his wife.

  Minutes later they were outside Habernackle’s with Phyllis in tow.

  “Oh, my head is pounding,” said Phyllis behind her own dark glasses. She reached a hand out to steady herself on a lamppost and rubbed her temples. “I feel like I got scraped off the bottom of a shoe.”

  “I know what you mean,” agreed Char. “The sun hurts my head just by being in the sky. Uh, that’s the last time I’m drinking cheap tequila with you four.”

  “You’re absolutely right. Next time we’ll drink vodka. Much easier on the stomach. Or we’ll all pitch in and spring for the good tequila. Kat always was a cheapskate.”

  “My poor little apple bottom, how about you take me over to the bakery, and I’ll have Sweets whip you both up a special loaf of my Cure What Ails Ya Bread.”

  Char leaned down and scratched beneath Vic’s chin. “That’s so sweet of you, darling, but we’ll survive. I just need to get some black coffee in me. That should start to fix the problem.”

  Just before they went inside, Gwyn’s silver Buick pulled into a parking spot across the street.

  “Oh, Gwyn and Hazel are here,” said Char. “Should we wait for them?”

  Phyllis looked down at Vic and cocked an eyebrow up. “You haven’t told them about Vic yet. Why not?” she asked.

  Char shrugged and then let out a heavy sigh. Her head hurt much too badly to get into it now. “I just haven’t had the time, to be honest.”

  “No time like the present. I’ve almost slipped up more than once during the last few days. I’m tired of having to mind my p’s and q’s around them.”

  “Yes, I know. There have been a few awkward moments,” agreed Char. She looked down at Vic. “Mind if I tell them, sweetheart?”

  Vic sat down on his bottom. “No. I think your friends deserve to know the truth.”

  “Alright, if you two think so,” she said, looking at the women crossing the street.

  “Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” shouted Phyllis.

  Gwyn held her head with one hand and her mother’s arm with the other hand. “Do you have to yell, Phyllis Habernackle? My head is throbbing so bad I can feel it in my toes.”

  “How are you feeling this morning, Hazel?” asked Char, grabbing her other elbow.

  “Huh?” the older woman hollered back.

  “Her head hurts so bad she put cotton in her ears,” explained Gwyn. “She was complaining that I was breathing too loud, so I handed her the bag of cotton balls and told her there was nothing I could do about breathing.”

  “Oh, I know the feeling,” said Phyllis. “We’re all hurting. We decided next time we’re drinking vodka.”

  “Oh, there’s not going to be a next time. That was so irresponsible of us,” clucked Gwyn. She headed towards the front door to Habernackle’s and nearly tripped over Vic, who was sitting quietly on the sidewalk. “Oh! Char, you brought your dog to coffee? Are you going to tie him to the lamppost? I would assume that they don’t allow dogs inside?”

  Char held a hand against the door, blocking Gwyn’s entrance. “Yes, I brought Vic along. I’ve brought him many times, as a matter of fact. Linda has her own dog, and she’s never minded that I brought mine. Listen, uh, Gwyn. I need to tell you something about Vic.”

  Gwyn straightened her sunglasses and looked at Char curiously with one hand over her eyes as if it were a visor. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” said Gwyn in a bit of a hushed whisper, “but since you’ve brought it up, don’t you think it’s a little odd that you named your dog after your husband? What does your husband think about that? Surely he doesn’t care for that?”

  Char nodded as a small smile flitted across her face. “Well, that’s sort of the thing I wanted to tell you.”

  With her hand still on the door hand, Gwyn slumped forward. “Can’t you tell me inside? This sun is doing nothing for the throbbing in my skull.”

  “It’ll just take a moment, and I don’t exactly want everyone inside Habernackle’s to hear this. It’s sort of my little secret.”

  That interested Gwyn. She lowered her other hand from the door handle. “What is it?”

  Char looked down at Vic with a soft smile. “My dog,” she began slowly, “is…well, my dog is… oh, goodness. There’s really no good way to say this, but my dog is my husband,” she finally said. The words made her feel foolish to say out loud, but it was the truth.

  “Your dog is your husband?” Gwyn looked at Phyllis. “Is this a joke? Why are you joking like this right now? Kat was murdered. We’re all hungover. I can barely keep my eyes open I’m so exhausted, and you want to joke?” Gwyn put her hand on the door handle again.

  Phyllis touched her arm. “She’s being serious, Gwyn. That’s Vic Bailey.”

  Gwyn looked down at the dog on the sidewalk. “You married your dog? I’m sure there’s got to be a law against that … cruelty to animals or something…”

  Char put a hand on her hip. “I’m not cruel to him, for crying out loud, and he wasn’t a dog when I married him.”

  “He wasn’t a dog when you married hi
m? What was he? A cat?! A hamster?! Oh, for heaven’s sake, please don’t tell me you married your hamster,” asked Gwyn, horrified. “Here I thought Loni was the crazy one of the group!”

  “No, he wasn’t a hamster,” shot back Char.

  Phyllis chuckled. “A hamster, good one, Gwyn. That’s funny. A hamster…”

  “I’m being serious. What was he when you married him?”

  “He was a man,” barked Char. “Goodness’ sakes. He was a man, and he was the victim of a spell gone bad. A couple spells, actually. It’s a long story, really.”

  “You mean this dog is actually your husband?” asked Gwyn, wide-eyed behind her dark shades.

  Char nodded. “Yes. It’s actually Vic.”

  “Does he talk?” she asked, touching the dog with the tip of her toe.

  Char swatted at Gwyn’s shoulder. “Well, don’t kick him for crying out loud. He’s my husband!”

  “To answer your question, my dear, yes, I do talk,” said Vic quite clearly.

  “Ahh,” shouted Gwyn, throwing her arms up to cover her mouth and heart. “He talks!” She held her head. “Ow, and that hurt.”

  Hazel flinched at Gwyn’s scream. She looked up and backwards at her daughter curiously.

  “Shhhh,” hissed Phyllis.

  “Keep your voice down. We haven’t told many people about Vic’s—er—condition,” hissed Char.

  “You call this a condition? It isn’t a rash, Char!” said Gwyn.

  Char lifted a shoulder as if to say, “Eh.” “You could look at it like it’s a rash. But instead of his body being covered with red, scaly patches, it’s covered with fur.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny,” said Gwyn. “I can’t believe this. Have you tried to reverse the spell?”

  “Well, if I reverse the spell, he becomes a ghost. And we decided we’d rather have him be a dog than a ghost. At least I can see and hear him this way.”

  Hazel pulled the cotton out of one of her ears. “What are we doing sitting out here looking at that scrawny dog? I need a cup of joe. And get that poor fella some bacon, he’s nothing but skin and bones,” she said, nodding towards Vic. Without another word, she shuffled towards the restaurant door and opened it. “What are you waiting for?”

  A split second later, the door burst open and Benny Hamilton lurched out. He nearly bowled Hazel over as he ran out of the restaurant.

  Hazel shook her cane at the man as Gwyn rushed to her side to catch her before she fell backwards. “Watch it, Buster!” Hazel hollered.

  Gwyn’s brow furrowed as she looked up at Benny. She wrinkled her nose at him. “Hey, watch it. That’s my mother!”

  “You watch it, witches,” hollered Benny as he ran up the street towards downtown Aspen Falls.

  “Where’s the fire?” Char shouted after him, but he was already around the corner.

  “People have no manners these days,” snapped Gwyn as she dusted Hazel’s dress off with her hands. “Are you alright, Mom?”

  Hazel swatted her hands away. “Get your hands off me,” she snapped. “That fella better watch his step. Next time he knocks me over like that I’m gonna get my step stool and punch him in the chin.”

  Phyllis rubbed her shoulder. “You won’t have to go to the trouble. Next time that man lays a hand on you, I’m gonna sock him where it counts!”

  The women went inside and found Sergeant Bradshaw and his buddies having coffee at their usual booth.

  Phyllis stopped at the table. “Where was Benny off to in such an almighty hurry?”

  Gwyn pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head and into her hair. “He almost knocked my mother over,” she added with her eyebrows knitted together.

  “He got a big scoop on a developing story down by the Falls,” said Marcus Wheedlan.

  Sergeant Bradshaw stood up. “Benny pushed your mother?” he asked with a concern-filled voice. He bent over to peer down at Hazel. “Mrs. Prescott, are you alright?”

  Hazel’s face was red. “What?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “Are you alright?” he repeated.

  Hazel blinked up at him blankly, causing Gwyn to pull the cotton from her ears. “He asked if you’re alright?”

  “No, I’m not alright. I’m fired up! I want to punch some manners into that man!” snapped Hazel.

  Sergeant Bradshaw nodded. “I imagine you do. That was terrible of Benny to be in such a hurry that he’d push you over! I’ll have a talk with him.”

  “Mom, you’re shaking,” said Gwyn.

  Hazel’s hands curled into small fists, and she swung them at the air ineffectually. “I just wanna get my hands on that feller.”

  Sergeant Bradshaw watched her with a kind expression on his face. “She just wants to let her anger out. It’s not good to hold all that aggression inside. I tell you what, Mrs. Prescott, why don’t you hit me in the stomach? It’ll make you feel better.” He stood up straight and flexed his abdominal muscles.

  “Oh no, Sergeant, please don’t ask her to do that. My mother would actually take you up on that offer,” said Gwyn as her face began to flush with embarrassment.

  Sergeant Bradshaw smiled. “Please, Gwyn, call me Henry,” he said, tipping his head towards her.

  Char sucked her in her breath. “Sergeant Bradshaw, I’ve known you for almost thirty-five years and you’ve never asked me to call you Henry. I don’t even know that I knew that was your first name!”

  He smiled at her. “Oh, didn’t you? I’m sorry. I assumed everyone in town knew my first name, though almost everyone just calls me Sergeant. You can all refer to me by my first name if you like. I only mention it because your friend here allowed me to call her by a shortened name the other day, as she said her friends do. I was only extending the same courtesy.”

  “You call me Char. That’s a shortened name,” said Char with a hand on her meaty hip.

  “Oh, is it?” he mused with a finger to his chin. “Indeed. Please, feel free to call me Henry. Although to be completely honest, I’ll share a little-known fact. My first name is actually Harrison. My mother nicknamed me Henry when I was a small child because my brothers were starting to call me Harry and she thought that sounded offensive.” He smiled at Hazel. “Now, back to my offer. Mrs. Prescott, if you’d like to take that aggression out on me, I’d sure allow it. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Hazel fisted her hands. “I might hurt you,” she warned, looking at her fists. “These are powerful weapons.”

  He chuckled. “Oh dear, you couldn’t hurt me. I’ve got abs as solid as a brick house.” He flexed his stomach muscles again, widened his stance, and put his arms behind his back as he watched Hazel gearing up to inflict her best damage.

  She licked her lips, then reared her fist back. Then at the last moment, she closed her eyes and let loose. Her hand headed south, and before anyone could stop her, she landed a punch squarely between Sergeant Bradshaw’s legs.

  “Oooof!” he breathed. His knees buckled together, and his hands dropped to cover his sensitive area.

  Gwyn’s eyes opened wider. “Mother!” she screamed. “You hit him in the…”

  “I think you just ruined any chance he had of becoming a father again,” said Phyllis with a little laugh.

  “Harrison, are you alright?” asked Gwyn, her arm around his shoulder as he crumpled lower. “I’m so, so sorry!”

  Sergeant Bradshaw tried to wave to her as he couldn’t yet form words. “It’s okay,” he breathed between clenched teeth.

  “Mother!”

  “What? I closed my eyes. He told me to hit him,” she said matter-of-factly, patting the man on the shoulder. “You were right. I do feel better.”

  23

  Gwyn’s heart thumped erratically in her chest as she stared down at Sergeant Harrison Bradshaw’s nearly purple face. She felt horrible that her mother had punched the poor man at all, let alone in his nether regions.

  “Phyllis, take Mom to get some food. Her blood sugar’s got to be low after that adrenaline spike
with Benny.”

  Phyllis nodded and took Hazel by the elbow. “Sure thing. Want me to order you something?”

  “Coffee and a roll, please,” said Gwyn curtly. “And don’t forget, Mom gets French fries today.” She turned back to Sergeant Bradshaw as Char, Phyllis, Hazel, and Vic left to find a table.

  “Oh, Harrison, I’m so sorry!” she cooed, rubbing his back.

  He tried to get to his feet but struggled. The men at his table had all howled as they’d watched the scene unfold. Now that the shock had worn off, they all wiped away the tears that had formed due to their fits of laughter.

  “Don’t worry,” said Marcus, holding his stomach. “He’s a tough old coot. He’ll shake it off.”

  Harrison nodded his head. “I’ll be okay,” he puffed out.

  “At least let me buy you coffee and a roll,” begged Gwyn, pulling her purse up to her hip. How embarrassing! And after the lovely dance they’d shared the night before, too. She was going to have to have a stern talk with her mother.

  He touched her hand gently. “No need,” he whispered.

  Marcus laughed. “The sarge gets free meals and all the coffee he can drink here.”

  Gwyn’s eyes widened as she looked down at the man. “He does? Whatever for?”

  “Long story,” said Harrison as he got to his feet and began to slowly recover. “I’ll be fine. I’m sorry Benny knocked your mother over.”

  “I’m so sorry my mother punched you!” said Gwyn.

  Sergeant Bradshaw turned back towards his friends. “I better let you get back to your mother and your girlfriends,” he said, limping back to his seat.

  Gwyn’s heart sank. He didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Ugh! Mother! “Okay,” she whispered, her heart in the pit of her stomach. “I’m really sorry.”

  Gwyn left the table just as Char was approaching them with Vic in her arms. “Hey, fellas,” she said, getting all of their attention again. “What was the big scoop that had Benny’s britches on fire, anyway?”