She shook her head. "Notice of Separation? I’ve never seen one of those before. If they were letting you go, the top would have said Letter of Termination. I’ve drafted enough for the senior partners I know the difference.” She paused as she tapped the bottom of her chin. “That’s slick. He had you sign a letter of resignation, without actually calling it a letter of resignation. If it said Letter of Termination at the top, that would have been too obvious. Notice of Separation is vague enough that it could be construed as a letter of resignation and a letter of termination. He wanted the paperwork to match his story without raising any red flags when you signed it."
But that didn’t make any sense. "Why did Mr. McDaniels want me fired?" I said out loud. Is that why he did it at lunch to make his story more believable?
"Did anything happen in the last couple of days that could have led to this?"
"Not that I know of." I trailed off, trying to think of everything that happened. "Oh," I whispered as it hit me.
"What? What is it?"
"I met Arte Abbas…and I sort of let it slip I worked at his law firm."
"Did he know that you are Unbound?"
"I didn't say it in so many words, but yeah."
"Oh, this could be his way of getting you out of his company, but making it look like you just quit." She explained. "The severance could have been a payoff in their mind to keep you quiet."
I fell to my couch and dropped my head in my hands. "I can't believe I fell for this."
Chelsea sighed and sat down next to me. "It's not your fault. In all my time there, I've never heard of them doing something like this before. You wouldn't have seen this coming. I think anyone would have fallen for it. Mr. McDaniels seemed like an honorable man."
"What should I do now?"
"Take the money and keep your head down."
"Are you serious?" I stared at her. "They tricked me out of my job."
"They also gave you six month’s severance to cover their tracks. Don't push it." She stared me down. "Do you see the lengths they went through to get you out of that job? I'll do what I can to look into this but, please Olivia, you're Unbound. You don’t have the kind of protection you need if they decided to do something else."
I sighed; she was right. If I did make a fuss, they would make me disappear before I could make any headway.
"We'll figure this out, just don't mention this to anyone else. Okay?"
"Yeah." I nodded.
Chelsea sighed and stood up. "I should be getting back home, it's getting late."
"Ok." I sighed as I walked her to the door.
"Let me know if you need anything, and please keep your head down." She reminded me.
"Don't worry," I assured her. "I will." I smiled faintly at her before I closed the door. I would keep my word to Chelsea as much as I could, but I knew I needed to tell Mrs. Coe about this. I might’ve been Unbound, but she was the closest thing I had to family.
FIVE
I groaned as sunlight washed over my face. I had forgotten to close my blinds. I fished for my phone through the covers and squinted at the screen, looking for the time.
7:00 am.
Ugh, I didn't have to be up yet.
I debated going back to sleep, but I knew it was pointless. Once I was up, I was up. I turned to face the ceiling, debating if I felt like working out or having breakfast.
I decided against both and instead chose to go to WICCA to let Mrs. Coe know of the developments at Sanders & Angell. Since I had the severance, I could increase my shifts at WICCA.
I threw the covers back, sat up, and got out of bed.
The store didn’t open officially until 8:00 am, so I didn't have to rush. Mrs. Coe wasn't expecting me anyway. I dragged myself to my bathroom and set about my morning routine.
I had this habit of observing myself as I brushed my teeth. I never considered myself out of this world beautiful, I wasn't unattractive, but I also didn't consider myself average. I was in my own category, and I loved my face.
I had semi chubby cheeks that sat on high cheekbones but no dimples. I would kill for dimples. I’d been told I had a typical nose, whatever that meant, and round chestnut eyes.
I liked to say my lips were made for smiling, they even had the corners on the edge that were upturned and everything. Thankfully my teeth were good, and I never needed braces. The good thing about being a witch, most illnesses I could take care of with a potion, but fixing teeth required a dentist and only a dentist.
Once I was done brushing my teeth, I moved to the shower, internally debating if I felt like washing my hair since I hated the long and hard task of washing it.
Don't get me wrong, I loved my hair; it was thick, dark brown, and curly. It stopped at my shoulders, but when I straightened it, it came to my mid-back. It was a tough process, so I didn't do it much, but I couldn’t avoid it today.
I undressed and got into the shower. Forty-five minutes later, and a lot of swearing on my part, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my hair in a towel.
I quickly dried off and grabbed one of my hair potions off the counter. One of my own making. I pulled my towel off my hair and poured a generous amount in my hand and ran it all throughout my hair. Once it was saturated, I dragged a comb through it before pulling it up into a messy bun to let it air dry.
I went back to my room and got dressed. When I looked at the time, it read 8:15 am.
I was faster than expected. I gave myself a little pat on the back.
I walked into my kitchen, grabbed a banana for a quick bite, and grabbed my bag from my bedroom.
It was a beautiful day, and since I was not expected today at all, I decided to walk.
After double-checking that I had everything I needed, I left my apartment and headed out.
My apartment was a magical only building, and I was the only witch who lived in my building; the rest were halflings and vampires.
I lived in the heart of Washington, DC, the nation's capital for both magical and non-magical people. My apartment building was in the Dupont Circle area, and WICCA was on a side street in Georgetown. On a good day with a brisk walk, I could make it from my apartment to the shop in 30 minutes, but I wasn't in a rush. So, I took my time, ignoring the growing feeling I needed to be there now.
But, as I turned down the street was WICCA was located, I knew there was something wrong.
~
I could see the closed sign still in the window, and all the lights were still off. But the store should have been opened by now.
I tried the door, but it was locked. I pulled out my keys, unlocked it, and let myself in.
"Mrs. Coe?" I called into the dark shop. "Hey, it's Olivia, is everything okay?" I waited to see if I heard any movement, a sound from above or below, but I didn't hear anything.
I walked further to the back of the shop, dropping my bag on the counter. Maybe she was sick or overslept. She worked so hard, perhaps she needed the extra rest.
I didn't want to wake her, so I decided to just open the shop for her today. But when I opened the back curtain to grab an apron, I froze.
"No. No." I fell back against the counter, wincing slightly at the pain in my side from the impact.
"Mrs. Coe?" I sobbed.
She was asleep.
She had to be sleeping.
No.
It…she couldn’t be.
She was just sleeping.
The back table where we ate our lunch was smashed, the room was a complete mess, and in the middle of it, all was Mrs. Coe’s broken and twisted body. I fell to my knees in disbelief.
"No! Nooooooo!"
I reached back and grabbed my bag and started rummaging for my phone. When I found it, I called Clive.
"Clive!" I screamed into the line once he picked up.
"Olivia?" His voice was gruff. I immediately realized that I must have woken him up, but I couldn't bring myself to care. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Mrs. Coe…Mrs. Coe…her body…she’s there…and s
he’s not moving. Her body…there’s something wrong. She’s not moving…” I rambled into the phone. "The store wasn’t open…I used my key. I…I…” Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to get my words out. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words I knew in my head to be real. “Clive, you need to get here…now. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know…" I cried into the phone.
"Are you still in the store?" I heard him getting up, followed by the rustle of clothes and the jingle of keys.
I just stood there, crying, and nodding my head.
"Get out of the store now. I'm texting my partner. He is sending units. Get outside."
"I…I can't leave her." I cried. "She's alone, I can't…"
"Olivia, listen to me." He calmed his voice down to an even level. "You need to get out of the store now. Stand up and go out the front door. I'm coming for you. Just wait outside."
"But-"
"No, get outside now. It's for your own safety."
I don’t know how many times Clive repeated himself before I was actually able to force myself to move. I grabbed my bag and stumbled out the front door. "I'm outside," I said once the door closed behind me and I collapsed against it.
"I'm coming Olivia," Clive replied. "I'm coming."
SIX
Forty-five minutes later, I was in Clive's car while he and his partner, Jacob, clear the store.
It only took Clive and his partner 15 minutes to arrive. However, when they got there, I was inconsolable. It took Clive almost 20 minutes to calm me down and get me to agree to sit in his car while his partner cleared the scene and waited for the rest of the SPF officers to arrive.
The crime scene techs arrived, and I watched them walk into the shop, kits in hand.
As I watched everything happen in slow motion, all I could think about was how badly I didn't want to be there. This had to be a mistake. It had to. There was no way she was gone. She couldn't be.
Clive walked out of the shop and looked over in my direction, his eyes full of unshed tears. He walked over to me and opened the door crouching done next to me. "Olivia. I have some questions I need to ask you. Okay?”
I nodded.
“What were you doing here? I thought you only worked here on the weekends." He asked, and I realized I never told him I lost my other job. He must have expected me to be at Sanders & Angell.
"I was coming to look to extend my shifts. I left Sanders and Angell yesterday," I explained. "Who would do that to her?"
"I don't know Olivia. I'm sorry."
"Was it a robbery? Did she walk in on someone trying to rob us? Did they attack her?"
Before he could answer, a van pulled up to the scene. I read the bold letters on the side of the van, ‘Coroner.’
"Detective Torres, there you are."
Jacob walked out of the shop. I saw him briefly when he first arrived, but we didn't exchange introductions. He was wearing a black suit, his detective badge hung around his neck. He looked between Clive and me. I had never met him before today, and Clive never really talked about his work when we hung out. I don't think I actually asked what his name was in the entire time I'd known Clive.
"Jacob," Clive started, "this is Olivia London, she's my neighbor and Mrs. Coe's weekend employee." He explained. “Olivia, this is my partner, Detective Jacob Moss.”
Jacob gave me another once over before sticking out his hand. "You can call me Jacob, and please know you have my deepest condolences."
"Thank you." I sniffed, not ready to breakdown again.
Clive and Jacob shared a look, Clive shook his head no.
"Ms. London," Jacob started but was interrupted by one of the men from the Coroner's Office van pulling out a gurney. It landed with a loud crash before he was able to right it.
"Sorry about that." The tech said, looking over at us. "Normally, I have help pulling this thing out, but my partner's kid is sick, so it's just me today. Where's the old lady?"
I gasped, clutching my stomach at the callousness of his words. "That old lady is my boss and the closest thing I had to a mother. How can you talk about her like that?" I screamed at him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Clive growled at the tech. "You don’t talk like that at a crime scene."
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry." The man finally noticed I was standing there. "I wasn't thinking."
"Just get inside," Jacob said before turning back to me.
"Olivia, I'm sorry, you had to hear him talk like that," Clive said. “I called Dessen, and she is on her way here. But while we wait, we do have a few questions." Clive said. “That’s only if you’re feeling up to it.”
I nodded. “I want to help.”
“Was the door unlocked when you arrived?” Jacob asked.
“No, it was locked. I had to unlock it to get inside.”
Jacob nodded and started to scribble in his notebook. “Clive said you are a weekend employee, what were you doing here on Monday?”
“Um, I left my day job. I was coming to ask for a few extra shifts.” I sniffed.
Jacob nodded again and wrote a bit more in his notebook. He looked like he was about to ask another question, but the shop door opened, and one of the techs stepped out. “Jacob,” he called. “We need a word.”
“Be right there,” Jacob said. “I’ll continue this later. I’ll get your contact information from Clive. Again, I am so sorry for your loss.” He turned and walked back into the shop.
Twenty minutes later, I was still sitting in the back seat of Clive's car. Jacob had yet to come back outside the store, but Clive was sitting with me. They said I couldn't step back inside the store just yet.
Most of the tears had stopped, but the pain in my chest was crushing me.
"Don’t you need to be in there?" I finally asked. "I can wait for Dessen alone."
"Because of my connection to you and Mrs. Coe, I decided to recuse myself from the case. I asked them to call in someone else." He explained. "I know I won’t be able to work this case objectively. At the moment, I am not able to tell you anything. Jacob will be the one to keep you informed."
I nodded. Clive was a stickler for the rules and always played by the book.
"Olivia!" The car door was wrenched opened and, in a flash, I was in a bone-crushing hug with my other neighbor, Dessen Donohue. "I am so sorry!" She whispered in my ear. "I am so so sorry."
I felt another wave of fresh tears hit me, and I buried my head in her neck and cried once more.
"Hey, Clive."
I pulled back after hearing Jacob's voice. He was walking out of the shop, careful to close the door behind him.
"I heard they have assigned Gregory Dawson to the case; he is on his way. You are free to go."
"Can I see her again before you take her?" I asked Jacob.
"You don't want to see her like that, not again," Clive answered. "And she wouldn't want you to see her like that."
"Please, she’s…family," I begged.
"Clive is right," Jacob said. "I can't allow you to enter and see her right now. But I will need to come and talk to you later."
"She lives across from me, Jacob," Clive answered.
"What time is good for me to come over?" Jacob turned to me.
"I have nowhere else to be. Come by anytime."
"We'll be there," Dessen said, gripping my shoulder.
"Ok, I will try to be there before three," Jacob said. "And again, please know you have my deepest condolences."
"Thank you," I said before Dessen led me to her car. Under normal circumstances, I loved riding in her car. She had a 2017 Range Rover Evoque. She had once said, one of the perks of being a vampire, she had years to save for her luxury items, but today I just wanted to curl up into a ball.
The trip back to the apartment was quick. Clive had to go back to the station to fill out paperwork but said he would be there when Jacob came by.
SEVEN
The rest of the morning went by fast. In such a short amount of time, my life was completel
y turned upside down. I’d lost my job - no, I was really tricked into 'quitting’ my career - and the one person who truly cared for me, the one person I considered to be family, was gone. I laid in my bed most of the morning, not ready to face the world.
Clive came by around 2:30 to tell me that Jacob was on his way with the new detective who was taking over for him, Detective Dawson.
"Olivia," Dessen said softly as she knocked on my bedroom door. "Detective Moss and Detective Dawson are here."
"Okay. I'm coming." I got up from the bed and walked to my bathroom to rid myself of my stale breath. I walked out to my living room where Clive and Dessen were sitting on opposite sides of my couch. They must have grabbed the chairs from the kitchen for the detectives. Detective Dawson was older than both Clive and Jacob. He had light brown skin, hard eyes, and his hair had a military-style buzz cut. His suit was a little more worn than Jacob’s and Clive's, telling me that he had been on the force longer than them, but he still had the same rank.
"Hello," I said, walking in and taking the seat between Clive and Dessen.
"Thank you for allowing us to meet today," Jacob said. "I know this is a trying time for you and we will try to keep the questions to a minimum. First, I want to introduce you to Detective Dawson. He will be working this case with me instead of Clive." He nodded to Clive.
"My deepest condolences." Detective Dawson said, nodding his head towards me, but his voice was monotone like he had said these words hundreds of times before. With all the attacks on magicals in the last year, I’m pretty sure he had told them plenty. "Like Jacob said, we will try to keep this as short as possible."
"Thank you," I nodded.
"So, let's get started," Jacob said as both he and Detective Dawson pulled out a notebook and a pen. "When was the last time to spoke to the vitc-" he paused and corrected himself. "My apologies, Mrs. Coe, when was the last time you spoke or saw her?"
I ignored his mistake and answered. "Sunday, I work there on the weekends. I left there Sunday night around closing."
"But you were there today, in the middle of the day?" Detective Dawson asked.
"On, Saturday night, Mrs. Coe um," I swallowed. "She had me sign some papers finalizing that when I turned thirty, I would get the store. She wanted to spend the rest of her days traveling the world. So, Monday, I made the decision to quit my job and work at the shop full time." I lied. I didn't know if I could tell them the truth. I didn't know what was at play with me being fired, and right now, I couldn't risk the severance.
Ahmentree's Magic Page 4
