Witches and Wine

by Samantha Silver

  I was glad I didn't ask for a glass of water. It would have been sprayed all over the floor. "Um, yeah. Listen, I'm really sorry about that, by the way. I guess you heard it from someone else?"

  She nodded and took a seat on the velvety sofa, curling her short legs up underneath her, motioning for me to take a seat on the other chair in the room.

  "Yeah, Chief Benson found me at the animal shelter right before I left to come home. I texted Mom to make sure she knew and I guess she did." She showed me the bright screen of her phone, where Barbara’s text sat. We'll talk when I get home.

  Yup, that was mom code for “I know”.

  It was so weird being around not one but two people who seemed like they really couldn't have cared less about this man's death.

  "Your mom doesn't really like your dad."

  "Caught that, did you?" The rhetorical question was quiet but with a dark chuckle following it. "Henry Mortran isn't… wasn’t the greatest person. Or even a good person. He's done… did a lot of shady things in the past, including cheating on mom several times. They got divorced when I was eleven."

  "Gotcha," I said softly.

  "To be honest, I mean, I know he's my father and all but he was kind of a terrible person. Maybe not even kind of." Karen sipped on her water thoughtfully, like she was miles away. I didn't dare push at all on the current subject, knowing all too well that some people just didn’t want to talk about death too much, and sat back, wondering how it must have been growing up with parents who hated each other. Some people would have looked at me being adopted and felt sorry for me, but the fact of the matter was that I was a heck of a lot happier because my parents had to go through the whole grueling adoption process just to finally have had me. If they had ever had any major, serious arguments, I had never been privy to them, and for that I was thankful.

  The two of us sat down in silence for a few awkward minutes, before I couldn't help myself.

  "Is it just me, or did you mention something about kittens?"

  Chapter 6

  It didn't take long before I was ready to pass out, after having learned all about Karen as we talked for a few hours. She told me all about how she worked at an animal rescue shelter in town, and how she grew up in Rosemary Creek feeling awkward and shy, despite her powers. When I asked her what her special power was after offering up mine, she just grinned. “I’ll have to show you sometime.”

  Despite being a witch, Karen led a relatively normal life. Honestly, it wasn’t all that different from mine, apart from the whole having an amazing house thing. It made me wonder if being a witch wasn’t maybe a lot simpler than I had initially thought. I mean, in Harry Potter, witches and wizards led totally different lives to muggles. But then again, as I had to remind myself constantly, this wasn’t Harry Potter. And after our long chat, the fresh, clean bed was calling my name.

  The next thing I knew there was a knock at my bedroom door, and I opened my eyes to the realization that it must have been morning already.

  "Just a second!" I called out, throwing on some clothes and pulling my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head, desperate for some much-needed hydration and possibly something warm and delicious for breakfast.

  "I was just checking in. I'm making some scrambled eggs and sausage. Want some?" Karen asked, the smell from our kitchen making my stomach rumble even more. It was funny how quickly I was referring to everything as ours and mine. Like I had already fully accepted my weird new life in Rosemary Creek.

  "Sure. I'd love some, actually."

  Spearing the sausage links with my fork, I took a heavenly bite, unsure of the last time I'd spent the morning making myself real food. Usually it was just a banana on the go, or a muffin from the bakery on the way to work.

  "Why are you smiling?" Karen asked through a mouth full of eggs.

  "I was just thinking about how I never have to step another foot into that skeevy place again. Little Richie's, the car dealership I was working for up until yesterday afternoon."

  "Cheers," she chuckled, pushing her stick-straight hair behind her ear. "To no more skeevy jobs."

  We both clinked half-drunk glasses of orange juice. "No more skeevy jobs," I echoed.

  "Working with my mom will be a cinch after dealing with your jerk of a boss, I'm sure," Karen told me, finishing off her plate. "I used to help her run Creekside Trinkets when I was in high school. She hired another couple of people and I ended up at the animal shelter afterward, but it was pretty nice."

  I nodded, shoveling another bite into my mouth. "Speaking of which, where is your mom? I figured she would have been down by now to let you know how last night went at the station."

  Karen looked toward the stairs. "Yeah, same. I guess she got home late?"

  But when we finished our food and cleaned up a bit, we headed upstairs to ask her ourselves, only to find that Barbara wasn't home.

  "I'll just call her and see where she is," Karen said, although I could tell she was worried.

  I busied myself with putting away everything in my room and writing down my own list of groceries to pick up. It felt a little silly, knowing that without the help of public transportation and the cramped but close city vibe of San Francisco, I was putting myself in the market for a cheap car. A cheap car I could've had for almost half-price had I waited to quit until after I bought it from Little Richie's. The irony was not lost on me.

  "Hey, Taylor?"

  I peeked around my door to see Karen's face white as a sheet. "What's up?"

  Without meeting my eyes, she twisted her hands together out in front of her, still clutching her phone. "I just found out what's been keeping my mom. They arrested her last night. For my dad's murder."

  "What!" My jaw dropped to the floor. "They can't do that!"

  Karen looked completely lost, not at all the same confident person I'd been getting to know. I couldn’t imagine what was going through her head.

  "I don't really know. They only gave me a few minutes to talk to her and she said that since she didn't have anyone to back up her alibi, there wasn't much she could do."

  “That is literally the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and I just found out I’m a witch. How can they do this? It just doesn’t make any sense.” I shut my door behind me, walking over to where Karen was starting to pace back and forth over the living room floor. "There's gotta be something we can do to get her out of there."

  Something lit up inside me, and all I wanted to do was to storm up to this lousy police station and give them a piece of my mind. Barbara obviously wasn’t a murderer!

  "Like what? They felt like they had enough to keep her in a cell overnight, so chances are they won't listen to any reason. God, I can't believe this." Karen slumped against the back of the sofa, holding her phone out in front of her. "They won't be able to pin it on her in the long run, because she simply didn't do it. But who's to stop them from keeping her there until they're satisfied with that outcome? What if they try to move her to a more permanent facility? I'd have to quit the animal shelter, try and hold down the fort at Creekside Trinkets, and I'm not exactly the best at managing that place. Not like Mom."

  The despair in Karen’s voice was evident. I chewed my lip, my thoughts revving up in my head as I tried to figure out a way to help. "Well, then it's pretty simple. If the police won't be satisfied with Barbara's lack of an alibi, then we're going to have to take matters into our own hands."

  Karen’s eyes were glistening, and I could tell it was taking everything in her to keep those tears from falling. Despite barely knowing her, I could tell Karen was a strong, proud person like her mom.

  "What do you mean?"

  I sat down next to her, folding my knees underneath myself. "If the cops are dumb enough to pull a stunt like this, then how can we trust them to bring the real killer to justice? We need to find out who killed your dad—and fast. That way it would get your mom off the hook, and they'd have no choice but to release her."

  For such an outrageous
idea, Karen sure seemed eager to get to it. "You're absolutely right. We just need to stay a step ahead of them, and make sure they're doing their job so we can get her out as soon as possible." She stood up so fast that I nearly toppled backward. "We need a plan of action, though. We can't just walk into the police station and tell them who we think might have done it; we'll need real evidence."

  All the talk of evidence and plans of action left me feeling a little uneasy as Karen started pacing again, talking about using spells and sneaking around undetected.

  I nodded along only half-listening to her, while in the back of my head I wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into. I barely knew Barbara and Karen, yet there I was, ready to put myself on the line and possibly in the path of a killer.

  "Right?"

  I snapped out of it, my focus back on Karen as she looked at me expectantly.

  "Er, right," I said, hoping I sounded confident, and like I totally had been listening.

  She gave me a simple nod and hurried over to where our purses were hanging up by the kitchen. "So we'll start at James & Sons, and start asking questions there. If there's any one place we'll be able to find some dirt on my dad's dealings and possible enemies, it's there."

  "James & Sons?" I questioned, realizing that I had no idea what Henry Mortran actually did for a living. Not that he was really living nowadays.

  A humorless laugh escaped Karen as she handed me my purse. "The law firm. Oh yes," she told me, recognizing the look on my face. "He was a lawyer. A family lawyer, no less, who found it in his own best interest to not give a rip about any family he managed to tear apart. Least of all, his own."

  It was no wonder Karen hadn't shed a single tear over her own father's death. He sounded like the world's biggest sleazeball.

  I made a face, wishing I could think of something to say that was slightly more helpful than, "Oh. Yeah, that sucks, Karen." Well, at least I knew why I was never intentionally picked when it was time to do debates back in high school. A wordsmith, I was not.

  But she just shrugged, already over it. "The answer's likely in his files. All we have to do is figure out how to get access to them."

  I shut the passenger door to Karen's tiny blue hatchback, wishing we'd been able to take Barbara's nice Lexus instead. But hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers. And it wasn’t like the hatchback was a bad ride, it just wasn’t a Lexus.

  We pulled up to the back-end of a pretty prestigious-looking building, at least from what I could see. As we walked down the side of it and up to the front, I gaped at the giant white marble pillars that went from the top steps to the roof, looking not unlike a fancy library you'd find in a big city. And being from a big city, I knew a thing or two about fancy libraries. Except this building was a fraction of the size, which made sense considering there probably weren't a whole lot of people suing each other in a town of twenty-five thousand.

  Still, I found it kind of hard to imagine Barbara, with her many rings, her mysterious smile, and of course her ability to zap a stain off a shirt like a Tide pod, falling in love with some lawyer. A divorce lawyer, no less.

  "C'mon," Karen whispered to me, dragging me along after her and in through the large mahogany double doors at the front of the building.

  The inside of the building was surprisingly dark, and quite cool. With old, dusty looking portraits of equally old and dusty-looking men on either side of the long hallway inside, I felt a little claustrophobic and couldn't help but wonder if that was the intended effect.

  Down the hall, a shrill voice made its way towards us, before being caught up in a cacophony of other's, and a moment later the owner of the shrill voice in question ran around the corner, nearly running straight into us.

  The crying woman, with her platinum-blonde hair and no fewer than four strands of pearls around her neck, gasped as soon as she saw Karen's slight frame, her eyes, caked in running eyeliner and mascara, narrowing suspiciously.

  "And what are you doing here? Did you come to gloat?"

  I edged myself closer to Karen, suddenly feeling very protective of her.

  The blonde woman hardly seemed to care, taking another step closer to us, her frown wide and sloppy like a clown's. "It was your mother! I know she killed him! She killed Henry, oh Lord, she did. She took the love of my life away from me!" she shrieked, too close for comfort.

  The red-painted talons on her hands stretched out towards us, her hands reaching toward Karen’s collar, before a pair of hands pulled her back away. I looked over; two men in tidy suits and ties stood next to the woman, firmly but gently holding her back. Karen shuddered, but didn't cower away, giving the woman just as angry of a look as she was dealing her.

  "That's not true, Sydney, and you know it! My mom had nothing to do with this!"

  But Sydney continued to sob, crumpling into the arms of the two men, her voice wavering as she lobbed more verbal attacks at Karen.

  "You both hated him! You wanted him dead. I bet my life that you had something to do with it, too!" She tried twisting out of the men's grasps, but a moment later there was a scuffle as two police officers in navy blue uniforms entered the building and made their way towards the woman, speaking to her calmly. Evidently, she had been making a bit of a ruckus even before we’d gotten here.

  "All right, all right, Mrs. Mortran. We're going to help you, okay? I just need you to listen to me," the taller one told her, nodding to the shorter man as they led her out the front, her wails still audible until the thick wooden doors closed shut behind them.

  "They’re probably going to give her some kind of sedative," Karen said, her voice not nearly as steady as it had been before we walked in.

  “They can do that?” I whispered back to her.

  “Do I look like a police academy drop-out? I have no clue. Hopefully they’ll just taze her, instead. A few times, if we’re lucky. And to think, he wanted me to call her my step-mom.”

  I took in a deep breath. The whole encounter had taken less than thirty seconds. It was like my life was going for a record for the weirdest single moment in the shortest period of time.

  “That’s certainly something. It’s a shame they couldn’t have handled themselves similarly with your mom, instead of just tossing her into jail without any evidence.”

  The lobby of the law firm was small and dim, the front desk inside of it looking in need of some TLC, with its dents and scratches all over. Honestly, given the exterior of the building, I had expected something a little bit more modern and clean.

  "I'm so sorry about that, hun," one of the few women standing around in the lobby area said. "She's been such a mess since she heard the news."

  Another lady stepped forward, her sensible shoes clicking along the hardwood floor. "How are you holding up?" she asked Karen, tilting her head to the side.

  Karen blinked really fast before turning quickly in my direction, as if to hide her face. The sniffling sounded legit, not to mention the way she moved her shoulders up and down.

  "It's just been so-s-so hard," Karen replied, muffling a sob. Even I bought it for a split-second, watching the way she hugged herself.

  All three of the ladies crowded around her, taking turns patting her consolingly, hushing her softly. It was like watching a group of hens peck over baby chick—I nearly expected to hear one of them clucking.

  Karen nodded, getting one last dramatic sigh in before letting her lip quiver in front of them.

  "He was still my dad, you know?" She wiped at her face, and I had to admit I was pretty impressed to see genuine tear streaks there. "Can I look at his office? One last time? I think there may have been a few pictures there. I’d love to have what I can… of the memories."

  "Of course you can, hun!" the first woman replied, almost looking offended, glancing around at the other two, daring them to say otherwise. "Go right on ahead!"

  "Taylor?" Karen sniffed loudly. "Could you help me? I don't think I can go in there alone."

  I nodded, clearing my throat. "
Yeah, of course. I'll just, uh, follow you."

  Smooth. One of us was definitely a much better actress than the other.

  Outside one of the larger rooms at the end of the hallway was a golden plaque shining with the words Henry M. Mortran, esq., Attorney at Family Law, engraved on it.

  Karen's act of the desperate daughter was nearly finished, and she had completely dropped the whining in her voice when she turned to me, winking, before opening the door.

  We both stopped short when we realized we weren't alone.

  "Karen?" A tall, leggy blonde in a short well-pressed dress and matching red heels stood at one of the filing cabinets, dropping whatever she had in her perfectly-manicured hands back into the middle drawer before she quickly shut it. "I-um, we weren't expecting you here today."

  Karen seemed just as surprised to see the other woman, but nodded anyway, the tears coming back.

  "I wasn't sure I’d be able to come here, either. I just wanted to look through some of Dad's stuff. I know he kept some pictures here, and I just wanted to see if I could find them. I have to hold on to whatever memories I have of him, now. "

  The woman clearly wasn't all that convinced, but obviously she couldn’t get away with accusing a grieving daughter of faking it.

  "Of course. Please, take your time," she said, gesturing around the large office. "And Karen, I'm really sorry about Henry. He was..." she let her voice trail off, lost in her own thoughts.

  "Yeah," Karen finished, glancing subtly over at me with one eyebrow cocked. "I still can't believe it. Would you um, mind, Eliza? Giving me some space to kind of process in here?"

  Eliza sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't. No one is really supposed to be in here but me." She turned to face the same file cabinet again, running her long fingers along the edge of it.

  “What now?” I mouthed at Karen, who gave me a shrug in response.

  "Really? How come? Surely you can give me a few minutes alone with my dad's things?" I was vaguely aware of how Karen sounded less upset and more irritated, but I kept it to myself.