“But how are you going to find out?” Sophie asked.
“I’m possibly the only person on the planet who can just ask the bears and get an answer to that question,” I replied with a smile.
* * *
That was how I found myself trudging through the woods at three in the afternoon, bundled up in a thick jacket, but still feeling chilled down to my bones. After a summer of perfect weather in the high eighties, the temperature had dropped suddenly this week, and my body was totally unprepared for the weather to be in the fifties again.
“At least it’s not raining,” I muttered to myself, looking up at the imposing grey clouds above. “Not yet, anyway.”
There was one advantage to the bad weather; it meant I was unlikely to run into anyone else on my way to find the local bears.
I knew there was one female who lived near a little pond a ways away from the end of the trail that I was currently on. All the locals knew she lived there; the bear was nicknamed “Jeanie” and was a favorite of local bear spotters. I was hoping Jeanie would be around and know something.
It took me another fifteen minutes to reach the end of the trail, and by the time I did I was sweating, out of breath, feeling generally gross, and thinking to myself—for probably the tenth time this year—that I should probably exercise occasionally. I made my way through the woods that I knew like the back of my hand—growing up in Willow Bay I’d spent most afternoons in these woods—and five minutes later I found myself by the edge of a small pond, about fifty feet in diameter.
“Jeanie?” I called out as loudly as I dared, and then sat and waited to see if the bear would appear. Hopefully she was both in the area, and willing to chat. Luckily, two minutes later I heard a tree branch cracking nearby, and a minute later the big black bear ambled toward me. She was pure black, except for her snout which was more of a light brown. Jeanie’s rounded ears twitched as she looked at me.
“Hello, human,” Jeanie said to me cautiously. She was still a good fifty feet away; bears were definitely a cautious animal.
“Hi, Jeanie,” I told her. “Is it all right if I call you Jeanie? That’s what the humans in town call you, anyway.”
“That is fine,” Jeanie told me. “My own kind call me Korawaa—it means the mother of cubs in our language. But for you, Jeanie is acceptable. In fact, I think I like it.”
“Thank you, Jeanie. Listen, I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to ask you a few questions about what happened in these woods yesterday.”
“Yes,” Jeanie said. “It was very sad. I saw the man, but when I saw what was happening I ran away.”
Oh, this was even better than I could have imagined! It sounded like Jeanie actually saw the whole thing.
“You’re telling me you saw what happened?” I asked.
“Yes, yes. It was right near here, after all. There is a patch of blueberry bushes not far from where the man was killed. Since I only have two months now until the winter sleep, I thought I would visit the patch.”
“Can you tell me what you saw?”
“The human who was killed was walking along a path, with another human. They were arguing. I could not make out what they were arguing about. The one human then pushed the other human, and the first human hit his head on a tree. The other human continued to attack him, with branches and rocks. I left as fast as I could when I saw that, even though I was not finished eating the blueberries. I did not want to see the violence.”
This was better than I could have ever expected! Not only had I just confirmed that Jeremy Wallace was, in fact, murdered, but there was a chance that Jeanie could even tell me something about the murderer!
“How well did you see the attacker?” I asked Jeanie, and she thought for a minute before shaking her head.
“Not very well, I must say. My eyesight is not what it used to be. When I was a cub, I could see far. Now, not as much.”
“Do you know if it was a man or a woman?” I tried, trying to hide my disappointment. I knew that any information I got from Jeanie obviously wouldn’t count as proof—I had no way of admitting to anyone that my witness was of the ursine variety—but if she could steer me in the right direction, that would be something.
“I do not, sorry,” Jeanie told me. “To be honest, you humans all look very alike to me. For instance, I am not certain if you are male or female. Do not take that to be an insult, it is simply that whenever I see humans I often try to leave as quickly as possible. You are the first human I have seen from so close.”
“I’m not insulted, don’t worry,” I told Jeanie. After all, how could I be? I knew 99 percent of the population wouldn’t be able to tell if a bear was male or female, and they didn’t even wear clothes to cover up their naughty bits like we did.
“I can tell you the attacker was wearing dark clothing. They were dressed in black, from head to toe.”
“Excellent, thank you.”
“I saw there were lights long into the night where the man was attacked. He is not going to be ok, is he?”
I shook my head sadly. “No, he’s not. He was killed.”
“Oh,” Jeanie said sadly. “That is too bad.”
“Hey, Jeanie?”
“Yes, human?”
“I would like you to spread the word around to the other bears to be careful over the next few weeks, ok?”
“Be careful? Why?”
“The humans who are in charge thought that the way the human was attacked looked like a bear had done it. They have announced that the man was not murdered, but killed by a bear. I’m worried that humans are going to be more afraid of bears than usual, and that some of them might try to come into the forest and kill you for their own protection.”
Jeanie looked sadly at the ground. “That is not good. We are a peaceful species. We do not wish harm on the humans.”
“I know,” I told her. “I promise you, I will do everything I can to prove it was a human who killed the man. I will do what I can to protect you. But please, make sure the other bears know to be more afraid of humans than usual for the next little while.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Jeanie told me. “I will spread the word. We will be discreet. I wish you the best of luck with what you are doing.”
I smiled at Jeanie and said goodbye, then headed back the way I came. I checked the time as I walked back toward the park, and home. It was just after four thirty. With any luck, I’d have enough time to have the hottest shower known to man before my date with Jason that night.
5
Just after six Jason and I were sitting in a booth at the local Italian restaurant. Giovanni’s was a relatively new addition to the Willow Bay restaurant scene, having only opened around five years ago. It had a cute, old-world feel to it, with traditional Italian music running softly through the restaurant, warm lighting from candles at each red-checkered-tablecloth covered table and framed pictures of the Tuscan country side adorning the walls.
“So,” I said to Jason as I picked up the menu when we finally settled ourselves into the comfortable booth. “I suppose you’ve been busy with Jeremy Wallace’s death?”
Jason was a journalist at the Willow Bay Whistler, the local weekly paper. I suppose he was the journalist, really. It wasn’t exactly a high circulation paper that warranted a large staff. Jason raised an eyebrow at my phrasing. He was over six feet tall, with gorgeous dark brown hair and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. When he smiled I felt little butterflies in my stomach, and while we initially didn’t exactly get along—it didn’t help that I had suspected him of committing a murder—we quickly found that we had a lot in common and had now been dating regularly for a few months.
“Does the fact that you already know his name mean Willow Bay’s own Nancy Drew is on the case?” he asked with a grin, and I found myself blushing slightly.
“No, no. Nothing like that. Well, maybe something like that. I meant to tell you, I actually got called out to the crime scene to give my advice. You know, what w
ith being a vet and all.”
“Awww, and you didn’t think to sneak a picture of the body for me to run on the front page?” Jason asked, pretending to be hurt.
“Yes, I’m sure you wouldn’t get any complaints about that at all from the population here,” I laughed as the waitress came by. I stuck with the classic spaghetti carbonara, while Jason, being of Italian descent from New York, ordered the much fancier-sounding Bucatini all'Amatriciana, along with a bottle of white wine from Tuscany that he swore was the best wine he’d ever tasted.
“So you’re the one who told Chief Gary it was a bear attack?” Jason asked. “I was curious as to how you knew.”
I shrugged. “Actually, while I said the injuries were consistent with a bear attack, I also told Chief Gary I didn’t think that was what it was.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. I mean sure, being tossed into a tree and covered in scratches is consistent with a bear attack, but it’s not the only possibility. And honestly, I have really good intuition. And my intuition was telling me this wasn’t a bear.”
Jason considered my words. I felt a bit of a pang at not being able to tell him the true reason I knew it wasn’t a bear attack. Being a witch was such a major part of my identity, and yet I knew I wasn’t allowed to share it with Jason. Not until we were married, anyway. Those were the rules.
“So you don’t think it was a bear?”
“No. No, I really don’t.”
“But don’t bears, like, kill people for food?”
I laughed out loud. “Seriously? You know, sometimes I forget that you grew up in New York City and have no idea how nature works.”
Jason looked at me with a gaze that was half abashed, half curious.
“Bears will almost never attack humans, unless they feel threatened. Grizzly bears are the more aggressive type, but there aren’t any of them in Oregon at all. You’ll never run into one here. We just have black bears. Black bears are pretty badly named, to be honest. They can be all sorts of colors, from black, to brown, to cinnamon and even white, although those are pretty rare.”
“Oh, yeah, I saw a video on Facebook of a little white bear cub up in Canada, his mom was black,” Jason replied. “So they won’t attack you if they see you?”
“No. Not unless you act threateningly. That’s why it’s recommended that if you see a bear you look to the ground, speak calmly and back away slowly.”
“While I’ll keep that advice in mind, be aware that if I ever see a bear I will be much more likely to panic and run away screaming,” Jason told me, and I laughed.
“Well, that’s pretty much the worst thing to do, but on the bright side, you’re pretty unlikely to ever run into a bear. They avoid humans pretty well. All that is another reason why I don’t think this is a bear attack.”
Also I spoke to a bear who saw the whole thing happen, I thought to myself. It was starting to suck, not being able to share that part of my life with Jason. It felt wrong to keep that from him. But I knew I had no choice.
“So you think Jeremy Wallace was murdered?”
“I do,” I nodded. “In fact, I’m sure of it, although I don’t really have any proof.” No proof I was allowed to speak about except with Sophie and Charlotte, anyway.
“Then the question becomes, who did it? After all, he was just a tourist.”
“Obviously I’m not the only one who’s been looking into Jeremy Wallace,” I said, sticking my tongue out at Jason.
“Yeah, but at least I have the excuse that it’s my job,” he replied, sticking his tongue back out at me.
“Hey, it’s my job to protect animals. I don’t want it to become open season on black bears.”
“Yeah, that’s true. As much as I’ve always been afraid of bears, I just always stayed away from the forest, since I figured they were unlikely to wander around town to find food.”
“You’d be surprised,” I replied with a small smile. “Especially in the fall when they’re trying to get as many calories in as possible, some of them start wandering into town. There’ll be some warnings not to keep apples on the trees soon, since bears will come by and eat them.”
“Really?” Jason said, his face getting noticeably paler. “Jeez, and here I thought Willow Bay was safe.”
I laughed again. “You come from a city where you see drive-by shootings on like, a daily basis.”
“That’s an exaggeration. New York isn’t like that at all, it’s actually quite safe.”
“So is Willow Bay! Don’t worry though, you probably won’t see any bears in the street. And if you do, remember, just back away slowly from the bear.”
“This conversation is making me feel like the least masculine boyfriend ever, by the way,” Jason added. “I feel like I should be telling you that if I run into a bear, it’ll be ok, because I’ll just punch it and it’ll run away from me.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” I replied as the waitress came by with our meal. For the next five minutes or so I focused on not inhaling the delicious spaghetti and just trying to eat it slowly, like a normal person. Jason was definitely right about the wine; it was hands down the best vino I’d ever had in my life.
“So if you’re going to try and prove it was murder,” Jason asked, “how are you going to go about it?”
“I’m not going to lie to you,” I replied. “There isn’t really much of a plan right now. We’re kind of winging it.”
“We? So Charlotte and Sophie are helping out again too?”
“Well, Sophie is in for sure. Charlotte is pretending to disapprove, but she’ll help too, if only because she thinks we’re going to get ourselves killed if she doesn’t step in.”
“That does sound like Charlotte.”
“I swear, she’s the youngest of the three of us, but she’s basically the group mom.”
“Every squad needs a mom though.”
“Yeah, I know. She is great, even if I do complain about her a bit. So now spill, what have you found out about the guy, with your wily big-city journalist skills?”
Jason grinned at me. “You’re going to owe me tonight for this info.”
“I’m pretty sure I already owe you tonight just for choosing this amazing wine,” I replied with a wink.
“Either or,” Jason replied, and I laughed. “Jeremy Wallace has been traveling the states for two weeks now. He landed in Dallas sixteen days ago. From there he went to San Diego, Los Angeles, Vegas, San Francisco, and was driving up the Oregon coast when he made his fatal stop in Willow Bay.”
“You are good,” I said. “We knew about Texas and LA, but that was it.”
“They don’t pay me barely above minimum wage for nothing,” Jason replied, and I laughed. After Jason’s father had been murdered, he’d received a payout worth enough that he didn’t necessarily have to work for a living, but being an investigative journalist at heart he still took up the job at the Willow Bay Whistler. A lot of people didn’t understand why someone who had articles published in the New York Times would move to Willow Bay, where last week the top story was the controversial decision by the library to repaint their fence a shade of pastel blue instead of sticking with the current white. But I understood. I was a vet who spoke to animals. Protecting and helping animals wasn’t just a job, it was a calling. I would do whatever I could to help animals, no matter how boring or mundane it would be. I couldn’t always deliver calf twins on a farm in the middle of a freak snow-storm; sometimes I had to simply give another cat some flea medication. Jason was the same way.
“Though speaking of, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re getting a pretty good rep in the newspaper game these days,” I said.
“Oh yeah?” Jason grinned. “Stoke my ego, tell me what the people of Willow Bay are saying about me,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Unless it’s bad. Then don’t tell me.”
“Your ego is already big enough,” I said. “But yesterday afternoon I was in Betty’s café, and I got to chatting with Lean
ne Chu. She said that she’d heard you were approached by The Guardian in England to be their main man for investigations in the United States.”
“Awwww,” Jason said. “I was going to surprise you with that. I suppose I should know better than to expect news to stay secret in Willow Bay for more than twenty-four hours. They offered it to me yesterday morning.”
I laughed. “So Leanne got the info in what, under four hours?”
Jason shook his head. “Small towns are ridiculous. Literally the only person I told was my boss, who was doing the layout for this week’s paper.”
“And let me guess, Leanne came in later to place her weekly ad?”
“I don’t even think she came in. I’m pretty sure she just called him. Anyway, I said thanks but no thanks to The Guardian.”
I wasn’t going to lie, I felt a small weight slide off my shoulders with relief at those words. “Oh yeah? Why did you say no? It sounds like a great opportunity.”
“It is,” Jason replied. “But they wanted me to move to an actual city if I wanted to do it. They said Chicago, LA, New York or Washington would have all been fine, but I couldn’t stay in Willow Bay.”
“I guess this small town is growing on you, bears and all?”
“It’s not so much the town as the people in it,” Jason said. “Well, one person in particular,” he added, and I knew the flush crawling up my face was visible. How I ended up with such a perfect guy, I had absolutely no idea.
“You’re… you don’t have… I mean I like that…” I stumbled over my words like a pubescent girl talking to her crush for the first time, but Jason just took my hand.
“I mean it. You’re special to me, Angie. I like your spirit. I’m staying in Willow Bay. After all, someone has to watch over you and Sophie when Charlotte’s not around.”
“I like how you call me Angie,” I finally managed to answer, and Jason laughed. Before we’d started dating I kept telling him to stop calling me that. It annoyed me like crazy. Now, I thought it was cute. Jason and Sophie were the only two people in the world who called me Angie, and I liked it.
A Grizzly Discovery (A Paranormal Cozy Mystery) (Willow Bay Witches Book 5) Page 3
