Hoodoo and Just Desserts
by
Constance Barker
Copyright 2018 Constance Barker
All rights reserved.
Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Thanks for Reading
CHAPTER ONE
“I still don’t understand why you spend so much time at that museum. I know it’s a job, but if you’re in need of work, you can always work with me at the shop.” Amber Farbor, the town’s obligatory loon and owner of the local supernatural gift shop, pressed, not for the first time. I sipped my coffee instead of immediately replying, the warmth making a soothing path down my throat. Of course Amber wouldn’t see the appeal of working at the Civil War Museum. She made her cash faking her way through psychic readings, and selling stones to align your chakras. Her shop could be useful in a pinch, as she was always eager to order specialty items for a price, but Amber herself was little more than a mole on the backside of the town of Stillwater. That may have seemed a bit cruel, but nothing quite got my goat like someone pretending to be gifted, when they were, for lack of a better word, a total normie.
“Mazie, are you listening? You haven’t answered any of my questions,” Amber said insistently, drawing me from my thoughts.
“Of course I’m listening, Amber. I just got a little distracted thinking about the tour schedule today,” I lied, brushing my hair behind my ear. Truth be told, I was just tired of hearing the same tirade from the woman who so longed to run our little town. She was a gossip in every sense of the word, and I wasn’t one for giving her ammunition.
“But you have the whole witchy vibe down pat, the customers would go bananas for you,” Amber whined, and I didn’t quite know what she meant by the ‘witchy vibe’ but I knew it couldn’t be anything good. After all, no one in town could actually know I was... well, a witch. It would probably give her an anyeurism. But, I wasn’t about to call her out on it, however, too preoccupied with my plans for the day.
Working at the Civil War museum was perhaps the most exciting job a woman like myself could dream of. The actual museum housed period appropriate weapons, as well as a plethora of other everyday items. Outside, in the back lawn of the property, there was a battlefield set up, intended to simulate the very battlefield that this town had housed so many years ago. It was a proud point of our history, a history that the locals of the town held very dear. Most of the town’s inhabitants were regulars at the museum tours, in spite of having seen the scene played out hundreds of times over. It was one of the things I liked about Stillwater. In the years I’d been in the town, very little had changed.
A tourist friendly spot in every sense of the word, Stillwater had bakeries to supply visitors with tasty and sugary goods, cafes to grab a quick bite, as well as plenty of shops to buy souvenirs. Amber Farbor’s shop was the most popular by far, considering the historic witch coven that was said to meet in this very town. It even overwhelmed the visitors to the Civil War museum, which I could only attribute to the common man’s interest in the fantastical as opposed to true history. It was a bit ironic that I was more interested in the Civil War Museum than the actual history of the paranormal in town, but after hearing the same stories hammered into your head for years, you learned to find an interest in other things.
“I would never leave my job at the museum. All of my friends work there,” I muttered, dismissing the woman with ease. Sure, my friends didn’t exactly work at the museum, but they certainly made their home there. What Amber didn’t know didn’t hurt her, and the less she knew about my job the better. God knows she would probably babble every little detail to every tourist who entered her shop. In spite of the publicity it would bring for the museum, it was the last thing I wanted. She tutted as if reading my mind, steepling her fingers atop the table and looking at me with a serious expression.
“There are always new friends to be made, Mazie,” she hummed, though her expression was a big chagrined. She knew as well as anyone else in town that making ‘new’ friends was impossible. Everyone in town had been there for ten years over, and we were a close knit community. The only new person who had popped into Stillwater in the last few years was less than welcome among the locals.
“What, are you suggesting I buddy up with Dickney?” I asked with a faint smile, cupping my mug in my hands. Even Amber looked offended by the suggestion, shaking her head fervently.
“Of course not. The sooner he finds his way out of town, the better. I can’t believe that sleazeball would put a water park just on the outer bounds of our historic battlefield,” she muttered, and though we were speaking quietly, I knew much of the diner would agree with the sentiment. Particularly Fang, a local man who made a living as a moonshiner. He and his son often came into town to peddle their goods, as well as hearing the current news. He was a grizzled man, and I suspected he picked this particular diner because of the lead waitress and owner of the Stillwater Cafe.
I glanced up as Hazel brought a fresh slice of apple pie and placed it in front of the moonshiner, smiling a cheeky little smile before returning to her position behind the counter. Fang stared after the curvy older woman, and I was strangely endeared to see the older man’s cheeks redden as he considered the slice of pie on the plate in front of him. I averted my eyes before he could realize I was looking, focusing my gaze out the window to the main street of Stillwater. There was the bustle of the usual tourists, but not as many as usual. The weather was getting a bit chilled, which meant less people planning their vacation in town.
I recognized a particular car turning into the parking lot, though it wasn’t a pleasant sense of recognition. Dread welled up within me as I turned my attention to my coffee, trying desperately to ignore the well groomed man that slammed the diner doors open, stepping inside to order at the counter. His expression was smooth, debonair, though Hazel didn’t seem to buy into it... whatsoever. Just the same, she told him to take a seat, and he did as such...though he preferred to take a seat at the bar.
“Hazel, darling, when am I going to be able to convince you to leave this diner behind?” Charles Dickney replied, his smile wicked as a cup of coffee was placed in front of him. I didn’t have to look up to realize Fang was glaring bullets at the man...not that anyone else in the cafe was particularly thrilled to see him.
Dickney had seemed fairly normal when he first came into town, around thr
ee years ago. The normal tourist, he brought his elderly parents on vacation to the local inn, and spent most of his time in the cafe. We thought very little of him—after all, we saw very little of him. When news spread of his parents dying, the town had been sympathetic when Charles made his return. However, he seemed entirely unbothered by the demise of his parents. In a town where family was everything and cash came secondarily, it was strange to see a man who took delight in the death of his family. He’d received a hefty check as soon as his father had been buried six feet under, and through word of mouth, I’d heard that our town had been his first stop.
“I have good news, everyone,” Charles announced from his spot at the bar, thanking Hazel for coffee with a smile that spoke of nothing but ill intent. Most of the diners ignored him, though Fang’s glare had been fixed on him since he’d stepped through the door. I looked up, vaguely curious to hear what he had to say. I didn’t expect it to be anything of importance, but perhaps it would prove entertaining. I could at the very least pray he was announcing his departure from our town...off to wreck some other small town with his gaudy little water park. In a perfect world, he wouldn’t sully any small town vibe with his big city intentions, but my main concern was seeing him out of my small town.
“Well, go and tell it then, Dickney,” Fang growled, his voice hoarse and gravelly. Dickney seemed all the more pleased by the attention of the moonshiner, but it was no secret that they had butted heads since Dickney rolled into town on a more permanent basis. I suspected it had a lot to do with Dickney’s intentions with Hazel, and a little to do with the water park he was planning to wreck our town with. I couldn’t blame Fang for his disdain in either instance, though I wasn’t looking forward to any sort of turf war in our small town.
“Ah, yes, Fang. Ever grateful for the introduction. Well, as I said, I have good news. As you all know, I’ve been gathering investors for the water park on the south side of the battlefield,” he announced, and a collective groan echoed through the diner. He seemed nonplussed—if anything, he seemed more delighted to announce whatever was on his mind. He paused as Hazel brought a piece of apple pie to his section, asking her for a dollop of whipped cream with a serpent’s smile. Hazel obliged, and somehow, Dickney seemed to take this as a victory over the moonshiner. I could almost feel electricity sparking from their glares, but Dickney turned away at the last possible moment and scooped up a bite of pie. He moaned as he tasted it, and everyone in the diner seemed to be waiting for his announcement. I wasn’t one to pay Dickney any mind, but if what he seemed to be implying was true, it was definitely worth acknowledgment.
“Get on with it, you high-heel wearing bastard,” Fang gritted out, pushing his own slice of pie away, presumably to enjoy in less queasiness inducing company. Hazel wrung her hands, and though I know she held little interest in the newcomer, I had no idea regarding how she may have felt about Fang. For all I know, she was interested in Amber’s husband at the hardware store, and didn’t want anything to do with either of the men.
“Oh, you dear man. I can’t blame you for not recognizing designer boots, but I can assure you, these are anything but your classic high heeled show. But we can discuss that later, can’t we? Everyone is eager to hear my announcement, are they not?” Dickney announced, and I wanted little more than to approach the bar and slap him silly. In spite of the fact that Fang needed little protection from a slight woman like myself, I felt defensive of him just the same.
“We’re all very excited to hear your announcement, Charles,” Hazel said blandly, washing some glasses in the bar sink. The rich newcomer smiled toothily, and I could feel Fang’s resentment radiating in hot waves from across the cafe.
“Well, I’m here to tell you all that I’ve done it. I’ve landed the final investor for the water park, and I’ve been given the go ahead to start my project. Dickney's Water Park will begin construction in the coming weeks, and I look forward to seeing all of you at the groundbreaking ceremony,” Dickney smiled. A chill seemed to permeate the air of the diner, and I knew at once I was not the only one with anger brewing in my gut. Even Hazel seemed to be having trouble with her apathetic front, her eyes narrowing dangerously upon the rich businessman. Before he could say another word, she had snagged the plate of half-eaten pie out from in front of him and tossed it in the sink to be washed.
“That’s very interesting. Congratulations,” Hazel said through gritted teeth, and I caught sight of Fang rising from his seat out of the corner of my eye. I could hear the old moonshiner’s son begging him not to make a scene, but if there was one thing Dickney was good for, it was bringing out the theatrics in everyone around him.
“You listen here, you rat turd. I won’t have you ruin our town with your frilly little water park, or any of the other nonsense you want to bring into Stillwater. We’re perfectly happy being a small town, and we get plenty of tourists as is. We don’t need some rich busybody like you deciding the future of our town,” Fang said loudly as he crossed the diner. Dickney considered him with a faint smile, seeming nonplussed by the sudden disappearance of his sweet treat. As Fang stepped up to the bar, I saw Hazel reach out tentatively before drawing her hand back to herself, helpless to do anything but watch what would unfold. Fang didn’t seem to be finished with his tirade, and he approached where Dickney sat, going as far as grabbing the man by the shirt collar. “If you ruin our home, I’ll make sure you regret it. You hear me? For every boy and girl in this here diner, I’ll make you regret it,” Fang gritted out.
“Is that a threat, my dear man?” Dickney replied, seeming unaffected by the moonshiner’s grip on him.
“If it needs to be,” Fang replied, and it took every bit of me not to stand up and cheer. Amber seemed to lack the restraint I had, leaping from her seat and waving her fist at the men.
“You tell him, Fang! We don’t want his kind in Stillwater,” she cried out loudly, as eager for attention as always. For once, she actually got it, as the rest of the diner crowd rose from their seats and began to shout at Dickney as well. I couldn’t help the sense of dread burbling in my stomach at the look of fury that briefly passed the rich businessman’s gaze before he broke apart from the moonshiner.
“What you hillbillies want is hardly any of my concern. This water park will be built, you can guarantee that. If it kills me, I’ll see that property christened as Dickney Water Park,” he shouted, losing his cool for one of the first times in the entirety he’d been in town. Fang simply chuckled, giving him a slight shove. I tensed my hands into fists under the table, praying an outright brawl wouldn’t break out. It seems my prayers were answered for the time being, at least, as Dickney turned his back upon the moonshiner and stalked towards the exit of the diner. He paused before leaving, turning to survey each of us. “This isn’t the last you’ve heard of me,” he said ominously, before stalking out the door.
Oh boy.
CHAPTER TWO
Deciding that the bout at the diner had been enough excitement for the day, at least for the next few hours, I decided to visit my sister at her job. Fern Stuart worked at the local Sheriff’s office as a deputy, and made a habit of nosing her way into every new case in town. I felt entitled to saying as much, considering she was my sister. She was well aware that she could be a busybody at times, but we didn’t hold that as a point of contention between us. I rather liked knowing the comings and goings of town. Granted, she wasn’t technically allowed to reveal as such, but Fern was terrible at keeping secrets—at least when it came to me. The exceptionally fortunate thing was the fact that she had her own office, in which I felt entitled to bothering her at any given time. Did that make me a bad sister? Perhaps. I liked to think I simply knew how to get things done.
Stepping into the Sheriff’s office, some of the rookies welcomed me with a smile. They were beyond used to my presence in the office, which I’m sure said a lot about my sister and I. I smiled at the young men as I passed, waving cheerfully and trying to play off the fact that I was g
oing to milk my sister for information. I wasn’t sure how well that went one way or another, but Fern could deal with it at a later point. She was used to dealing with my eccentricities when it came to meeting her office-mates. Fortunately, the Sheriff was nowhere to be seen at the present moment, which meant I was basically home free. Sheriff Bailey was the one person in the entire town who could put the fear of God in me, which was saying a lot. Fern was more used to dealing with him, but as a result, she was usually more easily swayed by the narrowing of his eyes. His annoyance was often little deterrent to me, granted, I rarely had to deal with the older man.
“Fern,” I called out loudly, pushing my way past some younger officers to make my way to her office. She greeted me with a slight cringe, looking none too impressed by my presence. I grinned cheerfully in spite of her obvious disdain, slipping into her office and pulling the door shut behind me.
“What is it this time, Mazie?” she asked wearily, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall beside the door. I grinned, reaching out to mess up her hair.
“You’re always so serious. Can’t I come to visit my favorite sister?” I pressed, stepping further into the office and hopping up on the desk, kicking my feet idly. She glowered, looking unprepared to move from her place beside the door.
“I’m your only sister,” she said blandly, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at her attitude. “Seriously, Mazie, can it wait? I’ve got a lot of files to go over and—,” she paused, looking disheartened by my disinterest in the current conversation. “Okay, hell. What do you want? Shouldn’t you be at work?” She demanded, slipping past me and slapping the hat off of my head as she went. I fumbled with the wide brimmed sunhat, plopping it back on my head with a tickled expression.
“I’m just checking in. You know..,” I trailed off, smiling a bit as she shook her head in disbelief. “You act like I never visit you at work,” I pointed out.
Hoodoo and Just Desserts (The Witch Sisters of Stillwater Cozy Series Book 1) Page 1
