Hoodoo and Just Desserts (The Witch Sisters of Stillwater Cozy Series Book 1)

by Constance Barker

  “Can I help you?” I asked pointedly, looking behind him to see a group that could only be his family. The resemblance was uncanny, even with the wife, leading me to wonder if their family tree branched as much as it should have. The man drew me from my thoughts, snapping a picture of me and nearly blinding me with the flash. I gasped, seeing spots for a moment as he moved to snap another picture.

  “Now listen here, sir. I won’t have you pestering one of my most valued customers. Go back to your table and enjoy your meal, or I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Hazel said firmly, looking at me with concern in her gaze. I managed a half-smile, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision. “This latest flock is nothing but vultures, Mazie honey. I love when you visit, but maybe you would be better suited to laying low for a while,” the motherly woman said quietly. I rolled my eyes, sitting upright in my chair and considering her for a long moment.

  “And miss your famous milkshakes? Wouldn’t dream of it, Hazel. I can deal with a few dodos here and there,” I assured her, relieved to see her smile a bit. The expression didn’t quite meet her eyes, however, only making me all the more sure that something was bothering her. I cleared my throat, but before I could get the words out, she was shuffling to the back to, presumably, prepare my milkshake. I cursed myself for not making more of an effort to actually comfort her before making my demands, as it were. All the same, I needed my chocolate fix, and I needed it bad—even if it meant dealing with all of the obnoxious tourists on the planet. Speaking of; another bespectacled man, much scrawnier this time, was watching me from his place on another bar stool, his expression almost terrifyingly delighted. I hadn’t realized I would become a local celebrity just for being unfortunate enough to happen upon a dead body, but it went to show that you couldn’t put much of anything past a desperate vulture.

  “So... is it true? Did you find the body? I heard that he looked as if his soul had been sucked clean out of him—like some kind of demon, or something,” he asked with an unattractive grin.

  “Sir, I believe you’ve been reading a few too many scary stories,” I replied casually. The existence of demons seemed unlikely, even to me: a witch. If they did exist, I was sure they had better things to do than fool around in Stillwater. I was almost tempted to point that out, as far as I was aware, Dickney didn’t have a soul. That seemed a bit callous, however, even for me.

  “There are rumors of witches in this town! You live here, right? Is there any truth to the story? The nice lady at the occult gift shop told us so many riveting tales,” he whispered. He probably would have scooted his chair closer to mine if the stools moved, and I thanked my lucky stars that he was forced to keep his distance to remain polite.

  “If you’re going into a store that specializes in the occult, don’t you think it would be good for her business to sell some bull crap stories about paranormal activity in town? You didn’t strike me as the type to be such a sucker,” I said mildly, smiling at Hazel when she emerged with my milkshake. The man was staring furiously at me, but I couldn’t be bothered with the taste of heaven dancing on my tongue. I did realize that I had a purpose for being in the diner, aside from a chocolaty treat. Leaning in, I rested a hand on Hazel’s shoulder as she made to bustle away to deal with another table.

  “Honey, I really don’t have time. Got to keep busy, you know. With all the rumors flying around... well, I’d rather keep myself occupied,” the older woman said wearily, hesitating when she seemed to see the question I was sure danced in my eyes. “That little... so and so, Amber is stomping all over my last nerve, darling. She’s telling anyone in town who will listen that the moonshiners are responsible for Dickney’s death,” she continued with a sigh, seeming resolved to ignore her other customers for now.

  “Has anyone been bothering them about it?” I pressed, feeling suddenly protective. Hazel shrugged a bit, staring bitterly at the tourists scattered through the diner.

  “You know how people like to value themselves amateur detectives. I’ve never known Fang to be bothered by much of anything, but he... he isn’t himself. I think all the unwanted attention is getting to him, as much as the old fool would deny it,” Hazel whispered, rolling her eyes as a group across the diner rudely called out for her attention. “I don’t know what to do. Fang puts on a tough front, but... he’s got a big heart. He wouldn’t do something like this. Good luck convincing Miss Amber and all these vultures, of course,” she said with an air of finality, reluctantly walking away to deal with some of the other customers. I sighed, continuing to sip my milkshake as I considered her words.

  Truth be told, as much as I wanted to think better of Fang, I couldn’t blame people for having their share of suspicions. Not that it was any of these gaudy out of towners’ business. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do, myself. If Fang had committed the crime, he didn’t seem the type to be able to cover his tracks very well. Hell, if he’d been the real culprit, I was sure there would be globs of tobacco spit in a circle around the body. If there was one thing to be said about the elder moonshiner, it was that he didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. It was nothing short of a miracle that Hazel hadn’t yet caught on to his feelings for her, but the opposite seemed to be true as well, so I couldn’t really blame her.

  Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I grabbed it without much thought, swiping the screen to see who was messaging me. I should have suspected it might be Becky checking in to see how I was doing. Her message mentioned seeing a frazzled Fern all over town, and told me to take care of my sister in a tone I was sure was supposed to be teasing. Becky didn’t have a cruel bone in her body, after all. That’s what I liked so much about her. I quickly tapped out a reply, informing her that I was doing just fine. I also wrote a little note about keeping an eye on Fern, tacking a smiling emoticon to the end of the conversation. Texting had never been my forte, in spite of most people’s infatuation with the activity. I always felt better calling someone—texting seemed too secretive, almost sneaky.

  I belatedly realized in that very moment that sneakiness was just what I needed. I kept my phone out, idly searching for Fern’s contact name in my list. She had been at the top of the list, in a category labeled ‘Favorites’, though the latest firmware update seemed all too intent upon messing up my organization. When I finally found her name, I tapped it and stared at the small white screen for a moment as I tried to think of the proper way to approach the subject. Letting Fern know that everyone in town thought Fang was the killer probably wasn’t the most soothing thing I could send my sister, and I was pretty sure she was already well aware of the fact. Sighing, I considered my options for a moment longer. It wasn’t as if I was in any hurry to convict Fang, even on the off chance he had actually committed the crime. The sooner we could get him out of hot water, the better.

  I hoped that Fern would agree that it was better to tackle the problem head on, instead of the beating around the bush that we’d been involved in thus far. I mean, don’t get me wrong, my sister was the detective of the family. I usually left it to her intuition to decide what path she would take. It usually wasn’t one of our dear friends being accused, though... I felt obligated to help, regardless of whether or not my sister would appreciate it. She’d see things my way once I we got over the initial hump, at least, I was pretty sure. The decision already made, at least in my mind, I began tapping out a message to Fern.

  I didn’t expect her response to be immediate, after all, she was up to her neck with tips that needed to be sorted through. It was just as well, anyway. I had a milkshake to finish.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The day the museum opened back up may have very well been the best day of my life. Alright, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but I was undeniably thrilled to be going back to work. Hanging around the house with Moody all day was fun at first, but it had gotten a bit tedious, especially when the feline was usually ranting about the pests that had probably settled into ‘her turf'. I could only assume she meant the mu
seum, though I wouldn’t consider it her turf by any means. I wasn’t a cat expert, though, so I let her rant and rave while I ate popcorn and watched reruns of soap operas. Fern was gone every morning when I woke up, and usually didn’t get home until I was getting ready for bed. I missed my sister, but I knew she had a job to do. That knowledge did nothing to abate the loneliness, but I couldn’t exactly hold it against her. After all, I’d been invited out of the house on several occasions—usually under the pretense of going shopping with Becky and Amber. If it had just been Becky, I might have considered; my hatred for shopping aside. Combine that hate with my... sincere dislike for Amber, and it only spelled disaster. I couldn’t say as much in my messages, however. Becky didn’t have a mean bone in her body, but she could get a bit caught up in the gossip queen’s web. I would have to teach her how to handle the shop owner properly, but that would have to wait.

  The call had jolted me completely out of bed, the familiar ring tone that I’d set for my boss blasting through the room. I hadn’t exactly known why he would be calling, but I never ignored his calls and I wasn’t about to start. That was when I found out the museum was opening back up—at least, on a trial basis. The tours had been put on hold, but my boss insisted he had work for me to take care of in the museum itself. It wasn’t as exciting a job by any means, but who cares!? I was going back to work. I got dressed in record time, brushing my hair just enough to make it look presentable before hurrying out of my room. Moody was curled up on the back of the couch, snoozing softly and muttering about liver treats in her sleep. I’d never known an animal to talk in their sleep, but Moody was a special one after all.

  “Hey,” I said quietly, giving her a little nudge. The cat only growled a bit, curling up tighter. “Hey. Wake up. Come on Moody,” I pressed, frowning when the cat captured my finger between her paws.

  “I am not watching soaps with you again,” she hissed vehemently, flexing her claws as if to threaten me.

  “I guess you don’t want to come scope out your turf, then... okay,” I said, carefully extracting my finger and turning my back towards the cat as if to walk through the door. Three... two...

  “Wait! The museum is open?” Moody demanded, seeming much more alert all of a sudden.

  “Bingo. Well, at least the actual facility. The grounds are still closed off from tours for now, but the boss told me he’d find some way to keep me occupied,” I grinned, holding my arms out. Moody leaped gracefully into them, settling against my chest with a content little rumble.

  “Those mice won’t know what hit them,” she whispered malevolently, and I chuckled a bit, shifting to support her with one arm as I grabbed my keys. She grunted unhappily as she dangled from my arm, the majority of her weight sagging towards the ground. “Easy on the merchandise, alright?” She managed, gripping my arm for dear life. I snorted, locking the door behind me before making my way to old reliable. Moody was all too eager to jump in once I opened the door, shaking herself off a bit before settling in the passenger seat.

  “Becky’s going to be there, I think. I think the boss just wants to establish some kind of... sense of normalcy. It’s not like anything he does is going to take away from the fact that someone was murdered on our grounds—,” I began, interrupted by the cat.

  “I still like the theory where I scared him witless,” she mused, licking herself languidly. I rolled my eyes a bit, but I couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

  “That would make things a lot more convenient, wouldn’t it?” I muttered, pulling into the parking lot, only to see my usual spot was occupied by a familiar vehicle. “What the hell is Fern doing here?” I wondered aloud, feeling rather concerned. Moody hummed noncommittally, pawing at the window.

  “She said she had some leads to follow when she left this morning. Maybe she’s here to discuss them with you. Roll the window down, woman,” the feline began calmly, before all but shrieking out her command. I would have obliged, but the manual knob made rolling the window down much more complicated than simply opening the door. As Moody continued to rap her paws against the window, I threw the door open. The cat yowled as she came tumbling out of the car, looking up at me with a sour expression once she was safely grounded.

  “What do you know. Cats don’t always land on their feet,” Fern piped up, catching my attention from the entryway of the museum. I grinned, rushing forward to embrace my sister. In spite of living with her, her strange work hours as of late had made it near impossible to catch up.

  “I’m not going to lie, you being here is kinda concerning,” I said quietly, looking her over quickly. I knew the chance of her running to the museum if she was injured were essentially nil, but I had to be sure. She only chuckled, though her laughter was warped by the obvious weariness in her voice. She yawned mid-giggle, rubbing her eyes blearily.

  “Yeah, well. I never really got the chance to reply to your text regarding Fang and Jimmy Jack. Even if we suspected Fang, simply disliking Dickney isn’t enough to book him. If that were the case, we’d have to move the entire town into a jail cell,” Fern pointed out, leaning back against one of the columns of the entryway. I laughed, acknowledging her point with a nod.

  “Point taken. So he’s not in any trouble? Hazel has been worried sick since that... that...,” I trailed off at the disapproving look in Fern’s eyes, exhaling wearily. “That jerk! Hazel has been worried sick since that jerk Amber started spreading rumors all over town,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Well, truthfully, that’s not even the most popular theory with the tourists. I’ve received several tips about demonic possession, paranormal activity... witchcraft,” she listed off, grinning a bit as she revealed the last bit. “It’s all ridiculous, of course. Even with this town being so superstitious, I’m pretty sure no one believes in witches. Why would they?” Fern continued, standing upright and brushing herself off.

  “Why, indeed,” I retorted, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

  “As far as actual leads, we’re making some progress. Turns out that Dickney and his business partner had a particularly violent falling out when the last investor pulled out of the water park deal. Apparently things went south, and they blamed each other for all of the investors backing out at the last second. Funny thing, that. The water park probably would have never been built, regardless,” she paused, looking almost melancholy. I couldn’t blame her. The whole town had more or less rejoiced when I found Dickney’s skewered body, and it seemed like he was all talk in the end, anyway. It must have been a terrible way to go: knowing all your plans were falling apart and having no one to turn to.

  “That sucks,” I said astutely, unable to properly articulate how I was feeling. Fern seemed to be feeling much the same, her lips curling in a bittersweet smile.

  “That it does. Anyway, I came to fill you in on the details and let you know I’m going to be heading to the morgue. I thought I might get a bit of insight on the actual death, instead of a bunch of unsubstantiated rumors,” she replied, glancing past me to where Becky was eagerly waving from inside the museum. Fern made a slightly uncomfortable face, waving back in spite of herself.

  “You’re going to the morgue without me? No way, Fern. You know how bad it can be when you relive violent instances. You could hurt yourself,” I said firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. She heaved a sigh, and for the first time, I noticed the obvious bags under her eyes. My word, how much sleep was she even getting?

  “I don’t see any other options, Mazie. It’s a risk I’m willing to take at this point, if there’s a chance of getting any closer to solving this crime,” she replied stubbornly, though it was quite clear she could see my point. I rolled my eyes, resting a hand on her shoulder. She looked just short of utterly defeated, and it was an expression I hated to see on my dear sister’s face. Just the same, it wasn’t as if I could, in good conscience, let her risk getting hurt. I thought our dilemma over for a moment, glancing at the museum with a sigh. Moody was nowhere to be seen, so I c
ould only assume she had found some weird cat way of getting in the building. I wouldn’t put much of anything past her at that point. Becky seemed to have tired of waving, instead sweeping the floors while whistling cheerfully.

  “I could always tag along. Keep you from punching your own lights out if things get a bit hairy. Especially if I’m going to be on mop duty today, blech,” I mumbled, certain that she would shoot me down immediately. To my surprise, Fern seemed to actually consider my proposition. She shoved her hands in her pockets, tracing her fingers along the welcome sign on the door.

  “You would miss your first day back on the job. I know how bored you’ve been lately. You left The Earl and The Duke on when you fell asleep one afternoon, and I know you hate that kind of junk TV. Getting back to work must be at least somewhat thrilling for you, right?” She argued, turning to face me with a serious expression. At least, I’m sure she intended it to be very serious. The way she anxiously worried her bottom lip with her teeth was just a bit cute and sad.

  “Nothing more thrilling than keeping my sister safe on a recon mission,” I said earnestly, and she looked faintly taken aback. “You know, it’s kinda like a recon mission. We’re just... probing a dead guy for any juicy memories,” I explained weakly, receiving a faintly breathless laugh in response.

  “Recon. Alright. I think I can live with that. If you’re positive that you’re going to come with me, you should at least give your boss a bit of a heads up, right? And Becky looks so... thrilled to see you,” Fern attempted to push me away one last time, but I waved her off, moving to slip into the museum.