by Raven Snow
Rowen settled into the passenger seat. She went ahead and unzipped her makeup bag, pulling down the visor so she could check her reflection. “Low blow,” she told Rose, frowning at how tired she looked. There were dark circles under her eyes that a lack of makeup was doing absolutely no favors towards.
“Not really.” Rose backed the car up and proceeded to pull out onto the road. “It’s the truth. You do this a lot.” She inclined her head a bit. “Which, to your credit, is kind of a pattern. Eric really should have seen this coming.”
“Think you can tell him to forgive me then?” Rowen was happy to take any sort of intervention. She could do with a few more people on her side.
“No way. If people keep getting mad at you over enough bad decisions, maybe you’ll eventually learn.” Rose didn’t look like she actually believed that day would come. “I know I would definitely prefer it if you stopped putting yourself in stupid, potentially dangerous situations.”
“Hey.” Rowen looked away from carefully applying eyeshadow to glare at her cousin. “The situations I get into aren’t always stupid.”
“You’re right. My bad. It’s just your decisions that are stupid,” Rose grumbled.
Rowen rolled her eyes, letting that one slide. She knew Rose didn’t think she was stupid. To be fair, she did make her fair share of unsafe decisions. It seemed like a given that those would be unpopular with friends and family. “So, what’s on our plate for today after this?” she asked instead, changing the subject. The way Rose had talked earlier, it sounded like she had the whole day planned out for them.
“Well, while we’re at the police station for the press release, I figure we can kill two birds with one stone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that’s where Karen Hucklebee works, remember?”
“Right.” Somehow, it had almost slipped Rowen’s mind that she was a receptionist there. “And Ben won’t have a problem with us questioning her while she’s at work?”
“That’s why I’m bringing you.”
“What?” Rowen took another look at her cousin, not sure she had heard her correctly.
“What?” Rose asked right back, not taking her eyes off the road. “I don’t have to run everything by Ben. I have a job to do too, you know.”
***
Rowen had managed to make herself look presentable by the time they arrived at the Lainswich police station. There was a podium set up on the front steps. No one was at it yet, but Channel 2 already had its van pulled up and a camera crew assembled out front. Julia Martinez looked amazing, of course. Her dark hair and makeup were both immaculate even though it was well before hours any sane person wanted to be awake and at work. Rowen supposed she would look that good too if the Lainswich Inquirer had any kind of hair and makeup budget. Not that there was any point to that. The camera Rose was setting up was only for the benefit of whoever had to write the article on this. “Who is going to write about this?” Rowen wondered aloud.
“After the statement is finished, I’ll go back to the car. I’m going to do a blurb while I wait on you to have a word with Karen. I’ll send the video to Willow, though. Hopefully, she can manage something a little lengthier.”
That surprised Rowen. “You’re trusting Willow with this story?”
“It’s either her or Margo and I’m not even sure when Margo will be at work today. I’d leave it to Peony, but… well…” Rose trailed off.
“She’s pretty upset about all of this. She finally had good luck coming her way and then all this had to happen.” Rowen hated it. Peony just didn’t deserve it. She was such a sweet girl. “It’s not right that they’re removing her artwork.”
“They’re not necessarily removing it. They haven’t made up their minds on that and, either way, it’s already been sold.” Rose finished fiddling with the focus on the camera. “Besides, I think she’s more broken up over what happened to Dayveed.”
“Has she talked to you about it?”
“Not really. It’s just a sense that I get.” Rose didn’t have the witchy abilities of the rest of her family, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t empathetic. Rowen might have asked her more about it, but the police station doors opened up at that point. Ben and a couple of his officers stepped out.
To call this a proper press conference was a little over generous. No news ever really made it out of Lainswich. That meant that the news attending public statements like these was very sparse. Ben didn’t seem bothered by that. He stepped right up to the microphone, ready to do his job whether there were fifteen people there or fifty. “On Saturday evening, David Monroe’s body was found during the opening of the Seraphina Celeste Memorial Art Show.”
“David Monroe?” Rowen whispered, looking to Rose.
“Dayveed’s legal name,” Rose whispered back.
“Given the nature of the crime and the size of our forensic department, I called in for a second opinion from Tarricville. After extensive study of the crime scene and body, both teams came to the same conclusion. The cause of death was blunt force trauma to the victim’s left temple. There appears to have been no weapon used. Instead, the trauma was cause by impact with the statue on top of which the body was found. Beyond that, we have no conclusive evidence at this time and no suspects in custody.”
“Does that mean no fingerprints?” Julia asked, raising her voice before he had even called for questions.
Ben frowned but addressed the question anyway. “There was no conclusive evidence,” he repeated. “We found fingerprints near and around the scene. Entirely too many of them, in fact. We’re still exploring all angles, but with the nature of the crime scene, we’re unlikely to find any more clues there that we have not already.”
“And the pentagram?” Julia asked, glancing in the direction of the Greensmiths as she did so.
Ben himself couldn’t seem to help but glance at his girlfriend. “We suspect it was left by the killer. The blood it was drawn in was, in fact, Mr. Monroe’s. We’re doing all we can to look into the matter and determine whether or not it was a bit or misdirection or… something else.”
“Something else?” Julia repeated, loudly. “Could it have been connected to the occult?”
“Well, cause of death wasn’t magic, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Ben, eliciting some chuckles from the police flanking him. “But we are exploring every possibility.”
Julia nodded, glancing back to the cameras to make sure that they had gotten that. Rowen was sure she was going to try and run with it later. Lainswich was a very superstitious town. (Granted, given past events, they had reason to be.) They would be quick to tune in for anything that confirmed their darkest suspicions, that the Greensmiths had finally gone on some sort of murder spree.
“Could the death have been an accident or were there signs of a struggle?” Rose raised her own voice and asked a question to steer talk in another direction.
Ben turned his impassive gaze to his girlfriend. “We’re not ruling out either possibility yet.”
Rose looked to the pad she was holding and jotted down a note about that. She would likely try to focus on that later rather than the stuff about the occult. Rowen wasn’t sure that was the best course of action. She would have to talk to Rose about it later. Now really wasn’t the time.
Ben took a few more questions before calling it quits. There wasn’t a whole lot more to learn. Even Julia Martinez didn’t have any more to ask by the time he had left. She turned and began addressing the camera directly. Rowen and Rose didn’t stay to listen to that, both afraid that she might turn the camera on them.
“I need to call Margo and see if she can meet with Channel 2,” Rose said once they were in the car. “I don’t want a camera blindsiding our family with questions about inverted pentagrams.” That was kind of Julia’s M.O.
“I still think we should really oversaturate our stuff with news about that. The pentagram, I mean. We need to stay ahead of this. The more we talk about it, the l
ess suspicious we look.” Rowen had thought about the matter long and hard and it was the only solution she saw.
“There’s nothing more to say on the matter,” Rose insisted. “I’m not going to force news when there isn’t any. Let Margo do her job. She’s in charge of PR stuff like this. Just trust her.”
“I do,” Rowen insisted, leaving out the part where she just didn’t think it would be enough. “Sit tight. I’m gonna go in and have a word with Karen. If you see Channel 2 coming with their camera, drive away.”
“Got it.” Rose was already pulling out her laptop. She laid her notepad on top, looking over everything she had jotted down as it booted up.
Rowen got out of the car and headed for the front doors of the police station. As she went inside, the first face she was greeted with was Karen’s. She frowned when she saw that it was Rowen. “He just got done with the press conference. Do you really need to talk to him again?”
True, Rowen spent a lot of time barging in there and annoying the receptionist with her blatant disregard for protocol. This time, however, it was different. “Actually, I’m here to talk to you.”
Karen’s eyes widened. She leaned back in her ergonomic chair. “What do you want to talk to me about?” she asked, her tone guarded.
“Your art.” Rowen had given it a lot of thought on her walk up here. She had figured it was best to play to Karen’s ego. The last time they had spoken at the gallery, she had seemed awfully pleased with her own work.
“What about it?” asked Karen, leaning forward this time. She folded her hands on her desk in front of her. It was clear that Rowen had caught her interest. Already, her ego was being stoked.
“There aren’t many artists that are on display there,” Rowen pointed out. “And, well, since the murder, it’s been the top news story in town. There’s a lot of reader demand for news about the show. I hear it’s reopening tomorrow night.”
Karen nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard… assuming the police don’t need anything else from the scene.”
“Of course.” Rowen stepped up to the front desk until she was leaning against it as well. “All this death business is really awful. I’d like to spotlight some of the artists. A spotlight on art would have been important to Dayveed, don’t you think?”
“I, ah.” Karen stammered. “I suppose so?”
“So, I’d like to spotlight you. Would you be all right with that?”
Karen just stared a little longer, like she wasn’t sure what to say. It couldn’t have been often that a Greensmith said something to her that she actually wanted to hear. “What would be involved?”
“Well, that’s up to you.” Rowen forced what she hoped looked like a warm smile. “Ideally, I’d like to sit down with you and your family.”
“My family?”
Rowen nodded. “They’re around, aren’t they? I thought I saw their names on the list of people who attended the opening. I imagine they have their own unique opinions on your work. And, I mean, surely they influenced you in some way.”
“I guess.” Karen’s gaze grew distant, like she was considering the request. “I’ll have to think about it,” she blurted after a length of awkward silence. “I’ll call you when I make up my mind.”
“Fair enough.” Rowen had been hoping for a clearer answer than that, but she supposed there was some bad blood between herself and Karen. This was probably one of the better scenarios she could have asked for. “I’ll just leave you my number.” She took a pen and sticky note from the desk and jotted her number down. “Give me a call any time, all right?”
Karen stared at the note, still looking quite distracted. “Sure.”
“Thanks for your time.” Rowen offered one last smile and headed out the door. The Channel 2 news van was gone which was a small blessing. Rose, at least, hadn’t had to pull away.
“How did it go?” asked Rose, looking up from her laptop screen when the car door opened.
Rowen got in. She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’ll see, I guess. I left her our number.”
“Not what I was hoping for.” Rose sighed. “Oh, well. Maybe it’ll work out.”
“What’s next on the agenda?” asked Rowen.
“Well, I’m still trying to get in touch with Dayveed’s family. I really don’t want to overstep my boundaries with them. I want to try and be as respectful as possible, you know?” Rowen took a deep breath. “So, I guess there’s only one thing we can do.” Given the look of hesitation on Rose’s face, Rowen had a feeling that she was about to be sorry she had ever asked.
Chapter Eight
Rowen wasn’t sure how she was going to make up with Eric if she never got a chance to see him again. She hadn’t planned on getting stuck at her family’s house that night. After a day of phone tag, they had managed to nail down some very last minute plans. The rest of the time had been spent working on the Inquirer and touching base with people they needed to interview.
Margo had at least stepped up to do her job. She had talked with Channel 2, for all the good it did any of them. Julia Martinez hadn’t run anything else about the pentagram, but the Inquirer sure had gotten its fair share of calls about it. Rowen went so far as to discretely unplug their land line. If Rose had noticed, she didn’t say anything about it. The people they really needed to hear back from all had their cell numbers, after all.
Not that they had heard back from Karen or Dayveed’s family just yet. They had, however, heard back from Aunt Nadine and Lydia. They were open to the idea of inviting Reginald, Philip, and their nephew, Nathaniel, over for a big family dinner. “How nice that you’ve taken an interest in the men in our lives,” Lydia had said like it was a long time coming and they hadn’t only been seeing each other for a day or two at most.
Rowen and Rose had both gotten to the house early. Rowen had made a point to call Eric and let him know where she would be. “That’s fine,” he’d said. “Just don’t get arrested for breaking and entering while you’re out this time.”
Rowen honestly wasn’t sure whether it was better or worse that he was cracking jokes about it now. She pushed it from her mind and tried to concentrate on how to handle what was coming up. She would have preferred to meet them in a private place. A family dinner was a bit odd for this sort of thing. It made her feel oddly vulnerable, like she and her family would be the ones answering the questions instead of the other way around. Oh, well. At least they were getting their interview. She should be grateful her aunts had even managed to set this up. It wasn’t her place to set the terms for this thing.
“You’ll love them,” Aunt Lydia assured Rowen as they stood in the kitchen together. Rowen had gotten roped into mixing up the potato salad. She was stirring it up now, keeping one eye on the clock. It was five past seven. They were due there any minute. “Especially Reginald. He’s such a gentleman,” Lydia continued, lowering her voice like it was some great secret.
In the distance, there came a knock on the door. “I’ll get it!” Aunt Nadine called from the dining room where she was setting the table.
“Stir faster,” Aunt Lydia urged, taking off her apron and checking her own reflection in the surface of the microwave. She was looking pretty good today, Rowen noted. She had actually taken the time to apply makeup— something Rowen wasn’t sure she had seen her aunt do in years. She was the sort of woman who had more or less embraced her reputation as a crazy old witch lady. She let her frizzy gray hair and drab patchwork skirts speak for themselves. She was strange. Tonight, though?
“You look great,” Rowen assured her.
Aunt Lydia looked up. She smiled at her niece, clearly touched by the compliment. “Are you sure? This outfit isn’t too much, is it?”
Rowen hadn’t even noticed the clothes. They didn’t look so different from what her aunt normally wore. The long black skirt looked new, she supposed. Maybe the neckline of her blouse was a couple of inches lower than it normally was. “No, uh… No. You look great.”
“Good.” Aunt Lydia took a deep breath, like she was preparing herself. She headed into the hallway to greet her guests.
This was officially bizarre. Rowen had never seen her aunt so into anyone. She had seen her date quite a few guys before. They had almost always been flings. She could really attract a man when she put her mind to it. Or even without any effort on her end whatsoever. Rowen had really never understood it. It wasn’t like Lydia was even all that flirty. Rowen would have suspected love potions if she hadn’t known her better than that.
***
Aunt Nadine was taking Reginald and Philip’s coats in the hallway. It really wasn’t cold outside, but they had dressed up for dinner regardless. Rowen had to admit they looked quite dashing in their expensive-looking black suits. In Rowen’s opinion, they were a step down from Darren Hawthorne in the looks department. Their hair was grayer, they were both a bit on the chubby side, and it was sort of creepy how much they matched. Honestly, Rowen couldn’t tell them apart just looking at them. She had a feeling that was going to lead to some embarrassing moments later on.
“You have a lovely home.” The voice came from behind Reginald and Philip. A much younger man stepped forward. He had no coat to take. He was wearing a fitted vest over a white dress shirt, looking terribly handsome with his dark hair and five o’clock shadow.
“You must be Nathaniel,” Aunt Nadine said with a smile. She held out a hand for him to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to actually meet you.”
Nathaniel ignored the handshake. He pulled her into a tight, brief hug instead. “Call me Nathan. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He looked around the room, taking in the rest of the Greensmiths there. “All of you.”
Rowen didn’t see how he could have heard a lot about them yet. She forced a smile anyway, raising a hand in greeting when Nadine introduced her. “That’s one of our nieces, Rowen… That’s Lydia’s daughter, Rose. The one acting all sheepish in the back there is one of my daughters, Peony.”
