Nothing Town

by Cherie Mitchell

  “The house is rent-free? It all makes sense now. My boss is the original tightwad and I wondered why he’d suddenly decided to foot the bill for a hotel-style property.”

  “You don’t seem too scared by the thought of witches in the backyard.”

  “Belle, if you’d lived the life that I’ve lived you wouldn’t let a couple of tree witches scare you either. Why are we whispering?”

  She lets my hand go and takes a step back. “I don’t trust many people in this town.”

  “Have you always lived here?”

  “No. George, he’s my husband, he went to the same college as I did out West. After we graduated, we married and moved here with his job.”

  “Is George a local?”

  “No. We’re both outsiders, although I think my family has some distant historic connection somewhere along the line.”

  I consider her for a few minutes while she pushes Jamie on the swing. She’s been upfront and honest and I decide that I can believe everything she’s telling me. “What about the Sacral Decree and the zombie boys? How much do you know about them?”

  “We found out by accident. We went for a drive in the country one day and the car broke down. We had to walk to the nearest farm and ask for help.” She shudders at the memory. “There are three brothers who go by the name of Kenworth. They’re the creepiest family you’ll ever come across.”

  “Yeah, I was lucky enough to meet one of them the other day. Ronnie Kay.”

  “You met him? Here in town?”

  “I had coffee with him. He managed to act normally for part of the date but bits started to show through here and there.” I watch her face, weighing up whether I should tell her about our past. “If he really is a zombie, he’s different from other types of the breed. Most of the ones I’ve come across are of the blatantly flesh-eating variety. They can’t disguise who they are, even for a short time.”

  She giggles nervously. “Most of the ones you’ve come across?”

  “Belle, to be perfectly honest I’ve met more zombies that you could shake a stick at. I thought I’d moved on from all that stuff but unfortunately, it seems I haven’t.” I’m not sure how I feel about this. Frustrated, annoyed, maybe a little sad. Did someone, somewhere place a curse on my family at one stage? I mean, how many other families have to deal with this kind of cluster fuck ad infinitum?

  “How did you deal with them?”

  “Fire. It seems to be the only way to permanently destroy them.”

  “I don’t know how you’d go about destroying these country zombies with fire. It’s not as if they gather in one place. They’re a widespread lot out this way.”

  “They probably don’t need destroying if they’re not lurching around and tearing people apart.” I think this is a reasonable observation to make but Belle is shaking her head.

  “Their presence is keeping the townsfolk in fear. No one likes venturing outside the town limits, the zombies are controlling the milk prices, and everyone is being kept in this weird state of purgatory. If that was the witches plan all along then I think we can safely say they’ve been successful.”

  “They’re controlling the milk prices?” What is she going on about? I feel as if I’ve tripped up and fallen headfirst into Wonderland.

  “Yeah. This is dairy country and the zombies have a stranglehold on the distribution and sale of the county’s milk products.”

  “So it’s a political and economic situation as well as a life threatening one?” Wow, this is a new twist on zombies. I guess we never really can say we know everything.

  We both turn to look across at the library as a pickup speeds out of the parking lot and races away down the street in a riot of screeching, smoking tires.

  Belle frowns. “Something’s wrong. Look, the library door is hanging wide open.” She’s already unstrapping Jamie from the swing, her fingers made clumsy in her haste. “I need to check on Miss Oxley.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Whoever killed Miss Oxley was feeling creative. The librarian’s head is resting on her desk, staring in permanent and unblinking horror at the door, while her plump body lies decoratively arranged across the shelves of the Gluten Free Breads section. While Belle is outside heaving her breakfast up into the daisies, I calmly dial 911 and tell them we have an emergency. Yes, the scene is gross but hey, once you’ve seen one dismembered body you’ve seen them all.

  Sheriff Dixie arrives soon after, followed closely by the ambulance. It’s a bit of a shitfest for a while after that, with cops running everywhere, statements to be made, and the various assorted pieces of Miss Oxley to be removed from the premises. The whole thing is taking longer than I hoped, especially as I’m supposed to be meeting the divine Jack Hemlock for lunch.

  “Excuse me, Sheriff. Can I go now?”

  He stares at me and the sun glints off his reflective glasses. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not leaving town, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m meeting a friend for lunch and then I’m going back to see my family at Windfell.”

  He turns his head slightly and a ray of reflected sunlight hits me square in the eye, momentarily blinding me. “Windfell?”

  “Yeah, the house with those four pretty silver birch trees.” I lift my chin and stare defiantly at my own reflection in his lenses.

  “You can go,” he says gruffly. “But see if you can stay around the house this afternoon. We might have some more questions for you and it’ll be better for everyone if you’re easy to reach.”

  I go find Belle to say goodbye. She’s not in a good state but her husband has arrived to take care of her. He seems like a reasonable sort of guy and he’s acting vigilant and protective around his young wife and son. I give Belle a quick, sympathetic hug and tell her to call me if she needs someone to talk to. Then I walk away from that sorry mess and hurry down Main Street to the coffee shop.

  Jack is waiting for me and his welcoming smile immediately makes everything better. He stands up to greet me as I arrive at the table. He drops a quick kiss on my cheek and I’m engulfed in the tantalizing scent of his cologne. There’s something wildly intoxicating about Jack Hemlock and I’m not about to try to fight this pleasantly inebriated feeling. It’s been a long time since I felt like this around a man.

  Over a bracing cup of coffee and a chicken and lettuce sandwich, I fill Jack in on the events of the morning. He’s concerned that I was so close to the scene of an horrific crime but I assure him that Belle and I were unharmed. He asks if I saw the person driving the pickup but I tell him no, I was watching the flare of blue smoke from the spinning tires rather than looking at whoever it was sitting behind the wheel.

  “Did you know Miss Oxley?” I watch Jack from under my lashes, wondering if he’s the type of man to ever walk through the door of a public library. I don’t know much about him, other than the fact he’s self-confident and gorgeous, and so far he hasn’t been too forthcoming about his interests or hobbies.

  “No, I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.” The way he says ‘pleasure’ sends a thrill down my spine and I hurriedly drop my eyes so he can’t see what I’m thinking.

  “I’m not sure who would want to kill her so horribly. She was a little abrasive but other than that, she seemed perfectly unremarkable to me.”

  “It’s a terrible thing,” he agrees.

  “Tell me some more about you, Jack. What do you like to do for fun?” Ooops, as soon as the words are out of my mouth I want to snatch them back. He probably thinks I just clumsily propositioned him.

  Jack shifts in his chair and casually drapes his arm along the back of it. “I like to study.”

  “Yeah? Study what?”

  “People. Concepts. Ideas.”

  “What do you do with the information once you have it?” I’m using my reporter interview techniques now to try to draw him out.

  “I use it to my advantage.”

  I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not but his expression is fa
irly serious. “Uh, great!” I wait for him to elaborate but it appears he’s said all he’s willing to say on the subject. I move on to talk about the snippets I gleaned from Belle, although I frame my comments carefully. “The girl I met at the library was telling me an interesting story about the politics of the area.”

  He looks bored now. “It’s an agricultural region. How scintillating can the politics be?”

  “I guess.” I have no intention of boring him. I scrabble around for another conversational topic. “Apparently, four witches were once burned at the stake on the land where the house I’m living in now sits.”

  Now he’s interested. He places his elbows on the table and leans forward eagerly. “Tell me more.”

  “I don’t know too much about it yet, but from what I’ve learned it seems the Town Council of the time sentenced a quartet of women to die. One of the women dropped a curse on the town before she burned, sentencing the men of Euthanasia to a series of long drawn-out challenges as her final vengeful act.”

  “How… intriguing.”

  “I thought so too.” I’m glad to see that I’ve finally said something to arouse his curiosity. “I’m still researching it but the event at the library this morning might put the kibosh on my research for now. The librarian was very helpful before she died.”

  “Ah, of course.”

  “Did you see the newspaper this morning?” I hold my breath, hoping that he’s not a big news reader.

  “No, I can’t say that I did.” I see him check the time on his phone and I’m disappointed when he pushes his chair back and starts to make a move. “I’m sorry, but I do have another appointment this afternoon.”

  “I understand. I should get back to my family anyway.” I grab my bag and follow him out the door, nearly walking into the back of him when he suddenly stops on the pavement in front of me. He spins around to face me. “When can I see you again?”

  I smile up into his face, delighted that he seems as interested in me as I am in him. “My brother is having a birthday dinner at the Crippled Herring on Friday evening. Would you like to join us?”

  He does one of his adorable, slow smiles but I’m a little disconcerted to see his eyes flash red in the sunlight. I decide it must be a trick of the light, similar to the reflective lenses in Sheriff Dixie’s sunglasses and perhaps caused by the angle he’s standing at. Maybe it’s something like the red eye that sometimes appears in photographs. “I’d love to join you. It will be an absolute pleasure to see your family.”

  “Great! I’ll see you then.” I walk away, forcing myself not to skip and shout. Finally, it seems the tide has turned for Ellie Friedlander.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I can feel the bile rising in the back of my throat and it makes me want to gag. I can’t believe my Mom is flirting with Sheriff Dixie right here in the middle of the living room. He knocked on the door a few minutes ago and she invited him in right away, offering him tea or coffee and some of her homemade chocolate chip cookies. She keeps playing with her hair too, twisting it around her fingers while giggling girlishly. Clearly enjoying the attention, the Sheriff munches on a cookie and sends cascades of crumbs rolling down the front of his shirt.

  I clear my throat loudly and interrupt their sickening little tete-a-tete. “Did you have some more questions for me about the murder, Sheriff?”

  He takes his time turning to face me while Mom primps, preens, and flutters her eyelashes at him. Has she forgotten about Morris, the man patiently holding the fort back home until her return? I can’t believe she’s acting like this. It’s not as if Sheriff Dixie is any kind of catch, unless she’s into paunchy middle-aged men with a preference for mirrored shades and bad haircuts.

  “Questions?” The Sheriff gazes at me as if he’s trying to remember who I am. “Uh, no. I just came by to tell you we have a lead in the Oxley case. It helps that you alerted us of the crime so quickly.”

  “Great. I’m sure it’ll put everyone’s mind at rest to know the killer is about to be apprehended. Excuse me, I might go take a nap.” I don’t really need to take a nap but I do need to remove myself from the sight of Sheriff Dixie and my mother making goo-goo eyes at each other. I march up the hallway and shove open my bedroom door, only to find Organza poised on the bed in her gym wear while she takes duck-faced selfies and highly unlikely mirror shots.

  I’m not in any mood for Organza right now. “Can you get off the bed? I wanted to have a nap.”

  She clicks off another couple of snaps. “I’m busy taking photos.”

  “I don’t get all that Insta-shit that you’re so into. People’s fixed smiles as they drape themselves over a bowl of fresh fruit or a plate of pastel-colored cupcakes are so fake.”

  She tosses her head irritably and her smooth brow crumples with annoyance. “No they’re not. They’re genuine.”

  “Not as genuine as the genuine joy I can see when I look at a photo of a really happy person.”

  “Fakeness is in the eye of the beholder. Everyone knows that. Anyway, what are you trying to say, Ellie? Are you trying to tell me that you’re really happy?” Her lip hitches into a sneer.

  “No,” I say stiffly, “I’m talking about you, not me.” Organza and I have been sharing a bed for the past few nights but this is the closest we’ve come to having an actual conversation. We’ve been doing a great job of ignoring each other even though we’re sleeping only inches apart. It doesn’t feel right for our first real interaction to be so profound and it’s making me uncomfortable.

  Organza looks confused rather than uncomfortable. “I’m happy. I have 3.1 million Insta followers and I get to test new beauty products while getting paid for it.”

  “Those are surface things, material things. Why have you never had a boyfriend, Organza?” As I push aside my queasiness over the intimacy of talking about this topic with my sister, I realize I’ve never asked her this question. In fact, this is the first time I’ve stopped to consider it. She’s a massive flirt, will flirt with anything that isn’t tied down or otherwise attached, but I can’t ever recall hearing that she’s started seeing anyone seriously.

  “I don’t know,” she says defensively. “You haven’t had a proper boyfriend since Liam so you can’t point any fingers at me.”

  “Yeah, but at least I once had a real boyfriend. You’re permanently single and always have been.”

  “I guess I just haven’t met the right one yet. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

  I feel a sudden sisterly empathy with Organza, which is a rare and fine thing and it definitely won’t last. “I never said there was anything wrong with you. You’ve done very well for yourself with your career. I don’t think I’ve ever congratulated you for it.” We smile at each other then, sharing an even rarer and finer moment, but the spell is quickly broken when we hear Mom’s shriek.

  By the time I reach the living room ahead of Organza, Mom is laid out on the sofa like a fainting medieval princess while Sheriff Dixie flaps hopelessly around her. “What happened?” I’m already demanding answers from the Sheriff as I race across to check on her. “What did you do to my mother?”

  “I only mentioned some of the aspects of the murder case. I wasn’t aware you hadn’t told her of the state we found Miss Oxley in.”

  Is that all?! “Mom, stop overacting. You’ve dealt with zom…” I’m about to say she dealt with zombies with her bare hands and then I notice that Sheriff Dixie is listening to the conversation with a great deal of interest. I hastily change my phrasing to say she dealt with some awful stuff when we were living in Warren’s End but I can still feel the sheriff’s suspicious eyes upon me.

  Mom flutters her hand weakly in front of her face. “Water, I need water.”

  Sheriff Dixie slants an authorative eye in Organza’s direction. “You heard what your mother said, girlie.”

  Organza looks appropriately affronted at the nametag but to my surprise, she does as she’s asked and stomps off to the kitchen
. I look around the living room, aware I haven’t seen my brother since coming back to the house. “Where’s Reece?”

  Mom opens one eye. “He went for a walk a few hours ago.”

  “Where to?” There aren’t many places to walk around Euthanasia. He can’t have gone to the library as it’s shut and Reece is not the type to hang out and socialize with anyone he doesn’t know.

  “I don’t know.” Mom weakly allows the Sheriff to help her sit up, although we all know she’s capable of doing it herself. She sips daintily at the glass of water Organza has just handed her. “He’s a big boy now, Ellie. You don’t need to baby him.”

  “I’m not babying him. I only asked where he was.” I walk over to the door and peer out at the sidewalk but there’s nothing out there except the Sheriff’s cruiser parked up against the curb. I glance over my shoulder at him. “Is Miss Oxley’s killer a local?”

  “We haven’t caught him or her yet. I said we had a lead, not that we’d made an arrest.” Sheriff Dixie slides his sunglasses down from where they rest in his hair and he again disguises his eyes behind the twin mirrors. “I should go. None of you are planning on leaving Euthanasia in the near future, are you? It’s probably best if we know of your whereabouts until this grisly case is closed.”

  “We’re not going anywhere.” I feel the sudden need for some fresh air. It’s far too stuffy inside the house, especially with a small town cop breathing his repugnant carbon dioxide all over the place. I walk down off the step and around the side of the house, curious to see if the witch trees are still there.

  The trees are still there but the scorch marks on the boards of the house have gone. I lay my hand flat against the trunk of the tallest tree and I imagine I can feel the faintest trace of warmth. I push my face up into the leaves and whisper, “Are you there, Jane?”

  “Ellie!” Reece unexpectedly ducks out from behind the row of trees and scoots toward me and I swear I almost die on the spot. “Why is there a cop car parked outside the house?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four