Lipstick on a Pig (A Paranormal Cozy Mystery) (Willow Bay Witches Book 4)

by Samantha Silver

  “Have we met before?” he asked. Oops. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to know who he was. I had some work to do at this whole pretending to be someone else thing.

  “No, Sir, but I’ve read many of the articles about you in the local paper these last few months. Seems you’ve got a knack for closing murder cases. There’s no better man to find the killer of one of my valued employees, I’m certain of that.”

  “Well thank you. We have a fine police force at Willow Bay, although we don’t normally have to investigate murders. Now please, what can you tell me about the deceased?”

  “To be completely honest with you sir, I didn’t know her all that well. You’d perhaps be better off speaking with some of the younger staff,” I said, motioning to the receptionist. “Is there an empty conference room today where the police could conduct their interviews?” I asked her.

  “Yes, Mr. Forrester, of course. We can use conference room number one. I’ll have the coffee brought in, and the police can speak with anyone they want to in there.”

  “Well thank you very much,” Chief Gary said, shaking my hand once more. “If I have any questions, I’ll come and find you, but as you suggested, I think to begin with, I’ll speak with the workers who knew her best.”

  For the next little while, all the faces I saw were a combination of grim and sad. I couldn’t blame them; after all, these people had all just found out that one of their coworkers had been murdered.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Forrester,” came a voice from one of the offices. I stopped and looked in to see an efficient-looking secretary in her mid-forties, with blonde hair and dressed from head to toe in purple, holding out a piece of paper. The nameplate on her desk read Dorothy MacMillan. The office was plain, overlooking the parking lot, but at least she had a window. It was more than a lot of the lawyers here could say for their offices.

  “Mr. Cork needs you to sign this,” she said. I took the sheet and began to read it. The whole thing was in legalese; I had no idea what it was about, but I imagined no lawyer ever would sign a sheet of paper without reading it first.

  “It’s a shame what happened to Jessica, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to start a conversation.

  “It certainly is. She wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but I can’t imagine anyone would want to kill her. Mr. Cork is out there speaking with the police right now.”

  “Did you know her well?”

  “No, no. I make a point not to socialize with anyone outside of the office. Well, you know what that’s like. We’re from the same generation, you and I. Where work is work, and play is play, but the two are completely separate.”

  I smiled. “I do know that. Young people these days, they seem to think they can blend the two together.”

  The secretary shook her head. “They do. It’s quite sad, really. Their behavior outside of the office then begins to affect their work inside the office. But I suppose it’s not entirely their fault, they have all this media and the internet telling them that they should be able to have it all. Ah well, times are different now. In fewer years than I’d like to admit we’ll be retired and that generation will be running things. Won’t we see then if they don’t change their tune.”

  “Absolutely,” I replied. “I wonder who killed that poor girl though.”

  “I imagine it must have been some random attack. One of those crazy people. She must have been out late, and he would have seen her, and followed her, and then, when they were alone, attacked her.”

  “That’s certainly a possibility.”

  “Or one of those unsavory types at her university. You hear all about that sort of thing happening on college campuses these days.”

  I didn’t point out that most of the scandals concerning campuses these days involved rape, not murder, and instead just made a non-committal noise and allowed her to continue.

  “Still, I trust the police will find the person responsible. But so you don’t think it was someone she knew? From work, or anything like that?”

  Dorothy MacMillan looked scandalized. “No, of course not! This is a respectable firm. I don’t believe anyone here would be capable of something like that. As for her personal life, I knew nothing about it. It could have been someone she knew, of course, but I cannot say one way or another.”

  “Do you know if Jessica Oliver had a boyfriend?” I asked.

  “I think she did. That was the impression I got anyway. Perhaps I should tell that to the police; I think they will want to talk to everyone in the office. The other girls will know better than I do, though.”

  “You should definitely tell everything you know to the police,” I confirmed.

  “However,” the secretary said, pausing. “I should run this past you first, as you’re one of the named partners.” She paused again, and looked around, as though the walls had ears or someone was eavesdropping.

  “Yes?” I prompted.

  “I have a suspicion that her boyfriend may have been someone at the firm.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Do you know who?”

  “No. No, I truly don’t. But I have told Mr. Cork of my suspicions a number of times. He has simply told me that he can do nothing without solid evidence.”

  “Hmmm,” I replied.

  “Now, if you will excuse me, I still have a number of forms to prepare for Mr. Cork. As you know he has to be in court in three days.”

  “Of course,” I replied, taking the hint and leaving the office. So there was a possibility that Jessica Oliver had a boyfriend in the office. I wondered who it could be.

  In the excitement of the day, I had also completely lost track of time. I checked my watch—well, Les Forrester’s watch. My first instinct was to wonder if I could keep it somehow, after all, it was a shiny Rolex. Then I realized I had about one minute left before my spell would stop, and I panicked. Crap. What was I going to do? I couldn’t go back to reception and down the stairs; first of all I didn’t have the time to, and second of all if I did run past all those people, they might think something was up. I couldn’t go to “my” office, as the window was glass, and anyone looking in could see me.

  Not to mention, once I transformed back into Angela Martin, I’d have absolutely zero reason to be in these offices at all. That was a problem for after I’d transformed; right now the main goal was to make sure no one saw my magical powers. Suddenly, a thought came to me.

  I walked down the hallway about as quickly as I could and still have it look socially acceptable. I knew I’d passed a bathroom on the way to the break room, and sure enough, there was the sign on the door. I came close to walking into the ladies’ room, and at the last second turned and went into the men’s. That could have been embarrassing!

  Please be empty, please be empty, please be empty I thought to myself as I pushed the door open and walked in. I wasn’t that lucky. The other Forrester was at a urinal. Luckily, as I’d always heard, men hated talking to other men in bathrooms. They were pretty much the opposite of women in that respect. I kept my head down and walked past, careful not to make eye contact—another big no-no if my TV was to be believed!—and tried to casually walk into a stall.

  I carefully put the toilet seat down and climbed up on it. Seconds later, I felt that same roller coaster feeling, and when it passed I was looking back down at my own clothes, my own body. Thank goodness. Nothing had gone wrong. I hoped Sophie had gotten out of the offices in time and was now waiting downstairs.

  Suddenly, an idea came to me. I waited until I heard the sound of the bathroom door opening, indicating that the other Forrester had left, then peeked my head over the stall to make sure the bathroom was well and truly empty. This time, I was alone. “Nonvideroa,” I whispered, pointing a finger at myself. Instantly, I disappeared.

  Perfect, I thought to myself as I carefully opened the stall door. As long as I made sure not to bump into anyone, I could get out of here completely undetected. I slipped out of the bathroom, careful to open the door as little as possible lest som
eone notice a door randomly opening and closing, then made my way through the hallway.

  I headed back toward the reception area, where luckily enough people were coming and going that I could slip through the door unnoticed.

  In reception, Sophie’s boyfriend was interviewing another lawyer, a blonde man who looked incredibly nervous for a lawyer. I slipped past them and joined an elevator with a couple talking about the murder. Pressing myself, as far from them as possible, against the wall, I heard a tiny glimpse of their conversation.

  “Well, I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead and all,” the man started, and the woman continued.

  “But if you wanted to murder one person in this office, would it have been her? Yeah, I agree.”

  “Not that I did murder her,” the guy joked, and the lady punched him lightly on the arm as the elevator reached the ground floor.

  “Oh, Greg,” she replied as the doors opened. I didn’t hear any more of their conversation, but instead moved toward the door leading to the stairwell where I hoped Sophie was waiting for me. I checked to make sure there was no one left in the lobby, then opened the door carefully and went in. Sophie was pacing in circles, and as soon as the door opened she looked up expectantly.

  “It’s me,” I said quietly, and the panic on Sophie’s face quickly turned to relief.

  “Geez. Thank goodness. I was wondering what the hell had happened to you. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Videroa,” I said, reversing the spell on myself and appearing once more.

  “Did you find out anything good?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I’ll tell you in the car.”

  “Why can’t you tell me now?”

  “Because we still have to get these two people woken up and get out of here before they notice us.”

  “Fine,” I said, reversing the locking spell on the closet door. I opened it and sure enough, the real Annie and Lester Forrester were still where we had left them. “Give me a hand,” I asked Sophie, and we dragged them back out into the main stairwell area. I locked the door quickly.

  “Ok, you go now just in case. I’ll meet you outside the building,” I said. Sophie nodded and went back into the building lobby while I looked at the two sleeping figures. I pointed one finger at each and muttered “Exsuscitoroa.” Immediately the two of them began to stir, and I quickly turned and left out the same way Sophie had.

  They were going to have a lot of questions about the day. Luckily, we weren’t going to have to answer them.

  Chapter 8

  When we got back to the car, however, we saw Charlotte sitting on the hood, looking annoyed.

  “You two look like you’ve been doing something you shouldn’t have,” she said as soon as we got near.

  “You can’t come out here and accuse us of something you don’t even know we’ve done!” Sophie immediately argued back.

  “I can just tell.”

  “You cannot!” I replied.

  “Fine. Were you two doing something you know I wouldn’t agree with?

  “No,” Sophie lied. “I mean, maybe, but what does it matter? We have information. How did you find us, anyway?”

  “The coffee shop where I met Kelsey and Laura is two blocks from here, and as I was walking back to my car I saw yours. Seeing as you didn’t get any information yesterday, I figured you’d come back here today, and you were probably going to do something stupid to try and get information.

  “Do you really have that little faith in us?” I asked, pretending to be stabbed in the heart.

  “Yes,” Charlotte replied heartlessly.

  “Well, I think that lack of faith is misplaced,” Sophie said.

  “Tell me what you did then?”

  “You’ll just complain about it, no matter what.”

  “Only if it’s bad.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather know what we found out? Isn’t that more important than pretending you’re better than us all the time?” Sophie asked and I stepped in between them.

  “Ok, you know what? We’re going to go grab some lunch somewhere we can’t be overheard, and we’re going to go discuss what we discovered.”

  Charlotte eyed us suspiciously, but agreed.

  My vote was for Chipotle, but I was outvoted, and we ended up at Shut Up and Eat, a Portland institution that served up huge, delicious sandwiches on amazing bread. Charlotte nabbed us the most isolated picnic table outside, while Sophie and I went in to order the food. I got a half Mediterranean sandwich with a side of salad, while Sophie and Charlotte completely dropped their usual style of ordering vegetarian when I was around and got a meatball sandwich and a chicken parm sandwich, respectively.

  Fifteen minutes later we had our sandwiches and were enjoying the sunshine of the day, the sound of traffic roaring past silencing our conversation to any passers-by.

  “So, what did you find out?” Charlotte asked when we were seated.

  “Well, I honestly didn’t find out that much. The closest I got to anything was that Jessica Oliver might have had a boyfriend in the office,” I started, lamely. I hoped Sophie had fared better, I’d done some pretty important magic for us to get into those offices this morning.

  “I can tell you that not only did she have a boyfriend at the office, but I can tell you more than that,” Sophie said. “She was actually having an affair with a married man at the office. I have no idea who it was, though. I also found out she was definitely not liked at the office, at least not among the female staff. A lot of them got the impression that the only reason she was still working there was because of this relationship with this unknown man.”

  “Why didn’t you press and find out who it was?” I asked, and Sophie shrugged.

  “I didn’t want to seem too suspicious. Like you, with that half donut trick.”

  “Ugh, you heard that?” I asked, suddenly embarrassed. “At least they fell for it. Or at least, they pretended to.”

  “What donut trick?” Charlotte asked suspiciously, and Sophie’s love of making fun of me overrode her plan to not tell Charlotte what we had been doing.

  “Angie got caught eating a donut, and then one of the workers told her she wasn’t supposed to eat that since she had diabetes, and Angie just threw it out and said her doctor said the diabetes was getting better and she could have half a donut a week.”

  “Why would workers think Angela had diabetes?” Charlotte asked, and I groaned inwardly.

  “We made two people fall asleep and then swapped identities with them for a couple of hours to find out as much information as we could about Jessica Oliver.”

  Charlotte looked from Sophie to me.

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “Well, technically, I didn’t do any of it,” Sophie said. “Seeing as I don’t have any magical powers and all. It was all Angie, really.”

  I glared at Sophie. “Really? You spill the beans and now you’re hanging me out to dry, too? Thanks, former bestie.”

  Sophie shrugged. “It’s every woman for herself.”

  “Did you seriously do that?” Charlotte asked, and I shrugged noncommittally. Sometimes it felt like I was the younger sister, not the other way around.

  “You are absolutely unbelievable. Do you know how dangerous that was?”

  “You mean the magic I was using? And that I did it correctly?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “It wasn’t any more dangerous than when you turned us into birds,” I protested. “It’s pretty much the same thing.”

  “It is absolutely not the same thing. Those are other humans! What if you’d messed it up?”

  “Well I didn’t, did I?”

  “Luckily for you,” Charlotte muttered.

  “Oh, so it’s totally fine to shapeshift when you’re ok with it, but not when it’s just us? I’m glad we’ve got that straightened out,” I replied.

  “It wouldn’t even be so bad if the two of you had found out anything good,” Charlotte complained.

>   “What do you mean?” Sophie argued. “I found out she was having an affair with someone at the office!”

  “Not only did I already know that, but I also know who with. And I didn’t have to do any magic to find out.”

  “Oh, when were you planning on sharing that little tidbit with us?” Sophie asked. “If the meatballs on this sandwich weren’t so good, I’d throw one of them at you.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I was going to get to it, after you guys shared your information. Jessica Oliver was having an affair with Jonathan Cork.”

  “Cork as in the guy with his name on the door?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I had a decent length chat with his secretary today.”

  “Ohhhh I met him!” Sophie exclaimed. “He gave me the creeps. The kind of guy that you meet in a club and definitely don’t let him buy you a drink in case he roofied it.”

  “Well, he was off the market on two counts. He not only has a wife, but he was also seeing Jessica Oliver on the side.”

  “Maybe he got tired of her nagging him to divorce his wife and killed her,” I suggested.

  “Or maybe his wife found out about the affair and did it herself,” Sophie offered.

  “Remember though? Angela said one of the goats saw a man near the petting zoo the night before.”

  “Oh, yeah. Ok, so the wife is out, and Cork is our best suspect. Did you find out anything else, Charlotte?”

  “Nothing super important. She was getting pretty terrible grades in law school, but not bad enough to be kicked out of the program.”

  “A terrible grade to you is less than ninety percent, what numbers are you talking about by normal people standards?” Sophie asked.

  Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just told they were bad. And this was a ‘normal person’ that told me,” she said, doing air quotes while rolling her eyes to emphasize her distaste of Sophie’s use of the phrase.

  My phone suddenly buzzed.

  Coffee? It was Jason.

  Sure, give me an hour though. In Portland right now.

  His reply came a minute later. Ooooh, someone’s investigating another murder case!