Chapter 6: Ready to Go
The next morning, Bobby woke up ready to get started. The rush of starting on her first case propelled her out of bed early. She showered and dressed within the span of 15 minutes. As she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, she ran her brush through her hair. Well, more like dragged the brush through her hair, forcing it to work its way past the tangles that had formed during the night. She should have taken the time to blow-dry her curly locks, but her anxious desire to get out the door prevented her from doing so. Instead, she just let the black mass slowly expand as it air-dried—a decision she knew she would regret.
She shrugged at her reflection as she turned to walk back into her room. Spotting her purse on the chair in the far corner of the room, she decided to attempt to use her magic again. She pinched her eyes shut and focusing her energy on the black bag, she urged it towards her. When she opened her eyes, she found it sitting in the same place it had been previously. She tried again, and again, she failed.
She let out a frustrated grunt as she marched across the room to retrieve it. She was sure that if she had continued trying, eventually she would have been able to muster something. But, it was Day One of her official investigation, and she didn’t want to waste any time.
When she reached the lobby, she found Shiny, asleep behind the desk. Being as quiet as she could, she slipped past him and headed for the front door. To her surprise, upon opening it, she found Don, standing outside with two coffees in his hands.
“You’re here early,” she said as she held out her hand.
He hugged the coffee closer to his chest as he eyed her hand. “Who said one of these was for you?” he asked.
She scrunched up her forehead as she observed him. He looked tired, but still had a handsome quality about him. His shaggy dark hair was tossed about on top of his head in a careless manner that worked on him perfectly.
She shrugged and pushed her way past him, “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you wouldn’t know how to order my coffee anyways.”
He laughed and nudged her back, handing her the cup. “Black,” he said confidently.
He was right. She always drank her coffee black. But, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of having figured that out. “I take cream,” she said as she sipped the beverage.
Even though it was late August, there was a slight crisp in the early morning air. The sun was slowly rising in the distance, and only a handful of people were out. Bobby inhaled slowly as she watched them go on their way. Some looked to be half-asleep as if they had been out all night and were just now returning home. Others appeared refreshed and ready for the day, possibly walking to work or to begin their morning routines. A pair of elves ran past, dressed in tight-fitting sports clothes, chatting pleasantly back and forth as they jogged in perfect unison.
“I’ll know for next time,” Don said walking in front of her.
They walked together towards the police station. As they went, Don remained close at her side, his arm occasionally brushing against hers. She was just about to pull away, to put a comfortable amount of space between them when he leaned over and began to talk, in a low, almost gruff whisper.
"I'm sure you're questioning my judgment on some things," he said.
She let out a loud, audible grunt of agreement.
“Not telling the people of the town about the investigation,” he continued. “I know that you think that that’s being careless on my part.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” she replied.
“As soon as the lab results are back, we will make a statement,” he explained. “And once we do, this whole place is going to go crazy. We need to keep the upper hand while we have it—what little bit of it we actually do have.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that, while Pinecreek is a wonderful place, it’s a place where everyone wants to have a say, to participate in whatever is going on. They all have their opinions, their little bits of gossip, and they’re all eager and willing to share them with anyone and everyone.”
They continued to walk very close to one another, letting their conversation die down whenever someone came close, smiling pleasantly at the passerby and waiting for the chance to speak once again.
“While there are benefits to having input from the people,” Don continued, “we need to get a firm grasp on the situation before we let all of that information flood into our work. And once we have the results from the lab, once we have some sort of idea as to what happened, we’ll be able to better sift through that information and know what’s relevant, and what’s just gossip.”
Bobby contemplated what he had said as they continued their walk. She had to agree that he had a point. It seemed like in this small, idyllic place everyone knew everyone. She hadn't been there long enough to be for certain, but as she watched the town wake up slowly, the streets becoming more occupied by passersby hurrying to and fro, she got the feeling that they all had their secrets, and that they all knew each other.
When they arrived at the police station, Bobby was promptly introduced to the small number of people who were there. Some had come in for the night shift and were preparing to leave while others were just coming in to start their days.
“Archer,” Don said walking up to the man seated at the desk directly in front of his own. The man, or elf really, pushed himself up quickly and smiled—a perfect smile—as he extended his hand to Bobby.
He was tall, like all the elves, and had the typical long blond hair and deep blue eyes that were common for his kind. His physical build was different than the average elf, though. He was muscular instead of lean. His shoulders were broad, and his chest was wide.
“Nice to meet you,” he said as he shook her hand.
“You too,” she replied. She couldn’t help but notice how extremely attractive he was. She had experience working with elves, and every time she was struck by their simple exterior beauty—their delicate features and their pristine, white skin. Even internally, elves were generally good people. They were hard-working, dedicated, and always collected and sophisticated.
“This is Archer,” Don said, making the formal introduction. “He’s my deputy.”
“Bobby Sparks,” she introduced herself.
“I know who you are, ma’am,” Archer replied slipping his hand out of hers. “We all do.”
She felt her cheeks blush red. “Really?”
“Oh yes,” he nodded. “The big fancy P.P.I. sent here by the Witch Council; you’re big news.”
Don cleared his throat, drawing her attention to him once again. “Archer and I have begun the preliminary investigation,” he explained. He stepped towards his desk, motioning towards the bulletin board assembled behind it.
“What have you found?” Bobby asked, following Don.
“Not much, to be honest,” Don replied.
Archer walked up behind them, also observing the information. “We’ve been working on establishing a timeline,” he explained.
“That’s always a good place to start,” Bobby replied, noting how her voice seemed to go higher as she spoke to him. She cleared her throat and asked, “So, what is the timeline?”
"The coroner put the time of death at around 7:00 in the morning," Don spoke. "So, we've been working backward from there."
"It's strange, though, because, at that time, she was just opening the shop," Archer continued. "No one was in there with her, at least not as far as anyone can remember. We spoke to her husband, who found her—poor man—and he said that she had been home for dinner the night before…"
Don cut him off, finishing his train of thought for him. “And after they had dinner together, she went out with some friends for a drink.”
Bobby wondered if Don’s desire to take control of the information from Archer was a way of imposing his authority, or if it was simply in his nature to step on everyone’s toes, not just hers.
“Have you confirmed all of that?” Bobby asked.
&
nbsp; “We spoke with the friends, who said that she was with them until about 10:30. She then returned home,” Don continued to speak
“Are we sure she actually went home?”
“Her home is right above the pet shop,” Don explained, “and the bar they were at was right across the street. They watched her go inside—they’re sure she went home.”
“And what did the husband say about that? Does he remember her coming home?”
“He was sleeping when she arrived, so he couldn’t say for certain what time it was when she got into bed. But, he is sure that she came home, showered, then went to sleep,” Archer spoke up again.
“The next morning, they woke up together, had breakfast, and he went to work while she began opening the shop,” Don added.
“So, as far as we know, he was the last person to see her alive,” Bobby pointed out.
“Unless someone did, in fact, go into the shop that morning,” Archer countered.
“It wasn’t even opened, yet,” Don pointed out. “And the shop owners around the pet shop claim that there was no one in the square around the time of death—no one coming or going from any of the shops.”
Something about the way the two men continued to talk over one another and battle for the last word amused Bobby. That was something about working with men that she had learned in her time at the academy—they were always extremely competitive. Women were competitive, too, but in a more subtle, almost elegant way.
“What time did the husband find her?” Bobby asked, trying to hide the smile that was forming at the corner of her lips as she waited to see who would get the chance to speak first, and who would, in turn, speak last.
“He returned home shortly after leaving,” Archer started.
“He had forgotten his wallet and needed to go back to get it,” Don finished.
“Time?” Bobby reminded them.
“Around 8:15,” they answered in unison.
“And we’re sure that he actually left? Someone can verify that he was not at home or in the shop at 7:00?”
“He clocked in at work,” Don said. “His time card was punched for 6:57.”
“Where does he work?” Bobby asked.
“He’s a butcher,” Archer answered. “He works at his father’s shop—Clawson’s Meat Shop.”
“So, he clocked in,” Bobby said thoughtfully, “but did someone actually see him in the shop?”
“His brother was there working, and right when they opened the doors at 7:30 they had three customers who also verified that he was there.”
“And yet, he just left to return home for his wallet?”
Bobby wasn’t buying the story, something about it felt off. She could tell that her two colleagues, however, weren’t as interested in Mr. Clawson’s alibi as she was.
“A shipment of meat was being brought in,” Don explained, “and Barry was responsible for paying for said shipment. He had left the company card in his wallet, which was why he needed to return home to get it.”
“He just carries the company card around with him?” Bobby asked.
“You seem to be focusing a lot on Barry,” Archer noted. “But his alibi is rock solid, Ms. Sparks.”
He spoke to her in a respectful way. She liked that.
“Bobby, please,” she said, once again feeling her voice creak slightly higher as she turned to look up at him.
“Bobby,” he said, smiling down at her.
Don cleared his throat again, waiting for the two of them to once again return their focus to him and the corkboard in front of them.
“I’d like to speak with him myself,” Bobby said firmly.
"You'll get your chance," Don said. "But first, we have a meeting with the girl's parents. They were too shaken up yesterday to give a statement, but they called last night and left a message that we can stop by anytime today."
Chapter 7: Meeting the Parents
Holly’s parents’ house was just like the others on the block—small, quaint, painted in some bright color that was surprisingly pleasant, with a large tree in the front yard and a wraparound porch. The yellow siding of the home contrasted nicely with the white wooden steps, door frame, and hanging swing.
Don knocked on the door while Bobby surveyed their surroundings. It wasn’t long before a small, frail looking woman with swollen eyes and messy hair answered the door.
“Mrs. Lightbender,” Don said formally. “I’m very sorry to bother you.”
“It’s okay,” she said between a sniffle. She quickly ran her hands through her curly grey-white hair in an effort to make herself appear more presentable. “I apologize for my state,” she added softly.
“There’s no need for that,” Bobby said reaching out and taking the woman’s hand in her own. “At a time like this, you have no need to apologize for anything.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Don, who was watching her exchange with the grieving mother with an expression that Bobby could only equate to surprise.
“Is Rick home, Loraine?” Don asked, turning his attention to Mrs. Lightbender. “We’d really love to speak with both of you.”
“Yes, he is. Come in, please,” Loraine insisted, pulling the door open even further and turning to lead them down the hall.
She showed them to a small sitting room, where she excused herself to go find her husband. Don took a seat on the couch while Bobby examined the pictures sitting on the mantel over the fireplace.
“That one there is Holly,” Don said when she picked up one of a rather beautiful young woman in her early twenties. She had long, blonde hair, and dark green eyes, the same color as her mothers.
“How old is this picture?” Bobby asked, examining it.
"I'd say that was from about four years ago or so," Don guessed. "This," he said pushing himself up and walking to where Bobby was standing. "This is the most current of the bunch if I had to guess. It was taken about a year ago."
He picked up a large, 8x10 framed picture and handed it to Bobby. It was Holly, only slightly older than she looked in the previous picture, wearing a long, white wedding gown.
“Are there any pictures of her husband?” Bobby asked, scanning the shelf.
“I’m afraid you won’t find any of him, no,” an elderly man’s voice answered.
Bobby and Don turned just as Rick and Loraine Lightbender reentered the room together. Mr. Lightbender was also a smaller man, weak from age and tired from grief. His head was balding, and his eyes were drawn with multiple bags forming under them.
“May I ask why?” Bobby asked, setting the picture of Holly in her wedding gown back in its place on the mantle.
The elderly couple walked together over to the couch where they sat down next to each other, their hands clasped in one another’s. Loraine let out a slight sniffle while Rick fiddled with his glasses, adjusting them time and time again while he thought.
“The truth is, Barry didn’t get along with our family very well,” Rick said finally.
“Is that why Holly didn’t take his last name?” Bobby asked, walking over to a large sitting chair across from them and sitting down. She had noticed that on all of the reports, Holly was listed as Lightbender, and not Clawson, her husband’s last name.
"She didn't want to hurt us any more than she already had," Loraine answered, a hint of disdain suddenly coming through in her voice.
“Would you care to elaborate on that statement, Mrs. Lightbender?” Bobby asked, reaching into her purse and pulling out a notepad and pen.
Rick and Loraine eyed her suspiciously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Mrs. Lightbender said her voice once again soft and sweet.
“I’m Paranormal Private Investigator Bobby Sparks,” Bobby answered confidently. “I work for the Witch Council. Would you like to see my badge?”
She was about to reach back into her purse when Rick assured her it wouldn’t be necessary. “Don?” he asked, turning to look at the Sheriff. “Why is someone from the Witch Council here in Pin
ecreek?”
“We’re just making sure that the circumstances surrounding your daughter’s death aren’t more than what they seem to be on the surface,” Don replied. He was still standing by the fireplace, shifting his weight back and forth, his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.
“Silly me,” Loraine said clapping her hands together. “I didn’t offer anyone tea.”
Again, she clapped her hands together while simultaneously nodding her head once. A small puff of smoke formed on the coffee table, and when it cleared, a pot of warm water and four teacups magically appeared.
“Oh, it’s really not necessary,” Don started.
“I’ll have Earl Grey,” Bobby said, reaching forward and taking one of the cups in her hand.
With another clap and nod from Mrs. Lightbender, a tea bag appeared in the cup in her hand.
“Thank you,” Bobby said with a smile. She held the cup in her lap, waiting for it to steep while Rick and Loraine served themselves.
“I don’t mean to seem forward,” Rick finally spoke, “but I don’t understand why the Witch Council is interested in our daughter’s case. I know that a woman of her age dying from a heart attack is rare, but it’s certainly not something the higher powers would be interested in.”
“It’s precisely for that reason that they’ve sent me,” Bobby said. “Can you honestly tell me that you believe that your daughter’s death was the result of a heart attack?”
“We’re not doctors,” Loraine said quickly.
“Was she healthy?” Bobby asked.
“We always thought she was,” Loraine answered.
“Do heart conditions run in your family?” Bobby asked, lifting her cup to her lips to take a quick sip.
“No,” Rick answered now. He set his cup down on the table and looked up at Bobby, his eyes wide and his hands shaking slightly. “Are you saying that you think someone killed her?”
His words came out in barely a whisper. Though soft, they hung heavily in the air. Bobby exchanged a nervous look with Don, who was still standing awkwardly by the fireplace.
“We just want to rule out any possibilities,” Bobby said taking another sip from her tea and smiling at the couple politely. “So, please, anything you can think to tell us would be greatly appreciated.”
Bobby Sparks Witch Detective: Pet Shop Puzzle ( A Paranormal Cozy Mystery) Page 4
