Bobby Sparks Witch Detective: Pet Shop Puzzle ( A Paranormal Cozy Mystery)

by Stacey Fields

  "See?" Don asked as they directed their attention back to the pet shop, "I told you we could pull off the good-cop-bad-cop bit."

  “I’m still not sold on it,” Bobby said passively. “But, it did work to get a little information from Mrs. O’Leary.”

  “And we learned that there are officially rumors spreading quickly that a potential murder took place here,” Don added, his voice slightly saddened. “I have a feeling we will start to see a very interesting side to the members of Pinecreek.”

  “Are you becoming suspicious of people in your community now, Sheriff?”

  “I’m not suspicious of them, Bobby. I know them, is all. As perfect as Pinecreek can be when things are good, I’m afraid that when things are bad—,” he let his voice trail off.

  “Well, let’s hope that those test results get back soon,” Bobby said.

  “And that they’re positive for a heart condition,” Don added, “or we’ll have a line of people following us around, like Mrs. O’Leary was just now, waiting to stick their nose into the middle of our investigation.”

  Bobby shifted her weight around, examining the town square. The people walking around slowed slightly when they caught sight of her. They smiled at her weakly before lowering their heads and hurrying off. Don was right—they were just waiting to snoop around, to find a little nibble of gossip they could share with friends and spread through the town like wildfire.

  “We should get inside,” Bobby said walking towards the pet shop. “I’m sure that Holly’s husband will have a lot to share with us.”

  Don reached out and rang the doorbell. It wasn't more than a few seconds before a buzzer sounded and the door cracked open slightly, opening only a half an inch on its own accord. They walked into the pet shop together. It was a dimly lit, but still inviting space. The walls were lined with glass boxes, all containing various reptiles or other types of animals. The air smelled like wood shavings with a hint of a sour, ammonia-like scent hidden just underneath.

  In the far corner were wire cages, lined up on the ground. They were filled with plush toys, blankets, and balls of bouncing fur—puppies. Above them, in cages built into the wall were cats, and to the right of the cats were cages containing animals that Bobby had never seen before.

  All of the creatures in the shop let out a collection of sounds, singing together in an off-pitched, whining chorus that made Bobby's ears ring and her head ache. She tried as best as she could to ignore the shrill melody as she crossed the shop to better examine the creatures in the cages by the cats.

  “Those were her pride and joy,” a man explained, walking out from behind a door that Bobby hadn’t even noticed, located next to the exhibit she was making her way towards.

  “What are they?” she asked, walking up to the cages and peering in. They were cute little things—nothing more than balls of fur with little pink ears and big black eyes.

  “They’re a new breed she was working on developing,” the man explained. “Part dog, part cat.”

  Bobby leaned in and peered closely at one of the animals. It was a cute little thing. With a button-shaped nose and whiskers, that stuck out on either side of its face.

  “What’s the benefit of mixing cats and dogs?” she asked, turning to face the man.

  “Dogs are obviously friendly, loving, loyal, yes? And cats are agile, house-broken by nature, and they have seven lives.”

  “Do people plan on killing their dog-cat mix six times? Or do they just like having the extra lives as a sort of insurance?” Bobby asked, pointedly but out of genuine curiosity.

  "I think they just like knowing that their furry little friends will be around for a long time."

  Bobby opened her mouth to introduce herself, but the animals around them let out a renewed chorus of blood-curdling cries. The man let out a loud groan, adding to the off-putting sound and covered his ears with his hands.

  “They won’t shut up!” he cried over the noise. “I’ve tried everything, but I can’t get them to be quiet!”

  Bobby and Don exchanged a quick glance. Don stepped forward and rested his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Let’s go talk upstairs,” he shouted over the cries.

  The man led them back through the secret door he had appeared from. Even when it clicked shut, the sounds of the animals were still audible.

  The room he had led them to was, in reality, a short hallway. It led to a staircase. The man, without a word, shuffled forward and began ascending the stairs. They creaked under his weight, but Bobby could only hear that once they reached the very top and the sounds of the animals were dulled by the distance.

  The man then opened another door and ushered them into an apartment-style home. It was small but very bright. There were windows everywhere, and the furniture, as well as the walls, were brightly colored.

  “What a lovely home,” Bobby said as she followed the man through the 50s style kitchen, scanning her surroundings as they made their way into the 50s style family room.

  “Holly did the decorating,” the man muttered.

  Bobby and Don took a seat on the plush, floral print couch as the man continued to pace back and forth in front of them. It was obvious that he was distraught. It looked as if he hadn't shaved in days, although that was very likely just the way he always looked. His face, arms, legs, even the back of his neck was covered completely in hair. He had dark features and deep brown eyes. Bobby immediately noticed the faint yellow circle that surrounded his pupils.

  “How have you been holding up, Barry?” Don asked, leaning forward and showing clear concern for the man.

  “It’s so hard, Don,” Barry answered, running his fingers through his hair, the hair on his head, although the hair on his arms was long enough that he could have run his fingers through that, too. “I can’t sleep—I haven’t slept since I found her yesterday. Those animals—they won’t stop! They just keep crying and whining, barking and chirping. You,” he said turning his attention to Bobby. “Are you a witch? Can you make them stop?”

  Bobby shifted her weight around nervously. “Animals aren’t my specialty,” she explained.

  “But, you are a witch, right? That’s what I’ve heard. Someone said that a witch was coming from the big leagues. That’s you, right? You can do something, can’t you?”

  His words were coming out in desperate slurs, running one into the next. His eyes were bloodshot, from sadness or lack of sleep, Bobby wasn't sure.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said with genuine concern, “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

  She had spotted a half-full coffee pot in the kitchen on her way in. Although she had already had a cup that morning, she was more of a four-cups-a-day kind of person. She looked at the rugged looking man also noting his clear need of caffeine and said, “maybe a cup of coffee will help all of us.”

  “No,” he said sharply.

  Bobby’s eyes widened at his response. “I’m sorry,” she said calmly, “I just thought that…”

  “I should apologize,” Barry replied remorsefully. “I didn’t mean to snap like that. I haven’t slept, and I’m just on edge right now. What I mean to say was that we don’t have any cream or milk. I’m afraid I can only offer you black coffee.”

  “That’ll be perfect,” Bobby smiled at him.

  He nodded slowly and got up to head to the kitchen.

  “I thought you took cream,” Don leaned over and whispered.

  “I lied,” Bobby replied quickly.

  After a little bit of rummaging around in the kitchen, Barry returned to the sitting room, two cups of coffee in his hand. He handed one to Bobby and kept the other for himself.

  He didn’t sit, however. He remained standing, pacing back and forth as he sipped the beverage in his hands.

  “I already gave my statement to you, Don,” he said. He looked cautiously at Bobby and Don. “I don’t know what else I could say.”

  “Barry,” Don said standing up and walking over to the man, “this is
Bobby Sparks. You are correct, she was sent by the Witch Council. She’s here to ask you some questions.”

  Barry’s eyes shot up quickly, scanning the room nervously before landing on Bobby again. “Questions about what?”

  “I know this is a very hard time for you,” Bobby said slowly, “and I don’t want to burden you any more than I’m sure you already are. I was simply wondering if you could tell me anything that might have seemed out of the ordinary around here lately.”

  “Why?” Barry asked. “Do you think she was killed?” Barry asked, his voice rising in pitch, reaching a loud, almost wailing cry by the last word.

  Bobby had to remind herself that they were still keeping their suspicions about Holly’s death under wraps. She chose her words carefully, as she continued.

  “We’re not saying that,” she said quickly. “We just want to make sure we cover all of our bases. Please, Mr. Clawson, we could really use your help right now.”

  Barry paced back and forth a few more times before taking a seat in the large armchair across from the couch. Don returned to his seat next to Bobby, and they waited in silence while Barry collected himself.

  “Honestly, I can’t think of anyone that would want to do something like that to Holly,” he began, his voice still cracking from time to time.

  “What about the employees of the shop?” Bobby asked, flipping through her notes to the sparse information she had gotten from Mrs. O’Leary.

  “At the moment there’s no one working in the shop besides Holly. It is—I mean, it was,” he said as he choked back a sob, “really hard for her, running the shop on her own.”

  “Why didn’t Holly hire anyone else, then?” Bobby asked.

  “She did, for a while. There was another witch who came to work with her—Laura Enchanting. She worked in the shop for about a year, if I’m remembering correctly.”

  Laura, that was the name that Mrs. O’Leary had given.

  “And how did they get along?” Bobby asked.

  "They had their rough patches," Barry said, staring off into the distance as if he were remembering the events. "Laura had her own ideas for how Holly should work with the animals. She was also gifted with them, you see. The two of them argued constantly until finally, Holly fired her. I've heard rumors that Laura is planning on opening a pet shop of her own."

  Bobby looked up quickly, tilting her head to the side and raising her eyebrows. “Does that seem suspicious to you, Mr. Clawson?”

  Barry stroked his chin and thought, “I suppose it does, now that you mention it.”

  The rest of their time with Barry was spent discussing the timeline leading up to Holly’s death. He confirmed the chain of events he had given to Don the day before, even showing them the company credit card he carried in his wallet.

  When Bobby and Don were back outside, she clutched her purse tightly and marched ahead, making sure he was following behind. Once they were far enough from the entrance of the shop she stopped suddenly and turned to face him.

  “I’m beginning to think that you shifters aren’t the most insightful bunch,” she said pointedly.

  “What does that mean?” Don asked, offended.

  “I’m not going to say anything about your refusal to accept this as a legitimate case,” she said, making sure to get in the slight jab before continuing. “That whole thing with the former employee—the other witch? How did Barry not make that connection right away? How did he not think to mention her the moment we said we were looking for anything out of the norm surrounding Holly’s death?”

  "Just because he's not the smartest, doesn't mean we are all the same," Don said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at her.

  “I’m still not convinced about you,” Bobby said, half-playfully, half-truthfully. She reached into her purse and pulled out her notebook, going over her notes for the day.

  “I’ll take that as a challenge,” Don said slyly. “Anyways, Barry is probably just upset about everything going on. He’s not thinking clearly right now.”

  “Perhaps,” Bobby said absent-mindedly flipping back and forth between what Barry said and what she heard from Mrs. O’Leary. “So, as of right now, it seems like Ms. Enchanting is our prime suspect.”

  “And the high-school admirer?” Don reminded her.

  “We do still need to talk to him,” Bobby replied, contemplating their options. “And, to be honest, I’m still not convinced that Barry is completely innocent.”

  “Why do you say that?” Don asked.

  “There was cream,” she pointed out.

  “What?”

  “For the coffee—there was cream or milk at least. I saw a half-drank cup of coffee sitting in the sink when we walked in. That coffee had cream in it.”

  “Maybe they ran out, or maybe he just forgot about it—again, he has other things on his mind than coffee condiments.”

  “You’re very quick to defend him.”

  “You’re very quick to accuse him,” Don replied.

  Bobby shrugged and began walking again. “Shall we go speak to this Ms. Enchanting?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Chapter 10: Insults and Insight

  “That fur-covered moron said what?” Laura said in a sing-song voice that somehow made her direct insult seem slightly less offensive.

  Don cleared his throat and set his cup of coffee down firmly on the table. He hadn’t gotten any at Barry’s, so he eagerly took Laura up on her offer for a cup when she ushered them into her home.

  “You’re not nearly as hairy as he is, sweetie,” Laura said.

  Laura’s house was just down the street from the town square. “Just a two minute walk to my new shop,” she informed Bobby and Don in her cheerful way. Although it was the same general shape as all of the other homes in the city, there was something very distinct about it. In the front, as well as in the back of the home Laura had a large garden. It was filled with at least 100 different types of plants—all used in potions.

  The inside of the home was more or less bare. The only furniture around was what was completely necessary—a table with two chairs in the kitchen and a couch and a small desk in the family room. Laura quickly noted Bobby’s surprise at the condition of her home and explained that she spent most of her time outside, anyways. “Why spend money furnishing a place I’m rarely in?”

  “And I imagine now with your shop, you’ll be spending even more time out of the home,” Don had pointed out.

  “Word does spread fast, here, doesn’t it? I’ve only just announced to a few family and friends my intentions of opening up my own little place,” Laura replied.

  “That’s awfully convenient, isn’t it?”

  “Why’s that?”

  That’s when Bobby chimed in, explaining in the nicest way possible that the finger of blame had been pointed squarely at her by the deceased’s husband. This comment then led to Laura’s borderline rude outburst, which was just enough to push Don to the point of anger.

  “It wasn’t the fur-covered part of the comment that offended me, Ms. Enchanting,” Don replied between gritted teeth.

  “I said he was a moron,” Laura repeated herself slowly, “not you.”

  Bobby sensed the tension in the air. She felt a pang of guilt because she knew Don's frustration with Laura wasn't only directed at the slightly stuck-up, very oblivious to how offensive she could be, young witch. It was partially her fault as well for her earlier comment about Barry's intelligence.

  “Now, I’m not saying that shifters are anywhere near as dumb as, say, ogres or cyclopses, but they’re definitely not known for their intellect like witches and fairies, and elves and goblins, even.”

  “Laura,” Bobby cut her off, “why don’t we focus on you and not so much on Barry for now.”

  “It’s because of him that we are focusing on me,” Laura reminded her.

  Bobby let out a slow breath. Even she was finding her interactions with Laura to be frustratingly annoying. She could sense that Don was
still tense with anger, so she took it upon herself to continue the conversation.

  “I’m speaking to you from a place of mutual understanding and respect here, Ms. Enchanting,” Bobby said in her sweetest, most sing-song tone, “if you wish to make a firm argument for yourself, I would suggest not doing so by insulting your accuser. Instead, let’s just focus on establishing your side of the story, shall we?”

  “My side of the story?” she asked. “I don’t have a ‘side of the story’ because I’m still not even sure what is going on.”

  “Why don’t you just start by telling us where you were two nights ago,” Don said pointedly.

  Bobby shot him a warning glance before plastering her sweet smile back on her face and directing her attention back to Laura. “We’re simply trying to get an idea of what happened the night before Holly passed away,” she added quickly.

  “And her husband seems to think I am somehow linked to her death? I mean, sure, Holly and I had our disagreements, but I’d never kill her over something like that!” Laura said in a half-amused tone.

  “What exactly did you two disagree about?” Bobby asked, ready to write as soon as she spoke.

  “The usual,” Laura said, taking a seat at the table across from Booby and Don as she thought. “Holly had a very specific way that she handled the animals. I’m sure you saw her new breed she was working on while you were over speaking to Barry?”

  “Yes,” Don and Bobby answered in unison.

  “Well, as successful as she’s been, I’ve had a few ideas of my own that I wanted to try out. Little things, really—a new formula for pet food, a new spell to correct behavioral issues, even a potion that would extend the life of domestic pets such as dogs and cats up to 30 years.”

  “And she didn’t want those things?” Bobby asked.

  "It's not that she didn't want them," Laura replied. "It's just that she didn't want to share credit for them. You see, for the last four years, Holly has had the only pet shop in town. Pets were her thing. She didn't want to share the title. She was gifted with them, sure. Her specialty was potions. She could conjure up anything she wished. A food to make dogs stop shedding, or a treat that would make any cat hypo-allergenic. But, I'm talented as well, you know. I also have a gift for potions and spells. It's unfortunate that we both specialize in the same area—animals."