“Will do,” he said, awkwardly saluting. He hurried back the lettuce.
“Did… did he just salute you?” asked Bart as we kept walking.
“That’s what it looked like,” I mumbled.
“What a weird kid.”
We made our rounds through a few of our aisles, making sure everything looked to be in place and there weren’t any glaring holes of missing product. While those were never much of an issue here, ever since I promoted Eric Muller to being my manager things were running even more smoothly. After getting involved more and more with solving some local - and paranormal - crimes, I decided it was best to put someone in charge for the times that I was gone.
Walking down our last aisle, our small but well stocked frozen area, I found Eric with a clipboard out, writing down some orders for the day.
“How’s it going, Eric?” I asked my manager.
“Hi, Miss Foster,” he smiled. “It’s going really good. How about yourself?”
“I’m doing well,” I smiled back. “Anything new?”
“Thomas said he’s rejoining our bowling team when the season starts again, which we’re all excited about,” he smiled. When Thomas was bitten by a werewolf, he had to quit the bowling league so that he could learn to master his new abilities. The butcher werewolf had recently completed his training, and was itching to get back to the game he loved so much.
“I heard,” I said. “I bet that’ll be fun. Anything I should know about with the store?”
“I’m finishing up our ordering for our frozen right now, and then I’m checking in on the bakery to see how they’re doing. Jimmy has seemed a little more peeved than usual, lately. You might want to talk with him and see if somethings wrong.”
“Yes, I talked with him just a moment ago,” I nodded. “He is feeling a little swamped doing all the work in produce now that he’s alone.”
“Should I look into hiring someone?” he asked.
“You’re already doing more than enough,” I laughed. “I should have some responsibility here. I’ll worry about hiring someone.”
“You’re taking that over?” asked Bart. “Poor Jimmy. He’ll be stuck working alone forever now.”
I shot Bart a look as Eric continued.
“Well, other than that, not too much is new since we last talked,” said Eric, before hesitating and looking off in the distance.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. It wasn’t like him to not be up front about something.
“It’s kind of weird but… I’ve noticed that every time I go down the soup aisle, there are cans knocked to the ground,” he said slowly. “I know that’s normally not that unusual, but it’s happening literally every time I’m over there.”
“It’s probably just kids or something,” I shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Are they exploding or anything?”
“No, they are just knocked over on their side on the ground. You’re probably right, it’s nothing,” he nodded. “I should probably get back to this if you don’t have any more question for me.”
“I don’t,” I smiled. “Have a good one!”
Bart and I made our way up to the front. We were always getting applications for part time work from high schoolers, so I could spend some time looking through those. I wanted to make sure I didn’t leave Jimmy hanging, but I also wanted to make sure we got an ideal candidate. Something that made Foster’s Market so successful was always having the right employees. Everyone here was great to work with. Well, except for…
“Charline’s here,” groaned Bart.
“You’re joking,” I said, peaking around the corner of the aisle.
He wasn’t. Our oldest cashier, Charline Baker, was at her register. I had foolishly placed my office behind the check out, and I paid for it every time I had to get in there. Charline was somehow beloved by our customers, but everyone’s least favorite coworker. She always had something to say, would drone on and on, and was a bit harsh.
“You’ve got to start giving her more days off,” said Bart.
“I really do… but she always wants to work! She hasn’t taken a vacation day the entire time she’s worked here!”
“Sick days?”
“Never.”
“Huh,” marveled Bart. “Maybe she’s not a real human?”
“Really?” I asked, squinting and looking a bit closer at Charline. “You think so?”
“No, I’m just messing with you,” he purred.
“Not cool,” I sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
I was hoping to at least get somewhat close to my door before being stopped. Instead, the second I left the safe hiding of the aisle, Charline locked eyes on me.
“Miss Foster, you wouldn’t believe what happened yesterday,” said Charline, shaking her head.
I needed to learn an invisibility spell. I’d be able to just walk into my office without Charline ever knowing. I’d get so much more work done.
“What happened?” I asked, pretending to sound interested.
“A customer came in asking me if we had unpasteurized milk. I told him that we in fact did not have unpasteurized milk, naturally.”
“Right,” I nodded. “It’s illegal to sell that here-”
“He wouldn’t stop asking me about this milk! We stood here arguing about it for what felt like half an hour! I was about to call security to escort the man out.”
“Charline, we don’t have any securit-”
“Finally,” she continued. “After enough was enough, he declared that we had lost his business that day, turned quickly on his feet, and stormed out of the store.”
I paused, waiting for her to continue. She just stared at me.
After waiting a few beats, I opened my mouth. “I’m sorry you had t-”
“Then a different man came up, asking me if we sold some sort of pop from the 70s. Could you believe the day I had?”
“That is truly unbelievable,” I said. I needed a way out of this.
“Hey, Zoey,” said a familiar voice. “Miss Baker.”
I turned around to find detective Drake Robinson. He was wearing a black leather jacket over his usual ensemble of a gray tshirt and dark jeans. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t look good on him.
“Detective,” nodded Charline.
“Good to see you, Drake,” I smiled.
“You look cute,” he said, looking over my outfit.
“Thanks,” I said. My cheeks felt like they matched my red hat.
“What an inappropriate thing to say in front of her employee,” scoffed Charline. “I don’t think you’d like it very much if some woman came down to the police station and started making passes at your boss. I don’t think you’d like it one bit.”
“I wasn’t making a pass-” he tried.
“I have half a mind to ask you to please leave the store, if you think it’s okay to just go around and harass random women as you please,” she continued. “Back in my day, the police had a level of decency about them.”
Drake looked at me with a mixture of doubt and worry. Finally, an escape from Charline’s grasp. I decided to help him out.
“I’ll take the Detective to my office to spare you from hearing any more tasteless comments,” I said, grabbing Drake’s jacket arm and pulling on it. “Don’t worry Charline. He’s being given an official verbal warning.”
“I’m glad there’s still some order in the world,” nodded Charline approvingly.
I dragged Drake into my office and closed the door.
“What’s an official verbal warning?” asked Drake.
“No idea,” I shrugged. “Sounds serious though, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” he laughed. He looked up at the wall behind my desk, which was covered in an ugly floral wallpaper. “Still keeping that up?”
“I keep forgetting to take it down,” I sighed. Why must everyone comment on it? “Every time I think to work on it, something more important comes up.”
“Understandable,�
� he nodded. “Listen, I was thinking… about the other day…”
I smiled and tensed up. What could he be thinking of? Our date? When he held my hand in his? Was he going to make us an official couple?
What would our couple name be, Zorake? Droey?
Ew. I’d have to work on that.
“I know you’ve been itching to get involved with another case, and I think I might have one for you,” said Drake with a huge smile.
Oh.
I relaxed and felt my smile slip.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t itching for another one at all. I had just finished helping out some vampires yesterday, and all I wanted was to have a nice, relaxed week or two at work. I couldn’t say that to Drake, though. He also looked excited to have me help. I couldn’t say no to that great smile.
“That would be lovely,” I said, trying to smile back.
“What’s wrong with your face?” asked Bart.
I guess I needed to work on my fake smiling.
“What’s the case about?” I asked. “Has there been another murder?”
“No, nothing that extreme,” said Drake with a shake of his head. “Remember how I mentioned there’s been a string of petty crimes? Well, it looks like it’s all connected. Why don’t you come by the station later today, and I’ll fill you in?”
“I would love nothing more,” I said.
That wasn’t true at all. I’d love a blanket and a hot cocoa significantly more.
Chapter 3
I pulled up to the police station that afternoon, staying in my car an extra minute or two to prepare myself. Bart apparently thought it was too long.
“What’s the hold up?” he asked.
“Do familiars not get tired?” I asked. “We’ve been running around for the past week, and I wanted some time to recharge.”
“We get tired,” he nodded. “I just sleep for most of the day while you work.”
“That’s fair,” I said. Gathering up all my energy, I opened up the car door. “Let’s go.”
“Trust me, I don’t think this is going to be any more exciting than you do,” purred Bart, floating through the passenger side door. “A string of petty crimes? Drake’s probably bored of this one and wants to move on. That’s why he’s asking for your help.”
“I think he was trying to be nice,” I said, clicking the lock on my key fob over and over as we walked into the station. “He knows I’ve been enjoying sleuthing around.”
Twistchapel’s police station wasn’t particularly noteworthy. While not a large town by any means, we had a decent sized police force. Most of them lived up to the donut eating moniker, but even that created a sense of safety for most of the townsfolk.
We walked past the waiting area and up to the front desk. Drake was there, talking to the attendant who was staring down at his computer screen. I’d been in here a half dozen time now, and not once had the man looked up from that blasted screen. I always wondered what was so fascinating that he couldn’t look away.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said quietly.
Drake turned around with a big smile. He reached his arms out as if he was going in for a hug, but then hesitated and brought them back down to his side.
“Zoey! It’s good to see you. I was just telling Jerry, here, that I was expecting someone to come by.”
Aha. His name was Jerry. I would get him to crack and look at me if it was the last thing I did.
“Hello, Jerry, how are you?” I asked.
“I’m good, ma’am,” said Jerry, typing away. “Yourself?”
“A bit tired, but nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. I’ve got a question for you, if you don’t mind.”
“You’re wasting your breathe, Zoey,” purred Bart. “He’s not going to do it. He’s never going to look at you.”
“I don’t mind,” he shrugged, clicking his mouse a few times.
“A friend of mine was saying that he thought I dressed too brightly,” I said, glancing down at Bart. “I think he’s wrong. What are your thoughts on this outfit?”
“I’m not much of a fashion guru,” said Jerry absently.
“That’s okay. Just let me know what you think,” I said, gesturing to my outfit, trying to catch his eye with movement.
“I think the red and yellow match well together,” he said, eyes never leaving the screen. “You could maybe throw in a blue scarf, perhaps. Might help complete the look.”
“H-How…?” I looked down at Bart in amazement. Jerry never looked at me. How did he know what I was wearing, and how could I have not thought of that addition to my wardrobe?
“Let’s leave Jerry alone. I think you look great,” said Drake, taking a couple of steps towards his office.
I hesitated. I couldn’t give up this easy. Even if the man had powers of perception far greater than any other normal human, there had to be a way to get him to look up.
“That’s right,” said Jerry, still looking at his computer screen. “You’re that woman who came in a bit ago saying that said you were Drake’s hot date, right?”
“What was that?” asked Drake, turning around and raising an eyebrow.
“Let’s go,” I said, rushing past Drake and dragging him with me.
“That guy must be looking at surveillance cameras pointed right at you or something,” laughed Bart.
“How can you have someone working at the front that never looks away from his computer?” I asked Drake. “That seems like a security issue.”
“Who, Jerry?” asked Drake as we made it to his office door. “He’s a great officer. He never forgets a face. The sketch artists have identified dozens of suspects thanks to him. It’s really uncanny, to be honest.”
I shook my head as we walked in. That was unbelievable to hear.
“Did you want to hear about what I’ve been working on?” asked Drake as he sat down at his desk.
“Sure,” I said, sitting down across from his desk. “Tell me about the case.”
“Over the past several weeks, there has been an increase in calls about misdemeanors around town,” he began, brushing aside some papers on his desk and placing a file in the middle of it. “There have been a few reports of some small items missing from cars, trespassing, and a lot of ding-dong ditch… at least I think that’s what the kids still call it nowadays. Anyway, over the past week there has been an increase in graffiti reports, and always with the same blue colored paint. We believe most, if not all, of these reports are related.”
“Strange,” I nodded.
Twistchapel had been a fairly safe town. Not only were there rarely murders, but there also was rarely any sort of public disturbances. Kids would do stupid things from time to time, of course, but it normally was during the summers and not so frequent. Could this be kids? A gang moving in from out of town? Was it something paranormal?
“Do you have any leads?” I asked.
“At first, we were asking around at schools and local teen hangouts. We weren’t able to get any info, and the misdemeanors continued. I gotta admit… it was impressive,” shrugged Drake, typing into his laptop. “I couldn’t believe the culprits hadn’t been seen at least once. That is, until last night.”
I leaned forward as Drake turned the laptop around. The video was in black and white, without any sound, and looked like security footage. Several hooded figures approached the front wall of Twistchapel Public Library. They looked around as they pulled out small cans, which they then held up and began making a design on the wall.
“Right… here!” he said, clicking pause. A young teenage girl’s face was clearly in view as she checked to make the coast was clear. Drake let the tape run again for a few seconds, before pausing it again as another hooded figure’s face was shown. This time a teenage boy looked over near the camera.
“So, they’re kids?” I asked.
“That’s what it looks like,” nodded Drake. “It’s one thing for kids to screw around and maybe mess with a few things, but they’ve continued to break
the law. On top of that, they’re slipping into felony charges if they keep spraying graffiti.”
“Are you going to arrest them?” I asked. He had evidence right here of them committing a felony. I know they weren’t innocent, but they were just kids. They were throwing their lives away over something so foolish.
“Not at the moment,” said Drake. “The librarian doesn’t want to immediately press charges. She asked us to just give them a talking to, but agreed to press charges if they don’t change their behavior.”
“The librarian said that?” I asked, taken aback. “Susan Cutter? Really?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“No reason…” I said, looking away.
Susan Cutter had been working at the Twistchapel Public Library since I was a little girl. Susan never struck me as the very forgiving type, never cutting anyone a break with their overdue fees. I hadn’t been to the library in ages, so maybe she had a change of heart.
“Even if I was going to arrest them, it’s not so simple,” said Drake. “Multiple crimes are reported happening at the same time, and at a distance too far away for them to get to quickly.”
“So you think there are more kids involved?”
“Probably,” he nodded. “It doesn’t make any sense otherwise.”
Drake’s phone buzzed on the table.
“I’ve got to take this,” he said, picking it up and turning away. “One second… This is Detective Drake.”
I looked down at Bart to hear his thoughts.
“It just looks like some kids are the ones doing it,” he shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything out of the ordinary on this one.”
“You’re probably right,” I whispered. Even if there wasn’t anything paranormal going on, I’d still like to talk with these kids. They were making bad decisions early on that could affect them for the rest of their lives. I’ve never had any kids, but I would want someone to help guide them if they were starting down the path of trouble. “What about the other crimes at the same time, though?”
“It’s just other kids,” yawned Bart. “Spreading out is the smart thing. Harder to get in trouble, since the cops wouldn’t know what to charge which kids with.”
Twistchapel Witch Cozy Mystery Box Set: Books 1-4 plus Christmas Short Page 21
