by Raven Snow
“Breaking News and Breaking Hearts”
Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery
Lainswich Witches Series Book 7
Raven Snow
© 2016
Raven Snow
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. If you have not purchased this book from Amazon or received it directly from the author you are reading a pirated copy. If you have downloaded an illegal copy of this book & enjoyed it, please consider purchasing a legal copy. Your respect & support encourages me to continue writing & producing high quality books for you.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Cover images are licensed stock photos, images shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are models.
Edition v1.00 (2016.11.23)
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
Rowen sat behind the wheel of her car playing word games on her phone. She had been doing just that for the better part of three hours now. The battery was starting to go dead, but she kept playing anyway. They still had Eric’s phone if there was an emergency. “What’s another word for ‘bored’?” Rowen asked with a sigh.
“Working,” Eric shot back. He was lounging back in the passenger seat, staring intently out the window. “What did you think being a private investigator was going to be like?”
Rowen didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure what she thought it was going to be like. She wasn’t one. Not really. Eric was the one who had the license. She just helped him out, splitting her time between Greensmith Investigations and The Lainswich Inquirer. There wasn’t a whole lot of detective work to be done. When people came in, they were usually hoping for evidence of a cheating spouse. Rowen could usually sense right off the bat if there was something like that going on. People still needed proof, though. That’s where the stakeouts came in.
They took Rowen’s car for stakeouts. Eric’s was too nice and so stood out in most neighborhoods. Rowen’s was junky enough to blend. It was parked on the curb now. It was dark and the people they were spying on probably wouldn’t be able to look at the window and spot them if they tried.
The home belonged to a cousin of Libby Deetz. She delivered mail for a living and, rumor had it, had a thing for married men. The man inside was Lenny Lebowitz. They had been hired by his wife to catch him in the act. He’d arrived at six and had been inside for quite some time. They couldn’t trespass for the photos, and there was no better angle than the one they had now. They were hoping for some shots of the two kissing goodbye near the door. If they couldn’t get that, a shot of him leaving the place so late would do. He was so obviously cheating.
“If you ever cheat on me, I’m putting a curse on you,” Rowen told her husband, in case that wasn’t already abundantly clear to him.
Eric looked away from the window long enough to raise an eyebrow at her. “What kind of curse?” he asked.
That was a good question. Rowen considered it for a moment. “Every time you’re with a woman you’re attracted to, you won’t be able to stop thinking of your own mother.”
Eric gave a low whistle. “That’s a rough one. Better not cheat on you then.”
“Better not,” Rowen agreed.
“If you cheat on me, I’m getting a divorce and taking the house,” said Eric.
Rowen nodded. “Simple but fair.”
Eric laughed, leaned across the arm rest, and gave his wife a quick kiss. He turned back to the window. “You don’t have to come along on these stakeouts, you know?”
“Sure I do. Who goes on a stakeout with just one person? Where’s the fun in that?”
“I thought you didn’t think there was fun in any of this,” Eric pointed out.
“Still. I have to come. In case things get dangerous.”
Eric snorted and motioned to the quiet subdivision around them. “How dangerous can it be?”
As if on cue, there was a scream. Rowen and Eric exchanged looks. Rowen was sure she must have misheard. That wasn’t a person. It was a television turned up too loud, surely. Maybe it was a dog. Rowen was about to dismiss the sound when she heard it again, louder this time. “Was that coming from-”
“The house,” Eric finished. “Sounded like it.”
Both of them threw their doors open. They ran toward the house, Rowen following Eric to the front door. Eric knocked. There was no answer, just more screaming. He looked back at Rowen. “Call the police,” he said before trying the door. It was locked, but that didn’t slow Eric down much. He put his weight back on his heel and gave the wood near the handle a kick that rocked it. The wood sounded like it splintered a bit. A second kick did the trick, and the door bounced open. Thank goodness for cheap craftsmanship.
Rowen dialed 911 as she followed Eric in. She knew he had a gun, but that didn’t relax her any. Rowen wasn’t armed. She didn’t believe in guns. She was fairly certain Eric only carried one because it made him feel more like an old school noir detective. All the same, she stayed close to him.
“Is anyone here?!” called Eric, which was a stupid question. Someone was still screaming. Obviously, there was someone here. “I’m armed!”
The screaming stopped for a moment after Eric announced that he was armed. It picked up again as soon as they burst into the bedroom. Libby Deetz stood there, her eyes huge. She was wearing only her underwear and standing over the prone figure of Lenny stretched out on the carpet beside the bed. He, too, was in his underwear.
“What-” began Eric, trying to assess the situation and obviously failing.
Libby gave a screech and ran for an open window. She threw her body out of it, tumbled into the grass, rolled to her feet, and went sprinting off into the night. Rowen ran to the window after her, trying to relay all of this to an audibly confused 911 operator. “Libby Deetz is running down Michell Road in a white bra and red pair of granny panties.” Rowen looked down
at Lenny. Eric was currently crouched over him. “Is he all right?” she asked.
Eric shook his head. His fingers were pressed to the man’s throat. “I think… I think he’s dead.”
“Did you get that?” Rowen asked the 911 operator.
Are you in the house? she asked. Why are you in the house? Wait outside! I’m sending someone!
Rowen lowered the phone. “The lady on the phone says we should wait outside.” She looked down at Lenny. She was about to ask if he was sure he was dead, but she didn’t have to. She knew. She could feel it. There was no longer anything inside this man. His spirit had departed.
Eric seemed to agree and left Lenny’s side. Together, they walked back out onto the lawn. They took the door rather than the window. “Should we go after her, do you think?”
Rowen snorted. “I don’t think she got far. The police will take care of it. We should probably let his wife know, though.”
“The police will take care of that, too,” Eric said. Rowen couldn’t blame him. She wouldn’t want to be the one to break that kind of news either. “Not so boring tonight, huh?”
Rowen shot her husband a look she hoped communicated how inappropriate that was. A man had just died. “Do you think it was murder?” she asked unable to resist getting his opinion on the matter.
“I don’t think so. She was screaming an awful lot.”
“Maybe she was shocked at what she had done,” suggested Rowen.
“Or maybe it was natural causes,” said Eric. “You saw the guy. He wasn’t exactly fit. My guess is heart attack.” He fell silent for a moment then raised an eyebrow at his wife. “You want it to be murder.”
“I do not,” Rowen shot back immediately.
“Sure you do. You’ve been itching for a different sort of crime ever since we opened for business.”
“No one hopes for murder,” said Rowen, though she couldn’t say he was necessarily wrong. Deep down, she suspected that she had been waiting for some sort of crime. Maybe not murder, but something more exciting than cheating husbands. “Oh!” Rowen suddenly remembered that she had more than one business to think of. She should probably call her cousins. This was breaking news after all. She doubted Mrs. Lebowitz would care. She was a vindictive woman. If they included a full photo of his dead body lying there in its underwear, she probably wouldn’t bat an eye. Not that they would include a photo like that. They weren’t that kind of paper. Julia Martinez might. She loved sensationalizing things for her news.
Rowen called Rose first. She was in charge of the Lainswich Inquirer these days. She was better at it than Rowen ever was. She was much more dedicated and focused. She definitely had journalistic integrity and a real head for this sort of thing.
“What’s up?” she answered with a yawn.
“Murder,” said Rowen.
“Not a murder,” Eric said quickly.
“Okay, fine,” said Rowen. “Probable heart attack. A man is dead. His mistress is running down the street in her underwear. That stakeout we had tonight took an interesting turn.”
On the other end of the line, Rose gave a heavy sigh. “All right, I’ll wake up Peony and Willow. Text me the address and we’ll be there in a few.”
Peony and Willow were sisters and two more of Rowen’s cousins. They wouldn’t take kindly to being dragged out here if they were already asleep. “Don’t worry about it,” Rowen said. “I’ll get the details and send them your way. I’m not thinking it’s gonna be a front page story or anything… Unless it turns out to be murder.”
“Not murder,” Eric said.
“I’ll send you the details and we’ll talk after,” Rowen said quickly before hanging up. A car with a flashing blue light was pulling in. Rowen recognized the car immediately.
The car pulled up in the driveway and Ben stepped out. He was the Chief of Police, so he probably wasn’t the right person to come out here. On the other hand, he was also Rose’s boyfriend and a close friend of the Greensmiths. Rowen wasn’t surprised to see him. Apparently, he wasn’t surprised to see them either. “How did I know I was going to find you two?” Ben said with a sigh. There were flashing lights not far off in the distance, and Rowen could hear the wail of an ambulance. “Rose isn’t here, is she?”
“Nope,” said Rowen. “Strictly Greensmith investigative business.”
Ben rolled his eyes at that. He didn’t think too highly of their little business. “Stick to the photography,” he said. “You’re not detectives.”
“Good to see you, too,” said Eric, bristling at the slight.
“Sorry,” Ben added. “Just… Be careful, would you? Don’t charge into any more crime scenes? Why did you charge in anyway?”
Rowen and Eric took Ben through the details as they waited for more personnel to arrive. By the time they had finished, an ambulance and a police cruiser were there. A news van had pulled up, too. Julia Martinez. Great.
“Stay off the lawn!” Ben shouted at the news crew as they spilled out of their van, hefting filming equipment. “I’m going to go in and check out the scene. Go bother them, will ya?”
“My pleasure.” Rowen headed right on up to Julia Martinez. Rowen had never much liked the woman. They went to school together, and she had been one of those drama types that everyone made a big fuss over. She’d always made a fuss over how expensive her clothes were and bragged about taking modeling classes--like being pretty was something you needed to take classes for. In the end, she had landed in journalism--or being the face of journalism, rather. She was the lead correspondent for Lainswich’s Channel 2. It was a small local station. No one outside of town got or cared about the channel. It made her something of a local celebrity, though. She certainly milked that for all it was worth.
Julia Martinez’s shiny, professional smile fell when she saw Rowen. It was late, but she was dressed for work. Her suit jacket and skirt were pressed. Her long, dark hair and makeup were immaculate. Somehow, she was always camera ready. Her camera man stood to one side of her now, fumbling with his equipment. Julia assumed her smile again. “Fancy seeing you here, Rowen!” she sang.
“I know, right?” Rowen forced a smile back. She gave the three people flanking Julia a smile as well. There was Jerry the camera guy who was a pretty small fellow to be carrying around all that equipment. There was the sound guy whose name escaped her, a tech-looking fellow she didn’t know, and a young guy paying very close attention to all of them--an intern, maybe. “Looks like you have the whole crew out with you, huh? Slow night?”
“We like to be prepared,” said Julia, still smiling her fake smile. “We can afford to be. Where’s your crew?” She raised an eyebrow at Eric.
“We’re not-” began Eric.
“They’re away,” said Rowen, interrupting him. “Working on other stories, obviously.” She wished she hadn’t said that last part. That sounded dumb. It wasn’t like they were in any kind of competition with Channel 2 news. They were two completely different entities.
“Obviously,” Julia repeated. “Well, if you’d just move to one side. Jerry, can you set up at the end of the drive there? Yes… Thank you, sweetheart.”
“I don’t think I’ve met some of these guys,” said Rowen, moving when they moved.
The youngest of the bunch shoved his clipboard under his arm and smiled. “Benji,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m an intern.”
“Oh.” Rowen took his hand and gave it a shake. “Nice to meet you Benji.”
“Not to be rude, but will you two keep quiet and get out of the way?” Julia snapped.
Rowen might have had Julia not terrorized her family with surprise interviews every time something unusual happened in Lainswich. She had every right to report what needed reporting, but her ethics left something to be desired at times. Rowen and her family would never antagonize interviewees the way she sometimes did. “Have we met?” Rowen asked the tech guy.
The tech fellow looked down his nose at her. “I don’t think so. Can you move so we ca
n get the shot?”
“And your name?” asked Rowen. “I think we’ve met once?”
“Frank Monroe, and I don’t think so,” said the man, keeping his tone curt.
Rowen turned her sights on the sound guy. “And I don’t think we’ve met at all,” she said, extending her hand out to him this time.
The sound guy gave her a frown. “My name’s Craig,” he said. “We went to school together.”
Rowen cringed. She still didn’t recognize this guy. “Oh, right! I remember you now,” she said anyway.
“Seriously?” Julia motioned her out of the way. “Go on. Stop being a nuisance. You heard the police. You’re not even supposed to be on that side of the curb. You’re on the curb.”
“We have special permission to be here,” Rowen said quickly. That wasn’t the whole truth. They were actually here because they were probably needed for questioning and hadn’t been told to get off the lawn yet, but they didn’t need to know that.
So Rowen spent the next fifteen minutes or so frustrating Julia Martinez by keeping close and ruining countless shots while Eric stayed nearby. He was quiet. Maybe because the man they were investigating had just dropped dead. All in all, Rowen was inclined to view tonight as a decent evening. Well, aside from the murder and all. To be frank, after spying on the man for a week, the world was probably better off without men like Lenny.
Chapter Two
“This is weird,” Willow whined from the back seat. “Do I have to go? You can drop me off anywhere. There. There’s the library. Drop me off there. I’ll hang out with Tina.”
“No,” said Rowen, turning in the passenger seat to look at her cousins. Willow, Peony, and Rose were all packed in back. “It’s a good opportunity for a story.”
“Rose is in charge. She gets to decide what makes a good story now,” Willow pointed out. “Rose, can I skip this?”
