by C Farren
“Why would you care about who opens the coffee shop?”
She really wanted to quiz him on what the argument was about but she didn’t want to appear nosy.
“It’s still a family business,” he explained. His eyes looked puffy, like he’d been crying. He still looked pretty though. “I don’t want to lose money. Please. You did good yesterday. I watched you. You’re a natural.”
“What about Aarna?” said Wren. “She’s more than capable.”
“She’s quit. I don’t know why. Just...please.”
Wren blushed again, liking the fact that he’d watched her. It made her feel desirable, which didn’t happen that often.
Unless you counted that gangster which threatened Dad, and... Cedric?
“Are you sure?” Wren asked.
Jordan sighed. “Perhaps later we could...” He caressed her cheek with his hand. The touch lasted a mere five seconds before he grinned and left, leaving her shaken and on cloud nine.
She closed the door dreamily.
He really does like me.
As she flopped down on the couch, her skin tingling for what could be, Fiona cleared her throat.
“Why do you look like the cat that got the cream?” Fiona asked. She was excited, like she was on the verge of receiving some juicy gossip. Wren had the feeling the angel didn’t have many friends.
She could hardly say the words. “Jordan touched my cheek.”
“Greek God Jordan?”
“The one and only.”
Fiona looked disappointed for a moment. “Oh. Seems like you don’t need my help getting a man after all. I can still help you with...”
“He wants me to open the coffee shop. I think I’ve got a job.”
Wren looked at Fiona’s despondent face and felt a bit guilty. It appeared she didn’t need a guardian angel after all.
“Looks like I’m not needed,” said Fiona sadly.
I can’t believe I’m going to do this.
“My life is far from picture perfect,” Wren confided. “My parent’s marriage is imploding and my father is being threatened by gangsters and I’m still not sure what I want to do with my life. I’m only opening the coffee shop up. It’s not like I’ve got a full-time job. And Jordan? It’s not as if we’re getting married or anything. We’re not even dating. Face it, Fiona, you have a long task ahead of you – a really long and daunting task.”
The truth made Wren feel miserable again, causing the euphoria of Jordan’s spectacular touch to fade away. She hated facing the truth head on, but sometimes it was the only way.
“You look sad again,” said Fiona. “That’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Wren sulkily.
AFTER WREN HAD LEFT, Fiona found herself alone in the house. She felt a little awkward. This wasn’t her home. These people didn’t know her. Wick was upstairs, singing in the bath. He was so out of tune she was surprised the walls didn’t cave in.
She smiled. Her husband had been similarly tone deaf.
She pushed aside memories of the past and got up, deciding to have a snoop around while she had the chance. It was always a good idea to study the homes of charges. Sometimes a simple home makeover could improve someone’s mood no end.
The walls were nice, a soft light brown. The furniture was wooden, expensive. The couch was fluffy and comfy and turquoise. It was a bit old, but not ready to be thrown out just yet. The house was far too spacious for just one woman. The poor dear must have been so lonely and bored.
A framed portrait on the wall caught her attention. It was a family photo, taken perhaps five years ago. Wren’s family wasn’t large, but they were happy. There was Wren, looking a little chubbier, smiling at the front. Stood next to her was her brother Leo, looking handsome in a tux and sporting a short beard. Dot and Wick were next, their smiles happy and content. Dot’s two sisters, Annie and Anita, were there too, looking glum and miserable like two stone gargoyles. Sitting down in the middle like a proud patriarch was an elderly man, a triumphant and cheeky grin lighting up his features.
“Who are you?” a voice demanded.
Wick was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a pink robe, obviously one of his daughters as it didn’t fit him very well. His hair, still black and thick as it always was, was stuck up all over the place.
He looks just like his grandfather.
Fiona smiled and announced, “I’m a friend of Wren. I just popped by to say hello but she had to rush off. She has a job at a coffee shop.”
Wick smiled proudly. “Good for her. She’s good at making tea and coffee. It’s like she can make the perfect cup.” He studied her intently. “Do I know you?”
“You’ve probably seen me on TV,” said Fiona.
Wick studied her for a moment. “Were you on American Idol?”
“Yes!” Fiona declared. “They even did this little segment on me but I didn’t get very far. Simon Cowell said I sounded like a cat being strangled.”
She hoped the lie was convincing. She’d never even watched American Idol, despite the fact it was streamed up into Golden. They could receive every TV channel on Earth up there. Flicking through every channel one by one literally took you all day. She was a fan of Indian soap operas. They made Spanish telenovelas look like Shakespeare.
“I better go and dress,” said Wick, giving her a kind smile. He stared at her again for another second or so before saying, “I really think I know you.”
“That’s the power of TV!” Fiona declared.
She said goodbye and heaved a sigh of relief as he left.
That was close.
She gave one more quick examination of the room before flitting away. She appeared outside the Metropolis and sat down to wait for Wren to arrive.
Angels called their teleporting ability ‘flitting.” She quite liked the term. It sounded cute. As she was only a young angel she didn’t have much magic in her, so she could only flit a few times a day.
I won’t be a young angel for long.
WREN ROUNDED THE CORNER, still a little annoyed with Jordan for dumping such a responsibility onto her like this. She hadn’t even had the chance to say no. Would she have said no? Maybe not, not with him touching her cheek like that. Or had he done that just to stop her saying no?
Was he using me, flirting with me, just so I’d cover his shifts at the Metropolis?
She didn’t think so. The argument he’d had with his father had turned violent. He probably didn’t want to hurt Garrett again.
I wonder what the argument was about?
It had to have been something deadly serious for it to conclude in face punching. She knew it was none of her business but she was dying to know.
Wren stopped. Fiona sitting at one of the outside tables.
“How did you get here so fast?” Wren demanded.
“I teleported here...or flitted, as we like to call it,” Fiona answered.
They were lucky Main Street was deserted at this time of the morning. Anyone could’ve seen her just flitting in! Then again Fiona had flitted inside the coffee shop just the other day and nobody had noticed.
Wren looked at the glass doors of the Metropolis and noticed something odd. The door was only half closed.
“Have you been in already?” Wren asked.
Fiona looked confused. “How could I? You have the key.”
“You could have flitted in and got one of the spare keys from inside the staff break room,” said Wren.
“What are you accusing me of?”
Wren ignored her and pushed the door slowly open, senses alert for the presence of intruders. She wasn’t scared; far from it. She ached to try out the self-defense techniques she’d learned so long ago on an actual petty criminal.
Fear me!
“Hello?” Wren called, finding the lights hadn’t been switched off the night before. Some of the tables hadn’t been cleared either. The smell of coffee was strong and overpowering, even for a coffee shop.
“Come out,” sh
e shouted. Fiona tip-toed in behind her. The angel was wearing high heels and was making quite the racket on the tiled floor. “Come out now!”
She listened carefully, hearing nothing but their own breathing.
“I think we’ve been robbed,” said Wren slowly. She looked at Fiona, aghast. “Is this my fault? Should I have opened up sooner?”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Fiona assured her. “By the looks of it the break in happened last night.”
“Snowflake Bay is virtually a crime-free zone; but then again Keegan did say there was a spate of burglaries in the area lately.”
Fiona ignored her, her eyes searching the room for threats. The angel with the ability to teleport out of danger was more scared than she was.
“I better call Garrett,” said Wren, heading to slip behind the counter. “He needs to know what...”
She put her hand to her mouth, stifling the scream that threatened to escape. She turned back to Fiona, her eyes wide open in horror.
“Wren?” Fiona asked, concerned. “What is it?”
Wren tried to pull together the words. “He’s dead.”
Fiona gasped.
“He must have hit his head,” said Wren, using the counter to prop herself up. She had a feeling she might faint. “Oh God...”
“Who?”
“Garrett. Garrett’s dead.”
Chapter 9
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Wren muttered, eyes closed. Keegan was holding her hand, the both of them facing away from the counter. She couldn’t think about it.
“You should drink something with sugar in it,” Keegan told her. He had a very soothing, consoling voice. “It might make you feel better.”
She opened her eyes, determined to confront her fears. She wasn’t going to shy away from this and let it ruin her life. She’d fought hard for the life she had now, and nothing would put her off.
“Was he murdered?” Wren asked.
“It’s too early to tell,” said Keegan. “But it looks like he fell and hit his head on the side of the coffee machine. There’s a small dent in the side of it, and there’s some dried up blood there as well.”
“I didn’t see any blood.”
“He probably bled internally. I’d imagine he probably died of a blood clot on the brain.”
Wren looked around, wondering where Fiona was. She’d probably flitted out of there as soon as the police turned up. She wasn’t sure why she wanted the angel right now. Maybe because she’d been there when she’d found the body and could understand what she was going through?
“Come on,” said Keegan. “I’ll drive you home.”
She looked up at him, wiping her eyes. “Who do you think did it?”
“I have no idea,” Keegan admitted.
“Do you think there’s a killer in the town?”
“You’re starting to sound hysterical. This could still be an accident.”
“You said it wasn’t likely.”
There was a commotion behind them. She turned around to be confronted by two white faced deputies, both of them desperately trying not to be sick, carrying a black body bag. Sheriff Fisher watched them leave before turning to his son. He’d never looked so grave before.
This town has never seen a death like this before.
“I’ll need you to come down to the station and make a statement,” said the sheriff. “As soon as possible.”
Wren nodded her head. “Poor Garrett.
“Poor Garrett indeed,” said the sheriff, his eyes dark. He was on the verge of tears. “He didn’t deserve this.”
She couldn’t imagine the Metropolis without Garrett in it. While Wren didn’t know him that well, she knew this place was his baby, his dream. It would probably be closed down now.
“Was there anyone with you?” the sheriff asked.
“I was with Fiona,” she blurted out.
Damn! I forgot I wasn’t supposed to mention her.
“Who’s Fiona?” Keegan asked.
A little of the truth was perhaps the best thing. “My new friend.”
“And where is this Fiona?” the sheriff asked. He was suspicious now, probably wondering why Fiona had left the scene of the crime.
“She was distressed by the sight of the body,” said Wren, trying to sound sympathetic to her friend’s plight. “She fled the coffee shop. I tried to stop her, but I knew I had to wait for you to arrive.”
“I’ll need her number.”
Wren didn’t think Fiona even had a cell phone. And even if she did, she didn’t know the number anyway. Could you call up Heaven or wherever it was the angel lived?
“She doesn’t have a cell,” said Wren. “She thinks they give you brain tumors.”
“Landline?” the sheriff asked. He was starting to sound impatient now.
Wren shrugged. “I don’t know it. Sorry. But she’ll be coming to my place later. I’ll tell her then.”
He didn’t believe a single word she said, but he nodded his head and headed outside anyway.
He’s going to think I’m hiding something. What if he thinks I killed Garrett?
“What are you playing at?” Keegan demanded, his face
Wren smiled sweetly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You just lied to my father,” said Keegan. He was looking at her like he wanted to scream. “Does this mystery woman have something to do with Garrett’s death? Are you covering for her?”
“Of course not. Why would I do that?”
She had to get out of there before she put her foot in it even more. She was terrible at lying and she was only making things worse with every successive lie. Before she knew it, she’d be locked up in jail and arrested for murder.
“Why have you never mentioned this Fiona before?” Keegan asked. “I thought we told each other everything?”
“You’ve been busy lately,” said Wren defensively. “I don’t have many people to talk to.”
Keegan crossed his arms. “That’s no...”
“I need to go home. I’m still feeling a bit shaky.”
She rushed out of there as fast as she could. She hated lying to Keegan but she had no choice.
“What happened?” a voice called.
Wren stopped. Aarna was standing on the opposite side of the road in front of the closed down cat shelter. She wore a thick yellow parka and was ringing her hands anxiously.
“There’s been a death,” said Wren, crossing the road. “It was Garrett.”
Wren told her everything she knew. Aarna broke down almost immediately.
“He can’t be dead,” Aarna wailed, crying. “He can’t be dead!”
“I’m so sorry,” said Wren.
Aarna shook her head. “This is all my fault. This is...this is all my fault.”
Wren was about to ask why when Aarna walked away. She tried to call her back but the girl didn’t hear her.
What was that all about?
WREN CLOSED HER FRONT door behind her and leaned against it. She felt trapped. She’d made a terrible mistake mentioning Fiona and now she would have to continue to make up lies to keep her story in order.
I’m lying to the police! It’s a criminal offence!
There was a note pinned to the wall near the black cat key rack. She picked it up and sighed heavily. It was from her father. “Just popped out for a while. Don’t worry about me.”
She did worry about him, constantly. He was more than likely either at the bookies or at another illegal card game. He was supposed to be sorting this out once and for all. At least that’s what the big guy at the park said anyway.
Fiona peered up from the back of the sofa, her eyes full of concern.
“Are the police with you?” Fiona asked.
“I put my foot in it,” said Wren. “The sheriff asked me if anyone was with me when I found the body and I said I was with you.”
“Nobody is supposed to know I’m here! I’m your angel!”
“Well it’s too late to chan
ge anything now. You need to make a statement and we need to come up with a story about who you are and where you’re from.”
Fiona stood and crossed her arms. She pursed her lips, looking like an angry cat.
“Where I’m from is very complicated,” said Fiona.
“We have to do something,” Wren insisted.
“I should just go and leave you to it, but you’ll get into trouble if I disappear now people know I exist. This is so vexing.”
They made some coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. A radio played low-level rock music in the background and the cat was asleep on the floor, occasionally making odd noises in her sleep. She was probably dreaming about her next meeting of the local cat society.
Wren looked down at the notes they’d made. It had only taken them half an hour, but they’d put together a pretty decent backstory for Fiona. She only hoped it held up and the sheriff didn’t look into it too much.
“So my name is Fiona McDonald,” said the angel. “I’m your Facebook friend who you met on a page for Russian Blue fanatics. I live in Cape Cod. I married Angus McDonald when I was nineteen but he left me two weeks ago, only a few days after my beloved cat Chew Chew died.”
“Why did he leave you?” Wren asked.
“He...God, this is so embarrassing. My husband would not leave me to become a monk! Let’s say I’m a widower instead! That’s more believable.”
“Stick to the story.”
“I’ve moved here to be closer to the only friend I have left in the world.” Fiona sighed in exasperation. “Even I know that you don’t invite Facebook friends to live with you. I could’ve been an overweight Polish man for all you knew.”
Fiona was right. The plan had too many holes in it.
“So we talked on Skype a lot,” said Wren. “We...we were proper friends, not just Facebook buddies. We sent each other Christmas and birthday presents.”
“And... we went to online parties together. Wait, are they a thing? They sound rather lonely.”
They laughed, coming up with an even more complicated back story to add to the one they’d already written down. It was fun. It was only when they’d finished that they both realized that they’d have to remember it all so they wouldn’t get caught out in a lie.
