A Witch’s Touch: A Seven Kingdoms Tale 3

by Smith, S. E.

  “Are you shitting me? CIA? What the hell is going on?” Patty breathed.

  Mike shook his head. “When you find out, let me know,” he wryly retorted. “Can you…?”

  “Yeah, he gave me his info,” Patty said, anticipating what he was about to ask her to do. She picked up the file and shook her head in awe. “Who would have thought there would be so much excitement in this sleepy little town!”

  Mike watched Patty turn and walk out the door. He knew that half the town would know about Agent Tanaka’s visit by dinner. The rest would know by morning. Rising out of his seat, Mike grabbed his coffee and stepped around the desk. It was a good thing he hadn’t removed his jacket this morning.

  “Patty, I’m going out for a while,” he yelled, heading for the back door of the police station.

  Pushing the door open, he stepped outside. The thin layer of morning fog had settled into a dense curtain. A grim smile lifted the corner of his mouth. No fishing today; it looked like a good day to pay a visit to someone who had lived here all their life and knew both women.

  Turning left, Mike decided it would be safer to walk than drive. It would also give him time to absorb what Tanaka had said. The guy asked if he had noticed anything unusual—besides the disappearance of the two women.

  “Only some crazy CIA agent who thinks that aliens or monsters might actually exist,” Mike muttered with a shake of his head.

  * * *

  Mike paused on the sidewalk outside of the bar that was popular with the locals. It was located at the entrance to one of the marinas favored by the fishermen in the area. Old trawlers lined the docks. They were a stark contrast to the newer, more expensive pleasure crafts located at the city’s marina.

  “Ross Galloway?” Mike asked an old man exiting the bar.

  “Inside,” the man said.

  “Don’t drive,” Mike warned when he smelled the beer on the old man’s breath.

  “Can’t, truck broke down,” the man mumbled.

  Mike started to groan. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning yet. The curse on his lips died when he saw an old woman in a red coat step around the corner. The old man perked up and wobbled towards her.

  He listened as the woman lovingly chided the man before wrapping her arm around his waist. Mike watched as the two disappear into the fog. Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it, he returned his attention to his mission. He pulled the door open and stepped into the warm interior of the bar.

  Even though it was early, the place had nearly a dozen people sitting around, shooting the breeze with each other, eating, or playing pool. The smell of bacon made his stomach growl, reminding him that he had grabbed his coffee, but Patty had commandeered the extra bagel he purchased earlier. Glancing around the dim interior, his gaze stopped on Ross Galloway sitting at a table near the back.

  Mike strode through the room, nodding to those who called out a greeting. Ross looked up from where he was sitting and scowled when he saw Mike heading his way. Ignoring the frown, Mike pulled out the chair across from Ross and sat down.

  “Hey, Mike. What’ll you be having?” Dorothy asked from behind the bar.

  “Two eggs over medium, bacon, hash browns, and whole wheat… and a coffee,” Mike replied before turning his attention to Ross.

  Ross picked up his fork and stabbed at the scrambled eggs on his plate. Ross was about the same age as Mike, with a stocky, muscular body and dark shaggy hair that was as wild as Ross’s reputation. Mike sat back in his seat when Dorothy brought his coffee out.

  “Thank you,” Mike said with an appreciative smile.

  “No problem. More coffee, Ross?” Dorothy asked.

  Ross grunted and pushed his cup closer to the coffee pot that Dorothy was holding. He muttered a thanks under his breath. Mike sat forward when Dorothy walked off. He cradled his coffee cup between his hands, staring at the dark brown liquid.

  “I told you, I didn’t do anything,” Ross finally said.

  “I know,” Mike replied.

  Ross lifted his head and studied Mike’s face for a moment before he resumed eating his breakfast. “So, why are you here then?” he asked in a blunt tone.

  “I was hungry,” Mike replied.

  Ross shot him a look that told Mike he didn’t believe him. Amusement swept through Mike when he thought of what Ross’s expression would be like if he asked the man if he’d ever seen any aliens hanging around. As much as he wanted to dismiss Tanaka’s visit as a ludicrous joke, he couldn’t. The man had been far too serious.

  “Here you go, hun. Do you need anything else?” Dorothy asked, placing Mike’s food on the table in front of him.

  “No, this is fine. Thanks, Dorothy,” Mike replied.

  “I’ll bring more coffee in a few. You doing okay, Ross?” Dorothy asked.

  “I’m good. Thanks, Dorothy,” Ross said.

  Mike waited for Dorothy to walk away before he started eating. The food was hot and the coffee strong. Mike didn’t say anything at first. He often found that silence could do two things: give a man time to think or allow the other man time to stew. As the silence grew, Mike decided Ross was a thinker—which surprised him. He honestly thought the other man was more emotional and more likely to react than think.

  Dorothy came by and refilled both of their cups, and both men finished eating before Mike spoke. Picking up his cup, he held it between his hands as he thought about how he should phrase his question. Each question he came up with sounded even more ridiculous than the one before.

  “If you want to know something, just spit it out; that usually works,” Ross suggested.

  Mike looked up from his coffee to see Ross gazing at him with a wary expression. “Have you ever noticed anything strange around here?” he asked.

  Ross raised one eyebrow and had an expression that asked Mike if he was shitting him. Mike grimaced. That wasn’t what he’d planned to ask at all—or at least, not in those exact words.

  “Well, let’s see. Two women disappear, both talked to me, the cops keep sniffing around—no, nothing strange. Why do you ask?” Ross answered in a dry tone.

  Mike set his coffee cup down on the table before running a hand over his face. He couldn’t blame Ross for being slightly sarcastic. Hell, he would be too if he had been in Ross’s position.

  “You’ve lived here your whole life, right?” Mike countered, sitting forward and resting his elbows on the table.

  “So,” Ross replied.

  Mike gritted his teeth in frustration. “So, have you ever noticed anything strange—weird—possibly extraterrestrial, even. Any unexplained anomalies, creatures, or things,” he bit out.

  Ross’s expression changed from defiant to confused. “Anomalies—like Bigfoot or a mermaid?” he asked with an incredulous expression.

  A scowl darkened Mike’s face. “No, I’m not talking Bigfoot or mermaids—well, maybe. Have you seen anything that may not be normal?” he snapped in a low voice.

  Ross nodded and glanced around him before leaning forward. Mike’s fingers tightened on his coffee cup. He shot a quick look to make sure they couldn’t be overheard before he leaned closer to Ross.

  “I heard about this really strange detective who was asking dumbass questions about UFO’s,” Ross murmured.

  Mike jolted back when Ross started laughing. The flash of anger turned into a chuckle of appreciation when Ross shot him a good-natured grin. Shaking his head, he lifted his coffee and finished it off.

  “Do you guys need anything else?” Dorothy asked, coming up from behind Mike.

  “Naw, tell Dennis the food was good as usual,” Ross replied, pulling his wallet out of his pocket.

  “You’re just saying that so he doesn’t kick your ass out of here,” Dorothy teased, taking the twenty Ross was holding out.

  “I’ll take my bill as well, Dorothy,” Mike said.

  “Did you ever find out what happened to those two missing women? I have to tell you, it gives me the creeps thinking there might be a
murderer on the loose around here,” Dorothy commented.

  “The cases are still open,” Mike said, pulling out the money for his breakfast. “Keep the change.”

  “A customer after my own heart,” Dorothy cheerfully replied with a quick grin at Ross.

  Ross rose from his seat and shot a pained look at Mike. “Make the poor fisherman look bad,” he said.

  Dorothy shook her head. “I’ve seen your boat, Ross. I almost feel guilty taking your money—almost,” she chuckled as she walked away.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” Ross muttered. “Do you have anything else to ask me?”

  “No—just… if you see or hear about anything unusual, please let me know,” Mike said, rising out of his chair.

  “If I see Bigfoot, I’ll point you to him. If I see a mermaid, it might take me a while to report her if she‘s hot,” Ross chuckled.

  “I’ll make a note of that,” Mike dryly replied.

  Mike followed Ross out of the pub. The morning fog had cleared, and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. He watched Ross turn and walk down to the docks.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he shook his head. He automatically reached down when he felt his cell phone vibrate. Pulling it out of his back pocket, he released a groan at the message that flashed across the screen.

  Happy birthday, baby brother. I’ll be there around seven tonight. I’d love some of your homemade spaghetti, but since it’s your birthday, I guess you’ll have to settle for my famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

  Love ya, Ruth.

  He quickly typed a reply. The immediate response of hearts and happy faces filled up the screen. He loved his sister, but she had to be the worst cook in the world. He never did have the heart to tell her that even her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches weren’t all that great. It looked like he would be making a grocery store run on the way home this afternoon.

  He was just about to shove his cell phone back into his pocket when it vibrated again. This time it was Patty. There was a reported break-in at one of the residences down by the cove. His plan to take a ride out to Yachats State Park today would have to wait another day. With a sigh, Mike started walking back along the sidewalk to the police station.

  Chapter Two

  Later that night, Mike lifted the lid off the simmering pot of spaghetti sauce, picked up the spoon, and stirred. The pasta was finished, salads made, and garlic bread sliced. He glanced at the clock—six fifty-eight. Ruth should be here any minute.

  Sure enough, the sound of a brisk knock on the door told him his big sister had arrived for the weekend. He placed the spoon on the counter next to the stove and turned off the burner. Pulling free the dish towel he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he placed it on the counter as well. A frown creased his brow when he heard Ruth knock again, this time louder than before.

  “The door’s unlocked,” he called as he exited the kitchen and headed across the living room to the front door. He gripped the doorknob, twisted it, and pulled the door open. “Since when do you….”

  “Happy Birthday, baby brother!” Ruth announced with a huge grin.

  “What the fuck?!” Mike growled, raising his arms automatically when Ruth lifted the wiggling bundle in her arms.

  “Happy Birthday!” Ruth grinned, pushing past him. “I have his bed and toys out in the back of my car. You can get them while I set the table. Oh, God! That smells so good. I’m starving.”

  “No, no, no, no, n…,” Mike was saying before he ended up with a tongue in his mouth.

  “Did you make….? Yes! Your homemade ranch dressing. I absolutely adore you!” Ruth said from the kitchen.

  Mike stood there trying to glare at his sister. It was hard to do when he had to keep moving his head to avoid the tongue trying to find a way down his throat. Tucking the Golden Retriever puppy under his arm, he winced when it began chewing on his finger.

  “Ruth!” Mike growled in frustration. “Please tell me you did not buy me a dog.”

  Ruth peeked around the corner. “No, I did not buy you a dog,” she said with a sweet smile.

  Her response stopped Mike in his tracks. He looked down at the golden body. A huge dark blue bow was attached to the puppy’s collar with the words Happy Birthday, baby brother printed on it. The puppy looked up at him with eyes the color of melted chocolate, and he could feel its tail knocking against his side.

  “Then explain this,” he demanded, absently scratching the puppy’s chin.

  “I didn’t buy him. He was given to me, and I am giving him to you,” Ruth stated with a serene smile.

  “Semantics. I’m not one of your legal documents, damn it! You know what I meant,” Mike said, walking into the kitchen.

  “Where are the napkins?” Ruth asked, opening cabinets and peering inside.

  “Use paper towels, they work just as good,” Mike replied in exasperation. “I don’t want a dog.”

  Ruth paused and looked at him. Mike could feel his jaw clench and knew he was about to start grinding his teeth. She had that innocent look on her face—the one that meant she was settling in for the kill.

  “He is my present to you,” she said in a soft, calm voice.

  “I know… but, it—he—is a dog! Worse, it—he—is a puppy! Do you know what puppies do?” he demanded.

  “Yes, I know very well what puppies do. In fact, if I remember correctly, they do the same thing that rats do,” Ruth replied.

  Mike cringed. Yep, she was moving in for the kill. One mistake! He’d made one mistake fifteen years ago and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

  “You were sixteen. I thought you would like them,” Mike grumbled.

  “You gave me rats for my sixteenth birthday,” she reminded him. “Not one, but two—a girl and a boy. Be grateful you only got one puppy, baby brother. My friend had fourteen more.”

  “God, why do women have such long memories?” Mike groaned, turning and holding the puppy up to his face.

  “You have to admit, puppies have better smelling breath,” Ruth chuckled.

  “He smells like cake,” Mike retorted.

  “Yes, well, there is a reason for that,” Ruth laughed.

  Mike glanced down at the puppy that was now trying to wiggle out of his arms. “At least she gave me a boy,” he informed the puppy before bending over and placing him on the floor. “This means we are even, right?”

  Ruth paused and looked over her shoulder. “Oh hell, no. Not by a long shot. You have about thirty-two more paybacks before I write off that nightmare,” she responded.

  “I think we should be even now,” he argued, grabbing a bowl for the spaghetti sauce. “I was able to give twelve of the baby rats away to friends, and let another ten go free, and you gave me two fish for my fifteenth birthday after mom and dad gave us a list of non-acceptable pets. Also, you know that this puppy is going to chew on half of my new furniture, god knows how many pairs of shoes, and leave enough puddles and poop to fertilize half of Lincoln county. I won’t even mention the hazards facing my living room carpet until I get him housebroken!”

  “Carpet is bad for your allergies and you were planning on replacing it anyway. Oh, alright. I’ll think about it,” Ruth conceded with a dramatic sigh.

  “I don’t have any problems with allergies,” Mike scowled before his expression changed. “I made the homemade ranch dressing and extra sauce for you to take home,” he added with a sly smile.

  Ruth bit her lip and contemplated his bribe for a moment. “Well, I guess that is worth a few rats. Okay, we’re even,” she grudgingly replied.

  “Thank you for small miracles!” Mike muttered, turning to hand Ruth the bowl of sauce. “By the way, thanks for driving up for my birthday, sis.”

  “We promised we would be there for each other, no matter how far away we live,” Ruth said, gazing up at him.

  Mike nodded. They had promised after losing both of their parents that they wouldn’t forget how important family was—espec
ially since it was just the two of them now. Mike winced and looked down at the puppy attacking his sock-covered foot.

  And if there are two things that his sister is very tenacious about, it is keeping promises and never forgetting anything, he thought.

  “I’ll get the pasta,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “And cheese,” Ruth reminded him, turning toward the table. “By the way, the reason Charlie Brown here smells like cake is because he ate the one I bought you on the way up here.”

  Mike paused with his hand on the refrigerator door and looked at Ruth in dismay. He shot a glance at the puppy that was now attacking the straw on the broom leaning in the corner of the kitchen before looking back at Ruth.

  “Please tell me you purchased a kennel for him,” he said.

  Ruth shook her head. “Of course not! You know how I feel about caging animals,” she replied.

  Great! Just great! he thought with a wince when the broom fell with a clatter and scared the puppy, which took off towards the living room.

  * * *

  Later that night, Mike lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, absently scratching Charlie behind his ear. The pup didn’t whine when he placed him on the folded blanket on the floor next to his side of the bed. No, the damn thing had stared at him with huge, unblinking eyes and a soulful, lost look.

  He had tried rolling over so his back was to the puppy, but he could feel the pup’s eyes drilling a hole between his shoulder blades. Rolling over, he had finally given up and growled for the pup to join him. Of course, it took another ten minutes after that to make Charlie stop licking him and settle down.

  Mike drew in a deep breath and released it. He was tired, but his mind was buzzing with everything that he and Ruth had talked about. Mostly, he thought about how the carefully laid plans for his life had changed.

  It had been almost two years since he gave up his commission in the Air Force. He had planned to stay in and serve his twenty years before retiring to do some traveling. Somewhere in the mix he figured he’d get married if he met the right woman, but he was in no hurry.