Witch Degrees of Separation: A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery #3

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Witch Degrees of Separation: A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery #3 Page 5

by M. Z. Andrews


  Detective Whitman flipped the pages in his notepad. “Where did he go?”

  I pointed towards the back wooded area. “Into the woods. It was dark. I really didn’t see which way once he got to the tree line.”

  Detective Whitman nodded as he took notes. “Did you girls know Ronnie?”

  Alba and I looked at each other.

  “Not really,” I said. “He was in a class we were taking today.”

  Detective Whitman rose an eyebrow. “Oh really. Had you met him before that?”

  Alba and I both shook our heads.

  “So today was the first time you’d ever had any contact with him?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “What class did you have with him?”

  “It was a flying class,” I admitted with embarrassment. Even though Detective Whitman knew we were witches, it felt uncomfortable admitting to him that we were taking such a paranormal elective.

  “Flying?”

  “Broomsticks,” Alba said pointedly.

  “Ah,” he said, making more notes in his notepad. “And who teaches that course?”

  Alba and I looked over at Merrick Stone who had just arrived at the crime scene and promptly went to his sister’s side.

  “He does,” I said, pointing at Merrick.

  “I see. And his name?”

  “Sorcerer Merrick Stone,” I said.

  Detective Whitman rose one eyebrow again. “Stone you say? Any relation to SaraLynn?”

  “Mmhmm,” I said. “Her brother.”

  “I’m surprised I didn’t know she had a brother,” he said.

  “Don’t feel bad. We just found out too. Sorcerer Stone and Ronnie kind of had a run-in during class,” I admitted.

  “Run-in – what does that mean?”

  “Ronnie and another boy were arguing,” I began.

  “Let’s be honest here, Red. Ronnie and Philip were throwing punches!” Alba corrected.

  “Ok, fine. Philip threw a punch and when Ronnie went to return the punch, Sorcerer Stone tried to separate them and caught a blow to the head.”

  “I can assume Mr. Stone didn’t care for that?”

  “Yeah, he was pretty upset,” I agreed.

  “Upset enough to do something like this?” Detective Whitman mused as Sorceress Stone approached us with her brother in tow.

  “Detective Whitman, this is Merrick Stone, he is the Headmaster of the Institute’s wizard program,” she said to him. “Merrick, this is Detective Whitman, we’ve worked together on numerous cases in town.”

  “Yes,” Merrick purred, looking down his nose at the Detective. “You’ve spoken of him on several occasions.”

  “I understand you taught a flying class with Mr. Edwards in it today,” Detective Whitman said to him.

  Merrick closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before opening them back up again. “I did. It is what I do. I run a school, Detective.”

  “Interesting that the boy was found with a broomstick by his side. Perhaps his lessons didn’t go so well?”

  The Sorcerer’s nose flared as his eyes opened wider. “The boy didn’t pay attention in my class. It is not my fault if he jumped off of the roof and expected to fly. If he had been paying attention, he might not have done such a foolish thing.”

  “I didn’t say it was your fault, Mr. Stone.”

  “Sorcerer Stone,” Merrick corrected.

  Detective Whitman sighed. “Uh-huh, Mr. Stone were you upset with Mr. Edwards for not paying attention in class?”

  Merrick’s face flushed red. “I was justifiably displeased with their decorum.”

  “Right. So you were angry that your class was disturbed?”

  “Detective Whitman, where is this line of questioning going?” Sorceress Stone asked the detective.

  “Forgive me, SaraLynn, perhaps I should be speaking to your brother alone,” Detective Whitman said pointedly to her.

  Sorceress Stone cast her eyes to the ground. I sensed a certain something between the two of them and I suddenly wondered once again if they didn’t have more of a personal relationship than we were aware of. Detective Whitman appeared to be a bit salty about the fact that he didn’t already know about her brother.

  He turned his steely gaze back to Merrick. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone, I didn’t hear the answer to my question. Is it true that you were angry that your class was disturbed?”

  Sorceress Stone and her brother exchanged unhappy looks while Merrick nodded at the detective. “I guess you could say that, Detective. Now, if we’re done here, I have to let my students know what’s happening.”

  Detective Whitman held up a hand as Merrick tried to make his escape. “Mr. Stone, I’d prefer that you waited to hold any kind of assembly or release any specific details. I’d like to interview several of Ronnie’s friends before they hear the details of the case from you. Perhaps you can make your announcements tomorrow.”

  Merrick nodded stoically. “Very well.”

  Detective Whitman dropped his hand to allow Merrick to pass, but right as the Sorcerer walked past him, Detective Whitman grabbed his arm and I could barely hear him whisper. “Don’t leave town.”

  Merrick shot the detective a poisonous glare before strutting past him to the caution tape. “Students, back to your rooms. An announcement will be made tomorrow. For now, all students need to return to their dormitories immediately. Any students caught out of their rooms will be swiftly punished.”

  “Ladies, that goes for you as well,” Sorceress Stone said, following her brother’s lead.

  As the crowd began to thin, Detective Whitman turned to me and Alba. “Thanks for your help here, ladies. I’ll need to interview some of Ronnie’s friends. I’m especially interested in interviewing…what did you say his name was?”

  “Philip?”

  “Yes, Philip. I’ll speak to Mr. Stone about finding him.”

  “Do you need us to stick around?” Alba asked.

  Detective Whitman looked down at his notepad. “It might not be a bad idea. You never know, Ronnie may decide to come back.”

  I looked towards the tree line. “I doubt it,” I said honestly. Ronnie had seemed too shaken to come back and I didn’t think the police cars and lights were going to help with that. “But I don’t mind staying.”

  “Me either,” Alba agreed.

  “Thank you, ladies,” he said. “Say, Mercy, how’s Linda doing? Has she decided to stick around Aspen Falls?”

  “Who is Linda?” asked Sorceress Stone as she made her way back into our little conversation.

  Detective Whitman looked down at his notepad nervously. “It’s, er – Mercy’s mother.”

  Sorceress Stone looked at me inquisitively. “I thought your mother lived very far away.”

  “She’s recently come to town. My brother – well, you’re nephew, specifically – is in town and Mom has decided to help him out for awhile.”

  Sorceress Stone’s eyes narrowed as she turned her full attention on me. “My nephew?”

  My heart dropped and I heard my pulse quicken in my ears. Oh no. Maybe she hadn’t yet heard about her brother having a child with my mother.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t know…” I said nervously. I certainly didn’t want to get on Sorceress Stone’s bad side.

  “Are you talking about Merrick’s boy?” she asked incredulously.

  I nodded. “Yes, his name is Reign.”

  “Reign is your brother?” she asked me.

  The look on Alba’s face said that I had done it now. I felt like Sorceress Stone was going to have me on a plate.

  “Yes. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just assumed you knew.”

  “I knew of Reign and his mother. Merrick told me this afternoon. I didn’t realize that Reign’s mother was your mother as well,” she said haughtily, trying to regain her composure.

  Detective Whitman looked between the two of us. “I’m sorry, I think I missed out on what’s going on here.”

/>   “What do you need to know, Detective,” Sorceress Stone asked snidely.

  “Who is Reign’s father?” he asked, peering closely at Sorceress Stone.

  “My brother, Merrick, fathered the boy,” she said.

  Detective Whitman looked at me with surprise. “Your mother and that guy?” he said in surprise, hitching his thumb backwards in Merrick’s direction.

  I shrugged. “It was long before my time. I hear he was charming.”

  Sorceress Stone eyed me evilly. I sucked in my bottom lip nervously and bit down on it hard. Way to go Mercy.

  Detective Whitman seemed to catch either the look on my face or the look Sorceress Stone had just shot me and he promptly changed the subject. “SaraLynn, I’d like to speak with Philip. He was a student of Mr. Stone’s earlier today. I hear there was an altercation between him and Mr. Edwards.”

  “I’ll find him for you. Is there anyone else you need to speak with?”

  He looked at me and Alba.

  “Ronnie came to class with several boys. It might be worth talking to them all,” Alba admitted.

  Detective Whitman nodded. “Who were the boys?”

  “Umm, Hugh and Juan, Tristan, Philip and Ronnie,” she said, listing them off one by one.

  “I can text Hugh to have them all come down here,” I offered.

  “That would be helpful,” he said appreciatively.

  Sorceress Stone’s glare intensified as I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and began to text Hugh. I could tell it was going to be a very long night.

  { Chapter Six}

  “I told you, Ronnie and I patched things up after class,” Philip explained to Detective Whitman. His face was red and his patience with the detective seemed to be waning.

  “What were you arguing about during class?”

  Philip rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “He sideswiped me with his broomstick during flying class.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then I practically fell to my death!”

  “But you’re alive?” Detective Whitman asked dryly.

  “Yeah, barely. Sorcerer Stone caught me in time.”

  “And then what happened?”

  Philip looked at me and Alba uneasily. “And then I punched Ronnie,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “And Ronnie hit you back?”

  “He tried to. Stone got between us and ended up taking a right cross to the ear.”

  “Was Mr. Stone upset about the fight?”

  “That’s an understatement. By the look in his eye, I thought he was going to strike us both dead on the spot.”

  Detective Whitman’s left eyebrow shot up with interest. “Really? Would you say Mr. Stone has a temper?”

  Philip let out a deep breath. “I’ll say. If it’s not one thing it’s another with him. But, I’ve never seen the guy like that before! He was definitely in a foul mood today for some reason.”

  “You don’t think it was because of your fight with Ronnie?”

  Philip shrugged. “I have no idea; he could have been upset before that. I suppose it didn’t help that he took one to the ear.”

  Detective Whitman nodded. “I suppose not. What was your relationship with Ronnie like before today?”

  “We were friends!”

  “Good friends?”

  “Yeah, good friends. He lived down the hall from me. We hung out all the time.”

  “Had you ever gotten into a fight with him before?”

  Philip shrugged and looked around nervously. “Do I need a lawyer or something?”

  Detective Whitman smiled at him easily. “I’m not accusing you of anything here, son. But you’re welcome to retain the rights of an attorney.”

  “Just answer his questions, Philip,” Alba said roughly. “Ronnie is dead. If you don’t have anything to hide then just tell the guy what he wants to know.”

  Philip’s eyes darted around the crime scene nervously. “Yeah, alright.”

  “So had you and Ronnie ever gotten into a fight before?”

  “We’ve probably argued about stuff before.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  Philip shrugged. “I don’t know. Dumb guy stuff.”

  “Like what kind of dumb guy stuff?”

  “Ronnie was a competitive guy. He liked to try and one up me.”

  “Give me an example,” Detective Whitman questioned.

  Philip shrugged again and scratched the right side of his head. “Geez, I don’t know. Everything. He liked to bust my butt about liking the Eagles, he’s a Steelers fan ya know. He was always trying to one up me in class. Video games. Whatever. It was all about competition with that guy.”

  “So why would Ronnie have sideswiped you?” Detective Whitman asked.

  Philip shifted his weight from his right foot to his left. “I really don’t know.”

  Alba peered into Philip’s dark green eyes angrily. “You’re lying,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Philip became incensed. “No, I’m not!”

  Alba looked at him and then at Detective Whitman. “He’s lying. I promise you,” she stated flatly.

  “What’s he lying about?” Detective Whitman asked, looking between Alba and Philip curiously.

  “Ask him.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  Alba glared at Philip angrily. “They were fighting over a girl.”

  Detective Whitman raised an eyebrow and wrote something down on his notepad. “It’s always over a girl,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Look, I didn’t do this!” Philip asserted. His hand shook as he pointed a finger towards Detective Whitman. “Maybe it looks like I did, I don’t know. But I swear. I didn’t do it.”

  “Like the murderer’s going to admit he did it?” Alba asked, unconvinced.

  Philip growled at Alba and then ran both of his hands through his dirty blonde hair. “Stop. Ronnie and I talked it out after class and we made up.”

  Alba rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. “Lying.”

  I looked at Alba curiously. I wondered if her occasional mind-reading skills were suddenly working. They seemed to come in and out like a fuzzy black and white TV set with a crooked antenna.

  “Shut your mouth, witch,” Philip hollered angrily at Alba.

  Alba’s arms pounded the air by her hips as she lunged in swiftly to face Philip – their faces only inches apart. “Take your chances and say that to me one more time, kid.”

  Detective Whitman shoved his pen and paper under his right armpit and immediately put himself between Alba and Philip. “Back it up. Two fights in one day won’t look good for you, son.”

  “I’m not your son. Quit calling me that,” Philip said angrily as he took a step back and inhaled several long deep breaths in an attempt at calming himself.

  “Fine. Are you sure that you and Ronnie mended fences after class?”

  “Yeah,” he said angrily.

  “Someone else see that happen?” Detective Whitman asked.

  Philip shook his head. “No. He stopped by my room to apologize for knocking me off the broomstick. I accepted his apology and we shook hands. We were fine.”

  “What time was that?”

  Philip shrugged. “I don’t know. 6:30.”

  “So you saw Ronnie alive at 6:30 and between then and 8:25 he was discovered dead. What happened during those last two hours?”

  Philip took a long angry pause and looked between the three of us. Finally, he muttered, “I want to talk to a lawyer.”

  ***

  Hugh looked at me with concern. “You sure you’re alright, darlin’?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “It’s gettin’ pretty chilly out here. Want me to toss the heat up a few degrees?”

  I smiled at him as I pulled his oversized coat tighter around me. “Sweet of you, Hugh, but between your coat and mine I’m starting to warm up.”

  “Alright,” he relented.

  “Can you believe all
of this happened?” I asked him breathlessly. The weight of the situation was suffocating – I felt like I had a brick perched up on top of my lungs, making it difficult to take a deep breath.

  He hung his head sorrowfully. “It’s starting to get ridiculous.”

  “I’m so tired of people dying!” I whined.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “Me too.”

  I tugged on my braid in frustration. “Can’t we just have a break? I mean seriously. It’s been one corpse after the next since I came to town. I’m starting to wonder if it’s me!”

  Hugh rubbed his hand across my back and nodded sadly. “It’s probably you.”

  Incensed, my head swiveled to look up at him. “Hugh!”

  He chuckled. “Simmer down, darlin’. It was a joke. This all started happening when I moved to town too. Heck, when the whole freshman class moved to town. So why do you get to blame it on yourself?”

  I groaned. “Ugh. It just sucks!”

  “It sucks alright. Ronnie was a decent guy.”

  “Were you pretty good friends with him?”

  Hugh shrugged. “We got along. He mostly hung out with Tristan and Phil though.”

  I glanced up and across the crime scene. Detective Whitman was interviewing Tristan, Ronnie’s roommate. Philip had had enough for one night and Detective Whitman had decided he’d call him back into the station at another point in time when he had more evidence and facts to go on.

  “Did Tristan know anything?” I asked Hugh.

  Hugh leaned into me conspiringly. “Just between you and me, Tristan said that Philip and Ronnie were going to go practice riding later on.”

  My eyes widened. “Hugh! That’s important information! We can’t keep that to ourselves,” I said as I took a determined step towards Detective Whitman.

  He reached out and stopped me. “Darlin’, they never went. At least Tristan didn’t see them go together.”

  “Was Tristan with Ronnie until the end?” I asked angrily. I couldn’t believe that Hugh would be sitting on that kind of relevant information. From my perspective, it made sense that Philip and Ronnie had gone riding and either Ronnie had fallen off of his stick accidentally or maybe, Philip had pushed him off to get back at him for their little scuffle earlier in the day.

 

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