A Witch Called Wanda (iWitch Mystery Book 1)

by Diana Orgain

  I look at the clock hanging on the far wall. “Maeve is probably about to open the café. I hope it goes well for her,” I say casually.

  I wait for another episode of Jenny Loves Charlie to start, but instead an old in-between shows cast interview comes on. My tail wags uncontrollably.

  The interviewer on the television, a young Hollywood reporter speaks, “I’m happy to welcome the male star of Jenny Loves Charlie, Chuck Lowry, to the studio today. Chuck, you’ve played the role of Charlie for eight years—”

  “Oh, I get it now!” Fuzzball suddenly speaks. “You like that actor, so that’s why you want me to call you Chuck. That’s still weird, Wanda.”

  I shake my head. Does she really not get it?

  “That is me, you stupid cat!” I shout, and I watch as this brainless cat rolls over on its side laughing and calls me an idiot! Seriously, I was just called an idiot by a cat!

  I cringe as I listen to myself from probably close to a year ago talk about my role as Charlie. “Well,” my human self says on the television. “Robert, this is not exactly an easy role to play. But we all know the truth: I totally make this show. Selena doesn’t exactly give me a lot to work with. The character, Jenny, is pretty bland. At the end of the day, this show is all about Charlie. Charlie is a complicated character that only an experienced actor would dare to portray.”

  Jeez, I sound like an arrogant twit. Going back and watching all these old reruns, I realize that Charlie was just as stupid a character as I’d always thought Jenny was. It’s a cheesy ‘90s style sitcom that very rarely gives you anything more than dry, over-done humor. And the laugh track is killing me.

  But, whatever, I still like watching myself.

  I guess I’m still a little arrogant at the end of the day.

  I try to not listen to Fuzzball because she’s still laughing. After a moment, I bark at her to shut up, and she does–though I can still hear an occasional giggle from her. I keep listening to the interview, and to be honest it’s pretty embarrassing.

  “I remember this one scene,” my former self said, “back in season one, when Jenny first meets Charlie, I have to say, it was a proud moment in my career. The energy I brought to that scene was incredible, and I’ve continued to bring that same commitment and enthusiasm to every scene we’ve done together, and I’m proud to say that I’ve continued to improve my art with each and every—”

  Ugh, make it stop. The self-praise is too much.

  Suddenly, the scene on the television changes, and I see her: Selena. The actress who played Jenny in the show, and I growl.

  “I don’t know why you hate her so much,” Fuzzball declares. “She’s a way better actor than that Chuck person.”

  I decide to let her have that one because I’m drowning in my own embarrassment from that arrogant, boastful, and cocky display that was just broadcast. When I’m human again, I’m going to see what I can do about making that interview disappear. I sigh as I listen to Selena talk. I can’t stand her, but she’s got nothing but sweet things to say in that old interview. “Oh, Chuck is an amazing actor. It’s really been a pleasure working with him all these years,” she sings. I remember when this interview first aired, how embarrassed she was about all the crap I said about her. “He has a lot more experience than I do,” she said. “And he’s been nothing but helpful.”

  Even though I can’t stand Selena, this old interview is starting to make me feel pretty crummy. Suddenly Selena faces the camera directly and smiles wickedly.

  Wait a minute!

  I don’t recall that being in the interview. I’ve probably seen this a thousand times, too ...

  “Feeling good about yourself, Chuck?” Selena sings. “I bet you forgot about how sweet I was to you in this interview, huh?”

  Fuzzball obviously senses something. The black cat lets out a loud hiss, and her fur stands on end as she darts behind the couch.

  “Selena?” I ask and start barking and yelling at the television.

  The crazy witch! She’s here! I let loose every curse word in the book, and she stares back at me with her lips puckered.

  “Save your breath, Chuck, I don’t speak dog,” she says and laughs. I can see green magic flickering around the television.

  “Change me back! Change me back, Selena!”

  “This is so fun,” Selena teases. “But seriously, I can’t understand you, so shut up and let me talk for once. I’m impressed to see that you found a witch–too bad she has no idea how to use magick! You have the worst luck with witches, don’t you?”

  I bark madly, but she ignores me.

  “I want to give you a little forewarning about how my spell works. You realize you’ve been a little doggy for a month now, right? Well, almost. You see, as soon as the full moon rises, you’re going to be a man again. But only for twenty-four hours until the waning moon arrives, and then you’ll be a dog again until the next full moon.”

  Excitement bolts through my body, and my stupid tail begins to wag. Selena laughs at me. But I don’t care. This is great news!

  I can tell Maeve, and she’ll be able to find a way to break the curse.

  Selena tsks at me. “Oh, it’s not that easy, Chuck,” she teases. “You tell Maeve or anyone else about your curse while you’re a man, and you’ll die. Care to test it–go ahead! It’ll be your own fault since I’m warning you. Nope, you have to find a way to tell her while you’re a puppy dog.”

  I growl, but she’s right. There’s no way I’ll test her. I remember laughing my butt off when she first told me she was a witch, and that if I didn’t stop laughing she’d turn me into what I called her ... and, well, here we are.

  All right, Selena, challenge accepted. I’ll find a way to tell Maeve when I’m a dog, and she’ll help me.

  “Oh, and there’s one more thing, Chuck,” Selena said. “You only get twelve moon cycles to break the curse, or you’ll be stuck this way until you die and go to doggy heaven. Ta-ta, Chuck!”

  And just like that, the interview progresses as it had been recorded. The real Selena is gone. Fuzzball is still hiding behind the couch while I pace back and forth in Maeve’s living room in front of the television.

  Stuck this way forever?

  She’s crazy! She is absolutely crazy!

  Wait ... is there a full moon tonight?

  Almost as soon as I think it, I change. A bit of my blue magic swirls around me, and suddenly I’m standing up on two feet again.

  No way.

  I race to the hall bathroom, and look in the mirror. Same strong jaw line. Same chiseled features. I flex. Yup, that’s still the same. I’m ... I’m naked. I’m naked, and I’m in Maeve’s house. Oh, crap!

  I run around opening boxes, hoping she still has some of her fiancé’s clothes somewhere. Eureka! I find a box full of men’s clothes labeled Frank’s Crap. The guy must have been a puny little runt because his t-shirt is tight on me, but his jeans and black dress shoes fit decently. I look at myself in the mirror, borrow Maeve’s hairbrush, toothbrush and mouthwash, and exit into the living room where Fuzzball is waiting for me–wide eyed. I laugh.

  “Later, Pussycat.”

  “Wanda?”

  I swear I jump a foot off the ground in surprise.

  I can still understand her? That can’t be right.

  “What?” I say, jolting back. I shake it off. Okay, that’s good to know before I go waltzing outside and get cussed out by a pigeon or something.

  “You weren’t lying!” the cat yelps.

  Then I smile. “Hey, Fuzzball, want to go with me to Maeve’s café?”

  Fuzzball runs up and rubs up against my leg. “You bet, Wanda!”

  “You have to call me Chuck from now on, or you’re staying here,” I warn, and she agrees.

  Oh, this is going to be fun.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Maeve

  Listen: Its Old Fashioned’s opening night was going well, but that didn’t stop Maeve from fretting. Gracie was working the barista st
ation; she’d agreed to help out until Maeve hired some additional help. The place was packed with what felt like every person living in Wisteria Pines. Solving the local murder of a beloved townsperson had done a lot to promote her shop, and Maeve relished the feeling of pride that surged through her.

  As Maeve ducked behind the barista stand to grab some more drinks, Donnie Jacobs appeared, tapping her on her shoulder.

  “Hey, Donnie,” Maeve said, and turned around to face him.

  Donnie had removed all his facial piercings since she’d last seen him, and while he was still dressed mostly in black, he’d washed out the black dye from his hair and had cut it short, and he was no longer wearing eyeliner. She smiled; he had a lovely face when he wasn’t hiding it under all that hair, makeup, and piercings.

  “Hi, Ms. O’Dare,” he said with a sincere smile. “I wanted to thank you. Officer Mont, well, um, he told me how Mayor James was trying to pin me for Nadine’s murder. I’m glad he’s in jail too, thanks to your investigation skills.”

  Maeve smiled. She honestly had not expected to get a thank-you from Donnie. “Of course, Donnie. I’m glad justice prevailed. I like your hair. Is it naturally brown like that?”

  “No, I’m actually blonde,” he said, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “But that black dye messed up my hair, so I’m slowly trying to get it back to my natural color. My girlfriend’s trying to help me ... since Eleanor ... well, you know.”

  Maeve giggled. “Yeah, I guess the town needs a new barber or stylist, eh? Well, don’t worry about it too much, it’s a good look for you.” She turned to pick up the order, when Donnie tapped her again.

  “I know you’re busy, but I wanted to give you this,” Donnie said, handing her a crinkled sheet of paper.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Um ... an application,” he said, his face flushed red. “Gracie tells me you’re looking for a barista. Believe it or not, I have some experience there. I kind of got fired from my last job, you know, after the whole juvenile hall thing, and it’s been kind of hard trying to find a job now after all that –I’m sure being friends with Gracie ... she’s probably told you that no one really trusts me. I can’t blame them. But, well, um, I was kind of hoping that you would.”

  Maeve smiled, the feeling of pride she’d had earlier zipped through her. She was doing good work. Creating jobs, making a difference. “You know what, Donnie? I do. Can you start right now?”

  Donnie’s eyebrows sprang up in disbelief. “Really? I mean ... yeah! I can start now. “Definitely.” He grabbed her hand and pumped it vigorously up and down. “You won’t regret it, Ms. O’Dare.”

  Donnie ran around the counter, and Gracie handed him an apron. He put it on as Maeve took the orders Gracie gave and served the various tables that were waiting. She chatted with everyone as much as she could, thrilled to see her café so incredibly packed.

  “Maeve!” Bobby Farley waved her down.

  Nervousness overtook Maeve, and she cringed. They hadn’t spoken since she’d accused him of murder.

  “Hey Bobby,” she said, in as casual a tone as she could manage.

  He chuckled. “Relax,” he said, forcing his way through the crowd. He handed her a floral bouquet. “A little congratulatory gift.” He pointed at the vinyl covered wall and said, “The place looks great.”

  Behind him were several other men in suits who all looked displeased to be there. “Ignore them,” Bobby said. “I dragged them away from the tavern tonight to come here for your opening. They were hoping for real drinks, not coffee.”

  “Well, gentlemen,” Maeve said, relieved to find that she and Bobby were on good terms. “Good news. I was able to wrangle a limited alcoholic beverage license. We serve scotch and wine along with our coffee.”

  The men looked pleased. It wasn’t beer, but Maeve was going for a sort of elegant atmosphere, not a party bar. They were a café first and foremost, and soon they would be a music shop too. That was the future plan.

  Everyone loved the decorative wall covered with vinyl behind the barista station, so Maeve suspected the music shop idea would go over well. She brought Bobby and his friends their drinks, and continued walking around socializing to keep the atmosphere friendly and welcoming.

  The door opened, and she smiled when she saw Officer Joseph Mont coming in, a guitar on his back. “What’s this?” she asked, greeting him at the door.

  “Well,” he teased. “I heard you have open mic nights here?”

  She blushed slightly. “What you heard is true,” she teased right back. “But we don’t have the sound system set up yet. Probably not until the end of the month. Although, the stage is ready to go, if you want to try going acoustic.”

  “Oh, I’m ready to blow your mind,” he said with a wink and headed for the stage.

  Free performance? Oh, I’m all over this, she thought with a smile, wishing she’d gone ahead and put the sound equipment together.

  Soon, Joseph was serenading the entire café with his singing. Maeve’s jaw dropped and her toes curled.

  He was incredible!

  Her cheeks were flushed –as were every other woman’s cheeks in the room. The loud, rambunctious café grew silent.

  Maeve used the stillness to her advantage, going around and making sure her customers were happy. She listened to Joseph’s singing with a keen ear while she worked and felt a familiar little flutter in her belly.

  She thought of Frank and realized something, she’d never felt this attracted to Frank.

  Maybe it’s time to move on, she thought.

  But there wasn’t time to think about that tonight. It was time to work! Because of the music, people seemed to relax into their seats and stay longer. Maeve noticed Gracie making the rounds with a bottle of wine and topping people off. Maeve felt inspired to light votive candles around the room, filling the space with whimsical light.

  Things are going really well! Maeve thought.

  After a few songs, Joseph declared to the crowd, “All right, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to take a quick break. But if you all are enjoying the music, I’ll come back after I try out some of this excellent coffee I’ve heard so much about.”

  Everyone clapped, and some cheered, “Encore! Encore!”

  Joseph laughed happily as he made his way over to Maeve and Gracie at the barista station.

  “Amazing,” Maeve told him. “I hope we don’t lose you to Hollywood.”

  Joseph shook his head. “No way. I’d never trade Wisteria Pines for Hollyweird.” They giggled together for a moment, then Joseph added, “After my coffee, I’m hoping I can snag a duet with the owner.”

  “You know, you just might get lucky,” she said, “Now how do you take your coffee? You want to try a Shakerato?”

  Joseph looked startled. “What’s that?”

  “It’s something that will shake your world, officer,” Gracie said, laughing.

  Maeve laughed too. “It’s a shot of espresso over ice cubes and simple syrup. I think you’ll like it.”

  Joseph nodded, and Gracie worked diligently to prepare his requested beverage.

  He took the cup from Gracie and tried to pay.

  “No way!” Maeve said. “Quid pro quo.”

  Joseph smiled, then suddenly looked serious. “I need to speak with you privately. Can you spare two minutes?”

  A wave of panic hit Maeve in the chest. “Sure,” she squeaked.

  She led him into the back room that she’d turned into an office area. A small part of her hoped he wanted privacy to ask her out on a date, but the expression on his face told a different story.

  “I got a call from LAPD today,” he began. “Well, the chief did. He forwarded the message to me because he knew I was coming here tonight.”

  “LAPD?” Maeve questioned.

  “Yeah, the Los Angeles Police Department.”

  “I know what it stands for, Joseph,” she said, trying not to laugh. “I only meant to ask why were they calling
?”

  “Because they’re looking for you. They have some questions for you, and they wanted us to get in contact with you on their behalf.”

  Maeve sat down on the edge of her desk, staring at him. “Why is the LAPD looking for me?”

  “You’re not in trouble ... not yet. I don’t know how to tell you this, but there was a car found in a lake down south, near the Mexican border. The VIN number matched the car of an Uber driver that you called that evening.”

  Maeve frowned, and it suddenly felt as if the floor shifted out from under her. She gripped the edge of her desk; her heart racing. “What’s happened?”

  “They’re not sure, but the driver’s family reported her missing a few weeks ago.”

  Maeve felt her throat tighten. “What about Frank? Is he okay?” she asked.

  “They didn’t find any bodies, if that’s what you’re asking. Nor any records at the nearest hospital. But Frank’s DNA was in the car.”

  Maeve pressed a hand to her forehead. “This is insane!” she muttered, fighting off a headache that threatened.

  Joseph put a hand on her shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, especially tonight, but—”

  “No, it’s fine,” Maeve said, shaking away his hand. “I’ll call LAPD in the morning. All this time I’ve been worried sick about Frank, and it turns out he was on his way to Tijuana with a sexy Uber driver. That’s so typical of him.”

  Joseph offered her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure everything will be fine. I’m sorry I had to ruin your opening night like this, but you needed to know.”

  “Thanks, Joseph,” Maeve said. “It’s not ruined. I won’t let Frank ruin it.” Maeve pushed herself off the desk, and they returned to the front of the café.

  Despite her bravado, Maeve felt sick. She’d loved Frank, and he’d left without so much as a text message to let her to know he’d gone to Mexico with some floozy.

  Well, I’m done pining over Frank D’Angelo!

  Just when Maeve thought things couldn’t get any stranger that night, the door opened, welcoming in a new customer. A tall, handsome man entered, carrying Penny’s cat. If it hadn’t been for all those Jenny Loves Charlie reruns she had been watching with her dog, she might not have recognized the Hollywood celebrity who had just walked into her café.