by Raven Snow
“Is it something I said?” asked Trish, playing dumb.
The front door opened and closed. “We’re not in high school anymore,” Rowen said to Trish from across the coffee table. “You don’t have to be petty and rude.”
“Like that cousin of yours isn’t the same way,” Trish shot right back. She did have a point there. Margo could be as bad as Teaghan and her friends. She might not have started out that way. It may have taken her a little longer to join their ranks, but it was undeniable. The sound of the shower stopped. “That didn’t take him long,” Trish grumbled. A moment later, Richie emerged from the hallway.
Richie was wearing a gray sleeveless shirt and the jeans he had been wearing outside. A towel was around his neck. “Are you kidding me?” asked Trish, appraising him. “Put on a new pair of clothes, not the ones you were wearing before you showered. I swear, you’re like a kid sometimes.”
Richie didn’t respond to his wife. He headed into the living room, his demeanor as calm as could be. No doubt his wife had done this sort of thing around others before. He began to lower himself down into a recliner.
“Oh, no!” Trish exclaimed, hands on her hips. “Don’t sit down there. You’ll soak it. Go talk, I don’t know, outside or something.”
Richie sighed but pushed himself back up into a standing position. He headed toward the back of the house as Rowen closely followed. The back porch was nice, at least. There was a lot of seating as well as a hot tub built into the porch itself. “Sorry about her. She’s not as bad as she comes off.” Richie sat down heavily in a padded lounge chair. “You had some questions to ask me?”
Rowen nodded. She pulled up a canvas folding chair and sat down before him. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Sure. Fire away.”
“How well did you know Teaghan?”
“Fairly well, I’d say. As well as you could know her.”
“Why do you say that?”
Richie opened his mouth to answer, but it still took the words a moment to come out. “I obviously wasn’t as close to her as my wife is. Even then, she was sort of hard to read, you know? She had one of those… I don’t want to say it, but she had a kind of fake personality, like she put up this front. It was hard to see past that a lot of the time.”
“You were her personal trainer, right?” asked Rowen, pressing on.
“I was,” said Richie with a nod. “She knew I worked at the gym as a trainer.”
“You any good?”
Richie smirked. “You tell me.” He flexed his arms then, making the muscles beneath his short sleeves bulge. “Why? Are you in the market for a personal trainer? I can give you my card.”
“No thanks.” Rowen returned his smile anyway. “I heard you trained her in her home gym? Did she ever tell you anything in confidence while the two of you were alone? Something that seems important in hindsight?”
Richie paused as if thinking. It was clear this was just for show. He had undoubtedly been asked the question before by police. He’d had ample time to think about it. “I can’t really think of anything. We didn’t stay cooped up in her home gym for too long. We took things out of there after a while, so I can’t say we had a ton of alone time.”
Rowen wasn’t sure that was true. To her, it just meant that there was more time the two of them were left unaccounted for. “Why did you leave her home gym anyway?”
“No one wants to be cooped up in the house all the time. She wanted to get out some, and I was more than happy to take her training out into the world. Who doesn’t love getting some sun?”
Rowen could think of a lot of things she loved more than sweating outside on a hot day. Getting a root canal ranked right above it. “And you’re sure she never said anything that seems odd in hindsight?”
“If I did, I would have mentioned it to the cops by now. I’m sorry I don’t have more to—”
“Were you having an affair with Teaghan?” Margo asked, coming up the stairs to the porch. She had a cigarette between her fingers. She took a slow drag as she regarded Richie, waiting for him to emerge from his stunned silence with an answer.
“What?” asked Richie, like he had somehow misheard Margo. His eyes were wide.
Rowen could sense the anxiety rising in Richie. She would have been angry with her cousin for coming right out with that question, but it may have done the trick. “Were you having an affair with Teaghan?” Margo repeated, speaking at a normal volume.
“Shh,” Richie hissed. Keeping his own voice down, he answered her. “No, of course I wasn’t having an affair with Teaghan. I love my wife.”
“Seemed like things were a little tense between the two of you in there,” Rowen pointed out, motioning back over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t blame you if you felt you had to branch out every now and again. Marriage can be rough.”
“It’s not like we’re going to publish this if you tell us the truth,” Margo assured him. “We’re just trying to get to the bottom of things. Did you tell the cops about the affair?”
“I still don’t know what the two of you are talking about.” All the charm had fled Richie’s face. His jaw was set tight now, his expression a scowl. “I’ve never cheated on my wife.”
“You’re lying,” Margo said, plainly. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her hips were cocked to one side. She was regarding Richie thoughtfully, looking down at him with her eyebrows raised. “Denying it only makes you look guiltier, you know. Rowen here is working with the police. You know the Greensmiths work with the police. Whatever you have hidden, it’s better to come right out with the truth now. We’ll uncover it one way or another. It might as well be on your own terms.”
Richie continued to scowl until, all at once, it faded. He must have decided that they weren’t bluffing. “I didn’t kill her,” he said, beginning with that. “And it’s not like we fooled around regularly. It was just a few times. We weren’t going to leave our spouses over it, you know? I mean… I don’t think we were.”
“You don’t think you were?” Rowen repeated.
Richie shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what you want to hear. Sometimes she talked like she loved me and I felt things for her. It’s not like that matters now. I mean someone killed her. It definitely wasn’t me.”
Rowen could imagine Teaghan had enjoyed stringing Richie along. After all, she did so love her drama. At the same time, Richie almost sounded relieved to not have that temptation to leave his wife for Teaghan anymore. Rowen wasn’t sure which was worse. They were both terrible people when it came down to it. “When was the last time you talked to her?”
Again, Richie took his time in answering. He looked from Rowen to Margo, like he was trying to figure out some kind of escape route. “Just tell us,” Margo said plainly, tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette.
“I talked to her at the reunion. I didn’t kill her, though.” He added that last part like maybe they had forgotten. “We weren’t stupid. We never did anything in public. We just exchanged a few words. That was it. No big deal.”
“Clearly it is a big deal. Teaghan got killed,” Margo pointed out.
“I know that!” Richie was raising his voice now. He lowered it hastily. “It wasn’t me. I was with people the whole night. You can ask them, can’t you?”
“Do you have any idea who might have had it in for Teaghan?” asked Rowen.
“Why would I? We had fun sometimes. That’s it. I’d go out with her on double dates with friends and stuff. She’d be there with Dave. That’s about it, though. We’d talk during workouts some, but it was mostly stupid, flirty stuff. It wasn’t anything serious. Come on. Give me a break here. I didn’t do anything.”
The door to the back porch opened before Rowen or Margo could say anything else. “What’s going on?” asked Trish. Maybe she had heard the shouting and come to include herself in the conversation.
“Your husband was cheating on you with Teaghan,” Margo blurted, shouldering past Trish and back into the
house.
Richie had gone wide eyed. He gaped after Margo and then looked to his wife. Her eyes were also huge. “You didn’t,” she breathed.
“Trish, I—”
“I can’t believe you!” Trish launched into an impressive string of expletives while Richie tried in vain to explain himself. Well, it looked like this particular interview had come to a conclusion. Rowen hurried into the house after Margo. She grabbed her purse off the sofa and her recorder from the coffee table. She proceeded out the front door. Margo was already on the front lawn, taking her time strolling to the car.
“That wasn’t very nice.” Rowen was sure Margo already knew that. What Rowen wasn’t sure about was whether she approved or not. It had been sort of satisfying.
Margo dropped her cigarette butt on their lawn and stomped it out. “She used to make pig noises at me when I walked down the hall. And him? Well, I just didn’t like the vibe of him.” She got in on the passenger side. “It’s just a shame we didn’t learn something new.”
Rowen thought back over what they had learned, if anything. Surely that wasn’t true. Surely this had been helpful in some way. Rowen found her attention drawn suddenly to her purse. She pulled out the recorder she had stuffed in there on her way out. It was still recording. She pressed ‘stop.’ She couldn’t be sure quite yet, but one of those feelings of hers told her she should listen to it. And those feelings tended to be right.
Chapter Ten
There wasn’t anyone at home when Rowen got back to her house. That was just fine by her. If Eric had been home, she would have to explain to him everything that was going on. She didn’t much feel like catching him up on things. Chester, of course, was home. He went sniffing around Margo’s boots when she entered. “Don’t get dog smell on me,” she warned, reaching down to pet him anyway.
They had already listened to the recording once while they were driving. Rowen had made a call after listening. Now she was just waiting for a call back. She had decided to swing by home in the meantime. She needed to wind down, maybe have a little lunch. “Do you want anything?” she asked Margo.
“I’m fine.”
Rowen rolled her eyes. “Don’t let high school memories make you self-conscious. Here. I’ll mix you up some brown rice and tuna. You can’t say no to that.”
“Fine.” Margo used a very put-upon tone but still smiled at her cousin as she sat at the kitchen bar.
For convenience’s sake, Rowen put some rice on for herself as well. “Will you replay the tape while I’m cooking?”
“Is that what we’re calling fixing rice now? Cooking?”
“You can just make your own rice if—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Margo reached for Rowen’s purse and fished the recorder out of it. She rewound and pressed play a few times before finding the part she was looking for.
The recorder itself wasn’t of the best quality. It had an internal microphone that made the audio a little fuzzy. It did fine for interviews and such where everyone was stationary and the background was quiet. It was obvious from the inconsistent audio that Trish was walking around as she spoke. By the sound of doors opening and closing, she was probably mopping up the water her husband had tracked through the house.
“I’m done. I’m just done.” That was the first thing Trish said in the recording after Rowen had left the house with Richie. When initially listening to it, Rowen had needed a moment to realize that she was on the phone. The phone hadn’t rung, so she must have made the call. It was an awfully callous way to start a conversation. “You’re on your own. I’ve got people here blaming me and…” Here Trish’s voice faded out. Rowen imagined there was some sort of exchange where Trish said specifically who it was who was “blaming” her.
“Have you talked to them? …Why didn’t you tell me that?! …No, you didn’t.” Again, the audio faded. There was the sound of something being thrown, though it sounded like a soft something—probably a towel. “Well, whatever, it’s the same either way. I’m not going to jail for you… I don’t care! You can tell that to the police yourself.” Another pause. “Yeah, you keep saying you miss her, but for all I know you killed her yourself.” After that, there was just a lot of angry, indiscernible muttering. The conversation on the phone had clearly keyed Trish up. Rowen was able to pick out a few vulgarities peppered throughout.
“And you’re sure it’s who you think it is?” asked Margo, turning the recorder off and setting it back down.
“Pretty sure.” That was as good as saying she was certain. Rowen imagined that Margo felt much the same. Her intuition was also quite sharp.
***
The rice finished cooking. Rowen threw in some tuna and other fixings. She had thought to brew up some coffee while it was cooking. Today was looking like a busy day. They would need the caffeine.
Eating was done in a hurry. Rowen and Margo didn’t really speak as they shoveled it down. They were sipping their coffee, finishing the last of it when the knock on the door came. Margo turned. “Is Eric home?”
“Why in the world would he knock?” Rowen took one last sip of coffee and slipped from her stool. She went to the front door. Chester was already there, growling softly. “Hush, boy,” Rowen said, scratching him between the ears. There was a second knock—though, calling it a knock was putting things mildly. It was more like a pounding. Someone was beating on the door like they were angry. Rowen lifted one of the slats in the blinds and peered out. Sure enough, it was who she had expected it would be. She swore under her breath and stepped back from the window.
“Come on, open up,” said Sutton from the other side of the door, his deep voice booming. “I saw you at the blinds and your car is out front. I know you’re in there.”
Rowen went to the door and threw it open. “And why shouldn’t I be? This is my house, isn’t it?” She looked Sutton up and down. He was standing on her stoop, looking as stern as ever. “Now, what do you want?”
“I want you to keep to your house and your house only.”
“What?”
“Like you said, this is your house. Richie and Trish Masters have their own house. As the owner of a house, barring court order, you get to decide who comes and goes. You catch my meaning here?”
Rowen gave Sutton a slow once over, sizing him up. He didn’t look so tough, she decided, even though he had about a head and a half of height on her. That might have just been the anger talking, though. “They invited us,” Rowen said, plainly.
“Not according to them.”
“So, what are they saying? We broke in and forced them to give us an interview at gunpoint? What kind of sense would that make?”
“Let me rephrase.” Sutton was talking down to Rowen both figuratively and literally. “You stepped over the line. You asked questions designed to get a rise out of the Masters. You were seeking to sensationalize this story at their expense. They wanted you to leave, but you overstayed your welcome. Sound familiar?”
“Not really. We left as soon as they started losing their tempers. I’m not sure they even asked us to leave.”
“Sutton, right?” asked Margo. Rowen jumped a little. She hadn’t heard her approaching.
“Yes, ma’am.” There was a technical kind of politeness there. He obviously liked Margo about as much as he liked any Greensmith by default.
“Do you want to come in?” asked Margo, reaching over Rowen’s head to open the door a little wider.
Rowen looked back at her cousin. What gave her the authority to start inviting people in? This wasn’t her house.
“I—” Sutton began, but he didn’t make it any farther than that.
“Come in,” said Margo, turning on the charm. It was no normal degree of charm either. She was really going all out. Rowen could feel it. Margo was as much a witch as she was. Everyone had their own strengths and weaknesses. Margo, for instance, was rather good with men. She could press her will onto them for a little while. It never got her very far. As far as Rowen knew, she never abused it. She
just gave guys a little shove from time to time. Maybe that was why she had always enjoyed a little more popularity than Rowen and the rest of her family. Margo flashed her dazzlingly white teeth and inclined her head toward the indoors. “We won’t bite,” she promised. “Do you want some coffee? Let’s talk about this over coffee.”
Sutton stared at Margo without saying anything for a few moments. Finally, he blinked rapidly, simultaneously shaking his head as if clearing it. “Fine,” he said, keeping his tone cool. He followed Margo toward the kitchen. Rowen just sighed and followed. She really would rather not be doing this right now. She thought she had a pretty good idea of what Margo was planning.
Margo took a new mug down from the cabinet. She poured some coffee then went to the fridge to retrieve the milk.
“I like my coffee black, thanks,” said Sutton, raising a hand before she could pour.
“No, you don’t.” Margo threw him another charming smile and then poured in the milk. “You like milk and three sugars. Which isn’t anything to be ashamed of, by the way. If you ask me, it’s more embarrassing to think drinking black coffee makes you look like a tough guy.” Margo added the sugar next.
Sutton was staring at Margo, his brow creased as he gaped at her. It looked like he was trying very hard to make sense of what she had just said. “Is this your idea of a magic trick?” he asked with a forced chuckle. “What? Did Ben spy on me fixing my coffee and pass that on to you guys? Is that how you do the whole psychic act?”
“Oh, we’re a lot more than just psychic.” Margo brought Sutton his coffee. Her fingers lingered near his as she handed over the cup, brushing against them when she pulled away. Rowen knew what she was doing. She had done it more than a few times herself. It was easier to get a read on someone with skin to skin contact.
“That’s right,” Sutton said, his tone of voice a deadpan one. “You’re a bunch of witches.”
