Curse Strings

by Rebecca Regnier

  elbowing me out of my own interview.

  “Okay, yeah, two at once will help me out,” Loof said and straightened his hat.

  I bristled. I wasn’t a fan of sharing interviews, but in this case Loof was right. There weren’t going to be any scoops. This early in an investigation, all we could do was report the terrible news. Someone was shot in cold blood on Main Street. Widow’s Bay was getting more dangerous by the minute it seemed.

  “What do you make of the news that witnesses saw the victim get into a heated argument with one Tatum McGowan?”

  “I can’t comment on specifics of the investigation,” DeLoof said.

  “Does robbery appear to be the motive?” I asked, jostling Redman out of my shot. I had been a reporter in a major city. I’d covered the indictment of a mayor, a major water crisis in Flint, and the funeral of the Queen of Soul; this guy was not going to get me riled up.

  “It’s too early to say.” DeLoof wasn’t going to give us much.

  “But his cash drawer was empty.” It was a comment from me, just to show my competition that I was on it.

  “That is correct,” DeLoof said.

  “How long will it take to match the wounds to a weapon?”

  “The specific ballistics takes a while, but we will be able to determine some things quickly. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I am still processing this scene.”

  “Is the public in danger, should people take cover?” I asked.

  “This is clearly an isolated incident and there is no reason for anyone to feel they are in any danger in Widow’s Bay.” Loof had that one memorized.

  “What about tomorrow, for the festival?” This one came from Man Cave Dot News’ star reporter.

  “We will double our security presence to be sure that everyone remains safe. Now I do have to go.” DeLoof cut off the interview. I had enough to go live at least.

  I turned and put the camera on myself and started a live feed to Facebook. As my countdown started, I heard Yooper Man loudly, and with an air of panic and alarm, launch into his report first. He was beating me to it, and I’d been there first. He annoyed the heck out of me. Then he launched into his report and my jaw dropped open.

  “Early today witnesses saw an out of control Tatum McGowan screaming at beer vendor Tommy Strayhorn, and tonight, that same vendor winds up dead, pumped full of lead in the middle of Widow’s Bay.”

  I was stunned. It was ridiculous; it was speculation. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I was. I clamped my jaw shut and bit my tongue in an effort not to interrupt or be heard during his live report. I wanted to slap his phone out of his hands. He continued.

  “This reporter can confirm that multiple witnesses saw Tatum McGowan verbally attack the murder victim. The question on everyone’s mind tonight: did angry words turn into violent murder? Yooper Man reporting live for Man Cave Dot News. More updates as they become available.”

  When he signed off, I let loose.

  “That’s complete crap and you know it. Speculation without facts. You’re supposed to be reporting not whipping up fear and hate,” I said and forgot completely that I had my camera poised to do my own live report.

  “Ahem.” I looked up and there was Garrett Dewitt. Crap. I realized I was spouting off. On the live Facebook feed for your U.P. News.

  I did my best to contain my irritation at Yooper Man and focus on the job I had to do. My boss had already seen me lose my cool. I needed to recover, and fast.

  I took a deep breath and reported just the facts. Surely the viewers of our live shots and the readers of our stories would be able to tell between sensationalism and serious reporting. I would not bet my life on that, but I would at least try to base my stories on it. My hand was shaking and I’m sure the camera shot sucked.

  Garrett DeWitt stepped forward, looked me in the eyes and gave me a silent show of support. It gave me a much-needed dose of calm, and confidence to report the facts as I knew them.

  “I’ll hold it.” DeWitt took my cellphone camera and trained it on me so I could do my job. I relayed the facts as I knew them, uncolored by guesses or bias.

  “Just moments ago, the Widow’s Bay police department briefed me on a shooting that took place here on Main Street. A place where, hours before, dozens of people were attending a local festival.”

  From the side, I heard Yooper Man shouting. He moved closer to me. This was completely unprofessional.

  “Dozens? Try thousands you—you’re just bitter that it wasn’t your girly, hippy, Woodstock Wannabe, Burning man copycat!” Weston Redman was yelling at me, DURING my live shot.

  I didn’t react. Instead I stepped aside so he was no longer in frame and Garrett Dewitt followed me. I spoke up, to try to be sure the viewers could hear me over Yooper Man’s continued heckling.

  “Police Detective Byron DeLoof just finished a briefing, which I will upload in moments, but I want to get you up to speed immediately. DeLoof confirms that the victim, Thomas Strayhorn, was a vendor here for the festival. Further, it’s unclear if robbery was a motive for the violence but cannot be ruled out. In addition, patrol officers recovered a shell casing just a few feet from the scene. The body of Tommy Strayhorn is now being transported to the county coroner where additional testing will be done. The Widow’s Bay Police Department urges the public to remain calm and is certain this is an isolated incident. Police will be doubling security forces in town in the wake of the murder. Some evidence could take weeks to process, but the police are hopeful that shell casings found near the scene will prove to be a vital piece of evidence in tracking down and arresting a suspect. I have calls into city officials and will bring you more info—”

  “Oh yeah! Your friends? Those officials? I wouldn’t be surprised if they did this on purpose to sabotage the Pure Liquid Testicle Festival Presented by the Benevolent Order of the Buck. You don’t even name the festival in your reports. That is what we’ve come to expect from the Good Ole Crone Network here in Widow’s Bay. Your U.P. News is a joke. For the facts, turn to Man Cave Dot News!”

  I brushed off the shouting and continued.

  “As I said, continuing coverage will be available on Your U.P. News dot com. Marzie Nowak reporting live.” I waited for a beat or two and turned to the little jerk, Weston Redman.

  “If you ever shout at me again, when I’m live or if I am so much as picking lint off my sweater, I’ll knock your loud-mouthed pea-brained head into Lake Superior!” I didn’t yell it. It was more the voice I used when my sons were testing me. It usually worked.

  For a second at least, Yooper Man was quiet.

  “And now we’re clear,” DeWitt said and pointed to the cell phone camera. My threat against Yooper Man was the end of my story, not the sign-off. Great. Just great.

  “Uh, oh, sorry.”

  “No, no need to be sorry. This tool is who should be sorry. No man—Yooper or otherwise—acts like that.”

  Yooper Man had recovered his audacity and offered a sneer as an answer.

  “Your friend Tatum is the chief suspect. I know it and pretty soon the cops will know it.” Weston Redman smiled as if this was the best news of his life. We both pretended he was no more than a bug, buzzing around, annoying but inconsequential.

  “Good work, Marzie. What next? How about I’m your photographer for the next few days?”

  “I thought you were leaving tomorrow, touring the other offices?”

  “No, I think I’m needed here. You are my star reporter, there’s a murderer on the loose, and competition breathing down your neck. I think staying here is the best way to protect my investment. Also…your friend Fawn, is she single?”

  It was 1:30 in the morning, and my day had officially started.

  Chapter 6

  I spent a little time typing up the story and posting it to the Your U.P. News website. Garrett stayed up, helped, edited photos, and generally was more useful than a big boss had ever been in my experiences with big bosses.

  Dude even made coffee.
r />   “What’s next on your agenda, typically?”

  “Well, at this point, it’s nearly dawn. I’d consider napping on that couch over there.” I was honest. At first, I was nervous that the boss was here, but it was easy to feel comfortable with Garrett. It didn’t seem like he was looking to fire me, or cost-cut my bureau out of existence.

  Though I’d had no idea that my ex-husband was a philandering babe hound until it was literally thrown in my face, so I did remind myself caution was a good idea. I tended to have blind spots.

  “I don’t want to mess up your normal flow.”

  “Nah, it’s okay. I’m awake. Thanks to my new assistant’s skill with the office coffee-maker.” I tipped a cup to him and he returned the salutation.

  “I saw the video clip of you, uh, well, the viral one. Professionally speaking, it’s quite clear you haven’t missed a beat since your days on WXYD. And you have singlehandedly quadrupled the internet traffic, and thus revenue, on Your U.P. News. People eat up the stories you post. But personally, I do hope you are well. You were a little unhinged today.”

  I didn’t know Garrett Dewitt, not really. I mean, I knew he was rich, and handsome, and at least for today, helpful to have around, but I found myself sharing with him easily.

  “I am. Officially divorced, and my sons have adjusted. In fact, they surprised me tonight with a visit. I think they’re going to be here all summer. I’m happy to be in my hometown. And I’ve got a nice group of friends that I’d pretty much not had time for when I was chasing stories in Detroit. I did come unhinged a bit, today…I’m sorry you had to see that. Weston Redman is the only reason, I promise. All in all, things in Widow’s Bay are pretty great. Uh, other than the murder rate.” I took a sip of coffee after I dropped that last bit.

  “The Distinguished Ladies Club, is that the only coven here in town?” I spit out the coffee all over my chin.

  “Oh, sorry there.” Dewitt handed me a napkin from the stack on the coffee cart Pauline had got for me as an office-warming gift.

  “It’s just…I was trying to keep witching and reporting separate. I’m surprised how accepting you are of my coven and uh, well, there’s a lot to accept here in Widow’s Bay.”

  “I know that the rumors about the things that go bump in the night here aren’t rumors.”

  “Bump is an understatement.”

  “Look, I appreciate that your stories don’t include tales of, well, tails. And I know that this place has a lot of, uh, folklore. I’m hoping that it’s all true, actually, but your coverage, free of the hocus pocus, that works just fine for me. Our readers downstate like it just the way it is. We get a fair number of fans from your old haunts in Detroit. You’ve got some star power Marzie, don’t forget that. Though I can’t pay you for it, you understand. We’re a small operation.”

  Aha, there was that typical boss talk.

  “What have you heard about Widow’s Bay? What do outsiders really think?”

  “Believers like me, we know, or at least we hope, that it’s all true. Magic, shifters, vampires—we want this to be what the legends say it is. The problem with the reporter who had this job before you, was that he couldn’t keep the magic and the mundane separate in his reports. The stories were a mishmash and they came off like he was in dire need of medication. I saw the truth of what was happening here, and I was fascinated. But he had to go. You can’t run a serious news operation with the wild stuff he included in his news copy. Vampires, shifters, and uh, witches like yourself.”

  “Sure.” I didn’t know how much to say, or what he really thought. Did he think I needed medication too? Was there a urine test in my immediate future? I clammed up; maybe my initial reaction to him had been a mistake. Had he intended to give me enough rope to hang myself?

  Somehow, it felt like he really did want there to be magic here. He just didn’t want it reported in his newspaper. We were on the same page with that.

  “Look, I know there is more to Widow’s Bay than meets the eye. I’m counting on it. But I want the news to be straight, no twist. You’re doing just fine.”

  Despite my best judgment, I trusted him.

  “Garrett, more than meets the eye is an understatement. The supernatural in this town will blow your hair off.”

  “I hope so,” he said and poured the last bit of the coffee between our two cups.

  My phone rang and interrupted the “get to know you” session with the boss. It was Mary Joe Navarre, the receptionist at the Widow’s Bay Police Department. A call at 4 a.m. from Mary Joe was not because she wanted to check on my recipe for a breakfast casserole.

  “Hey Mary Joe.”

  “Get to The Frog Toe, now. I can’t say more.” She hung up. I stood straight up and grabbed my coat.

  “If you’re with me, you need to get moving.” I didn’t need to say it. Not only was DeWitt with me, but he’d also produced a decent camera from somewhere and legitimately appeared ready to be my news photographer.

  “What was that call?”

  “I have a friend at the police station, she says there’s something going down at The Frog Toe. That’s Tatum’s place.”

  It was a quick drive, but I dialed Tatum on the way. A million scenarios ran through my mind. It was just before dawn, and thankfully I didn’t see smoke or anything as we approached her place on the edge of town. But there were lights and sirens. Something bad was going down at The Frog Toe.

  I am not sure if being friends with Tatum would have changed the way I covered the moment. In my heart, I believe it would have. Weston Redman was right. I was biased. I might have taken a little too long to get my camera if it was just me, or if I was alone, maybe I could have focused on just being there for Tatum. But now, at my own request, I had a photographer, albeit temporary, and I couldn’t protect my friend from the news coverage that was to follow.

  Garrett was rolling with his camera when two uniformed officers of the Widow’s Bay Police Department walked Tatum out of The Frog Toe, with her hands shackled behind her back.

  “Are you insane! This is ridiculous.” She was yelling at both and dragging her feet. I forgot to be impartial and ran up to them, fully on board with Tatum’s opinion. They were nuts. Whatever this was, it was wrong, a mistake.

  “Let her go!” I said and DeLoof walked up and put an arm on me.

  “You’ll need to step back, Marzie.” I yanked arm away and leaned in toward Tatum.

  “Marzie! I have no idea what’s happening. They said it’s my gun?”

  “What? Loof, what are you doing? Let her go!”

  “Is that a question from the member of the press, or her friend?” DeLoof responded. And I knew that my own demeanor was firmly in the friend category.

  “Why did you murder Tommy Strayhorn? Was it professional jealousy? Was he your boyfriend? Did you try to steal his brew secrets?” Of course, Yooper Man was there, being a jerk, as usual. He had a microphone and camera in Tatum’s face. She flinched at the questions. And I flinched knowing that, if she weren’t my friend, it likely would have been me firing them at her.

  I didn’t have time to reflect on this.

  What happened next was so fast the human eyeball could barely register it.

  A dark whoosh nearly knocked DeLoof and I over. But it was no whoosh, it was Mario. He flew at Redman with his Yooper Natural speed and both of them flew ten feet away and landed on the pavement in a heap.

  “MARIO, get out of here, you need to stop! Look!” Tatum was yelling, even while the officers continued to get her closer to the squad car.

  “Zip it, Tatum. Get her in there.” Loof said. I didn’t know which way to look: at Tatum or at the tumble of overprotective vampire and over-aggressive reporter rolling around in the parking lot.

  Mario’s moves made it obvious that his strength was more than bouncer strength and I wondered if we were going to see him rip out Weston Redman’s throat. I didn’t want that. Despite not liking the guy, I didn’t want him hurt.

  “Get hi
m!” I heard Tatum yell, and my momentary indecision subsided.

  Tatum was going to the lockup at the Widow’s Bay jail. She’d get an attorney. This mistake or legal snafu or whatever it was would be quickly sorted out.

  Mario though? Whatever he was doing could be permanent.

  I ran over to the scuffle and called Mario’s name.

  “Mario, get control of yourself, you have to stop.” His teeth were extended, his eyes were red, and he was every horror movie version of what a blood-sucking predator was supposed to be.

  “Look at the horizon.” Dawn was breaking. I had no idea what would happen if the sun did come up on this vampire, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. Even Brule, who had to be the most powerful vampire this side of the Atlantic, slept during the sunlight hours.

  “You’re not helping Tatum! Mario, get your act together. Right now!” I was going to need my summoning power, fast, if Mario proceeded with his plans to kill the reporter in front of the Widow’s Bay Police.

  But thank Elvira, he stopped and looked at me.

  “You’re not helping her right now,” I said in my sternest tone.

  “Get off me,” Redman said as he struggled under Mario’s iron grip.

  “I’m going to press charges.” I felt Loof bearing down on us. If he tried to arrest Mario and throw him in jail, during the daylight, would that kill him?

  I looked over at Redman.

  “You’re going to stand up and make nice or I’m going to show the entire town my video of your little lodge ceremony. You’re no better than he is.” Half of the Benevolent Order of the Buck were trying to turn into vampires, with mixed results. I didn’t have a video, but I did know they were doing it. I’d seen it. I hoped my bluff worked.

  Weston Redman stopped hurling threats for a second.

  “Everything okay over here?” Loof had caught up with our little drama after getting Tatum secured in the police car.

  I gave both Mario and Redman a look that told them exactly what I expected.

  “Just a misunderstanding,” Redman said through gritted teeth.