by CC Dragon
Something didn’t add up. “How did that help your family? I mean, hunting doesn’t pay.”
“That was the problem. I dropped out of high school and worked construction during the day. The guys just fudged my age. Then, at night, I could hunt, keep my mom and sister safe from those things, and we had plenty of money from my day job.”
“When did you sleep?” I asked.
“I had days off from both. If you scheduled it right, the job was covered, the hunting was covered, and everyone got just enough rest.” He shrugged. “I miss that.”
“I’m sure your sister appreciated the effort. Now, she can take care of herself,” I said.
“She’s a nurse, so she does fine. I just miss my crew and my friends. I don’t know when it’ll be safe to go back,” he said.
“Never. The statute of limitations doesn’t expire on murder. You might want to pick a new home and start over,” I suggested.
“They’re probably bugging my sister nonstop about where I am. If I’ve been in contact with her. I want to go back and protect her.” He kicked at the blankets.
“She’s better off without you there, and you know it. I’m sure your hunter friends got her a message safely. If you resettle somewhere, she can always relocate to join you.” It was sweet that he loved his sister, but she didn’t need to be tangled up in his world.
“She might be getting married. I want her to have a normal life. Your uncle had a family and hunted. Was that weird?” he asked.
“He worked in a gypsy family business and hunted with his brothers. We had enough money. Aunt Mandy taught classes in yoga and meditation. She cleaned people’s auras and helped them balance. She worked out of the house, so she was always there but brought in good money. It was a happy childhood,” I said.
“Do you remember your parents?” he asked.
When had this gone from getting more info about his case to sharing childhood crap? I shook my head. “That’s not relevant.”
“Relevant to what? We’re just talking,” he said.
“I want to know if there is anything you’re hiding. Anything I don’t know. Because we have police around, now.” My history had nothing to do with the present problems.
“Mrs. O’Conner’s my fault? She was sick, and her number came up. Don’t blame me,” he said.
“I’m not blaming you. I have cops asking questions. If they want to search the place and find you, I’m on the hook for harboring a fugitive. Is there somewhere we can move you to? Cousins? Friends? Not back home, farther away. They could be tracking you. I want you to be safe, but I want my family to be safe, as well,” I admitted.
“And I thought you were one of us. Brave and willing to risk your life for the right things,” he shot back.
“Claudia,” Uncle Vinny said.
I hadn’t heard him come down the stairs.
“Have you heard?” I asked him.
“About the customer, yes. We need to talk,” he said.
“Follow me. I have to do inventory.” I headed for the stockroom, deeper in the basement maze.
I started ticking off the things that needed reordering.
“It’s not Ryan’s fault,” Vinny said.
“I know. But it adds risk. Risk for him because the cops are around. If we can move him, we should. They could be tracking him down. He’s been here long enough.” I wanted to protect my café and people, but Ryan would be safer not staying here.
“You think the cops aren’t watching this place, just in case? Moving him now would raise suspicions and questions,” Vinny said.
I sighed and kept working. “I understand. We have to be careful. Why is this all happening at once?”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll make it through this. I know dealing with a human death is bringing a lot of scary attention. But this could happen to any shop. They’re just doing their job. You need to simply be helpful, answer the questions, and don’t offer anything beyond what they want. Don’t act like you have anything to hide. Ryan is doing better, but he could open up those wounds easily if he had to run. Then, he reinfects his wounds. With the cops around, we’re not moving him.”
He used that fatherly tone. Even though he wasn’t my father, he was the only father figure I’d had growing up. He was always there for me. Protected me and treated me like I was his. My instinct said to trust his advice. I hadn’t even considered the cops could be watching us.
“You’re right. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. But I think the cops believe it’s natural causes. They just need the medical proof. The family is pushing for the investigation, and I can’t blame them, but we didn’t do anything to her. I understand they want someone to blame, but if she asked for a sugary drink, what? We’re not supposed to give it to her? We were supposed to know she was a brittle diabetic?” I was paranoid enough about peanuts and other allergies.
“No, of course not. You give them what they ask for. She had the responsibility to manage her own health and all that sugar testing stuff. Getting stressed out or spiking her blood pressure doesn’t mean Esme or you gave her a heart attack later that day. That’s just crazy. Grieving people want someone to blame, but the law won’t fall for that. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said.
“The cops seemed to indicate they had some reason to be chatting with us first. They took a sample of Esme’s voice. The cops will be back.” I sighed.
“Did you send over the gift basket the twins made?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t sure if it might look like we were trying too hard. If her husband is accusing us and we take him something, it’ll probably only make it worse. I could try with his daughter, but I don’t want to look like we’re trying to smooth something over.”
“You’ll know when the time is right. Finish the inventory and try to have a normal day,” he said.
“Fine. You spend some time with Ryan. He’s complaining there are no men around here,” I said.
“You like hiring vampires instead of human men,” Vinny teased.
“They’re more loyal and do what they’re told. I have some human guys. But they’re here to work, not entertain a guy hiding out.” I shrugged.
“I’ll take care of it. Back to work,” he said.
Once he left to chat with Ryan, I used my magic to levitate the items that needed to be reordered, filling out the list as I noted the supplies that hovered above the rest. Then, I cast another spell for anything we’d need seasonally to show itself. The heart stuff popped up. Ah yes, next month was Valentine’s Day. I added seasonal goodies and cups. Love made people splurge, and we’d sell a lot of ceramic mug sets.
Right now, I’d just love to have Ryan safely moved on and Mrs. O’Conner’s case closed. Romance was the furthest thing from my mind.
8
That afternoon, I forced myself to stop checking the Internet and local news feeds. There was no story or mention of us anywhere. There was also no obituary yet for Mrs. O’Conner. I set alerts on both so I didn’t become obsessed with checking things. Aunt Mandy and Esme were business as usual. I didn’t know how they could be so calm.
I sat in my office, placing the orders, so we were stocked for the coming weeks based on prior use. Part of me worried that bad press could hurt sales. but I wanted to stay positive. We’d done nothing wrong. and any concerns would blow over.
A sharp knock on the door made me jump. “Come in,” I said.
Margaret walked in. “There is an older man outside the shop telling people not to come in.”
“Mr. O’Conner?” I asked, but I didn’t need an answer.
“We assume so, but he wasn’t a customer. We don’t know him. No one has spoken to him yet,” she replied.
“I will. Get me a large black coffee.” I grabbed my jacket.
January could be brutally cold in the Northeast. I had my North Face jacket and stretchy gloves on and walked out front by the time Margaret had the coffee ready.
Before lea
ving the café, I studied the widower. The man was in his late sixties and looked flustered. I couldn’t blame him, but this wasn’t going to bring her back.
I walked out in the bracing cold and offered him the coffee.
“Mr. O’Conner, can I help you?” I asked.
“You did this. Your shop,” he said.
“I’m Claudia, and this is my shop. I know you’re upset. I was very sorry to hear about your wife. I promise you we did nothing to hurt her.” I held out the coffee, again, but he ignored it.
“Liar. You upset her. She was never coming back here.” He pointed to the shop.
“I know. She told us. We did everything we could to make it up to her. If she didn’t want to come back, fine. One spill or a wrong order didn’t kill her. She never drank the iced coffee. The only thing she drank was what she ordered. Why don’t you come inside and we can talk about this in private?” I was getting cold, even in my fuzzy boots.
He glared at me. “Fine. It’s freezing out here today.”
I led the way and settled behind my desk, rubbing my hands together. He sat across from me and sipped the coffee.
“I understand you’re upset that your wife had a bad experience here. But if she was in any way sick or unsteady on her feet, we would’ve called for an ambulance. We don't want to lose a customer, but when she left, she was fine. There are plenty of people who can verify that. I’m sure the police will be talking to them. They already talked to me. I’m sure you know that,” I said.
He nodded. “They’re not done looking into things.”
“Then, why protest outside of my shop? Let the police do their job first. Your wife was a customer here for years. One bad day doesn’t mean we’re evil. I think she’d have come back to us after a few weeks of those chain coffee shops.” I nodded.
“She hated the chains. But she was so mad at this place.” He shook his head. “Even if the police can’t prove anything, I know it was your fault. Maybe legally I can’t prove it, but this place upset her. She had a weak heart, and too much stress wasn't good for her.”
“We offered a month of free coffee. What more could we do? People make mistakes. I’m sure working at the library had its stresses, too. You want to dump it all on me?” I asked.
“Someone has to pay. I shouldn’t be talking to you,” he said.
He put the cup on my desk and hefted himself to his feet.
“Why?” I asked.
“There is an ongoing investigation. They told me not to. I believe you didn't mean to kill her. But you are responsible for what happens here. You’re awfully young to own a place like this,” he said.
I nodded. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking to him either. I didn’t want to cause more suspicion for myself or the café with the police.
“Maybe you should leave, then. Or I could call the police and let them know you’re protesting here,” I said.
“I can be outside. They said not to go in or talk to you. You’re right; I should leave. But you’ll be dealing with my protest plenty.” He stormed out.
I followed him and watched him take up the same spot.
Aunt Mandy walked over to me. “What did he say?”
“Nothing new. He said he’s not supposed to talk to me. I tried to calm him down and assure him that we would’ve called for help if we thought she was ill. I don’t think he’s reasonable, now. He’s stuck in his grief.” I wished I knew a way to help him, not that he’d listen to me.
“I can try to help him,” she offered.
“No, I know you can help, but he won’t listen. He’s not ready, and coming from us, it’ll only make him dig in his heels more.” I leaned on the counter.
“What should we do? He’ll freeze out there,” Margaret said.
“Give him half an hour. If he’s still there, let me know,” I said.
“Half an hour?” My aunt followed me up the second floor where I wanted some peace and quiet.
“He’s got a big coat and gloves on. I’m not parenting my customers or my protesters. If he’s still there, I’ll call that Detective Shelley who left her card, so she can come and talk to him. If we just call the cops, it’ll turn into a mess.” I flopped down in an overstuffed chair.
One of the cats jumped in my lap and started purring. I needed the feline therapy.
“I meditated on this last night. We must not bury our heads in the sand and hide.” My aunt took a brush to the other cat who flipped and rolled for more attention.
“I talked to Uncle Vinny. He said we can’t move Ryan. The police might be watching us for anything unusual. I think we should act normal and not meddle.” I scratched my feline friend under the chin until she shook her head.
“I understand that. But you can deliver that gift basket and speak to the O’Conners’ daughter. Maybe she can diffuse the situation. The twins have tracked down some of Mrs. O’Conner’s day, but more details from the daughter might help. And you can feel her out to see if she feels like her father or is more reasonable. If you did nothing wrong, you have nothing to be ashamed of or fear,” she said.
“But we’re witches, and I don’t know about drawing attention to ourselves.” I looped my fingers with the cat’s tail until she turned around and head butted me.
“Esmeralda insists we ignore this and stay out of it as much as possible. Let the humans sort out what happened. I agree, but that doesn’t mean we should be rude. She was a regular customer. A condolence gift basket is appropriate. I can take it over, if you prefer,” my aunt offered.
That made me feel queasy. She was sweet and would never get us into trouble, but my aunt didn’t know how not to get involved. She couldn’t help herself. My aunt cared too much about everyone. People could take advantage of her because she’d trust them and help them. My uncle and I protected her from being taken in.
“No, thanks. I don’t want to put anyone in the middle. I’ll handle it. Tomorrow. I can’t think about it today,” I said.
“You were down there talking to Ryan for a while. Everything okay?” she asked with a smile.
“Fine. We talked a bit about things. I wanted to try and find out if there was more to his story. He told me about his family and sister. He changed the subject, sort of, and I didn’t want to start a fight.” I shrugged.
“Men. Vin won’t tell me the details of Ryan’s case more than what you know. He said it’s all hearsay because the police and mall witnesses don’t know what they were really looking at. They don’t know a werewolf or a vampire from a human. Things happen fast, and they see what they believe. Their brain makes sense of what doesn’t make sense. But if Ryan didn’t want to share, that’s unfortunate.”
“He’s not my permanent problem. Once this is over, we can move him on. He can start over somewhere else. I can’t let it hurt the café or the coven.” I scratched the cat’s ears.
“You truly believe Mrs. O’Conner died of natural causes?” Aunt Mandy asked.
I’d never questioned it. “That’s the feeling I got from the police. Her age and health. If someone did harm her, it wasn’t us,” I said.
Aunt Mandy nodded. “I agree, but nothing is for sure, yet.”
I stood and went down the stairs enough to see Margaret.
She shrugged. “He’s still there,” she said.
I took out my phone and called the detective. I didn’t want to get the old guy in trouble, but I wasn’t going to have him die of frostbite or catch pneumonia from being stubborn.
“You’re sure?” my aunt asked.
“We don’t need more bad publicity. He’s bringing enough. If he gets sick or dies from exposure, I don’t want that on my conscience,” I said.
“Detective Shelley,” the cop answered.
9
I felt so human. Standing on the porch of Dana Stevens’ Cape Cod-style home, I was tempted to use magic to get me out of this problem. Dana was Mrs. O’Conner’s daughter, and I had the gift basket. That wasn’t the worst part. Mr. O’Conner protesting outside of my caf
é in the bitter cold was the problem. The police had talked him home the other day, but he was back there this morning.
I rang the doorbell as I made up a spell in my head. I could cast one on Mr. O’Conner to remove his anger or need for revenge. But the world had to have balance, so that anger would transfer somewhere else where it wasn’t deserved or didn’t belong. It’d be my fault. That would be a bad spell.
A woman about forty years old answered the door. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, I don’t know if you have a minute to talk. I’m Claudia Crestwood, owner of Witch’s Brew. I wanted to bring you this and tell you how sorry I am for your loss. We miss your mother’s daily visits.” I held out the basket in front of me, just in case she had some anger like her father.
“I’m not sure you should be here,” she said.
I frowned. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just wanted to talk to you. Your father is very upset, and I can’t seem to have a conversation with him. He’s going to get himself sick standing out in the cold, protesting my shop, and I don’t want that any more than you do.”
“Come inside,” she said.
We sat in a comfortable kitchen with white and blue checkered chair cushions, towels, and accents. It felt very country and sweet.
“I’m very sorry about your mother, but if we had any idea she was ill, we’d have called for help. She was fine when she left,” I said.
Dana held up a hand. “That’s not the issue.”
“It’s not?” I asked.
She set down two cups of coffee. “My mother had health issues. Her doctor believes it was natural. She went about her normal day, and there were plenty of people after you that spiked her blood pressure more than your little shop.”
“I’m glad you understand. Your father is protesting outside the shop, and it’s hurting my business. I know that’s nothing compared to what you’re going through, but it’s not safe for him. The bitter cold and his age. We’ll keep calling the police for well checks on him,” I said.
