by CC Dragon
“Sounds like an app,” I said.
“Exactly. What, you thought paper?” Iris rolled her eyes at me.
“Never. So, campier funny witches. More ‘Sabrina the Teenage Witch’ and less Maleficent. Maybe Esme could sit on the counter in cat form and crack jokes like Salem?” I teased.
“We’ve veered off the goal of this meeting.” She glared at me.
“You’re right, we have. I’m sorry. The café is a cover for working with paranormal beings. Trying to keep the peace with humans by keeping an eye on them. Keeping them close rather than pushing them away. A little rearrangement of the pics can’t hurt. I like that app idea. Maybe we have the TVs in the main lounge play Sabrina, Bewitched, the Harry Potter movies, and so on. Hocus Pocus, Practical Magic. There are plenty of those shows and movies out there. Get the DVDs cheap and have theme weekends. It could become a thing. I get sick of news and morning talk shows that go on all day.”
“But in the morning, people are watching the weather and traffic,” Ellen added.
“True. So, the TV over the baristas stays on local weather, traffic, and news during morning rush. But the rest can play. Heck, Charmed. Get all of Buffy and Angel. I don’t want the staff to get sick of repeats. Mix it up, cute and light. Nothing too dark. We have the TVs on, but people generally ignore them.” I looked around.
“This is more of a business decision. Which is good. But the coven is under suspicion by cops,” a member spoke up.
I had skipped over that a bit. “That’s true, and the police might contact you to find out where you were and what you were doing. Don’t be afraid. Tell the truth. No one here did it. I trust my spell worked. But understand that we’re not about attacking anyone. Any human. That’s not going to help this situation or our overall goals.”
“So, what do we do?” Iris asked.
“Esmeralda and I came up with another spell. We’re going to find out, now, if Mrs. O’Conner’s death with natural or not. Then, I’ll know best how to proceed.” I set out the medium-sized cauldron.
Esme filled it with core ingredients and stirred. “It’ll only work if we have something that belonged to Mrs. O’Conner. What do you have?”
I smiled and pulled a little plastic bag from my pocket. “Hair from her daughter’s coat. I grabbed it as I left her house.”
“That’ll work?” Aunt Mandy asked.
“The daughter belonged to her mother. We just have to phrase it right.” I nodded to Esme.
“You can do it,” Esme said.
Great, no pressure! “Life and death. Good and evil. I ask for the truth to be revealed. Was the mother of this woman taken by nature or killed by mortal hands?” I dropped the hair in the mixture.
A puff of smoke later, and the brew turned red.
11
“Red means?” Iris asked.
“Not natural,” I replied.
“Green would’ve meant natural,” Esme added.
“She was killed. We didn’t do it, but she was killed by someone’s actions.” I leaned slightly on the table.
“Or inactions,” Aunt Mandy said.
“Now what? The police won’t take that as evidence. Even if they would, we don’t want them to think it’s us,” Ellen said.
“Agreed. We keep it quiet since it means nothing to them,” Violet said.
“We don’t want them to take it as a confession from anyone. Whoever made those threats screwed us over, but the police aren’t on a witch hunt.” I sat down.
“Now, we wait?” my aunt asked.
I shook my head. “I have a list of where Mrs. O’Conner was, more or less. Work at the library and her garden club. The twins have been stalking her social media and her friends. So, I’ll fill in the blanks.”
“You’re going to solve the murder?” Esme asked.
“Someone has to. They’re looking in the wrong places or they think it’s just natural causes. We know it’s something more. Her daughter admitted that Mrs. O’Conner could be harsh and had some enemies. It’s worth talking to people,” I said.
My aunt frowned. “It’s dangerous.”
“I agree. You need to stay out of it. Let the police spin their wheels and figure it out. It’s not us. It’s not our problem,” Esme said.
“Yeah, we can call the cops on Mr. O’Conner every time we see him. Just wait until we get the test results and the cops do whatever,” Ellen said.
“So, let someone get away with murder? That’s not right either,” Violet said.
“It’s not a paranormal crime or problem. That’s what we should be involved with,” Esme said.
“But this case threatens our coven and our work. If it comes back with evidence that someone hurt her, we could be first in line as suspects. I’d rather know who else might’ve had a grudge or a motive. I’m going to discreetly ask some questions and see what comes up. I can’t do nothing. If you don’t like it, tough. Meeting adjourned.” I walked down the stairs.
* * *
I was at the library when it opened with a to-go carrier full of coffee. The staff was happy, and it broke the ice.
“This is a nice treat. What brings it on?” Mrs. Drew asked.
Mrs. Drew was the head librarian and skeptical. She was a bit younger than Mrs. O’Conner but not much.
“Well, Mrs. O’Conner was a regular customer. I know she worked here. I just wondered if anyone knows what really happened. She left my shop in good health, if not happy about an order mix-up,” I said.
“And that spill. She was so upset. Her husband brought her a new set of clothes from home,” said Audrey, a redheaded part-timer.
“Accidents happen. I just wondered if she seemed ill to anyone else or things got worse,” I said.
“The police have been here,” Mrs. Drew said. “We answered their questions.”
“I understand. It’s just been bugging me. We’re waiting on test results. But Mr. O’Conner is so angry. He blames my shop, and I’m just trying to figure out why or what we can do,” I replied.
A few of the women just shook their heads and went back to work.
“Maybe we should speak alone,” Mrs. Drew said.
“Sure.” I followed her into her office.
“If you’re trying to throw suspicion onto us, it won’t work,” Mrs. Drew said.
“I’m not trying to throw anything. The police seem to think it was natural causes. It’s Mr. O’Conner who seems to be pushing to find someone to blame. I know Mrs. O’Conner was fine when she left my shop. I’m just trying to narrow down when she started to show signs of illness or whatever I can find out,” I replied.
“I’ve known the O’Conners for a long time. If there is reason to think something else happened, I’m sure Mr. O’Conner has his reasons. I don’t know them. But Mrs. O’Conner was very upset about the coffee spill. Once she changed, she seemed fine. She left for a lunch with a friend of hers about noon. Nothing was wrong with her,” she said.
“That’s good. So, nothing happened here to upset her. Nothing weird. No arguments. No enemies?” I asked.
“Of course not. She’s worked her part-time for years. We have a nice calm group of people who love books. That’s all,” Mrs. Drew said.
“Do you know who she had lunch with?” I asked.
Mrs. Drew shook her head. “A friend. They went to the Italian place on the corner. She came back and worked until about two. That was it. She never complained of anything. Being tired or her food disagreeing with her. I’ve seen her get a bit ill in the past if she misses a meal or needs a bit more insulin, but she was on top of it and had all her stuff with her always.”
“So, she’d been ill before. What happened? I mean, what if she couldn’t take care of herself?” I asked.
“Audrey also has diabetes, so she knew how to take blood sugar. And depending on the results, it was either she’d need juice or insulin. But Mrs. O’Conner was so on top of her condition it was never necessary. She only told us because of her grandson. He has Type 1, a
s well. She made us all take a first aid class and gave us her own class on diabetes. We do a summer program with a lot of kids and some after school programs, as well, so she wanted to know her grandson was safe, even if she wasn’t working that day.” Mrs. Drew sighed sharply.
“I understand her caring about her grandson. Kids don’t want to take care of themselves. But I’m sure she taught him to be responsible,” I said.
Mrs. Drew tilted her head in a way that said she didn’t fully agree. “He isn’t so young. Eighth grade, I believe. He resents being sick. Avoided talking to her when he would come for programs. But what kid wants their grandma fussing over them when they’re with their friends?”
“I understand. But you ladies aren’t nurses. It’s good to know what you can do, but it’s dangerous to mess with someone else’s medication. I don’t think I could do that unless it was family,” I admitted.
“I agree. Luckily, we haven’t had that issue come up. The point is there was no sign of her being ill at all that day. She was cold and couldn’t get warm, but a lot of people were saying that. It was bitter cold, and the wind whipped through people,” she said.
“It is a serious winter. If that’s all you remember, I’ll get out of your hair,” I said.
She sipped her coffee. “That’s all. But thanks for the morning java,” she said.
“Sure.” I grabbed my purse and headed out of her office.
Audrey was sitting behind the desk. For some reason, I paused and wanted to chat with her a bit. She didn’t make eye contact, so my instinct said there was something to talk about.
“Hi, Audrey. Mind if I ask you a couple things?” I asked.
She looked around and shrugged. “Mrs. Drew probably covered it all.”
“I know. The big stuff. She mentioned you were also a diabetic and knew how to test blood and all of that. So, you might notice even better if Mrs. O’Conner had any signs that she wasn’t feeling great when she was at work that day. Or if I missed something,” I said.
Audrey shook her head. “She was fine. She generally wanted to be left alone and even more on that day.”
“Just a bad day?” I asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “She and I didn’t really get along, so she didn’t confide in me.”
“Mrs. Drew made it sound like you were her diabetic backup,” I replied.
“That was her way of forgetting about it. Mrs. O’Conner always picked on me for my eating habits. She was rail thin, and I’m not.” Audrey blushed.
She was a bit plump, but I could see Mrs. O’Conner being a bit critical. “She picked on you?”
“If I ate better, exercised more—I could get rid of my diabetes. She never could. I don’t know why it was such a big deal to her. I’ve always had bad asthma, and it made even gym glass hard.” She sniffled.
“Don’t feel bad. I know she said some harsh things to me and my baristas, at times. But all that proves is she was unhappy and took it out on others. Did she have any real enemies here?” I asked.
“Well, she picked on me. Everyone else just avoided her. Mrs. Drew would be the closest thing to an enemy, but that was just Mrs. O’Conner resenting that they didn’t give her the top job,” Audrey said.
“But she only works part-time,” I said.
Audrey nodded. “She wanted the top job and full-time work. Her husband was retired, and he was older. He was on Medicare, but she wasn’t sixty-five yet when the job was decided. I think she is, now. Anyway, she wanted it for the benefits. But when they talked to the staff, no one wanted to work for her. Mrs. Drew is strict and dull but fair and not critical.”
“Much better. So, Mrs. Drew would have no reason to hurt her,” I said.
“Hurt her? We all thought it was natural causes,” Audrey said. Her eyebrows shot up in worry.
“Well, the police are looking around for clues or enemies. Maybe they know something they won’t tell us,” I fibbed.
“You think?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve talked to all my staff, and no one did anything to her drink. I mean, if someone had added a bunch of sugar she hadn’t ordered, she’d have tasted it. If they’d used real sugar instead of an artificial sweetener, she’d feel it. But, obviously, that wasn’t the case because she didn’t get ill when she was here. It’d affect her fairly quickly, right? If someone did that?”
She nodded. “In a drink, definitely. But she always has her testing kit and insulin with her, so she’d just dose. She had her garden club later and dinner with her family. It sounds like she made it through all those things, so odds are it was natural causes in the night.”
“Probably. Thanks. I just wanted to be sure she didn’t get sick after she left my place. I didn’t want to ignore a problem if there was one,” I explained.
“You sound like a great boss. But I think you’re good. I should get back to work.” Audrey looked around.
“Of course, sorry. Blame me for asking a million questions. One more. Do you know who she was having lunch with that day?” I couldn’t help but try.
“A friend. Olive?” She frowned. “I think.”
“Thanks.” I waved as I left.
12
Walking to the front door of my café, I barely looked at Mr. O’Conner, who didn’t bother trying to protest my going in.
“Please go home or I will call the police. You’re shivering,” I said as I pulled the door behind me against the nasty winter wind.
He didn’t move.
I walked into the busy café and met three people waiting for my attention with issues that had nothing to do with coffee or tea.
Aunt Mandy came up first. “Ryan is over the infection. He wants to help. To work or something. Vinny told him he can’t leave, now. Not with the police around.”
I nodded. “He can do inventory if he wants, but he’s not allowed up here.”
“If we could pass him off as a new hire, we might could move him on quicker,” she said.
“They’ll see him leave but never arrive. You think they won’t notice that? No. Sorry, he stays down there or I’ll lock him up,” I said.
Esme walked up next. “Nothing?”
“Nothing really. But Mrs. O’Conner was fine at the library and through lunch, so there’s no indication whatever it is came from us with any delay. She wasn’t sick. No one saw her dose with insulin or anything.”
“Good. The coven is grumbling about this.” Esme headed to my table, and I followed her.
Margaret came over with my usual hot coffee.
“Thanks,” I said.
Once Margaret was gone, I asked Esme, “What are they complaining about? I’m trying to make sure we’re in the clear.”
We sat, and I took a long drink of warming mocha-flavored coffee.
Esme sighed. “They think Mr. O’Conner is making such a fuss that he’s the one behind the threats. He staged them.”
“Staged them?” I asked, trying to wrap my brain around that motive.
“Before his wife died. Once he knew she was so upset, maybe he thought it’d be good to get us in trouble. So, he had someone leave the messages and write the note. He planned to have it rattle his wife and she’d go to the police. Get us in trouble, and his wife would have something to keep her busy and feel like she was justified.”
“That’s awful. Making up a threat. I don’t see him doing that just for fun.”
Esme gave me a look that said I was naive. “If Mrs. O’Conner is this much trouble for a coffee shop she’s in a few minutes a day, imagine what a headache she is to her husband.”
I opened my mouth, but instead of words, I drank some coffee and mulled over the idea. She didn’t seem to be sweet to anyone.
“But he’s so devoted to her. Why protest us now if he knows we didn’t do anything?”
“He doesn’t want them to find out it was an inside fake threat. Once the medical stuff comes back, he’ll probably stop, and the case will close.” Esme shrugged. “It’s a theory.”
&n
bsp; “Well, Mrs. O’Conner’s boss didn’t like her much. Mrs. O’Conner wanted the boss’ job and didn’t get it. But the boss seems like she was stuck with the grouchy part-timer. I could twist that into a motive if I wanted to.” I swirled my coffee cup to mix up the flavor.
“We could say your need to investigate is a way of throwing suspicion off of you.” Esme shook her head.
“If they didn’t know me, maybe. I’m trying to help people. I used all the money my parents left me to open this café so we had a place for the coven to meet and a way to tap into human conversations. I want to keep the peace and help everyone.” I took another swig of my coffee.
“Well, the coven wants to believe you put the paranormal beings first. You have a soft spot for humans.”
“We’re witches. We’re humans with powers. My aunt and uncle have no powers. My cousins think they might have some, but none have shown up, and they’re eighteen,” I said softly.
“We all know that. You and your mother were the powerful line. You really should be thinking about finding a powerful wizard and continuing that line,” Esme said with a grin.
I frowned and slowly set my cup down to avoid dropping it. “You want to talk about me having kids? Why don’t you have some first?”
“I can’t. I can’t spend half of my time as a cat and be pregnant. The baby wouldn’t shift so I’d be stuck as a human and lose my nine lives.”
“Or have a litter of kittens. Would they have your shifting power?” I asked.
“No, and I’m not having kittens,” she whispered through her teeth.
We were at the back table near the kitchen. All the good tables were on the other side, and the nearest one was five feet away. The only ones who might overhear anything were staff, and the loudness of the machines and the TV piping in a witch movie made sure they couldn’t overhear us.
“That sucks. Do you want kids?” I asked.
She shook her head. “My dad took off on my mom. I like men, but children are a burden,” Esme said.
