Pick Your Potion

by CC Dragon

  “No, I don’t really. I just came by, because I was so sorry to hear about Mrs. O’Conner, and I wondered if anyone heard anything, yet. I know her husband is very upset.” I played dumb. With this many women, one was bound to want to be a know-it-all.

  “He blames you,” another woman said.

  “Claudia, this is Kate. That’s Joyce, Misty, and Fran.” Sara made the introductions around the table. All the women were in their fifties or sixties, except for Misty.

  “I know he blames the café, Kate. But that’s why I’ve been checking up on her friends and other things she did that day. She was fine at her job at the library and at lunch with her friends. So, whatever made her ill, I don’t think it came from my shop. I really hope the police and medical tests give us the answers as soon as possible. She was a regular customer, and I’d hate for people to believe we’re dangerous or don’t care about our customers,” I said.

  “No one thinks that. When tragedy strikes, people need someone to blame,” Misty said.

  Fran nodded. “When my husband died, my son wanted to know why I was out shopping. Why I hadn’t been home to call for an ambulance.”

  “That’s awful. I know people in grief say and do awful things, but I just wanted to make sure that no one here saw any signs of illness. Or thought there was any foul play from any direction. I know Martha had health issues, and the police seem to think that was the cause, but I didn’t know her very well. A few minutes a day doesn’t give much insight. Martha wasn’t chatty,” I said.

  “No, she didn’t disclose a lot of personal stuff to strangers. But she liked your place more than the chains. She thought you needed more flowers,” Joyce said.

  “Oh, she never said that to me. It could cheer things up. Especially with this weather. Do you guys have indoor gardens?” I asked.

  “We work on herbs and potted plants in the winter. We also plan our summer gardens. If you want to win, you need to be creative.” Fran nodded.

  “Win? Did Martha win a lot?” I asked.

  “She did. But no one would hurt her over that,” Sara said with a chuckle.

  “Right. Her question. No one we know wanted to hurt Martha or had a problem with her. She had a happy marriage. Her daughter was happily married with a grandson. Martha doted on him. She loved her work. She’d been a member of this club for two decades. Her flowers ended up in her church regularly. She made up baskets for funerals and such, as well. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.” Joyce shrugged.

  “Did she have a problem with the witch theme of our shop?” I asked.

  Misty shifted in her chair. “She wasn’t a fan, but at one point, we talked about the history of the town. She complained there were so many witch-themed places. I’m a history teacher at the high school, and a lot of people don’t know about our history because Salem steals all the thunder and tourists.”

  “Thanks for educating people,” I said.

  “Do you want to stay for the meeting or do you have what you need?” Fran looked sharply at the clock on the wall.

  “I think that’s it, unless anyone has anything else that they think I should know or want to share.” I felt like I was getting politely tossed out.

  No one else spoke so I stood. At that moment, I realized how useful a card would be. The police had them, and Bran had them. I should order some.

  “Well, thank you. Have a nice meeting. I’m going to hit the restroom and brave the snow.” I felt like I was babbling. It was uncomfortable, but I had sort of crashed their meeting without notice, and that wasn’t very fair.

  I found the ladies room and used it. As I washed my hands, I noticed the door open. It was Sara.

  “Sorry if they were rude. Those women have a schedule, and it never changes. Year in and year out. Month in and month out. They care about Martha, but some probably thought you were accusing them,” she said.

  I dried my hands with paper towels and nodded. “Sorry, I should have called ahead or something. I get the feeling there is more to this than I know, and people are blaming me.”

  “Mr. O’Conner is ruining your business. And people aren’t telling you everything. But we can’t talk here.” She handed me a card. “Call me after five, and we’ll set up something.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I have to get back.” She slipped out.

  I touched up my lipstick and put moisturizer on my hands before I left, so it wasn’t obvious Sara and I had been chatting. I got the feeling the people around here were regulars and noticed other people’s patterns a lot. Back to the cold weather. I had some phone calls to make and business cards to order.

  15

  I called, and Sara was happy to stop by the coffee shop. Since I’d never seen any of the other ladies in my shop, I didn’t think it would matter. Filling the biggest cup we had with tea, I tried to figure out what secrets the garden club had. The Wiccan meetings also had me itching to find out more, but I had to prioritize.

  “Mr. O’Conner didn’t show?” I asked my aunt, hoping that Mrs. Reynolds had worked her magic.

  “Oh, no, he did. We called the cops.” She sighed.

  Sara walked in and gave me a quick smile. She ordered a lemon tea, and I gestured her to join me.

  We went into my office because there were too many people who’d get nosy if I just went to my table. My aunt would come over and introduce herself at the very least.

  “Please sit,” I said.

  “Sorry I couldn’t just tell you earlier. Those women are sharks. They gossip like crazy about others, but if you tell anything about them, even the truth, they go on the attack.” She set her tea on my desk then pulled off her gloves.

  “It’s fine. I hope this won’t get you in trouble with the other ladies. I’m only looking for info that would really throw suspicion on someone hurting Martha,” I said.

  “That’s just it. I don’t think they’d actually kill her. But I know they lied to the police.” She sipped her tea.

  “Who lied?” I asked.

  “Fran. The president of the club. She said she had no issues with Martha. They were like sisters. Always got along great. Old friends.” Sara rolled her eyes.

  “It’s not true? Martha wanted to be president?” I asked.

  “I’m sure she did, but Martha wasn’t nice enough to people to be voted in. She thought her stuff was better. She was overly competitive and critical. It’s about enjoying flowers and helping each other, not a war to see who has the best garden. Fran had to handle Martha when she got too snippy. But they have some older issues, as well. They were never really friends. More like frenemies,” she said.

  “That sounds like everyone Martha knew. Not really a motive for murder, though,” I said.

  “No, not that part. Fran got a divorce about seven years ago. Her husband found her with Mr. O’Conner. It was insane. I mean, he seemed like such a devoted husband. Martha was always sort of the dominant one. There were fights. And canceled meetings. But Martha insisted they wouldn’t divorce like Fran. She never missed a meeting. She didn’t run against Fran for president after that. It was tense and weird. It all sort of calmed down eventually, and no one talked about it for years. But Martha held a grudge. Fran did, too. There used to be twenty people in the group, but with their tension and occasional dustups, the people left.” Sara shook her head.

  “You think Fran is still interested in Mr. O’Conner?” I asked.

  “I don’t know about that, but quality senior men are hard to find. Maybe they kept up a connection. I don’t know. I have no idea when she’d have had the chance to hurt Martha. I mean, we were all in the room together for that meeting. She was fine when she left. It’s probably nothing,” she said.

  “Maybe. But I appreciate your honesty. I know they have the tox screen back with no results. So, I’m guessing it wasn’t a plant,” I replied.

  “There are some lethal plants. But with Martha’s health issues, it’d be much easier to kill that way,” Sara said casually.<
br />
  “I’m sorry?” I asked.

  “Oh, sorry, I’m a nurse. Martha could’ve been given a huge dose of sugar water. Or too much insulin. Either would kill her. She was on high blood pressure meds. Beta blockers. If someone swapped out those pills, her heart would be under more strain. All of those wouldn’t show up in a tox screen.” Sara waved it off.

  “That’s scary. They wouldn’t check for sugar?” I asked.

  “Not unless the ME specifically ordered a glucose test. Insulin is naturally occurring in your body. So is sugar. You’d have to test for a level. I think she was on a sleeping pill, too. That could’ve done it.”

  “A sleeping pill?” I asked.

  “Well, some people take more than one. If you take too many, that’s a problem. Or she could miss taking her insulin or eating if she sleeps too long, then slip into a coma. As brittle as she is, her body would start to shut down. We had her in for kidney trouble once at the hospital. All the meds and everything takes a toll on the liver and kidneys that process them. She was so lucky she wasn’t on permanent dialysis. That’s where she was heading.”

  I stared at her tea.

  “I’m sorry; I’m not supposed to share her medical details. You knew about the diabetes. But I could get fired.” She fidgeted in her chair.

  “It’s fine. I won’t say anything. I appreciate your help, but it was all hypothetical. I swear, no one will hear any of it from me,” I said.

  “I never do that. I didn’t mean to tell that.” She frowned.

  “It’s okay. You care about her. I wouldn’t be running around town, trying to find out things if I didn’t. The privacy stuff in this world has gotten out of control. But I know you have to respect it because it’s your job.” I wouldn’t get anyone in trouble.

  “I should go,” she said.

  “Thanks for coming.” I walked her out then turned to find my aunt.

  “Good talk?” she asked.

  “Did you spike her drink with a truth potion?” I asked.

  Aunt Mandy frowned at me. “Esmeralda did. I assume it was useful?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Yes and no. Nothing is simple about this,” I said.

  “We haven’t found out who threatened Mrs. O’Conner, yet. We must have a rogue witch. Esme is trying to scout that angle while you’re doing this,” she said.

  “You think I should stop and be more with the coven?” I asked.

  She leaned in. “Pushing the issue for proof on Mrs. O’Conner only makes it look like you’re afraid of being accused. Or afraid someone here did it.”

  “So, I should let it go?” I asked.

  “I know you’re trying to help to keep this business going, but the customers are getting used to Mr. O’Conner. The slow down isn’t as bad, anymore.”

  “As bad?” I asked. “It’s still fewer people every day. When he’s out there, it gets really quiet in here. We need closure.”

  “Only the autopsy will give you that. And the police’s work. You’re not the police. You’re not a private investigator,” she said.

  “I know, but I need to be sure a murderer isn’t getting away. What if they rule natural causes? We know it’s not,” I said.

  She looked down.

  “What? Let it go?” I asked.

  “The spell could be wrong. Maybe she did it to herself?” my aunt asked.

  “Suicide? No note?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “You don’t know. A false conviction would be worse.”

  “Thanks for the advice. I have to go,” I said.

  “Make kind choices,” she said.

  * * *

  I tracked down Fran. Apparently, she worked evenings at a flower shop. She stared daggers at me when I walked in.

  “Do you have a minute to talk?” I asked.

  She nodded and led me to the back of the shop where she worked on creating some very pretty bouquets.

  “I’m sorry to bother you here,” I said.

  “Are you?” she asked.

  “I just found out some information, and I wanted to ask you about it,” I said.

  “I didn’t do anything to Martha. I’m sure someone told you about the affair. It was years ago,” she replied.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me, then?” I asked.

  “It’s not your business. It’s history.”

  I suddenly wished I’d taken an allergy pill. My nose didn’t like one of the pollens back there.

  I sneezed.

  “Bless you. You didn’t seem like a flowers girl,” she said.

  “Thanks. Fresh flowers could trigger allergies for customers, so we don’t have them. I knew there was a reason.” I sniffed. “But, obviously, you know a side of the O’Conner family others don’t. You were involved with Mr. O’Conner. Are you still involved?” I asked.

  “No. Not for years. Marriage is a long and complicated business. Things aren’t always good. You’re too young to understand that. But it’s true. You can love someone, but all the spark and the passion are gone after kids and years of taking care of them. I ruined my marriage over feeling wanted. My ex had his wounded pride. Now, he’s in a home with dementia. That’s what he gets for that.” She stabbed a rose into a vase.

  That was cold, and she still took it very personally.

  “But Martha forgave her husband?” I asked.

  “She did. Sort of. She didn’t want the embarrassment of divorce. There was a time when people stayed together ‘til death. They only had one child and one grandchild. They didn’t want to stress out the family and cause pain. He felt very guilty and didn’t want to upset her health. I doubt he’d stray, again. But there are plenty of women interested. He’s a good-looking man for his age with a good pension.”

  “So, you don’t know anyone else he’s cheated with?” I asked.

  “No. And I didn’t hurt Martha. Maybe she goofed up her meds. She was always complaining about how the mail order place was changing what generics they sent her because their medical covered the cheapest stuff. And calling them only made her angrier. I think you’re looking for a smoking gun and maybe she just was getting confused. It happens.” She shrugged.

  “Right. Okay. Thanks for your time.” I rubbed my nose, trying not to sneeze again.

  “No man is worth killing over,” Fran said, half to me and half to herself.

  “I agree,” I muttered to myself.

  I left the flower shop and sneezed a few more times. My aunt was big into flowers, but clearly there was a flower out there that didn’t like me. Another dead end for the murder investigation. I needed some tea and a hot bath.

  16

  I couldn’t refuse a family dinner request from my aunt. She did make the best pasta and garlic bread. Being back in the home I grew up in made me feel safe. My brain buzzed with suspects and what-ifs. The twins were helping their mom in the kitchen as I sipped tea and set the salad on the table.

  Uncle Vinny walked up as the girls brought out the pasta. We sat and began dishing out the food.

  “That hunter is a real handful in the basement. He’s all better. When is he leaving?” Violet asked.

  “I thought you guys liked that flirty pain in the neck,” I teased.

  Iris rolled her eyes. “He’s always asking us to get him things. Or help him leave. It’s weird. He’s hot, but something is off.”

  I shot my uncle a look.

  “It’s cabin fever. Hunters don’t like to be cooped up,” he replied.

  “Isn’t he safe here?” my aunt asked.

  My uncle sighed. “He is. He probably wants to get back to work. Check on some friends and family. That’s why it’s better to hold him longer. The police might be watching his friends and family. He can sit tight, for now.”

  “I’d still like more details on the case he was involved in,” I said.

  “We couldn’t find much,” Violet said.

  “What about Mrs. O’Conner’s case?” Iris asked.

  I sighed. “I’ve talked to almost everyone
she met with that day. She was fine. She had some enemies, but I don’t see how they had opportunity. The tox screen found nothing. So, if it wasn’t a poison that struck her down later…maybe it was natural causes?”

  “You think your spell was wrong?” my aunt asked.

  “I chose my words carefully, but maybe I missed something. Some other option. Or maybe it was a combination of things? If her health was really bad, then one thing could trip it, and her heart gave out. We’re waiting on the autopsy, but I feel like I’m missing something.” I took a bite of garlic bread and chewed it while looking for that missing piece in the case.

  “I agree with Esmeralda. It’s not your job. If you keep meddling in police work, you’ll only get more attention,” Uncle Vinny said.

  I stabbed my pasta with my fork and twirled. “She was threatened for threatening the witches. Maybe that’s the lead I need to follow. Who made those threats?”

  “Someone calling and threatening isn’t likely a murderer. It’s like on Snapchat. People are so cruel to each other, but most people wouldn’t actually do any of the things they threaten,” Violet said.

  “Threaten. Who’s threatened you?” I asked.

  Uncle Vinny sat up straighter, as well.

  “No, nothing specific,” Vi backtracked.

  “Don’t lie to me,” my aunt shot at her daughter.

  “I’m in a few pagan groups, and one girl mocks those of us without powers. We’re just pretend witches. I blocked her.” Violet shrugged it off.

  “So, no one you know personally? No one from school or the coven?” I asked.

  Iris and Violet exchanged a look.

  “Spill it,” Uncle Vinny said.

  “We sort of kept in touch with Katrina and Lily. They left their freshman year of high school when we were sophomores, but we stayed friends on social media,” Iris admitted.

  “They’re your cousins. That’s not bad.” My aunt nodded.

  “Well, now, they’re sixteen, and both are getting married. Married. They’re bragging about their rings and dresses. At first, it was bridezilla stuff but normal. Then, they started making fun of us for going to college. We’re alone and going to school while they’ll be married with their own homes and everything.” Violet shoved a forkful of salad in her mouth and chewed with a vengeance.