Hex to Pay: A Witch Detective Cozy Mystery

by Stevie Day

  “Okay, can we just… Can you maybe…” Ugh! Alice wasn’t easy to shake, yet here she was, shaken.

  Dr. Dalton shrugged dramatically. “What? Can I what?”

  “I don’t know, maybe just sit back down? I’m only here to talk. There’s no reason to get upset.”

  Wrong thing to say. Dr. Dalton’s face grew red, his neck thickening from his taut muscles. One of his shirt buttons looked like it was about to pop off from his heaving chest. She could swear she heard a tea kettle whistling, and she wasn’t sure if it was coming from a nearby kitchen or from Dr. Dalton himself.

  Either way, it felt like an explosion was imminent.

  Thankfully, a knock at the door brought the both of them back to reality.

  Alice turned her head as the door opened and a handsome man with a sly grin that barely hid his obvious concern peeked in.

  “Um, good morning, Dr. Dalton,” he said. “And who might this be?” The young man approached cautiously and Alice rose to meet him, relieved at the interruption.

  She glanced over her shoulder and was happy to see the first hints of calm spreading across Dr. Dalton’s face. She continued forward and shook the new man’s hand.

  “Alice Munroe,” she said.

  “Alice,” he replied. “Such a pretty name. Don’t see too many Alices these days.” He shook her hand and his grip was much like Dr. Dalton’s had been: soft. Alice wondered if the handshake had been something the two had discussed and practiced. Like a sort of ‘How to shake hands with a female client’ exercise.

  “Your name makes me think of the Brady Bunch’s housekeeper, if I’m being honest,” the man continued.

  “Oh, I love her,” Alice said without irony. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not who my mom and dad had in mind when they named me.”

  The man continued smiling and nodded. He turned his attention to Dr. Dalton. “Want me to escort Alice out of your hair, Doctor?”

  “She’s all yours,” Dr. Dalton said, spinning his chair and dropping heavily into it. He kept his back to the pair and the man, still holding Alice’s hand, made an okay, let’s get the heck out of here face. Alice nodded, smiled, and followed him out the door.

  7

  Alice’s new acquaintance closed the door behind them and let go of her hand. With an exaggerated thump, he put his back to the door and mouthed the words, “Quick, run!”

  Alice laughed, thankful for the change in mood, and the man smiled back at her pleasantly. He was plain in appearance, with dirty blond hair and matching eyes, almost forgettable in how unremarkable he was, yet still handsome enough to be pleasing to look at.

  “Able Johnstone,” he said. “I’d offer my hand, but I just got it back.”

  Alice smiled again at his intended silliness. Barry Lombardi had used the word “smarmy,” but she hadn’t seen anything like that so far.

  “Want to go to my office?” Able asked, gesturing toward one of three desks set up in the main meeting room of the building.

  “I’d love to.”

  Alice took one of the two chairs opposite Able’s desk—it seemed everybody’s desk followed the “two chairs” motif—and Able sat down in his.

  “It’s not very often that Dr. Dalton loses his cool with a customer,” he said. “That’s a man who loves his money and loves the sale. So… what’d you do?”

  He grinned that sly, playful grin and Alice smiled back. “Well, maybe it’s because I’m not actually a customer.”

  “Oh no?” Able leaned forward. “Then what brings you here today?”

  “Can I ask you about Janet Lombardi?” The second she got the words out, Able was on his feet and heading to the other side of the small room. He stopped at the coffee pot, which was set out, presumably, for customers, and picked it up. He swirled it around, grabbed a Styrofoam cup and poured some out.

  “Not hot,” he mumbled. “But not cold, either,” he said, louder. He turned to Alice. “Would you like a cup?”

  “No thanks,” she said. “I’m good.”

  He began walking back to the desk, sipping the coffee as he went. As he sat back down, he said, “He doesn’t have many redeeming qualities, but the good doctor never forgets to brew a fresh batch of coffee before he opens for business each morning.”

  Alice smiled and nodded.

  “So,” Able began. “Janet?”

  “Yes. Do you mind if I ask about her?”

  “No, of course not. Do you mind if I ask why you’re asking?” Able’s tone and delivery was level; he was asking a fair question, not overreacting the way Dr. Dalton had.

  “I was hired by her husband to look into her death.”

  Able sat back in his chair, a look of equal parts concern and confusion on his face. “I don’t understand. I thought she had a heart attack. Undiagnosed pre-existing condition and all that?”

  “Maybe,” Alice said. “Probably. Do you know Mr. Lombardi?”

  “Sure, a little. Nice enough guy. Maybe a little high strung, but overall kinda harmless.”

  “Well, he’s pretty distraught over the loss of his wife, and he’s not convinced it was a natural cause. He hired me to look into it.”

  “Really? Wow. So, what? Did he finger Dr. Dalton? Or… me?” Able laughed nervously.

  “No, not at all. He didn’t implicate anyone. This was just the most logical place for me to start, you know? Lay some really basic groundwork.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said. “That makes sense, I guess. So what do you want to know?”

  “How about just some general background on Janet? What was your relationship like? What was her relationship with Dr. Dalton like? And there are three of you here, right? Barbara Baker is the other?”

  “Barbara left about a month ago,” he said. “Dr. Dalton decided to leave her desk looking like it’s being used. Doesn’t want anyone to think he has anything less than all hands on deck at all times.”

  Interesting… “Why’d she leave?”

  “Barbara? I’m not really sure, to be honest. She wasn’t here long and was never that sociable, though not in a rude way. Just kind of the introvert type, I think. She told Dr. Dalton she was moving away one day and couldn’t give notice. She left his office and shook my hand, shook Janet’s, then strolled out the door.”

  “Did that seem strange to you?”

  Able leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers around the rim of his coffee cup. “Sure. But only because that’s not how I would’ve done things. I at least would’ve given two weeks’ notice. But like I said, we never got to know Barbara well, so we all just kind of shrugged and got back to work.”

  “Was there any tension between her and Janet?”

  “No, none that I knew of. Janet was easy-going, easy to get along with. She probably got to know Barbara more than the rest of us did, but even then I don’t think they were really close.”

  Alice pulled out her notepad. “You wouldn’t happen to have contact information for her, would you?”

  “No, sorry. I don’t think she left that even with Dr. Dalton. Though you could ask him…”

  “No, thanks,” Alice said with a forced smile. “I think I’ve had my fill of that guy for today.”

  “Can’t say I blame you.” Able’s sly grin returned once again.

  “Did Janet get along with Dr. Dalton too?”

  Able looked off in the distance and frowned. “Yeah? I mean, he can be a pain and doesn’t always promote the most positive work environment. But Janet could handle him. We both could. It was kind of a game to us, actually.”

  “Game?” Alice asked. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, it’d be really easy to let a guy like that get under your skin, especially working for him day in and day out. But anytime he’d blow up at either of us or was rude in some way, we’d imagine the other one standing behind him mimicking his mannerisms.”

  “So if he was dressing you down…” Alice started.

  “Right,” he said. “I’d just picture Janet behind him,
waving her hands around in perfect sync with him, her mouth moving soundlessly as the words came out of his mouth.”

  Alice laughed. “That’s cute.”

  “Yeah,” he said, once again looking off in the distance.

  Alice gave him a moment, then asked, “Were you two close?”

  “Yeah,” he said, still looking away dreamily. He pulled his attention back to Alice and continued. “You know that phrase ‘work husband’ or ‘work wife’?”

  “I’ve heard of it, sure.”

  “That was us. Nothing romantic or anything, but we worked together for a long time and helped each other out in a lot of ways. We were there for each other in a way that went beyond just dealing with the ‘doctor,’” he said, gesturing toward Dr. Dalton’s door.

  “How do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “You know, just basic good friends stuff.”

  “And how’d you feel when you found out she had passed?”

  Able stood and turned away from Alice, spinning his chair around and holding onto the back of it for support. He was getting emotional, and he clearly didn’t want Alice to see.

  “Horrible,” he said. “I mean… just out of nowhere, you know? Here one minute—”

  “Gone the next,” Alice finished.

  Able’s shoulders rose and fell a single time. He turned and sat back down, allowing Alice to see the redness of tears in his eyes. “She was awesome. What else can I say? She was just awesome.”

  Alice felt her own eyes watering up. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Johnstone.”

  “Able,” he said, his voice cracking. “Call me Able, please.”

  “Of course. Able.”

  “I still haven’t had time to process it, you know?” he continued. “It’s only been a few days. How am I… I mean, how the heck am I supposed to deal with that…” he again gestured toward Dr. Dalton’s door, “alone?” He laughed a joyless laugh and sighed again.

  “So you said she could handle Dr. Dalton fine,” Alice said. “But other than that, how was their relationship?”

  “As far as an employee-employer relationship, Janet handled him fine overall. But she stayed away from him otherwise.”

  “Why’s that?” Alice asked. “Or is it just that his charming personality overwhelmed her?”

  Able smirked. “Close, I guess. He was… Well, ‘obsessed’ is too strong a word, but it’s the first one that comes to mind. I mean, it’s not like he stalked her or anything too extreme. But he asked a lot of questions. Was in her space all the time.”

  “Physical space?” Alice asked. “Like, in an inappropriate way?”

  Able scratched his head. “I thought so, for sure. And he definitely did make her physically uncomfortable from time to time. But it was really the nosiness. Asking about her personal life too much. And it was a delicate balance. Janet was a good salesperson. The second best in the office, in fact,” he said with the oft-returning sly grin. Alice was finally starting to see how some could perceive him as smarmy, with that grin, but she still felt that might be an unfair assessment of the man.

  “You have to pick your battles, you know?” Able continued. “And if he’d ever crossed any kind of line, she would have spoken up or taken action. But he never did, at least not physically. So she felt like enduring the questions and attention was worth keeping herself in good standing and in a good position to keep selling houses.”

  “That can be a tough balance, I’m sure,” Alice said. “And drawing lines, making boundaries for yourself… It sounds like Janet was put together pretty well.”

  “She was, for sure.”

  “Did she talk about her husband much? Barry? How was their marriage?”

  Able thought on it over a sip of coffee before answering, “It was okay, I think. Everything was just kind of normal. I don’t remember her ever talking about any big fights or big disagreements. She never showed up with bruises or wearing sunglasses saying she fell. But she also never talked about the great things they’d do together. They were just kind of… there.”

  Dr. Dalton’s door opened, and they both turned. He looked at Able, not even acknowledging Alice.

  “Don’t forget that open house in a half hour,” he said, then turned and went right back into his office, closing the door with a not-quite-but-almost slam.

  Able fumbled for his phone and looked at the time. “Shoot,” he said, looking at Alice. “He’s right, I really do have one.”

  “I understand.” She stood up. “I really appreciate your time.”

  They shook hands.

  “Will you tell me if you find out anything?” he asked. “I mean, if she really was… killed… I’d like to know.”

  “I will. And would you mind if I need to ask you some follow-up questions later?”

  He grabbed one of his business cards off his desk and jotted something down. “You can reach me at any of the places on the card, but that’s my personal phone.”

  “Thanks, Able. And I know it’s not just Barry who’s suffered a loss here, even if it’s a different kind of loss, so… I’m sorry.”

  He nodded, his eyes welling up. “You’re probably the only person I’ll ever hear that from. So, sincerely… thank you.”

  Alice made her way for the door and Able followed, holding it open. She thanked him again and made her way back to ol’ Gertie.

  8

  Alice arrived home around 6 that night to an ever hungry Mr. Ploppers circling around her feet.

  “Tuna,” he said.

  “Hello to you too, Mr. Ploppers.”

  She made her way to the kitchen, pulled open the cupboard, and grabbed the first can of special diet cat food she found.

  “Is that tuna?” Mr. Ploppers asked. He sat on the floor beside her. “That better be tuna.”

  Alice looked at the can. “Nope, chicken.”

  “I said—”

  “Chicken is fine, Mr. Ploppers. You’d get sick of tuna if all I gave you was tuna.”

  “I don’t like chi—”

  “You do like chicken, you’re just being finicky.” Alice pulled out the can opener and opened the can. She grabbed a spoon and before she could even break the wet food apart into easier to digest parts, Mr. Ploppers was standing at his bowl wolfing it down.

  “You should really just trust me,” she said. He, of course, said nothing. He was too busy enjoying his chicken dinner.

  Alice made her way to the back deck and glanced out. The yard looked fine, although it had been a few days since she’d spent any time back there. She’d fix that soon. Besides, the grass height was now at the point where a mowing was due. She looked forward to it.

  She had stopped at Big Beefy Burgers after work to grab a meatball grinder and Mountain Dew, eating it on the way home, so dinner wasn’t necessary. She went straight to her magic room to spend the next hour meditating.

  The room was a little different today, though she hadn’t made the changes herself. At least not consciously. Today, the walls had taken on a gray color and seemed even now to be darkening ever so slightly. Alice didn’t really like the aura in the room, but decided to leave it be. Maybe the fact that she was investigating a murder was what was causing the darker hue?

  All the more reason to stay focused. She sat down on her cushion, arms resting on her knees, and closed her eyes. She sat straight up and focused on her breathing. Within just a few seconds, Alice could feel the magical energy all around her.

  It was easy now, to tap into the magic that was always in the air around everyone and everything. But only because she had been practicing it for most of her life.

  There were a lot of terms for the kind of magic Alice practiced, but the one she preferred most was witchcraft. She was a witch, by her own definition, and she loved it. Her mother had taught her small things at a very young age, and her father had continued it after her mother had died. As she grew and gained strength and knowledge, she came to be infatuated by the witches of stories and pop culture.

  She loved the
Wicked Witch of the West. The character of Willow in Buffy the Vampire Slayer was another favorite. And of course, Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Without Sabrina, Alice may have never made the leap of adopting Mr. Ploppers. What kind of witch would she be without a cat to talk to every day?

  The world wasn’t exactly overflowing with witches or other kinds of magic users. But they weren’t necessarily rare, either. And she wasn’t the only one affected by stories and pop culture.

  In order to cast spells, one needed to be able to tap into the magical energies around them, and sometimes channel them from other sources. But for more complicated spells, one needed ingredients, tools, preparation. While Alice practiced her meditation here, and the magic room was the place where the magic was thickest, most of those ingredients and tools were in her basement.

  The basement was unfinished and would seem normal enough to any visitors. It contained a washing machine and dryer, along with storage totes labeled “pictures” and “yearbooks.” But about half of the space was actually mostly finished, its door hidden by the same spell that kept the magic room door a secret. Inside was everything she needed to continue her practice: ingredients to concoct spells, hundreds of books to learn them from, mortars and pestles.

  An interesting thing had happened over the centuries. As the stories and myths of witches and their spells had grown, the inspiration from the stories had almost taken over the practices of the real world witches. For instance, some spells had been around for centuries, maybe longer. But just like a recipe that gets passed down from generation to generation, the ingredients sometimes got lost or changed. Maybe there had just been a tweak here, an addition or subtraction there, or an experiment that worked for the better. Either way, spells evolved over time.

  So an ingredient like Eye of Newt, which had become something of a cliché in pop culture, may never have been a real ingredient in a magic spell. In fact, Eye of Newt was originally just a fancy term for mustard seed, but over time it became more literal. Witches, perhaps inspired by fiction in much the same way Alice had been, had started using the actual eyeballs.