Murder Comes Calling

by Raven Snow

  “Murder Comes Calling”

  A Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery

  Lainswich Witches Series Book 18

  Raven Snow

  © 2018

  Raven Snow

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.0 (2018.04.04)

  http://www.ravensnowauthor.com

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Dick B., Jim T., VMH and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

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  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  It was the coldest night in the history of Lainswich. That’s what Aunt Lydia said anyway. It had been her excuse when she demanded they all have a sleepover of sorts at the Greensmith house. Rowen would have preferred to spend the night curled up at home, maybe watching a movie marathon or reading a good book. Alas, that was not to be. Too many of Rowen’s cousins had already agreed to Lydia’s idea. The thought of being the only one to back out made her feel like a jerk.

  “You don’t have to give in to peer pressure, you know,” Eric said as they walked up to the stoop.

  Rowen glanced over at her husband. A light flurry of snow was falling, sticking to his blond hair and eyelashes. One of his eyebrows was raised, like he could tell what she was thinking. Rowen faced forward again and shoved her cold hands into her fleece-lined pockets. “It’s too late to just turn around and drive off now.”

  “I know,” said Eric. “But in the future. You seem to do this a lot.”

  “You make it sound like I don’t enjoy spending time with my family.”

  “It’s more that you never refuse an invitation— which wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t complain about never refusing an invitation.”

  “Yeah, well…” Rowen didn’t have anything else to add there. It was how it was, she supposed. “Either way, this is different.”

  “I’ll give you that,” Eric agreed with a grumble of his own. He hefted the duffle bag further up onto his shoulder as if just now remembering it was there. “I have to admit, I don’t believe I’ve been to a slumber party in all the years I’ve been an adult.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve ever been to a slumber party.”

  Eric shrugged. “My parents used to pay their office building’s nursery workers extra money to take me home with them sometimes. They called those slumber parties.”

  “That’s not a slumber party, Dear. That’s just sad.”

  “I dunno. They usually gave me pizza and let me stay up late watching movies.”

  “I guess that’s all right.” Rowen reached back to take Eric’s hand. “Careful. These steps are slick.” Rowen knocked on the door, stomping a bit to break up the ice on the steps while she waited.

  No one answered the door. That was rare. Rowen was used to being let in almost immediately. She knocked again. She had her own key, but she didn’t want to use it. It felt weird barging into a house she no longer lived in, but when a third knock failed to get anyone’s attention, Rowen let herself in. She wasn’t going to freeze out on the stoop just to save herself from feeling awkward. Besides, it wasn’t like Nadine or Lydia really cared. It was more for the sake of their husbands that Rowen knocked. They were nice guys, but they had yet to really meld with the family. It was hard not to feel at least a little self-conscious around them.

  With a deep breath, Rowen opened the door. It was easy to see why no one had come to let them in. Rowen had heard the soft drone of noise outside. Inside, things were another matter entirely. Children were screaming. Lydia was yelling. People were raising their voices to be heard over the din of it all. Rowen was immediately glad she’d had the foresight to pack some headache medicine.

  Aside from the noise, the house had a certain charm that was undeniable. Rowen could smell freshly cooked bread and something else— roast beef, maybe. The house was as it always had been. The floors were the same old wood. A long hallway stretched all the way to the back door. Rooms branched off like tree limbs. Rowen had lived upstairs as a girl and for a short while as an adult. Once, all the bedrooms in the house had been occupied. Once, every day had been as loud and chaotic as this. Rowen would be lying if she said she didn’t entirely miss it.

  A couple of small bodies bowling past Rowen startled her from her reminiscing and nearly knocked her right over. Fortunately, Eric shot out an arm and had it on her shoulder, steadying her in an instant. Rowen didn’t have time to react before Lydia stormed into the hall as well. “If you two don’t come back here and wash your hands right this instant, you’re going straight to bed after dinner! No dessert! No playing, no movies, no roasting marshmallows!”

  Half of the shrieking stopped and a little boy emerged from the dining room. He was skinny and blond and taller than the girl who came out from the dining room after them. He was the older of the two young children. Roswell and Sara Gamble. Their mother had been murdered and their father had been charged with her murder. Neither had family willing to take them in, so Lydia had been permitted to be a temporary caretaker. Rowen still wasn’t sure how to feel about the whole thing. It was like Lydia had adopted a couple of dogs before talking it over with the rest of the family, and now she was trying to convince everyone to let her keep them. Except, these were kids and not dogs—which was, you know, worse.

  Rowen recognized the tone Lydia was taking with the kids. It was the same tone that had been used on her when she was just a child. “Now, apologize to Rowen. I saw you run right into her. What do I keep telling you? You’re going to hurt someone. If you hurt someone, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

  Roswell lo
oked to Rowen. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?” prompted Lydia.

  “For running into you.”

  Sara watched her brother apologize and made an effort at doing the same. “I’m sorry for running.”

  “That’s all—” Rowen caught Lydia giving her a warning look over the top of the children’s heads. “Don’t run anymore and do what Lydia says.”

  Lydia nodded, much more approving of that. She patted both children on the back, steering them toward the nearest bathroom. “All right, come on. Let’s clean you two up before dinner.”

  It was odd to not have Lydia gushing over her when she entered. Rowen was used to the usual spiel about how nice it was to have her there, how she hardly ever visited anymore—even though she did. Oh, well. Lydia had her hands full now. “I wonder how everyone else feels about those kids,” she mentioned to Eric quietly, not that she needed to keep her voice down. Without Lydia in the room, everyone in the den was talking about the kids openly.

  “I never wanted children,” said Reginald bluntly. He was sitting next to an empty space on the sofa, where Lydia must have been until recently. He seemed to remember himself suddenly and looked to Rose. “Not that I mind having a stepchild.”

  Rose smiled. She was usually fairly levelheaded and easygoing about things. It was hard to outright offend her. “Don’t worry about it. I know what you mean. I was already an adult that had moved out when you came into the picture.”

  “Right.” Reginald nodded, releasing a breath like he had been worried she wouldn’t take it that way. “But this happened without her talking things over with me. She’ll hardly even talk about it now. She just keeps insisting that I should let her enjoy them while they’re here.”

  “Well, she has a point there, right? It’s not like they’re going to just give her the kids,” said Philip with a laugh, like he was trying to inject levity into the conversation.

  Rose raised a hand as she spoke. “I hate to state the obvious, but she did adopt me.”

  Nadine nodded. Her eyes had been on the floor ever since Rowen had reached the entrance to the living room. Rowen’s Aunt Nadine was maybe the sweetest person Rowen had ever known. It was obvious all this talk about her sister was making her uncomfortable. “Things do work a little differently in Lainswich,” she offered. “If our family expanding to include those children is something that’s meant to be, well…”

  Uncle Norm snorted. He was seated in an armchair, his arms folded over his chest. “Don’t chalk this all up to fate. Those of us who live here should get a say on who we’re sharing a roof with.”

  Reginald and Philip didn’t have anything to say to that. Rowen didn’t blame them. Norm was also an unwanted guest in the house. He hardly had room to talk about a couple of new additions. Still, he made a fair point.

  Rowen cleared her throat now that everyone had lapsed into silence for the moment. Her aunts and uncles all jumped, making her jump as well. “Hey guys.” She raised her hand in a halfhearted wave.

  No one in the room looked particularly glad to see Rowen at that moment. She didn’t take it personally. “It’s none of my business, but you might want to quiet it down a smidge.”

  “I told you!” hissed Nadine. “If Lydia hears us, she’ll be devastated.”

  “It is your business,” Norm said at about the same time, frowning in his niece’s direction. “It’s all of our business. We should all have a say in who does and doesn’t join this family.”

  “So, what?” Rose asked, raising an eyebrow. “You get a say in whether or not Ben and I ever have children now?”

  “That’s not what I meant… Though, you’re welcome to take these two off our hands, if you want.”

  “No thanks,” Rose said quickly, picking up a glass from the coffee table and taking a sip. Her husband wasn’t with her tonight. Rowen wondered what his opinion on the subject would be.

  “Let’s put a pin in this, why don’t we?” suggested Philip. He smiled at Rowen and made an effort to change the subject. “Did you get here okay? I hear it’s getting icy out there.”

  Rowen nodded. “It’d be easy for someone to break their neck just going up the front steps. Make sure you guys are careful.”

  “I wonder if the kids want to go play in the snow,” Norm mumbled. Nadine, of all people, leaned in to smack him on the arm.

  Rowen pretended she hadn’t heard what he said. “Honestly, I’m worried about Chester.” She looked at Eric. “Maybe we should have brought him with us.” Chester was their elderly black lab. “What if the power goes out?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Eric assured her. “The house is well insulated and I left on an electric heater for him just in case. He’ll be fine.”

  Suddenly, there were hasty footsteps moving through the house again. At least this time it only took one shout from Lydia to get them to stop. “Dinner time!” Lydia called to everyone.

  Norm groaned. Nadine ignored him, smiling at Rowen instead. “Go get the rest of your cousins, will you? They’re out back.”

  Weren’t they freezing out there? She nodded anyway, giving Eric a nudge with her elbow once Nadine had passed. “Go get us some good seats. I don’t want to sit by the kids.” Eric rolled his eyes at the request but went along with it. Rowen headed out to the back porch. Sure enough, all of her cousins except Rose were standing out in the deep dark cold. “Why the heck are you all out here?”

  There had been a low hum of back and forth chatter. It stopped when Rowen spoke up. All heads turned back to her. Margo peered miserably out of the hood of her white fur coat. “Are you kidding?” She took a drag on her cigarette. “Do you actually want to be in there right now?”

  “Well, it’s dinner time, so… yeah.”

  “Oh!” Willow perked up and inclined her head toward her sister. “Dinner time.”

  “I do want to eat food,” Peony reasoned with a sage nod.

  “No Tina tonight?” Rowen asked, focusing in on her purple haired cousin.

  “Not tonight, no. She figured it would be crowded and awkward.” Tina was Peony’s girlfriend. The rest of the family still didn’t know that, not that they would care. Peony was still living in the Greensmith household. Tina was probably right in guessing that it would be awkward for her and her girlfriend to have a sleepover with the rest of the family. Rowen couldn’t seem to shake a feeling of awkwardness herself now. She was the only one to bring along a significant other, after all.

  Willow elbowed her sister. “Let’s go get food.”

  Peony nodded in agreement and followed her into the house. Margo remained, taking another drag on her cigarette. “I’m not sure I’m hungry enough to go in there,” she told Rowen, tapping ash into a nearby flower pot. They grew herbs out here for most of the year. Everything that could be moved inside was inside by now. Everything else was already dead.

  “Not a fan of the kids either?” Rowen didn’t pick the low hanging fruit and comment that Margo almost never felt like eating. She was obsessed with being tall and thin and fashionable.

  Margo took another drag. “No,” she said, the word lilting upward, like she was surprised by her own answer. “Honestly? I don’t really mind the kids. Granted, I don’t have to live in the same house as them.”

  Rowen guessed that was reasonable. Margo had been the one to find Roswell after his mother had died, when the murderer wasn’t sure what to do with the boy. It stood to reason that she would have a certain attachment to him and his well-being. “So, why don’t you want to go inside?”

  Margo motioned vaguely to the door. “It’s just about everyone else, I guess. Things are so tense lately. You’d think Lydia bringing in a couple of kids was the worst thing that ever happened to us as a family.”

  Rowen followed Margo’s hand motion, looking into the house and expecting to see family members openly complaining. All she saw was an empty hallway. Everyone must be in the dining room. It wouldn’t be long before someone was sent to hurry Rowen and Margo along
. “They don’t all seem that upset,” Rowen reasoned.

  “That’s even worse, isn’t it? Lydia loves the kids. Nadine loves the kids. I think even Philip really likes the kids. The only people completely against it are Reginald and my dad, and I’m not sure why they seem to think their whining overrides the opinion of everyone else. Reginald isn’t even here all that often, and my dad—well, let’s face it. My dad isn’t much better than your mom.”

  A comment like that probably would have stung for most people. Rowen really couldn’t argue with her, though. She was right. If the only good thing you could say about Norm was that at least he wasn’t Tiffany—well, that wasn’t really a glowing review of the man. Last Rowen had checked, her mother was off the grid again. She did that a lot, including the years when Rowen had been just a child. Her aunts had spent the most time raising her, like they had Margo. Granted, Norm spent a lot more time with his daughter than Tiffany ever had.

  “Lydia did sort of spring the kids on them, though,” Rowen reasoned.

  Margo shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just giving you my two cents on the matter.”

  The door to the back porch opened before Rowen could reply. “Can you two hurry up?” asked Willow, poking her head out into the cold. The wind picked up her blonde hair and began tossing it about immediately. “Everyone is waiting for you, and I want to eat.”

  ***

  Dinner was nice. It was loud, exceptionally loud, but nice. The middle leaf for the table had been put in. Rowen needn’t have worried about getting stuck next to the kids either. They were seated at the bar that functioned as the unofficial child’s table. The food consisted of all the staples of one of Lydia’s big family meals. There were rolls and roast beef and mashed potatoes and peas. Eating here always reminded Rowen about what she missed after moving from the Greensmith household. Well, one of the things she missed at any rate.