by Tegan Maher
“Now, speaking of things being up someone’s sleeve, you wouldn’t happen to have gone past the store that sells pears on your way back from your dragon practice, did you?”
“Sorry, Vinnie,” I replied. “But I did buy that bag of carrots yesterday if you want a treat.”
“I do also love carrots,” he replied. “But not as much as pears.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint. If I solve my case and get the recipe for pumpkin punch back to Frances by tomorrow night I’ll get you some pears.”
“Oooh, good,” Vinnie said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you can tell me who out of Keri-Lynn, Kelly, Ken and Julianne was most likely to have stolen the recipe.”
Vinnie frowned. “I don’t know any of those paranormals.”
I sighed. “I know three of them, but unfortunately I still don’t know which one stole the recipe. I’m going to speak with Julianne later on tonight. Hopefully she knows something.”
“I hope so. I’m really hoping to get some pears out of this case.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, I’m hoping I can prevent one of the stalwarts of this town from having to pay a ransom to get her family recipe back before Halloween.”
“Sure, sure, that’s also important,” Vinnie replied, and I could tell from his tone he couldn’t care less about that compared to making sure he got his pears. My goat could be funny that way.
My phone binged just then, indicating I’d gotten a text. I pulled it out: it was from Frances; Julianne had just arrived and started studying.
“Gotta go,” I said to Vinnie.
“Can I come? I can help.”
“Sorry, bud. You have to be twenty-one.”
“I’m twenty-one in goat years.”
“I don’t think that counts.”
“Well, it should count. Just because I don’t fit some arbitrary age limit doesn’t mean I should be barred from certain places.”
“You’d get along with Grandma Rosie, Mom thinks she’s too old to get a job. Anyway, I’ll be back later.”
“Bring pears,” Vinnie called out as I closed the door behind me, and I smiled to myself. Vinnie was a good goat.
I walked back down to It’s Rheaning Beer, and when I walked inside my eyebrows rose. It was Friday, so a bit busier than it would be mid-week, with a handful of witches and wizards who had finished with their jobs and were relaxing before the start of the weekend.
Of course, most of the tables being taken up wasn’t the most surprising thing I saw. Rather, it was Grandma Rosie, dressed like she was a waitress at Oktoberfest in Germany, moving between tables carrying huge trays of beer, wine and other drinks.
I narrowed my eyes at her. I knew Grandma Rosie, and I knew she didn’t have the coordination to carry twenty drinks like this without any help. There was magic at work here.
Julianne was sitting at a corner table by herself, headphones in her ears, but instead of going straight to her I made my way to the counter instead, where Frances was busy pouring drinks while Johnny, her husband, cut up limes at the other end of the bar.
“Hey Johnny, take over for me for a minute, will you?” she asked.
“Sure thing, doll,” Johnny replied, taking the bottle from her and flashing me a nod as he noticed me standing there. Frances immediately came over, leaning close, her voice hushed.
“Have you found anything yet?”
“Not the recipe. And I’m not sure who did it yet, but I’ve spoken to everyone except Julianne.”
“Do you have any idea?”
“I don’t want to say just yet,” I replied diplomatically. That was private investigator talk for “I don’t have a freaking clue.” But hey, I still had about a day to figure it out. “Oh, while I have you, I also wanted to ask, is Grandma Rosie working here… permanently?”
“She is,” Frances said, smiling enthusiastically. “She came in for an interview an hour ago, and I was impressed, and wanted to know when she could start. She said straight away, and she did.”
“I’m curious, did you have the outfit ready for her?”
“Oh no, she already had that,” Frances replied. “I told her it wasn’t entirely necessary, but she swore to me that it was.”
“Yup, that does sound like Grandma Rosie.”
“Who am I to say no to her? Rosie is such a fixture in this community. And I have to say, so far she’s doing an excellent job.”
“Did she tell you why she wanted to work here?” I asked. “It seems a little bit strange to me.”
Frances shrugged. “She just told me she needed to get out of the house, and that your mother was driving her crazy.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” I said with a grin. Mom was always driving Grandma Rosie crazy, and vice versa. It was one of the reasons I wanted to buy Mom a bigger place when I’d saved up the money for it: I figured with more square footage they’d be less likely to step on each other’s toes quite as often. “Anyway, I need to chat with Julianne. Thanks for the heads up.”
Frances nodded. “Please find the person who did this. I can’t lose this recipe, and I’m just not sure I can get all that money in time.”
I assured Frances that I’d do my best, then sat down across from Julianne, who pulled her headphones out when she saw me.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to keep this table to myself,” she said friendlily.
“I’d actually like to speak to you for a minute, Julianne,” I replied. She looked a little bit confused. “It’s about last night.”
“What about last night?” she asked, looking over at Frances.
“Someone stole the recipe for pumpkin punch from Frances, and I’m trying to get it back.”
“Oh,” Julianne said. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t know the first thing about that. I don’t even drink the pumpkin punch. I don’t drink at all, really. Frances lets me sit down here and do my work with a coke, which is so nice of her. I just don’t have many places to go at night to study once the library shuts down at Spellford.”
“I’m guessing home isn’t an option?” I offered, and Julianne flashed me a wry smile.
“Unfortunately, a busy bar is actually preferable. My father’s got his issues, and I find this place to be more peaceful. Frances has been so kind to let me stay here, I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“So last night, toward closing time, did you happen to see anything strange? Maybe someone going near the bar?”
Julianne thought for a minute, her books spread out in front of her. “You know, I think I saw Ken disappear at one point, maybe ten minutes before closing. I remember thinking it was strange, since he was always there at that stool. I looked around for Frances, but she was nowhere to be seen either.”
“Is it possible Ken had just gone to the bathroom?”
“Oh, sure. I really have no idea where he went. That’s just the only time I saw something out of the ordinary.”
“Alright, thanks,” I said, nodding. “Do you know of any reason why someone who was there last night would have wanted to steal the recipe?”
Julianne frowned. “I can’t say for sure, no. Although one of those two sisters was very upset about something. I’m not sure if she would have done anything rash, but she was quite something. I had the feeling she didn’t really want to be there, either, but the other sister kept insisting it was good for her. I’m not entirely sure I agree.”
“No, me neither,” I said. “Alright, thanks.”
I was just about to head back to the counter to talk to Frances when a shrill voice called out from the entrance.
“What in the name of Rhea do you think you’re doing with my husband?”
7
Every head in the bar, including mine, turned to the front door. Standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, was Heather Millner. Heather was in her sixties, with the kind of permed hair most witches had left back in t
he eighties, and a reputation as a thief. But it wasn’t jewels or men that Heather traded in: no, she traded in secrets.
It was well known in Mt. Rheanier that if Heather found out something salacious about your life, she would blackmail you over it. It was never so much that you would go broke trying to pay her, and never so much that you’d rather have the secret be revealed, but she would tighten the screws just enough to keep you paying her.
And now she stood at the entrance to the bar, staring at Grandma Rosie.
“Yes, Heather?” my grandmother asked, her voice as sweet as honey.
“I asked you what in the name of Rhea you think you’re doing,” Heather repeated, stomping over toward my grandmother.
“Well, you see, Heather, I got a job here,” Grandma Rosie said, motioning around. “That involves serving the patrons here at the bar, and bringing them their orders.”
“You know my husband is into Bavarian barmaids,” Heather practically shouted, and a few of the witches and wizards in the bar began to snicker, while a man about Heather’s age with a thick grey beard blushed slightly and hid his head. “How did you find out about that?”
“Oh, gee, Heather,” Grandma Rosie said with a polite smile. “I really had no idea. I thought this was just a suitable outfit to wear to my first day of work.”
I snickered into my hand. It looked like Grandma Rosie had an underlying agenda in her attempt to get a job after all, and I had a sneaking suspicion this wasn’t going to end well for Heather.
“You did not,” Heather said, stomping toward Grandma Rosie. “Who told you this? And why are you trying to seduce my husband?”
“Oh, Heather, trying to find out how witches get information they might not want otherwise revealed?” Grandma Rosie asked, a grin growing on her face. “How the tables have turned.”
Heather’s face slowly deepened in shade to the color of a tomato. “I don’t know how you did this,” she said. “But I won’t stand for it.”
Pulling out her wand, Heather pointed it at Grandma Rosie, and began to mutter a spell. Before I even knew what I was doing, I had my wand out as well, and cast the first thing that came to mind.
About a dozen soft, plastic balls—the type everyone plays with when they’re kids—flew from my wand and shot toward Heather, right as burst of flame exploded from her wand toward my grandmother.
The balls pounded into Heather with a number of soft thuds, knocking her off her feet and sending the flames flying toward the ceiling.
The exposed wooden beams above immediately caught on fire, and Julianne jumped up from her seat, pointing her wand at the flames and shooting forth a torrent of water that extinguished them immediately.
Paranormals jumped on Heather. Someone grabbed her wand and snapped it in half, while someone else shouted for the Enforcers to arrive.
Heather glared at Grandma Rosie when she got up. “You’ll pay for this, you stupid witch.”
Grandma Rosie simply smirked at Heather. “Right. It’s not so fun when other people play at your game, is it? Stop blackmailing people here in town, or I’ll make sure people knowing your husband’s preferences in bed are the least of your worries.”
Jack arrived a few minutes later—apparently someone had called the Enforcers in the scramble—and took Heather away while I went to Grandma Rosie.
“How did you find out about her husband?” I asked quietly, and Grandma Rosie winked at me.
“Remember the squirrels I had hexed to find out everything I could about people?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I decided to use them for good this time.”
I laughed as Frances walked over toward us. Grandma Rosie handed her an apron.
“Thank you for the job, but I’ve decided the workforce isn’t for me. I’ve had quite enough of an adventure for one night.”
“I’m sure you have,” Frances said with a grin. “And I couldn’t be prouder to have been here to see it. Heather’s had that coming for years. All those innocent people whose lives she’s ruined, or made more difficult. She didn’t have an ounce of good in her.”
“Excuse me,” I said suddenly, my eyes widening as I realized I knew what had happened. I slipped back in the seat across from Julianne.
“You’re the one who did it, aren’t you?” I said quietly. “Heather was blackmailing you.”
Julianne’s head dropped to her chin. “I had no idea what to do,” she said quietly.
“Why don’t you tell me the whole story?” I offered kindly. “Let me know what happened, and we can see what we can do to make it right.”
“It’s my father,” Julianne said quietly. “He ran away a month ago. His gambling debts got to be too large, and he just disappeared one day. He wrote to me, told me where he was, but that I couldn’t tell anyone, because he was in danger. He said he was going to get the money back, that he was working for real, and not gambling anymore. I didn’t really believe him, but I wanted my dad to be safe. I trusted that one day he would sort it out.”
Julianne took a deep breath. “Then one day, Heather came to me. She said she knew where my dad was, and she told me. Sure enough, it was exactly where he had told me he was. She said if I didn’t get her a hundred thousand abras she would tell the paranormals who were after my father where he was. I believed her. I knew how she had ruined the lives of people who refused to give in to her blackmail. I asked her how I was supposed to get that kind of money and she told me I was a smart girl, and to figure it out.”
“And you decided to steal the pumpkin punch recipe and blackmail Frances for it.”
Tears streamed openly down Julianne’s face. “You have no idea how much I didn’t want to. But I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want Dad to die. He wasn’t the greatest father, not by a long shot, but he was still my dad. It was the only thing I could think of. I’ve been racked by guilt ever since. I haven’t eaten since last night. I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, luckily for you, I think I know,” I said gently. “We’re going to call Frances over here, and you’re going to tell her what you just told me, and then we’ll see what Frances wants to do.”
“Am I going to go to jail?” Julianne asked in a small voice.
“I think if you tell Frances everything you just told me, you’re going to minimize the odds of that happening,” I replied.
Julianne nodded, and I caught Frances’ eye and motioned her over.
In the end, Frances forgave Julianne. She tearfully admitted to everything, and Frances told her she wasn’t about to ruin Julianne’s life over one mistake, and also told her that if she ever had any other issues in her life that she didn’t know how to handle, to come to her and ask her about them.
“Poor thing,” Frances said to me after Julianne left. “She just doesn’t have anyone to go to.”
“I’m glad Heather’s lost all her power now, thanks to Grandma Rosie.”
“Totally agree. I’m going to press charges against her for the damage to the roof.”
“And that’s going to be on top of the assault charge she’s going to face for going after Grandma Rosie. It’s going to be hard to get out of it when everyone in the bar saw what happened.”
“Exactly,” Frances said with a grin. “Just how your grandmother planned it, I’m sure.”
“I haven’t got a doubt. Well, looks like everything is back to normal. And you’ll be able to serve pumpkin punch again.”
“Just in time for Halloween, too. I’ll save the first glass for you.”
“I can’t wait,” I said with a grin.
Want to read more of Ali’s adventures? Discover the first book in the Pacific North Witches series, Going through the Potions, by clicking here now.
Samantha Silver lives in British Columbia, Canada, along with her husband and a little old doggie named Terra.
When she's not writing mysteries Samantha loves travelling (she's most recently been to Egypt and Jordan), skiing, eating Dairy Queen and complaining a
bout how hard running is.
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Gone with the Grimoire
Amorette Anderson
When Marley the witch learns about a break-in at a nearby chocolate factory, she vows to help. Who broke into the factory, and why? With the help of her best friend and owl familiar, Marley is on the search for sweet clues!
1
I pulled my vintage VW van up to the front of the Death Café and smiled as I saw my best friend in the whole wide world, Penny, cruise down the sidewalk on her pink town bike. She had her cat, Turkey, in her messenger bag, a toothy grin on her face, and a large travel mug of coffee in one hand. She skidded to a stop in front of the café. Holding the coffee made locking her bike difficult, and I was laughing as I hopped out of my van and approached her.
“Need a hand?” I asked.
“No, I think I got it,” Penny said, as she tucked her travel mug into the crook of her elbow and then used both hands to try to connect the two ends of her cable lock. Just as the two ends clicked together, her coffee spilled, Turkey gave an annoyed meow, and I laughed again.
“Oops! There goes my road coffee,” she said.
“You seriously needed a road coffee to get you to the coffee shop?” I asked.
Penny straightened up and brushed at the top of her bag, where most of the coffee had landed. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Definitely. It’s almost ten a.m.! I’m on my third cup of the day. So, did Annie tell you why she wanted us to meet her here this morning?”
Penny gave me a hug. I was careful to keep the embrace quick, because I didn’t want my friend to slosh coffee down my back.