Strange Brew

by N C Patterson

  Witchwater, Michigan may be considered a city on the map, but it has the same down-home vibes and appeal of a small town. Much of the area was in chunks with short to medium stretches of wilderness in between.

  Living in downtown close to the waterfront cost a bit more, but it also meant I was close to work.

  Pulling up in front of the house I had found online, the one where Jacob’s mother supposedly lived, I parked the car and got out.

  Stepping out, I adjusted the old trench coat I’d pulled out to complete the outfit and headed for the door.

  The place was a small single-story house. Not much to look at with an unkempt yard and a couple missing shingles.

  Knocking, I only had to wait a few moments before a woman with bright red dyed hair opened it. Her eyes looked gray and sunken, a sign that she was tired and weary. I knew instantly this must be Jacob’s mother.

  I opened my mouth to introduce myself when she spoke first. “Oh, no. I knew this was coming. I knew it.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “You’re that detective, aren’t you? The one from the city here to ask my son questions?”

  I licked my lips to keep from smiling, happy at my luck. “Yes.”

  “My son didn’t kill anyone, okay? I don’t know what ideas you and your people have, but he is innocent. He was here all night last night in the basement, unpacking his moving boxes.”

  I held up a hand. “That’s all very well and good, ma’am, but I still need to ask the questions.”

  “What for?” she argued, digging nervously into the front pocket of the fleece shirt she was wearing. She produced a lone cigarette, lit it, and shoved it between her lips. “I’m telling you that he was here that whole time.”

  “Please, ma’am. If you don’t mind. I’d like to ask Jacob himself.”

  She gripped the cigarette between two fingers, removed it from her mouth, and blew out a plume of grey smoke. “Oh, fine. Come on in, but don’t expect any niceties.” She stepped aside.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I told her, moving past the threshold and into the dark house. I hoped I could keep this charade up.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Down in the basement, and be quick about it,” she ordered, motioning to the door in the kitchen that sat slightly ajar. Opening it, I found a dusty wooden staircase leading down to a concrete floor. A yellowish glow was all there was to prove someone was home.

  Walking down, I appeared there with my hands on my hips.

  The place was a cluttered mess, full of boxes stacked upon one another. I assumed these were the moving boxes Jacob had brought with him when he was forced to move back in with his mother.

  I spotted Jacob slouched over, sitting on the end of a bed in the corner. He was sorting through a pile of books on the topic of chess. After all, he had admitted to hours upon hours of study on the subject.

  “Who are you?” he asked, sitting up with eyes wide at the bald stranger who’d just entered the room.

  “I just need to ask you a few questions.”

  “A few questions? Why didn’t you people call and warn me you’d be here so soon?”

  “Crime stops for no one, I said, feeling like a cliché from a nineteen-fifties noir film.

  Jacob hesitated, scowling unhappily in my direction. “Fine,” he relented. “Ask away.”

  Clasping my hands behind my back, I began to pace. “First of all, where were you last night between nine-thirty and ten-thirty?”

  He patted a nearby box. “I was right here, working on unpacking.”

  I nodded. “I see. You never left this room last night?”

  “Of course, I did. I had to use the bathroom upstairs. There isn’t one down here. Not to mention I had something to eat.”

  “But you were here in the house all night?”

  “All night.”

  “And your mother can vouch for that?” I asked.

  “Of course she can,” he agreed. “Are we done now?” he questioned.

  “So, your mother was with you the entire time?”

  “No, why would she do that? She had to go to bed early. She had a morning shift at the grocery store and needed her sleep.”

  I stopped my pacing. “And what time did she go to bed?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Nine? Ten?”

  “If she was asleep, then she can’t vouch for you, can she?”

  His face went slightly pale. “Well, n-no, but I was here.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed. It was true. There was no specific reason to believe he was lying.

  “Look. Just because she was asleep doesn’t mean I wasn’t here, and it definitely doesn’t mean I killed anyone.”

  “That may very well be true,” I agreed, walking up and standing near him. Glancing past him, I noticed a door near the end of the bed, almost completely hidden behind boxes. “Where does that lead?”

  He looked back. “It’s a closet. What else?”

  I had a sneaking suspicion that was a lie. Being close to the suspect, I could feel the intense emotion of apprehension coming off his skin. That could mean he was trying to cover up or was just stressed out about being the suspect in a murder case.

  Still, I knew many of the homes in this area had a basement exit because I’d looked at moving into a downstairs apartment with a separate entrance when I’d first moved to town before settling on something closer to the lake.

  “Mind if I take a look?” I asked.

  “Hey, don’t you need a search warrant for that or something?”

  I glared at him. “I can get one to search this whole place. Turn it upside down and see if that missing comic book is here.”

  I watched him swallow with difficulty.

  “Or, you could just let me take a peek around.”

  “I’m not a murderer, okay?” he said, stumbling over his own words. “I-I may have been angry at Nathaniel, even thrown a little tantrum yesterday, but I didn’t kill him.”

  “A whole lot of people heard you threaten him.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone. I promise you. I was here all night long.”

  “Then you won’t mind me peeking behind this door really quick.”

  He looked as white as a sheet now. “If I let you look, will you promise to leave and not ask any more questions?”

  I thought about this, then answered. “It’s a deal.”

  Gingerly pushing the stack of boxes aside, I swung the door open. Hidden there was an outdoor staircase up to the backyard.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Well, the staircase proves he could have left his mother’s house last night without her noticing at all,” my Aunt Theo pointed out, sitting on a stool at the coffee counter while I rushed back and forth getting everything ready for the morning rush of customers.

  I was grateful that the police had cleared everything up within a single day, allowing me to reopen my business so soon after the crime had been committed. There was no sign that any kind of foul play had ever occurred here in my quaint little coffee shop.

  I was also aware that the murder had made it into the newspapers and online. If I knew mortals at all, I expected a massive rush of customers that morning all wanting to see the scene of the crime.

  Dahlia and Charline would be arriving soon to help me finish setting up, and I wasn’t too keen on my aunt being there when they came. Thus far, I had been lucky to keep my magical life and mortal life mostly separate. My aunt being there threatened that peace.

  Unfortunately, she seemed dead set on still discussing the murder case.

  We’d been having the same conversation from the day before, arguing back and forth about the so-called, “clues,” we’d found about the murder. She seemed eager to find some evidence to pin the killing on Jacob.

  I wasn’t so quick to the punch.

  “Just because there is a staircase from his basement doesn’t prove that he left the house that night, or that he hurt anyone,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time. I held the
inventory sheet on a clipboard and was making sure each of the brass coffee bean canisters in the large wall dispenser were filled. If possible, I tried to grind beans fresh for each new batch of the delicious black gold we sold. Obviously, we couldn’t do it for every single new order of coffee, but keeping the stainless-steel pump action coffee dispensers fresh by the hour was one way to make sure our beverages were top notch.

  Coffee is the best when it has been just brewed.

  “But, the staircase makes him our prime suspect. The other fellow was with his girlfriend all night, surrounded by coworkers. He has so many witnesses that say he was there.”

  “I know, I know, but those two guys aren’t the only options.”

  “Aren’t they? Who else is there? You?”

  I stopped what I was doing and gave her a sideways glance. “Don’t even joke.”

  “I’m not, I’m not joking. I’m being frank, my dear.”

  “I don’t have a motive,” I informed her.

  “But you were found at the scene. You were the last one to see this man alive.”

  I threw up my hands, realizing I couldn’t stand around arguing with her. “I’ve got work to do,” I said, sliding the inventory clipboard under the counter.

  The sound of the back door from the kitchen opening caught my attention and I instantly knew my two most dedicated employees were here. As per usual, they walked into the cafe from our tiny (and mostly unused) kitchen hand-in-hand. “Good morning,” Dahlia announced with her general warmth.

  Her partner in crime, Charline, was a bit shorter and had fiery red hair cut in a punk style. However, she was just as buff, if not more so, than Dahlia.

  “And who are these lovely ladies?” Aunt Theo asked, standing up.

  My heart instantly started to do a tap dance.

  “Aunt Theo, these are my two best employees. Dahlia is my head barista, and Charline handles inventory.”

  My aunt practically floated (but thankfully not literally floating) behind the coffee counter, past me, to the women. Taking each one by the hand, she smiled. “So nice to finally meet a couple of the witches my dear nephew has been spending time with.”

  At this, I nearly choked watching the confused and potentially offended expressions twist up the women’s faces.

  I rushed over to her, placing my hand on her back to guide her out. “Aunt Theo, we have a lot to get done. If you don’t mind,” I gave her a purposeful shove.

  “But I want to talk with your friends,” she protested.

  “Well, maybe later when we aren’t about to have a morning rush.”

  “Oh, fine, fine, but I expect to chat with them later. I want to know what areas they studied.”

  “Oh, we both got degrees in sports medicine. We even teach an exercise class together.”

  “That’s great. That’s lovely. Goodbye, Auntie,” I said, giving her one good shove toward the door and hopefully back to the house.

  “I’m going, dear. I’m going,” she said, waving me off and disappearing through the kitchen and out the back door.

  Finally alone with my colleagues, I let out a sigh, giving them a smile. “Sorry about that.”

  “Yeah, what was that about? Calling us witches?” Dahlia wondered.

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it,” Charline responded, giving her girlfriend’s arm a squeeze. Charline may have been the more timid and quiet of the two (a good reason for her to work in stock and not out front with the customers), but she was also the more kind and forgiving of the two.

  “I still don’t like it. Why would she say that?”

  “Who knows?” I said, trying to laugh it off.

  I wasn’t sure they were buying it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “My employees are not witches,” I said upfront, the instant I walked into the living room where Aunt Theo was reading a book that she’d found on my shelf about the Salem Witch Trials.

  “Did you know they get all the facts wrong in here?” she pointed out, not even having heard me.

  “Auntie, can you please listen for two seconds?” I snapped, wringing my hands nervously. It was nearly noon by the time the morning rush was over, and I’d spent the whole time debating over how, or even if, I was going to confront my aunt about my rather mortal lifestyle.

  Unfortunately, even after I’d decided it was best to just tell her, I didn’t get a chance to sneak away for a break for quite some time.

  We’d had so many people come in for coffee, but also to get a quick look at the “murder cafe.”

  While I appreciated the extra business, I also didn’t care for the label. I was already growing nervous about a possible haunting happening there. A haunting could swing one of two ways. It could be the occasional flicker of a light, a puff of cold air, or creak of a door. Those were the kind of hauntings that interested most customers.

  However, an angry ghost who threw things, slammed doors, put people in danger, or maybe even possessed customers, drove away both the staff and patrons alike.

  “Did you say something, daaa’ling?” my aunt asked, lowering the book.

  “We need to talk,” I said, beginning to pace the hardwood floor.

  She closed the book and set it on the coffee table. “Okay, dear, I’m all ears.”

  “Those girls you met this morning?”

  “They seem lovely,” she interrupted.

  “They’re not witches,” I blurted out.

  She froze, blinking a few times to process what I’d just said. “So, what are they then?”

  I stopped my pacing and turned toward her. “They’re mortals.”

  “Mortals?” she exclaimed, standing up. “I thought you worked with witches.”

  “I never said that,” I reminded her. When I’d moved away from Salem and out to Michigan, I had never specified what my new life entailed.

  “Goodness. I knew you served mostly mortals in that shop of yours, but even your employees are mortal?”

  “Yes, Auntie. I wanted a normal life.”

  “Normal? Being a warlock is normal because that is what you are,” she pointed out. “Do you even attend the local Coven meetings?”

  “I have no idea if there even is a local Coven,” I admitted straight up.

  Her eyes widened, nearly bugging out of her head. “Do you have any witch-kind friends in this city at all?”

  I gripped my nervous hands together, my knuckles turning white. “No, Auntie. I don’t.”

  Now she was pacing. “Having a few mortal friends is fine. Completely normal. I’ve met a few that I’ve even liked throughout the years.”

  This was something I’d never known, but I knew it was only a precursor to her scolding. “But to completely surround yourself with mortals? No witch or warlock friends to back you up?” She stopped in place, looking me directly in the eye. “It’s simply madness.”

  “Why?” I demanded to know. “Why is it madness that I relate to these people more than other magic users I’ve met?”

  “Perhaps if you’d been a member of your local coven here, this murder wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Even if it had, you would have friends, anyone besides me, to back you up.”

  I folded my arms, growing defensive of the people whom I’d surrounded myself with. “My friends do back me up.”

  “How? How can they when they don’t even know or understand what you are. How special you are?”

  This time, I faced her, placing both hands on the sides of her shoulders. “They’re special, Theo. That’s exactly why I surround myself with them. Despite having short lives compared to us, despite knowing that someday they will pass on from this life, they cherish the world around them. They know how to find the beauty in each day. They know how to face problems head on and sometimes with a smile.” I smiled at her, trying to communicate how I felt. “They lift me up with the positivity, with the realism.”

  At first, there was no hint of a reaction from her. The features of her face didn’t budge,
didn’t even twitch.

  Finally, my aunt looked down at her feet. “Yes, I see, but how about when they turn on you? What if one or both of those girls in there found out what you are? Do you think they’d be so happy then?”

  “True friends don’t do that. They love you and accept you as you are,” I said.

  “If that’s how you feel, love,” she said.

  “It is.”

  Her vibrant, sparkling eyes remained trained on mine. She spoke, “I can see I’m no longer needed in your life.”

  “Auntie, I love you.”

  She cut me off. “Good luck with this murder case, dear. Don’t end up behind bars.” Leaning forward, she gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then, with a snap of her fingers, the air filled with a static crackling and she vanished from my house with a quiet popping noise.

  I sighed. “Bye, Auntie.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “She’s gone?” Tamsin asked, coming down the stairs, revealing that he’d been listening in as he always did. He peered through the railing at me.

  I looked at my orange tabby and gave a pained smile. “Yeah, she’s gone.”

  “I guess you got what you wanted?” It was more of a question than a statement.

  “That isn’t what I wanted,” I told him. Putting my hands on my hips. “As much as I hate to admit it, I do need her. I need her just as much as any of my mortal friends.” I paused, licking my lips. “After all, between you and her, it’s the only family I’ve got.”

  “And at this point your only ties to the witching world.”

  I silently agreed, standing there with my eyes wandering off to stare into space. I realized how I’d spent my last few years trying to run away from the witching culture I’d grown up in, been a part of. I even avoided speaking to my aunt, who--while frustrating--was a great rock in my life.