That Old Witch!: The Coffee Coven's Cozy Capers: Book 1

by M. Z. Andrews

  By now all the women were staring at Mr. Marlow for answers. He held up his hands defensively. “I’m sorry, ladies. Ms. Lynde didn’t specify what you were to do with the property. Only what you weren’t allowed to do, and that is to sell it. I imagine renting it out would be acceptable if you don’t want to reside on the premises. Or perhaps one or two of you could buy out the others’ shares.”

  Phyllis frowned. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Neither do I,” agreed Gwyn.

  “Well, Loni and I already own our homes, so I don’t think we’d want to buy anyone out,” said Char.

  Mr. Marlow lifted his shoulders and hands. “I think it’s something you’ll need to discuss. Together. That was the point Ms. Lynde wanted to get across. She wants your friendship restored to its original luster.”

  “Kat always was the make-peace-not-war one of the group,” sighed Phyllis.

  “Now, ladies. If you’ll excuse me. I have to prepare for my next appointment. If you have any questions, please take one of my cards on your way out and feel free to give me a call or send me an email.”

  The women were still stupefied as Mr. Marlow ushered them out of his office and closed the door behind them. Dazed, Char stopped in the lobby to get the key to the house and her copy of the will.

  “So what do we do now?” asked Gwyn. “I’m kind of in a hurry and don’t have much time to talk about things right now.”

  Phyllis threw her hands up in the air. “I have no idea. This is ridiculous.”

  “We’ll have to meet at the house to figure it out. What time do you get off work, Gwyn?” asked Char.

  “I’m not meeting anywhere!” bellowed Loni, tugging her mask back on her face.

  “Take off that ridiculous mask, Loni,” said Char. She was embarrassed even to be associated with Yolanda Hodges. “I can’t even look at you!”

  Gwyn ignored Char’s comment. “I could be there around five thirty today.”

  Char blew out a breath of frustration. “Oh, fine. We’ll meet at Kat’s at five thirty. Does that work for you, Phil?”

  Phyllis nodded.

  Loni crossed her bright yellow wings across her chest. “Well, I won’t be there.”

  Char pushed her way out the front doors of Jerry T. Marlow’s office. “Suit yourself, you looney bird. We’ll decide what to do with the house and all of Kat’s things without you, then.”

  “What a bunch of hooey,” ranted Loni from the backseat as Gwyn drove. “I can’t believe Kat expects us to forgive those women for what they did!”

  Gwyn clutched the steering wheel tighter as she drove. Her head pivoted on her neck, slowly scanning the neighborhood for any signs of her mother. “It would help me immensely if you’d sit up and help me look for Mom,” she said, her jaw tightening.

  “I can’t. Someone might see me,” chided Loni in a hushed whisper.

  “So what? You’re wearing a disguise. No one will know it’s you. Isn’t that the point of the disguise?” After all of that at the lawyer’s office, Gwyn was exhausted and short-tempered. Not only had Loni and Phyllis’s little showdown worn her out, but the thought of having to deal with Kat’s entire estate made her want to curl up and take a nap. And now, she had to deal with trying to find her mother before something bad happened to her or she got herself arrested. Not to mention the fact that she was due back at work in under fifteen minutes.

  Loni sighed and sat up as requested, but slumped down in her seat.

  “Thank you,” said Gwyn in a clipped tone.

  “I mean, what are we supposed to do with her house if we aren’t allowed to sell it?” asked Loni, continuing her rant while taking an ineffectual glance out the window.

  Gwyn shrugged. “I guess we rent it out or something. We’ll figure it out tonight.”

  “Well, all I know is I’m not going,” she said, crossing her arms pointedly.

  “Suit yourself, but I bet there will be a lot of interesting treasures we’ll all get to pick through,” said Gwyn, lifting an eyebrow as she peered into the rearview mirror at Loni.

  Loni groaned. “You all can’t just take things, though. Everything in there is one-fourth mine!”

  “If you don’t show up, then they’ll be able to take anything they want!” sang Gwyn. She was quickly learning how to push Loni’s buttons.

  And indeed, she’d seemed to set Loni’s butt on fire. “Oh, hell no!” she bellowed from behind the mask. “They stole that spell book from us. They aren’t going to steal all of Kat’s prized possessions from us too!”

  “Well, then, you better go with me tonight. We can confront the thieves about that spell book while we’re there.”

  Loni nodded as she mulled over Gwyn’s words. “You might be right. I suppose if we ever want to see that book again, we need to sort it out now.”

  Gwyn smiled at her. “So you’ll come with me?”

  “Yes. I suppose I’ll have to,” she whined.

  “Okay, good. I’m glad we’ve got that settled. We’re almost to your house, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Mom,” said Gwyn.

  She had no idea where to even begin looking. Hazel didn’t know her way around Aspen Falls. Where would she even have gone? At least in Scottsdale, Gwyn knew which local haunts to search first when Hazel went missing. She usually started with the pool halls and the casinos. And if Hazel wasn’t there, it usually meant she was hungry, and Gwyn would try all of Hazel’s favorite French fry joints. McDonald’s was her favorite. But there were no casinos or pool halls in Aspen Falls, and there certainly wasn’t a McDonald’s. Today, she’d be searching blind.

  Gwyn’s hands shook as she turned down Hemlock Road. What would she do if she couldn’t find her mother? She could be in trouble somewhere. Or worse, hurt or even dead in a ditch! She shouldn’t have left to go to the will reading. She should have rescheduled and figured out how to get Loni convinced to go on a different day. But then Char and Phyllis would have thrown a fit. Maybe Loni would have changed her mind about going altogether. Gwyn’s mind replayed all the possibilities of what could have happened, trying to rationalize her idiotic decision not to look for her mother the minute she’d discovered her missing.

  “Why are you going to the front of the house? You have to take me to the alley!” cried Loni, slinking down in the backseat so that her head was no longer visible from the windows. “I can’t go to the front, they’ll see me.”

  “I’m looking for Mom!” said Gwyn. “And you’re being ridiculous. There is no one monitoring your house.”

  “You think there’s no one monitoring my house,” hissed Loni from the floor of the backseat. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t.”

  As they pulled up to Loni’s house, Gwyn had to squint, but she thought she saw someone sitting on the old wicker chair on Loni’s front porch. She pulled up to the curb and rolled down her window. “Mom!” she breathed, throwing the car into park. Gwyn launched herself out the door and rushed to the porch. “Mom! There you are! Where have you been, are you okay?”

  “Hell, Gwynnie. I’ve been waiting here for nearly an hour,” Hazel exaggerated. “What kind of daughter are you? You just up and leave an old woman alone the first chance you get? In this ghost house?”

  Tears of relief filled Gwyn’s eyes. “Oh, Mom! You ran off. I didn’t know where to look for you!”

  “Ran off? I didn’t run off. I went inside to use the bathroom. I’m old, you know. My bladder’s the size of a walnut. Wait until you get to be my age. Hopefully, your daughter won’t up and leave you the second you go to use the john.”

  Gwyn practically collapsed on top of her mother. Fear had gripped her since she’d left Loni’s house nearly thirty-five minutes ago. “I was so worried about you.”

  “Obviously. I could tell by the way you just took off,” snapped Hazel, using her cane to pull herself to a standing position. “I’m starving. It’s past lunchtime, and if we’re not back by two, I won’t get my French fries. Let’s go.” Hazel pushed pas
t Gwyn and shuffled across the porch to the steps. “Come on, Gwynnie. I can’t be late for lunch. That Miss Georgia’s a real stickler for minding the clock.”

  With her heart still throbbing in her chest, Gwyn followed her mother down the stairs and helped her into the car. She walked back around to the driver’s side, slipped into her seat, and turned on the ignition. Once she’d put her seat belt on, Loni’s head popped up between the two seats.

  “Finally! Now take me around to the back.”

  “Ahhh!” screamed Hazel, shoving the butt of her cane into the Charlie Chaplin mask in the backseat.

  Loni’s hand went to her head in the place that Hazel had just caned her. “Oww!” she cried. “What are you doing, Hazel?! It’s me. It’s me!”

  “It’s Loni, Mom,” said Gwyn, putting a hand on Hazel’s shoulder.

  “Oh for pity’s sake!” Hazel’s hand went to her heart. “What the hell are you trying to do? Gimme a heart attack?”

  Loni rubbed her forehead but stayed low. “Shh, they’ll see you talking to me!”

  Hazel looked out her window. “Who will?”

  “The FBI.”

  “FBI? Are you plumb nuts or only partially nuts?” asked Hazel.

  “Mom! French fries!” said Gwyn.

  Hazel sucked her lips between her teeth as her eyes widened.

  “Can you please just take me around to the gate in the back of the house and drop me off?” asked Loni, still rubbing her head.

  Gwyn sighed. Hazel and Loni in the same car were just about too much for one day and one person’s sanity. “Gladly.”

  10

  Char and Phyllis were the first to pull into Kat Lynde’s driveway that evening. Kat’s beat-up old green Ford pickup was parked off to the side of the stunning three-story Victorian house.

  Phyllis approached the truck on her way up to the porch and kicked one of the tires with the toe of her black leather orthopedic walking shoe. “Does this thing even run?”

  “I guess I never asked Kat if it ran. I assumed it didn’t.” Char peeked in the window. “It’s still in pretty good shape. Maybe it does.”

  “It’s a nice-looking piece of steel,” said Phyllis. “Maybe we should take it for a test drive.” She attempted to open the driver’s-side door just as an old silver Buick came rambling into the driveway behind Char’s car.

  “Oh, look who’s here,” said Char, clucking her tongue. “The thieves themselves.”

  Loni Hodges jumped out of the backseat of the car before Gwyn had even pulled the car to a complete stop. Loni had lost the chicken costume, but had donned a grey rabbit fur vest over a silver satin blouse, leather chaps over a pair of hot pink leggings, purple rain boots, and a black veil that covered her face. She’d topped off the whole ridiculous ensemble with a cowboy hat with a big yellow feather sticking out of the band. She held up a hand.

  “You just hold it right there, Phyllis Habernackle! Don’t you go touching anything that’s one-fourth mine until we get a few things straight.”

  “I’m sorry, did you lose your horse, cowgirl?” asked Phyllis with a chortle. “I think it’s time someone put you out to pasture.”

  Char didn’t even attempt to cover up her giggle.

  Loni bunched up her face as she came storming towards Phyllis. “I mean it, Habernackle. That truck is mine!”

  Phyllis looked at Char incredulously. “Is she trying to steal Kat’s things already?”

  Gwyn got out of the car. “Girls,” she huffed. “This is embarrassing. We’re already fighting out in the driveway? You can’t wait until we get into the house, at the very least? What will the neighbors think?” She stalked around to the other side of the car to help Hazel out next.

  “I don’t give a damn what the neighbors think,” hissed Phyllis. “I’m going to get a few things off my chest today.”

  Char ran a hand across the back of her neck as she peered at the house next door. She’d lived in Aspen Falls longer than most of these women, and she wasn’t particularly keen on her business being the topic of conversation at all of the social gatherings for the week. “Gwyn’s right. We should take this inside. We all have a lot to say to each other, and it’s none of the neighbors’ business as to what that is.” She looked at the little old lady hobbling towards her. “Who’s this?”

  “This is my mother, Hazel Prescott. Mom, this is Char and Phyllis,” she said, pointing at the two women in the order she’d introduced them. “I take care of my mother. I can’t leave her alone, or she gets herself into trouble.”

  “I just have a little fun is all,” snapped Hazel. “My daughter doesn’t know how to have fun anymore.”

  “Mom, I know how to have fun. And you don’t just have fun. You get police escorts home is what you get. I don’t consider that fun at all.”

  Char shrugged as she smiled at Hazel. “It’s nice to meet you, Hazel.”

  “I’d say likewise, but that would be a lie, and I’ve always taught my daughter it’s not right to lie,” she said without pausing as she walked past Char. Then, lifting one finger into the air, she added, “And I always know when she’s lying.”

  Char looked up at Gwyn. “Spitfire, isn’t she?”

  Gwyn blushed. “You could say that. Just don’t encourage her. She doesn’t need any encouraging.”

  “Alright, girls. Let’s go inside, then. We’ll air our grievances in there,” said Char, leading the troops up the wooden porch steps past Hazel. About two dozen folded-up newspapers sat in a pile in front of the door. Char shoved them out of the way with the toe of her white sneaker and then pulled back the screen door and stuck the key the receptionist had given her into the lock. “There’s a light on inside the house.”

  “But she died outside,” Gwyn pointed out.

  “I know that, smarty pants,” snapped Char. “I was just making conversation.”

  Loni grimaced. “No need for sweet-talking us now. Hurry up and get that door opened. I got a lot to say.”

  “Slow your roll, Loni Hodges,” groaned Phyllis.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Phyllis Habernackle.”

  Gwyn sighed. “Will you ladies please act civilized? You’re giving me a headache.”

  Char pushed the door open. A pungent smell wafted out the front door, making Char gag almost immediately. “Oh my word!” she bellowed, pulling the collar of her sweatshirt up over her nose. “What is that smell?”

  Hazel pushed Char aside. “I don’t smell anything,” she snapped. “I need to use the little girl’s room.”

  “Down the hall to the right,” said Char. “Come on, girls. We need to figure out what that smell is before we do anything else.”

  Phyllis entered next. “Smells like rotten food to me.”

  Gwyn entered and immediately pulled her shirt up over her nose too. “Yeah, that’s got to be her garbage or something.”

  Kat’s house was of a similar age and style to Loni’s, but Kat’s was immaculately kept. Everything was in its place and neat and tidy, so it was a shock that it smelled so badly. The women walked through the house to the kitchen, where they found the light that had been left on. A cup of coffee sat on the counter along with a small jar of sugar next to it.

  Gwyn sucked in a puff of air. “Oh, she was having coffee,” she said sadly.

  “One minute you’re here and the next you’re gone. What a shame,” agreed Char sadly.

  Loni took her cowboy hat and veil off and walked towards Char. “How dare you be sad? You weren’t a friend to Kat during her life, so you don’t get to pretend you’re sad that she’s dead.”

  Char furrowed her thinly penciled-in eyebrows at Loni. “Kat was my friend, too. I visited her a few times a month since college!”

  “Liar. You did not. Kat would’ve told me that!” said Loni.

  “Maybe she didn’t tell you everything. Ever think of that?” asked Char.

  “Girls, can we please address this smell before World War III breaks out?” asked Gwyn. “I can hardly breathe.
It smells like Kat died in here, not out there.” She tipped her head towards the glass sliding doors off the eat-in kitchen.

  Phyllis pointed at the garbage can while the other women opened cupboards and drawers searching for the smell. “Garbage is empty. It’s not coming from here.”

  Gwyn walked over to the sink. “Oh no,” she said, holding her nose and gagging at the same time. “Kat must have been starting supper before she died.”

  Char looked over her shoulder. A small glass bowl was in the sink with an uncooked chicken breast and a thigh in it. Kat must have taken the chicken out to thaw, then gone outside and slipped and fallen. Poor woman! “Yup, three-week old raw chicken will make that smell. Someone find a bag so we can wrap this up.”

  The women looked through the cabinets until they found a box of trash can liners. Gwyn put the chicken in a bag and then double-wrapped it in plastic.

  Char held out a hand to Gwyn to take the wrapped chicken from her. “I’ll just put that outside,” she said, opening the sliding glass doors leading to Kat’s famed rose garden. She set the bag behind the house. “Remind me to take that to the curb and put it in her garbage bins before we leave, so an animal doesn’t get into it.”

  Gwyn nodded and sprayed the air with a bottle of air freshener she’d found underneath the sink. “Maybe you should just leave that door open to let some fresh air in.”

  “Yes,” said Char. “Good idea.”

  Phyllis looked at Loni contemptuously. “Now what were we arguing about?”

  “I don’t remember, but I have something I need to get off my chest,” said Loni, pointing her bony finger towards Phyllis.

  Phyllis snarled at her. “Well, it certainly isn’t your breasts, because those are on your stomach!”

  Loni scowled at Phyllis. “You’re an evil witch, Phyllis Habernackle.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Phyllis retorted, rolling her eyes.

  “Get on with it,” snapped Char. “We don’t have all night. What could you possibly have to gripe about?”

  Loni snarled at them. “Ha! You’ve got to be kidding! You mean other than the fact that you and that woman stole our book?”