“Mom, there was no botulism poisoning. I’m not going to die. You can’t live on French fries and Ritz crackers. And you’re making a mess.”
Hazel wiped the front of her shirt. “Do you see how she talks to me?”
Phyllis laughed and held up both hands as she squatted to the ground to look in the cupboard under the sink. “I’m staying out of this mother-daughter discord.”
Gwyn rummaged through the refrigerator. “She’s got some cheese in here. We could do cheese and crackers.”
“Oh, man, look what I found,” said Phyllis excitedly, holding up a clear glass bottle.
Gwyn squinted her eyes. “I don’t have my reading glasses with me. What is that?” She walked closer to Phyllis, who smiled devilishly. “Is that tequila?”
Phyllis rushed to the sliding door to the backyard. “Ladies, hurry up and get in here. I found something you’re gonna wanna see.”
Char barreled in first. “Did you find the book?” Her tone was anxious and hopeful.
A brief frown flitted across Phyllis’s face. “No, but almost as good.”
“Where’s the fire?” asked Loni as she came inside next. Her arms were spread out wide as she held the door frame. A fat brown cigar dangled from the mouth of her mask.
“You can take that mask off now, Loni,” said Gwyn. “No one can see you in here.”
Loni shook her head staunchly. She pointed at the sliding glass doors. “Uh-uh. Someone could be spying on us through those,” she said gruffly with the cigar still hanging from her lips.
Gwyn plucked the cigar from her mouth, walked over to the doors, put the cigar out in the planter next to the door, and pulled the vertical blinds shut. “There. Now you’re safe. Take off the mask. I feel like I’m talking to George Hamilton. It’s creepy.” She shuddered.
Loni pulled her glasses and top hat off and set them on the counter. Then with both hands, she pulled the mask off. “Oh,” she sighed, fanning her face with one hand and searching blindly on the counter for her glasses with the other hand.
“Here, Lon,” said Phyllis, handing them to her.
Loni slipped them onto her face and looked up to smile at the women. “That’s so much better. It was hot in there. I was starting to wilt away. Do I look all shriveled up now?” she asked, smiling at her friends.
“You looked all shriveled up before you put the mask on,” quipped Hazel. “What do you expect? We all look like prunes these days.”
Char patted her curly white hair. “Speak for yourself. I eat well, I hydrate often, and I keep up with my fitness. You girls might look like prunes, but I don’t.”
“I don’t either,” agreed Gwyn, running a hand through her own shoulder-length hair. She might have some wrinkles, but she certainly didn’t look as weathered as Loni and Phyllis.
“Give yourself time,” said Hazel, holding up a crooked finger. “Wrinkles are like underwear. They creep up on you when you least expect it. You’ll all look like prunes someday. Even you, Gwynnie. A bottle of hair dye isn’t going to keep you young forever.”
Phyllis held up the bottle of tequila in her hand. “No, but a bottle of this might keep us young for the night. What do you say, girls?”
Char sucked in her breath as she looked at the bottle. “What is that? Is that tequila? Phyllis Habernackle! Where did you get that?”
“In Kat’s cupboard. She wanted us to have it,” Phyllis said with an ornery smile, hugging the bottle to her chest. “It was a gift from beyond.”
19
Loni shoved Phyllis aside and walked into the kitchen. “Make mine a double,” she croaked while opening Kat’s other cupboards. “I wonder if she has any limes. I can’t drink tequila without a lime.”
“I’ll find the salt!” Phyllis excitedly put the bottle on the counter and began to look for the salt.
“We’re not drinking tequila,” said Gwyn firmly. “Tonight is supposed to be about putting our friend to rest. Not getting wasted like a bunch of college girls.”
Phyllis pulled several glasses from the cupboard she was searching and let it slam shut before staring at Gwyn. “Tonight is about celebrating Kat’s life. On the way here, we stopped by Char’s place to drop off her hu—” She glanced up at Char and then cleared her throat. “Her dog. We grabbed an old photo album Char hung onto for all these years. It’s over there.” She pointed towards the parlor. “Why don’t you grab that, and I’ll make us some drinks?”
“I found some lemon juice in the fridge. I’m good with lemon juice. How about you girls?” asked Loni, popping her head out from around the fridge door.
Phyllis gave her a broad smile. “Perfect.”
“I’ll have mine on the rocks,” said Hazel from the table. “Bring that cheese over here too. I’ll cut it up. We shouldn’t drink on empty stomachs.”
“Here, give this to Haze,” said Phyllis, passing Char the cheese. Then she pointed to a drawer at the end of the counter. “Knives are in that drawer.”
Char shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re seriously doing this.”
“Mother, you are not drinking tequila. Girls, are you off your rockers? We’re too old to drink straight-up tequila. We’ll die of alcohol poisoning!”
“You’re already going to die of botulism poisoning. Wouldn’t you rather be drunk when you kicked the bucket?” asked Hazel with a little chuckle.
“Oh my gosh, Mom. Those tomatoes did not have botulism. You can’t smell botulism. Would you stop?” She pointed a finger at Phyllis. “I’m going to go get the photo album. Do not give my mother any tequila,” she added, shooting Phyllis a stern look.
Phyllis held up two hands as if to say, “Say no more,” but the minute Gwyn turned her back, Phyllis ran a tumbler with ice and two fingers of alcohol over to Hazel.
Hazel waved a hand in the air at Phyllis before she walked away. “I can’t drink this without salt.”
Loni held the salt shaker up. “Here. I found it.”
Gwyn came back in the room to find her mother licking the soft, fleshy part of her fist. “Mother! Don’t you dare!”
“Over the lips, over the gums,” said Hazel, grabbing the tumbler and rushing it to her lips. She made a little squeal as it went down the hatch.
“Mother!”
Loni handed her a shot of lemon juice she’d poured. “Here, chase it with a little of this.”
Hazel nodded and swallowed a bit of the juice. “Whew!” she bellowed, stomping her cane down on the ground several times as the alcohol settled inside her belly.
“I can’t believe you girls. You’re trying to get my mother drunk! What is wrong with you?”
“What is wrong with you, Gwyn? Your mother is old; she’s not fragile. There’s nothing wrong with her having a few drinks,” bellowed Phyllis.
Loni squinted her eyes at Gwyn. “Yeah, what happened to my old roommate? She was a reckless, wild child. A free spirit. A blazing saddle. You aren’t any of those things! Makes me wonder if you’re really Gwyn Prescott.” She stared at Gwyn for a moment, leaning her head sideways. “Are you wearing a wire?” she asked, reaching out to pat down the front of Gwyn’s shirt.
Gwyn hugged her arms to her chest to keep Loni’s hands off of her breasts. “Do you mind, Loni?!”
Loni pointed a finger at her as she stood her ground. “Don’t make me rip that shirt open!”
“Ooh, old witches gone wild,” cracked Hazel. “Someone record this. We’ll make a mint on the interweb.”
“I’m not wearing a wire!” cried Gwyn, holding her blouse together with her hands. She lowered her eyebrows at Loni. “And if you touch my shirt, I’ll scream.”
Hazel threw her arms up. “Houston, we have a screamer! Phil, pour me another one. Make it three fingers this time. I’m not driving.”
With her shirt still bunched up around her neck, Gwyn frowned at her mother. “You are not having another one. Phyllis, do not make my mother any more drinks.”
“You are wearing a wire!” insisted Loni. “Th
e Gwyn I knew wasn’t this uptight!”
“The Gwyn you knew wasn’t taking care of her elderly and extremely insolent mother!” she spat back.
Loni’s mouth crooked up on one side. “How do I know you’re the real Gwyn and not some imposter sent here to infiltrate my defenses?”
Gwyn spun around, out of Loni’s reach. She grabbed the photo album she’d just set down and paged it open to a picture of her and Loni. “This is you and I. See?” She pointed at her face and then at the picture. “That’s me.”
Loni stared at Gwyn’s face and around her ears and neck. “It could be a mask.”
“Oh, lay off, Loni. It’s Gwyn,” said Char, rolling her eyes.
“How do I know you’re actually Charlotte Adams? You could’ve all been sent here for me,” said Loni, slowly backing towards the sliding glass doors.
“Because you know me?” asked Char.
“I haven’t seen Char Adams in years. You don’t even look like Char anymore.” Inch by inch, Loni’s arms wrapped around towards her back.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Loni. I got old. We all got old. You don’t look like you used to look either.”
“That’s what the FBI would say, too.” And then in a flash, Loni produced a small black handgun. With trembling hands, she aimed it at the women. “Don’t move! I’m on to you!”
With wide, astonished eyes, Char, Phyllis, and Gwyn all held their hands up.
“Oh hell, Loni. Are you off your meds? It’s the real Gwyn,” said Hazel from the table. “Put the gun away. You’ll kill someone with that thing.”
Loni shook her head as her other hand rose to connect with the handle of the gun too. “Like I should believe you? You were the one that told me the other day that she kidnapped you.”
Hazel rolled her eyes and slammed her hands down on the table. “Oh, for the love of Walter Matthau. When they were handing out brains, did you think they said trains and miss yours? You’re crazier than the crazies in the mental ward, you crazy loon.”
“Mother, you’re not helping any,” hissed Gwyn with her hands still up. “Loni, what my mother is trying to say is that she was joking when she said that the other day.”
“I don’t believe you!” hollered Loni.
Phyllis moved a filled shot glass to the other counter and slid it towards Loni. “Take a drink, Lon. Just to take the edge off. You’re wound up tighter than Kim Kardashian’s underwear.”
Loni eyed the drink suspiciously but lifted it to her lips and slammed it, closing her eyes for a split second as she did so. “Oooh!” she yelped as it burned her throat.
The three women staring at her used that tiny moment to unleash a torrent of electrical energy from their palms in her direction. It snaked around her like a glowing neon straitjacket, binding her arms to her body. The handgun clattered to the floor.
“See! I knew you were the bad guys!” hissed Loni, struggling to get her arms out of the stronghold.
“We’re not the bad guys, Loni Hodges!” barked Phyllis. Then she held a hand up to the side of her mouth and whispered to the other women, “Does her elevator not go to the top floor anymore?”
“I don’t know, but if it does, the doors certainly aren’t opening,” Char whispered back. She walked towards Loni and bent down to pick up the gun from the floor. “We bound you for your own good, Loni. Why are you so paranoid?”
Loni stopped struggling and lifted her head. “She wasn’t acting like the real Gwyn!”
“I am the real Gwyn!”
“Prove it!”
“I proved it the first day I saw you again, Loni. Don’t you remember?”
Loni was quiet for a moment. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Remind me.”
“I reminded you that I stayed over at your house during college and we snuck out your bedroom window. We climbed down that tree in the backyard.”
Loni’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “That tree came down in a storm twenty years ago.”
Hazel and Gwyn exchanged a look. Hazel swirled a finger in a circle next to her temple and widened her eyes as her mouth formed a little circle.
“I know,” said Gwyn. “You told me. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember,” snapped Loni. She tried to move her arms, but they were still bound to her sides. “Now take this damned spell off of me.”
Gwyn’s eyes widened. “You just tried to kill us, Loni.”
“I wasn’t going to kill you.”
“How can we believe that?” asked Phyllis.
Loni shrugged and refused to make eye contact with the women.
“Do you believe it’s really Gwyn now?”
Loni hung her head. “Yes,” she grumbled.
“Loni?” pressed Char.
“I believe it’s Gwyn,” she mumbled.
Char held up the gun. “I’m not giving this back to you.”
“Where’d you get a gun from anyway?” asked Phyllis suspiciously.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” said Loni with a half-smile. “It’s better if some things are left unsaid. Now take this off me.”
Gwyn, Char, and Phyllis exchanged a look. Char gave a little nod, and Phyllis sighed. “Fine. But if you so much as point a finger in my direction, I’m gonna make you wish you never left your house.”
Loni nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be good,” she said in a solemn voice with lowered brows.
“Ready, girls?”
The three women held their palms, arms outstretched, towards Loni once again. This time, they slowly pulled their hands backwards. Their magic reversed, unwinding Loni and spinning her in a circle as it did. When the magic was completely released and Loni was done spinning, she shook her head wildly.
“What a trip!” she exclaimed, stumbling around. “A tequila shot and a magic spin. Heavy!”
“Sit down before you fall off the floor,” said Phyllis dryly. Then she looked up at the girls in the room. “Well! I think that calls for another round. On the house.” She held up the tequila bottle. “Char, you, me and Gwyn are behind by one, so we get doubles.” Phyllis filled two shot glasses and slid them towards Char.
“Oh, fine. But I’m only having one.” Char took the glass, salted and licked her hand, and downed the small amount of liquid, chasing it quickly with a bit of juice. “Yow!” She wiped her mouth and shook her head. “It’s been years since I’ve had one of those!”
“You’re only having one,” repeated Phyllis with a chuckle. “Saying you’re only having one tequila shot is like saying you’re only going to eat one M&M. It’s highly unlikely, and really what’s the point of that?”
Char shoved the second drink towards Gwyn. “Your turn, blondie.”
Gwyn looked at the drink with hesitation and then up at her friends.
“Gwyn, Gwyn, Gwyn,” chanted Hazel, pounding her small fists on the table.
Loni joined in next. “Gwyn, Gwyn, Gwyn!”
Phyllis and Char added their voices to the chant next as their tempo increased. “Gwyn! Gwyn! Gwyn!”
Gwyn closed her eyes, wrapped her hand around the cool glass, and brought it to her lips. She blew out a breath and then whispered, “Lord help me.”
20
By eleven o’ clock that evening, the noise level in Katherine Lynde’s house had ratcheted up several decibels. Not only had the music gotten turned up, but the ladies had gotten turned up as well.
Phyllis spun the empty bottle of tequila, which lay sideways on the kitchen table next to the open photo album. Cracker crumbs and bits of cheese littered the floor. Hazel was passed out at the table, facedown with her head cradled in her outstretched arms.
“Too bad we didn’t have any good-looking men here to play spin the bottle with,” hollered Phyllis over the blaring music.
Loni tipped her head back as she poured her last shot down her throat. She slammed the glass down on the table. “Yee-haw!” she bellowed. “That one went down smooth,” she slurred.
“Pass me t
hose crackers!” Phyllis’s eyes were thin slits of green as she looked at Char across the table. Strands of her grey hair had freed themselves from her bun, and they tufted out wildly around her face. “My belly don’ feel so good.”
Char slid the last few crackers in the sleeve across the dining room table. “That’s all we got left. I’m gonna hafta go to the store t’morrow an’ buy Kat some more crackers.”
“Kat’s dead,” shouted Loni. “She don’ care if we ate alla her crackers.”
“Oh no, I can’t steal crackers from my dearly departed friend,” cried Char over a new loud song that blared from the speaker in the kitchen. “What is this song?” she bellowed, plugging a finger in one ear. “It sounds like she’s bangin’ a hammer inside a my head.”
“It’s the new music,” shouted Phyllis. “It’s what my granddaughter listens to. You don’t like it?”
“That girl sounds angry,” said Gwyn through narrowed eyes while holding her head. “She’s giving me a migraine. Maybe we should listen to something else.”
Phyllis leaned back and pointed her finger at the AM/FM radio on the counter. Slowly the dial turned on its own until it hit another station. A slow country ballad drizzled out of the speaker.
Loni closed her eyes and swayed to the steady rhythm with her hands waving in the air. “This sounds like a love song,” she said dreamily. “Who wants to slow dance with me?”
“Keep going,” said Char spinning a finger in the air. “I’m not dancing with her. And that song’ll put me to sleep in two shakes.”
Phyllis magically turned the dial until it hit a golden oldies station and the sound of the Del-Vikings’ “Come Go with Me” poured out of the speaker.
Gwyn hopped up and started swaying her hips and snapping her fingers in time with the music. “Oh, girls! Do you remember this song! It was playing the night we had that mixer with the boys from the wizards school! Dom-dom-dom-dom-dom dom-de-doo-be …” she sang excitedly. “I can picture it like it was yesterday!”
That Old Witch!: The Coffee Coven's Cozy Capers: Book 1 Page 15