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

by M. Z. Andrews

  Sam Jeffries, the older gentleman who hadn’t wanted to make eye contact with Gwyn the day she’d met him, made a face. “A body was found down by the Falls.”

  “A body?” breathed Gwyn.

  Sergeant Bradshaw leaned backwards when he heard Gwyn’s voice. “A woman’s body,” he said more precisely.

  “She was dead?” asked Gwyn.

  He nodded. “Be careful out there. There could be a killer on the loose. I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you.” He looked over at Hazel, who had taken a seat at the bar across the room. “Of course, with your mother’s mean uppercut, I don’t think anyone is going to hurt any of you.”

  The women all piled into Gwyn’s Buick and took off up the street. Gwyn’s tires screeched, and her back end skidded out sideways as she made the turn towards Hemlock Road.

  Vic danced across Char’s lap and onto Phyllis’s. “Can you please take it easy? I don’t have the best center of gravity anymore,” said Vic.

  Gwyn glanced in her rearview mirror. “You should be wearing a seat belt, Vic.”

  “And just how exactly is he supposed to do that, Gwyn?” asked Char, lifting Vic back onto her lap.

  “I don’t know, put the lap belt across his legs.”

  “That’s not going to work,” said Char, trying to fashion something around her husband’s waist.

  “I can’t believe we couldn’t even wait for my French fries to finish cooking,” grumped Hazel from the front passenger seat.

  Gwyn glanced at her sideways. “I don’t want to hear another word about those French fries of yours,” she snapped. “Don’t you have anything to say for what you did?”

  Hazel turned towards her daughter stiffly. “For what I did? What the hell are you talking about, Gwynnie? I didn’t get my French fries, that’s what I did.”

  “You punched Sergeant Bradshaw in the…” She gripped the steering wheel tighter. She was so steaming mad, she couldn’t even say it.

  “In the giblets?” asked Hazel, lifting her brows and widening her eyes.

  “Yes, Mother!”

  With her eyes still wide, Hazel let an uh escape the back of her throat. “He told me to!”

  “He told you to punch him in the stomach, Mother, not his… sensitive region!”

  “Really, Gwyn? His sensitive region? They’re called balls,” said Phyllis plainly. “It’s not hard to say. Balls.”

  “I’ve always called them meatballs myself,” said Char, looking down at Vic as he put a paw to his forehead. “Or marbles.”

  “Ladies,” he sighed, thoroughly embarrassed. “Just call them testicles.”

  “Testicles?!” screeched Phyllis. “I can’t call them testicles. That sounds so… so… clinical.”

  “Sweetheart,” said Char, looking down at her husband, “you don’t even call them testicles.”

  “Well, what do you call them, Vic?” asked Phyllis.

  Vic buried his face beneath his paws on the seat.

  Char smiled. “I think I’ve only ever heard Vic refer to them as the family jewels, although there was that one time I’m pretty sure you called them the Gruesome Twosome.”

  “Love muffin!” cried Vic. “There are ladies present!”

  “No ladies here,” cracked Phyllis. “The Gruesome Twosome, that’s cute, Vic. Nice.”

  “We were on our honeymoon,” explained Char as an aside.

  “Girls!” shouted Gwyn in exasperation. “Why are we even discussing this? The point is, Mom, you shouldn’t have punched him at all. That was so embarrassing!”

  “I was just testing his fortitude.” Hazel shrugged.

  “You were testing the fortitude of his balls, that’s for sure,” agreed Phyllis with a chuckle.

  Gwyn turned the steering wheel. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but that little stunt just cost you your three days of breakfast fries.”

  Hazel sucked in her breath. “Gwynnie! You scoundrel! You wouldn’t?”

  Gwyn touched a hand to her chest and turned to stare at her mother. “Oh, I’m the scoundrel?! Mother! You punched Sergeant Bradshaw in the nuggets!!” she bellowed into the car.

  The car went silent for several seconds after that, until finally, Phyllis nodded from the backseat. “Nuggets. I like that one. Good call, Gwynnie.”

  “Ugh,” groaned Gwyn. “Why are we even going up here? The dead woman is back that way!”

  Phyllis nodded, crossed her arms across her chest, and leaned back against her seat. “I don’t know. She’s not going to want to go with us anyway.”

  “Well, she’ll be madder than a wet hen if we don’t invite her,” chided Char. “And we don’t want her pulling a gun on us again anytime soon.”

  Phyllis threw a flattened palm towards the girls. “Oh no, I put that woman’s gun on ice.”

  “What’d you do with it?” asked Gwyn.

  Phyllis smiled. “I just told you. I put it on ice. I hid it in Kat’s deep freezer in the garage. She’ll never find it out there.”

  “What are we doing, girls? Kat was murdered. We were supposed to spend our breakfast talking about how to figure out who killed her, and now we’re off chasing another murder and talking about man parts,” said Gwyn. “I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee. I can’t think straight.”

  “Nothing new there,” grumbled Hazel without moving her head.

  Gwyn looked at her mother sideways. The woman was riding her last nerve. She pulled two cotton balls from the pockets of her cardigan and handed them to Hazel. “Put these back in your ears, Mother.” She steered the car around the corner and pulled to a stop at the curb.

  “Who’s running in?” asked Phyllis.

  “Not me,” said Char.

  “I’m not going back into that loon’s house,” snapped Hazel.

  “Ugh, looks like it’s you and me, Phyllis,” said Gwyn.

  “If I have to,” sighed Phyllis. “We should have just gone over to the Falls without her.”

  “She’d want to know what happened,” said Gwyn as she got out of the car. “Come on. I’m not going alone.”

  The two women marched up the front steps and were promptly greeted by a swarm of cats on the porch, enjoying a leisurely breakfast of dry cat food and saucers of milk. The cats all looked up at Gwyn and Phyllis as they navigated through the crowd and to the front door.

  Gwyn knocked. She could hear Loni moving around inside, but no one opened the door. “Open up, George. It’s Gwyn and Phyllis.”

  No one answered, but the noise inside stopped.

  Phyllis pounded on the door. “Open this door right now, Loni Hodges!”

  The door opened a crack. “Why are you yelling my name? Someone is bound to hear you,” she hissed.

  “As if whoever you think is watching your house doesn’t know who lives here?” asked Gwyn, looking around. “Besides, there’s no one out here but your army of cats.”

  Loni looked down at the cats. “Clifford, Emma, did you two see anything?”

  Two cats looked back at the door and meowed. Loni nodded her head. “Okay,” she said. She nodded towards the rest of the herd. “Are all of you ready to come back in yet?”

  Several cats meowed in response and Loni opened the door wider. “They aren’t ready to come back in, but you two are cleared for entrance.”

  Gwyn sighed and took a step forward. She was greeted by Loni’s palm in her face. “You’re not wearing a wire or anything, are you?”

  “Not that again, Loni. Of course I’m not wearing a wire. What am I going to have to do to prove to you that you can trust me?” asked Gwyn.

  Loni shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure that time will present itself at some point, but it hasn’t just yet. Just know I’m keeping my eye on you.” She put two fingers to her thick glasses and then pointed them at Gwyn and Phyllis. Loni let Gwyn pass but then held her palm up in Phyllis’s face.

  “I’m going to need you to remove your shirt,” said Loni. Her face was stone cold Steve Austin serious.

 
Phyllis frowned. “Like hell.”

  “It’s blue,” said Loni, her lips barely moving.

  Phyllis threw her arms out on either side of herself. “And?”

  Gwyn sighed and tugged off her green sweater. “Loni has a thing about the color blue. Here, put this on so we can get on with our day.”

  “Are you serious right now?” asked Phyllis.

  Loni blinked without changing her expression. “Serious as a dead man.”

  Phyllis took the sweater from Gwyn and in a big huff pulled it on and buttoned the middle button.

  Loni pointed at her shirt. “I can still see a little of it right—”

  Phyllis smacked her hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she grumped as she buttoned the sweater up to her neck. “You’re weird, Loni.” She pushed her way inside Loni’s house. “We don’t have time for this nonsense. We stopped by because they found a dead body over by the Falls.”

  Loni sucked in her breath, and her hand went to her mouth. “Was she murdered?”

  Gwyn shrugged. “We don’t have any details yet. All we know is that the police found a body, and I guess there’s a big scene over by the Falls. We were going to head over there, but we thought maybe you’d like to ride along with us.”

  “Out in public?!” she demanded. “In broad daylight? Someone would be sure to spot me then!”

  Phyllis waved her hand dismissively towards Loni. “Then put on one of those dumb disguises you have.”

  “Those only work if I’m hidden. Or it’s dark. Those don’t work during the daytime out in public!”

  “I hate to break it to you, but they don’t work at nighttime either,” huffed Phyllis. “You look like an idiot in them.”

  Gwyn sighed. “I hate to say it, Loni, but Phyllis is right. All you’re doing is calling more attention to yourself, not less. You’ve got to figure out more of an incognito disguise. Something that’s not so flashy!”

  “Like what?” asked Loni.

  Gwyn looked around the room at the myriad articles of clothing strewn on chairs, hanging from light fixtures, and draped across the backs of sofas. She saw a black scarf dangling from the corner of a curtain rod. It was covered in dust and cat hair. She shook it off and wrapped it around Loni’s head. “I think we can make something work!”

  24

  “Are you sure you can’t tell who I am?” asked Loni.

  Char and Phyllis looked at her, sitting between them, and smiled. “You are completely unrecognizable,” said Char as Gwyn pulled the car away from the gate in the backyard.

  Gwyn and Phyllis had found a blond wig that they’d pulled over Loni’s hair. They’d added the black scarf, wrapping it around the majority of her lower face, and had put on a pair of sunglasses that fit over her pop-bottle glasses. She wore a long black dress with heeled pumps to give her some height. She simply looked like a woman in mourning and not like the crazy old cat lady who lived on Hemlock Road.

  “You look great, Loni,” Gwyn assured her from the front seat.

  Hazel threw a snort over her shoulder. “You look like the grim reaper’s wife.”

  “Can we get out of here, before someone sees us?” asked Loni, slinking down in her seat.

  Gwyn pulled out of the alley and wound her way through side streets until they found a parking spot downtown near the Falls. Carloads of people pulled in from all directions as they got out and began to walk towards the main attraction.

  Police tape cordoned off a small white bungalow with a fenced-in backyard just across the street from the Falls. Next-door neighbors on both sides of the house stood in their yards, watching the events unfold as passersby stopped to ask them what had happened.

  “Pick up the pace, girls,” hissed Char as she sped past them towards the police cordon, carrying Vic in her arms.

  “Coming through,” Vic shouted into the crowd.

  Phyllis and Loni shoved their way to the front of the crowd to stand next to Char. Gwyn followed behind closely, holding her mother’s elbow so she wouldn’t get shoved over by one of the many people on the street. Hazel whacked at ankles with the end of her cane, causing many unhappy stares down at her.

  When they were all the way up to the front of the crowd and up against the police’s yellow tape, Phyllis looked around. Police officers searched every part of the property and could be seen coming in and out of the small house.

  “Whose body did they find?” asked Phyllis.

  Char shook her head. “I haven’t heard, but this is Margaret Sutton’s house.”

  “Who’s Margaret Sutton?” asked Phyllis.

  “I don’t know her very well. She plays bingo at the senior center. I only know she lives here because I brought her dinner once when the word at bingo was that she had slipped on some ice and thrown her hip out.”

  “Have I ever met her?” asked Phyllis.

  Char frowned. “I haven’t seen her at bingo since you’ve been to town.” Then a thought occurred to her and she held up a finger. “But, she was at Linda’s the other day when we had coffee.”

  “Oh, really? You didn’t point her out.”

  Char nodded. “Yeah, she was at that gardening meeting. The one that Boomer Wallace was presiding over.”

  “The one that Kat was a member of?” asked Gwyn.

  Char nodded. “Yeah. I remember seeing Margaret there and thinking I didn’t realize that she was in that club.”

  “Well, that’s peculiar.” Gwyn scratched her jaw. “Two women from the same gardening club dead within a few weeks of each other?”

  “You don’t think the two deaths are connected, do you?” asked Loni.

  Gwyn shrugged and looked around. “I think we have to consider it. Doesn’t it seem suspicious to you?”

  Loni nodded, the ends of her blond wig dusting the tops of her shoulders. “Maybe, but we need to find out more. Maybe it wasn’t even the woman who lives here that was killed.”

  Suddenly a familiar face walked by. “Detective Whitman,” hissed Char from behind the tape.

  “Hello, Char, Phyllis,” he said, nodding at them both and then at their friends.

  “What happened here?” asked Phyllis.

  He looked back at the house and rubbed the back of his neck. At least sixty sets of eyes were on him when he turned back around. “I can’t talk about it, I’m sorry.”

  “Just tell us who was found,” hissed Char. “We won’t tell anyone.”

  Detective Whitman glanced up at the crowd. He lowered his head and whispered back at them. “I’m not worried about you telling anyone. I’m worried about them telling everyone.”

  “Is it Margaret Sutton?” asked Char.

  “We aren’t releasing the victim’s name at this time. The family hasn’t been notified.”

  “But there definitely is a victim?” asked Gwyn.

  “Again, I can’t say any more. Listen, I need to get back to my investigation,” he said uncomfortably.

  “Just tell us how you found out something happened and we’ll leave you to your work,” suggested Char.

  He looked around once again and then lowered his head towards the women. In a hushed tone, he said, “One of the neighbors saw something and called 911.”

  “Which neighbor?” asked Char, looking at the other small houses on either side of Margaret’s house.

  “I’m sorry, ladies, that’s all I can say. Now, you’ll have to excuse me,” he said before returning to the inside of the house.

  The women stood looking at each other curiously. “Now what?” asked Loni.

  “Look,” hissed Gwyn, pointing across the yard. “Isn’t that the man that pushed Mom this morning?”

  Hazel perked up. “Where?”

  Gwyn stuck her finger out further, towards the house on the north side of Margaret’s. “Right there. See?”

  All the women’s heads turned to see Benny Hamilton with a camera hanging around his neck, slinking off into the backyard of the next-door neighbor’s house.

  Phyllis narrowed her e
yes. “He’s a reporter. He’s got a lead. We’ve got to get over there. I bet that was the neighbor who called 911.”

  “I bet you’re right,” agreed Gwyn. “We’ve got some investigating to do.”

  “Don’t you have to get to work?” asked Char, looking up at her.

  “The Falls event last night gave me a little flexibility on what time I come to work. Mom and I have some time before we have to be back. But we need to hurry.”

  After pushing their way through the crowd, the five women and Vic slipped off unnoticed around the north side of the police tape to the nearly identical house next door to Margaret Sutton’s. They looked down the narrow grass walkway between Margaret’s privacy fence and the small detached garage on the neighbor’s property. From where they stood, they saw Benny Hamilton standing on top of a pile of wood, snapping pictures over the fence.

  With Vic slung over one shoulder, Char eyed Benny. “Girls, can you believe what you’re seeing right now?”

  Hazel elbowed her daughter in the ribs. “I told you you shouldn’t have worn that hideous blouse.”

  Gwyn frowned at her mother and then pointed down the alleyway. “Mom! She’s talking about Benny Hamilton taking photographs over the fence.”

  Hazel looked around her daughter. “Oh. You still shouldn’t have worn that hideous blouse.”

  “Ugh,” groaned Gwyn.

  “He sees something. We need to find out what it is,” whispered Phyllis. “Come on, shh,” she hissed, holding a finger up to her lips.

  Slowly, she tiptoed down the alleyway with Char and Vic close by her side. Gwyn followed just slightly behind them but held on to Char’s arm. Loni and Hazel clung to each other as they brought up the rear.

  “Don’t spook him,” whispered Loni from the back.

  “Shhh,” hissed Char.

  They hid behind a large hemlock tree in the neighbor’s backyard and watched as Benny snapped his camera at different angles. And then, seconds later, they heard a low, deep voice on the other side of the fence.

  “Hey, you. No photography. Get out of here,” growled a police officer.

  Gwyn peered around the tree to see Benny hightailing it off the stack of wood and into the alley at the back of the house. “He’s gone, girls.”