“Oh, how nice,” sighed Char, lifting Vic up off the ground and settling him on her lap. “Sit, sit,” she said, offering him a place to sit across from her.
Vic sat squared up to Ruben, with his ears on high alert and one eye open wide.
Ruben regarded Vic with a hesitant smile. “Your dog is sure…cute,” he said with a nervous laugh as he scratched the fur on Vic’s head.
Vic growled at him, causing Ruben to pull his hand back.
“He’s not fond of new people,” Char assured him, giving Vic a little squeeze. “But he’ll be nice.” It was a warning to Vic to relax until they had a little bit more information. They had to treat him as if he were innocent until proven guilty.
Ruben smiled uncomfortably and then settled back into his chair. “How are you ladies today?”
“Oh, we’re alright,” said Char with a bit of a sigh.
“That didn’t sound very encouraging,” said Ruben.
Char looked down at Vic and then lifted her brows. “Well, another friend of ours passed away today,” she said and then peered at him out of the corner of her eye. The news didn’t seem to shock him.
“Are you talking about Maggie Sutton?” he asked as his head nodded knowingly.
Char put a hand to her heart and looked at him. “Why yes, we are,” she said. “You knew her too?”
“Of course I did. She was on my route,” he explained.
Phyllis lifted her head slightly. “They say she was killed in the wee hours of the morning. I suppose they’ll be asking everyone in town for their alibis if they suspect murder.”
Ruben shrugged with a blank look on his face. “Oh, maybe. I don’t know.”
Phyllis looked at him pointedly. “Anyone who had contact with her might be on that list.”
He nodded. He didn’t seem to get where she was going with it, but Char picked up the cards she was putting down. “Yes!” she said brightly. “Like, for example, I knew Margaret through my bingo group. So the investigators might want to know where I was between midnight and one. Of course, I can tell them I was with my friends all night.”
“Ahh,” said Ruben, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
Phyllis sighed. The man was offering nothing up. “Will you have something to tell the police if they ask?”
Smooth, Phil, real smooth, thought Char, laughing to herself.
Ruben nodded and leaned back in his seat, extending one leg and crossing his arms across his chest. “Oh, yeah. I mean, I was at work last night.”
“Delivering papers at midnight?” scoffed Phyllis.
He shook his head. “Oh, no. Sometimes I fill in for a guy at Rawley’s Pub downtown. I’m supposed to work tonight too. Eight to close.”
Char frowned and wondered if he was telling the truth. She glanced up at Hazel, who closed her eyes and shook her head. The little scoundrel was lying! The table went quiet for several long, awkward moments while Char debated what to say next.
Eventually, Ruben tried to fill in the empty spaces. “Yeah, Maggie was such a sweet woman. It’s hard to believe both her and Kat are gone,” he said.
Phyllis nodded but kept a close eye on Ruben. “Will you be attending Maggie’s funeral as well?” she asked a bit snarkily.
Ruben let out a puff of air. “Likely not,” he said. “I didn’t know Maggie that well.”
“And yet you knew Kat that well,” asked Phyllis, drumming her fingers across her chin.
Ruben’s jovial nature seemed to come to a screeching halt then as he visibly sobered up. “Yes, I did.”
“Funny, Kat never mentioned that the two of you were friends,” said Char.
Ruben shrugged. “It was kind of a secret,” he admitted. “My request.”
“Really,” purred Phyllis, leaning towards him. “How interesting.”
He looked up at Phyllis and smiled. “Not that interesting,” he chuckled.
From behind them, Hazel stood idly by, watching their conversation. When she’d had enough of listening to them beating around the bush, she finally chimed in. “If it wasn’t that type of relationship, then what kind of relationship were you having with her?”
Ruben looked over his shoulder. Hazel flashed him her best intimidating scowl, but it didn’t seem to faze him. “Okay. You’re curious. I get it.” He shrugged. “I can’t explain it. Kat was just an easy person to talk to. We visited a lot, and we became friends. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes,” snapped Hazel before going inside.
She passed Gwyn in the doorway, carrying a serving tray with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses. “Mom? What’s wrong?” she asked, but Hazel didn’t stop to respond. Gwyn peered outside curiously. “Where’s Mom going?”
“I’m sorry if I offended her,” said Ruben.
“Offended her?” asked Gwyn, looking over her shoulder. “How on earth could you have offended my mother?”
He shrugged and took the glass of lemonade that Gwyn offered him. “Your friends were just asking me why I was friends with Kat. I explained that we were just really good friends, but she didn’t seem to want to believe me.”
Gwyn narrowed her eyes at Ruben. “My mother is an excellent judge of character, Ruben. She almost has what you might call a sixth sense. If she doesn’t believe you, I’m afraid that puts a little concern in me as well.”
Ruben sucked down the lemonade in several easy swallows and then stood up. “I’m sorry that you don’t believe me either. But Kat was my friend.” His glass made a loud clink when he set it down on the table. “Thank you for the lemonade. Kat used to make me lemonade too,” he said somewhat remorsefully. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my route.” He pulled his cap back on and tipped his head towards the ladies. “Have a nice day.”
Char waved at him uncomfortably. “Thank you for visiting with us, Ruben,” she called after him. Then she swatted at Phyllis. “Did you girls have to make him feel so uncomfortable?!”
“Uncomfortable?!” barked Phyllis. “He might have been the one that killed Kat! Not only was he the one that conveniently found Kat’s body, but he had a mysterious relationship with her that he can’t explain. The man showed up at her funeral, and now he got Hazel’s dander up!”
“Let’s talk about this inside,” whispered Char. “We don’t need the neighbors fueling our speculation.”
After ushering everyone inside, they found Hazel seated in her recliner chair in the corner.
“Mom, what was that all about?”
Hazel pretended to be startled. “Oh, Gwynnie. I was just about to take a nap.”
“No time for naps now,” said Gwyn. “I have to get to work shortly. But first, we need to know why you don’t believe Ruben was friends with Kat.”
Hazel crossed her arms across her stomach as she closed her eyes and settled her head back into the plushness of the recliner. “I believe they were friends.”
“Then what don’t you believe?” asked Phyllis.
All the women stared at Hazel, wondering if she’d already dozed off. Finally, the old woman let out a puff of air. “Well, for starters, he wasn’t working last night.”
Char sucked in her breath. “He wasn’t?!”
Hazel didn’t open her eyes. “And he’s not working tonight.”
Phyllis tossed a hand in the air. “I knew it!”
“Sure ya did,” snapped Hazel. “He’s also keeping a secret.”
“A secret?” asked Gwyn.
“Yeah, you know, like the fact that I know that you still stuff your bra.”
Gwyn’s face soured. “Mother! I don’t stuff my bra!”
“Eh, push-up, padded—I know the truth. Those puppies aren’t your own,” said Hazel, finally opening her eyes and pointing at Gwyn’s breasts.
“Mom!”
“He had a secret and Kat knew,” she said. “Kat was keeping his secret for him.”
“What was the secret?” asked Char.
“What am I? God? I don’t know everything! He didn�
�t think of the secret!” snapped Hazel.
“So Kat was keeping a secret of Ruben’s?” mused Phyllis.
Vic hopped up on the arm of the sofa and curled his tail around him as he sat. “Maybe he killed her to keep the secret safe.”
Loni appeared out of the kitchen and leaned against the door frame. “People have gotten popped for much smaller things,” she said.
“Popped? What do you know about people getting popped, Loni?” asked Phyllis.
Loni sucked her lips between her teeth and mashed them together as if to say, “You’ll never get it out of me.”
“Listen, the point is, we might just have figured out why Kat was killed,” said Gwyn.
“You really think Ruben could have done it?” asked Char with a hand on her hip. “He seems like such a nice man.”
“Good people do very bad things when their backs are up against a wall,” said Gwyn. “We need to find out exactly what secret Kat was keeping for Ruben.”
“Gwyn’s right. I think we need to turn up the heat on Ruben Moreno,” said Phyllis.
Gwyn sighed as she looked at her watch. “Unfortunately, I can’t right now. I’ve got to get to work. Let’s meet back up after I get off. How about at seven?”
The girls all nodded. “Fine. At seven we’re going to figure out the truth about Ruben Moreno,” said Phyllis.
29
Phyllis stood in Katherine Lynde’s kitchen doorway later that evening. “So now what?”
“Well…” began Char. “I’ve given it a lot of thought today. What do the police do when they put someone on their suspects list?”
“High-five each other and then go have donuts?” asked Hazel.
“Very funny, Mother,” said Gwyn. “No, I agree with Char. We need to think like detectives.”
Char nodded as she wagged a finger at the women. “They do stakeouts.”
Phyllis laughed. “You think we’re up to doing a stakeout?”
Hazel shook her head. “Not me. My bladder’s the size of a pecan. Unless we’re parked outside of a port-a-potty, I’m not going.”
“Oh, come on, Hazel. We might not have to be out that long,” said Phyllis.
“Yeah, I’m out too,” said Loni. “Someone might trail us. I can’t have that.”
“You’d be in disguise!” said Char with a harrumph. She looked around at the women. “Oh, come on, girls! Do you want to solve Kat’s murder or don’t you? The killer isn’t just going to fall into our laps!”
Phyllis nodded. “Char’s right. Two dead women by the same killer has got me rattled. My daughter and my granddaughter live in Aspen Falls. They could be next!”
“Any one of us could be next,” agreed Char. “We have to get this dirtbag off the streets!”
Phyllis put a hand in. “Who’s with us?”
Char put her hand on top of Phyllis’s. “Let’s go, girls. For Kat!”
Gwyn smiled and put her hand on top of Char’s. “For Kat!”
“For Kat,” sighed Loni, adding her hand to the pile. Then she aimed a fist at the sky. “You owe us one, Katherine Lynde!”
All eyes turned towards Hazel. She widened them exaggeratedly. “I didn’t even know the woman!”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, are you part of this coven or aren’t you?” asked Phyllis, pointing to their hands.
Hazel thought about it for a second. “We’re taking Char’s car. That way if I pee, it’ll be on her seat, not Gwyn’s.”
Char smiled at her. “Actually, I had a better idea. Are you in, or are you out?”
Hazel put a hand on her the pile. “Fine. For Kat.”
“You really think all this is necessary?” asked Gwyn as she smudged the last bit of her fair skin with black shoe polish. Only the whites of her eyes showed through the makeup. With the rest of her lithe body dressed all in black, she looked like a cat burglar.
“For what I’ve got in mind? Definitely!” said Char followed by a wicked laugh.
“Oh man,” said Phyllis rolling her eyes. “I know that laugh. That’s the Charlotte-Adams-is-going-to-get-us-in-trouble laugh.”
Char’s upper lip smashed against her teeth as she smiled devilishly. “You know me so well, dear.”
“It would be really nice if we all could be in on your little plan,” said Gwyn as she finished smudging Hazel’s face with black.
“Trust me. You’re gonna love it. It’s going to be just like old times!”
“Are we going to Ruben’s house to steal all of his bras?” asked Loni with a chuckle.
“Hey!” shouted Phyllis. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Gwyn’s hands went to either side of her face. “Oh man, that brings back memories,” she said with a smile.
“Focus, ladies, focus. We have a very important job to do!” said Char, clapping her hands in the air to bring them back to the present.
Loni wrapped her makeup-covered face with the black scarf again and topped it off with a big black witch’s hat. “We know, we know.”
“You’re not wearing that thing, are you?” asked Phyllis.
Loni’s eyes swiveled up to look at the brim sticking out above her eyes. She pointed at the hat. “This thing?”
“Well, obviously that thing. Did you think we were still talking about bras? Because I certainly wouldn’t tell you to take yours off, although the floors could use a good dusting,” snapped Phyllis.
Loni furrowed her eyebrows as she turned to the group. “Has anyone fed her today? That one’s getting a mite cranky.”
“She’s eaten, I assure you,” said Char. “She was referring to your hat, Loni. You’re not seriously going to wear it, are you?”
Loni looked down at her outfit. “Why wouldn’t I wear the hat? It’s black. Isn’t that the theme of the night?”
“The theme is black. Not idiot,” snapped Hazel. “Take that thing off. You give witches a bad name.”
Loni’s mouth fell open. “Uh! I never get to wear my witch’s hat. Where else am I supposed to wear it but on a secret night mission?!”
Char pointed at her. “I’ll put it on your head when you’re buried. How’s that?”
Loni stomped a foot on the ground. “Not good enough. I want to wear it while I’m alive.”
Phyllis palmed her forehead. “Look. A witch’s hat is about the most clichéd thing a witch can wear. Do you want to be a cliché?”
“If it means I get to wear the hat, then yes.”
Phyllis threw her hands out in a huff and strutted off towards the kitchen. “Talk some sense into her,” she said to Gwyn.
Gwyn walked over to the strange-looking black-clad woman. “Look, Loni. I think what the girls are trying to say is that the hat calls more attention to you. The goal tonight is to have less attention.”
“That girl at the festival was wearing a black witch’s hat,” said Loni, stoutly crossing her arms across her chest. “No one crawled up her ass.”
“We’re not crawling up your, uh-hum, bum, Loni,” said Gwyn.
“Besides, if you’re talking about that little thing with my granddaughter, she’s a peculiar thing,” said Phyllis. “You really can’t compare yourself to Jax. I mean, she’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”
“Uh-hum,” coughed Char. She covered her mouth and pointed a finger at Loni. Yolanda Hodges was nothing if not a few fries short of a Happy Meal. In fact, Char wondered if they’d even remembered to put fries in her Happy Meal.
Phyllis’s eyes widened as she got what Char was hinting at. “Oh. Yeah. I get it. Fine, Loni. Forget it. Wear whatever floats your boat.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile and a curtsey.
“Alright, well, Mrs. Bailey,” said Phyllis, surveying the girls, “it looks like we’re all ready. Hazel, have you used the little witches’ room?”
Hazel nodded and then just as suddenly frowned. “Maybe I better go use it one more time, just to be sure I don’t flood the car.”
“Well, that’s sort of the thing, Haze. We’re n
ot taking the car,” said Char, rubbing her hands together evilly.
Phyllis scratched the back of her head. “Umm, Char. I’m not quite sure you get how this stakeout thing works. Do you want us to walk to Ruben’s and then chase his car down the street when he goes somewhere?” Phyllis smiled at her. “Might be a tad obvious that he’s being followed when he sees a bunch of old ladies in black costumes running after him.”
Char smacked Phyllis across the arm. “Don’t be ridiculous! I have a better idea! Follow me, girls!” Char led the women through the hallway to Kat’s dining room, where a blanket lay on the floor, covering something up.
“What the hell is this?” asked Loni. “We going on a magic carpet ride or something?”
“Better.” Char grinned. She leaned over and grabbed one side of the blanket and gave it a tug. “Voilà!”
On the ground beneath the blanket lay five broomsticks in a neat row.
“Shut up!” shouted Loni with a broad smile across her face as she bent over to pick up the handle of one of the broomsticks.
“Oh, hell no,” said Phyllis, shaking her head. “There’s no way I’m getting on that. Have you seen my ass? I’m pretty sure I’ll have to start paying property tax on it because it lives in another zip code these days. There’s no way it’s gonna be able to fit on that.”
“I’m with Phyllis. Char, what were you thinking?” sighed Gwyn as she eyed the broomsticks disdainfully.
“I was thinking we could have a little fun while doing the stakeout!” said Char. “Oh, come on, girls, where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Mine’s on the TV set,” said Phyllis. “Take me all over the place, but I don’t have to fall off a broomstick to do it.”
“Char, you can’t be serious!” Gwyn looked at Hazel. “You really expect this geriatric, arthritic, feebleminded—”
“Hey! Who you callin’ geriatric?” asked Hazel in a huff. “I resemble that remark!”
“Hazel, I think you meant you resent that remark,” said Phyllis.
Hazel shook her head with a caustic smile. “No, I actually do resemble that. I’m pretty old. When you’ve been through as many presidents as I have, you earn the badge of being called geriatric.”
That Old Witch!: The Coffee Coven's Cozy Capers: Book 1 Page 22