by Sofia Belle
I lightly grasped both of his shoulders and gave a little shake. “Hank? We can cancel. seriously, if you’ve had a long day…”
But something wasn’t right. There wasn’t any snoring, or any deep breathing, or… hold on a second. There wasn’t any breathing at all.
I leaned in, shaking Hank’s shoulders harder, but there was no resistance this time. He slumped from the chair to the floor and landed face up, his eyes staring at the ceiling, unseeing.
“Oh, no…” I backed up. I backed way, way up. “Call 9-1-1. Somebody call the police! Help!”
“What’s wrong?” Jo rushed around the bar and reached my side in seconds. “What happened to Hank?”
I dropped to the floor, feeling for a pulse and listening for breath. When I looked up a second later, I shook my head with wide eyes, the adrenaline rushing through my veins. “Jo, call the police! Hank is dead.”
Chapter 5
“Go home, Rosie.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m sticking around.”
“Look.” The Chief paused, glancing around before gripping my arm and pulling me away from the crowd. “I’ve been extremely lenient about you poking your noses in places it didn’t belong before, but I’m putting my foot down this time. We’re not talking about stolen lingerie here, alright? We have a dead body, Rosie.”
“That’s exactly why I should be involved,” I argued. “Dead bodies equal stories. I need information. Help me out, Chief.”
He waved his hands back and forth, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “No. I need information from you, not the other way around.”
The Chief and I had a long, long history of butting heads. It’d started back when we were kids, and only got worse as we aged. As I looked down at the body, a streak of sadness for Hank twisted in my stomach, and I relented.
“Okay,” I said finally. “What sort of information do you need? I already gave my statement to the cops… er, cop.”
The Chief’s eyes shifted to his partner, one of a handful of cops in our town. Fairyvale was not known for violent crime. Nor was it known for any sort of crime at all. It was a land of magic, happiness, and love—which didn’t require a whole lot of law enforcement on a normal day, hence our small staff.
“We’ve got backups coming, but I don’t think we’ll need them.” The Chief shook his head. “We’ll have to ship Hank’s body out for an autopsy, though. Next town over.”
“So you don’t know why he died?”
“I didn’t say that.” The Chief’s lips tightened. “But—”
“Rosie, help,” Jo interrupted, calling from across the room. I pushed past the Chief and strode toward the owner. Jo stood against the bar wearing cuffs. “They’re arresting me!”
“For what?” My jaw dropped wide open. “You wouldn’t hurt an insect!”
“I know that, but they seem to think I poisoned his wine,” Jo said. “I would never.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” I said firmly. Jo was as good as a sister to Bel, Layla, and myself, and she’d rather die than poison one of her customers. “So why do they have you in handcuffs?”
She blinked, then lowered her voice and leaned away from a cop who was examining a wine bottle on the counter. “They’re guessing the wine is what killed him, or at least something in it.”
I followed her gaze to the bottle on the counter. The label read Nectar. I tried to get a closer look, but one of the cops was dusting for fingerprints and instructed me to stay away.
“Do you mind?” he growled, sliding the bottle further away from me with a towel. “This is a crime scene.”
“Yes, and you’ve arrested my friend for something she didn’t do,” I said. “Jo would never poison her customer.”
“How do you explain what happened then?” The cop straightened up, and I realized he was new around town. I knew most of the local Fairyvale residents, and I hadn’t seen his face before. “A guy walks into the bar, asks for a glass of this woman’s most potent wine, and then minutes later, he’s dead.”
“I don’t know! Allergic reaction?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Or someone else?”
“It wasn’t all that busy in here tonight,” the cop said. “We talked to everyone, even the barback, who confirms that he’d restocked the wine selection exactly one hour before Hank was found dead.”
“How does he know if he restocked this particular bottle?”
The cop held up a sheet of paper. “Inventory. He restocked it at six p.m., and he claims the bottle was sealed. Jo agreed that it was sealed when she opened it. She was the only person handling the bottle between six and seven p.m., and she was the one who made the wine recommendation, opened the bottle, and poured the glass.”
“Well, you’re missing something. Jo would ever hurt another human being. What if… what if it was an accident? Maybe an allergic reaction, or… I don’t know, a heart attack or something?”
The cop shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We won’t know all of the details until we get the autopsy back.”
“Then you can’t arrest her!”
The Chief walked over, his tall, lean form standing so close my heartbeat skidded into overdrive. I blamed it on nerves, and not the way his muscles looked underneath his shirt. This man, for whatever reason, got my blood pumping like nobody else. “What’s the problem here?”
“Your new buddy is the problem.” I pointed at the young cop. “They’re trying to arrest Jo for murder. She’d never commit murder.”
“Luke, let me tell you one thing.” The Chief extended a hand towards the new cop. “It’s pointless to argue with this woman here. Her name is Rosie Shaw, and she’s The Witch Weekly’s most talented reporter. She can weasel information out of a rock, so it’s best to just keep your mouth shut around her.”
I had the strongest of urges to stomp my kitten-heel right on the Chief’s toes, but I refrained. After all, it was sort of a compliment.
“Rosie, it’s time for you to go home,” the Chief said. “Please.”
“She should be here,” Jo said. “She was the reason that Hank was here in the first place.”
The Chief turned slowly to me, raising his eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“I told him in my statement,” I grumbled, nodding at Luke. “He should have it in his notes.”
“Enlighten me,” the Chief said, his patience waning, judging by the tightening in his jaw. “What brought you and Hank together?”
“It was a date.” I ground out the words between my teeth. “First date.”
“You were coming here on a…” The Chief cleared his throat. “A date?”
I almost shot back a combative retort again, but I caught myself in time. “Yes,” I said, tipping my chin high. “A date. Is that so hard to believe?”
“You don’t date.” The Chief crossed his arms. “I know that for a fact.”
“Just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean that I won’t find someone who will work out.”
“We didn’t work out because you never gave us the chance.” The Chief took a few steps toward me, and the spicy mint of his breath skittered hot down my neck. “You didn’t want to try.”
Whether it was The Chief’s close proximity, the towering mass of his nicely formed, lean-yet-muscular frame, or the weight of his words, I fell speechless.
Luke cleared his throat. “It wasn’t technically a real date.”
“Excuse me?” The Chief turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“It says here… well, she told me herself, that she was on an assignment.” Luke double checked his notes, tapped his pencil against the page, and then nodded. “She said that she was working on an assignment about love—”
I interrupted him as fast as humanly possible. “Not exactly, it was an article to save the newspaper.”
“About love,” Luke said again. “I wrote down exactly what you said, and you said you were trying to find love.”
“That was the shock talking,” I said to the Chief,
my ears burning. “My article is about dating.”
“And you needed to go out on a date to get some research?” The Chief’s eyes watched me carefully, assessing every breath.
I leaned into the Chief’s bulky frame, armed with my pointer finger. I tapped his chest twice, trying my best to ignore the slight sizzle that erupted when my finger brushed against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.
He must not have come from the office, I thought suddenly, because he wasn’t dressed in his uniform. His long, lean legs were encased in gorgeously fitting jeans, while a maroon t-shirt that’d make girls drool stretched across his broad shoulders.
“I went out on a date,” I said. “Is that a sin?”
The Chief stepped back, raising a hand as if to visualize the headline of a newspaper. “Love Turns Deadly. I worry about you, Rosie.”
“Stop arguing, the both of you,” Jo said. “I know you two have had this beef—whatever it is between you—going on for years. Whatever. We all know it wasn’t Rosie. She didn’t even know Hank until an hour ago, and she hadn’t laid eyes on him until he was already dead. But I need you two to get along. Work together and get me out of these handcuffs!”
“Come here, Rosie,” The Chief said, his voice surprisingly light.
After a brief hesitation, I sidled up next to him. He gestured for me to step outside, his fingers brushing against my lower back as I stepped through the front door. Apparently, his looks still drew a reaction from me, even if we couldn’t agree on a single thing.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said, once we were outside, his voice changing into a soft echo of his tough cop persona. “You need to go home and rest, okay? I called Layla and Bel, and they’re coming to pick you up.”
“But my car is here. Really, I’m fine. I can drive.”
The Chief shook his head. “Give me your keys. I rode here with Luke. I’ll drive your car back and have him follow me home.”
“One of the other girls can take it,” I said. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“I want you to get home safely, and I don’t mind driving your car.”
“I could just leave it here over night.”
The Chief sucked on his lip for a second. “I’m sorry, that’s not going to work. You’re not allowed to park here overnight, so I’d have to give you a ticket. You’ve already had a bad enough night. I’d hate to see it get worse.”
“Don’t give me a ticket, then.”
“Let me take your car home. It’s no big deal.” The Chief reached out, clasping my hand in his. “Relax, Rosie. Please, you have to let me help you. I want to help.”
Something about his words worked wonders. Some of the tension in my shoulders started to seep away, and my fingers involuntarily relaxed. The Chief worked the keys from my fingers.
I released the keys finally, and we stood inches apart, our breath mixing in the cool night breeze.
“What happened?” he asked after a long silence. “We used to be such good friends.”
The closeness between us was both familiar and strange. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “Our jobs took us different ways, I suppose.”
“It’s not about the job.”
I shook my head. “Now’s not the time, Chief.”
He reached out and tilted my chin upwards, studying my face carefully, his hands gentle against my skin. “I’m worried about you.”
“Thanks,” I said, unable to pull my eyes away from his sparkling gaze. “I appreciate that but, I’m okay.”
“Are you really dating again?”
“It’s not any of your business,” I said as an automatic response. Immediately, I felt terrible. His expression turned crestfallen, and I backtracked as quickly as possible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just new to me, and I’m nervous. I’m sorry I snapped at you. Plus, there’s the whole fact that my first date turned up Dead-On-Arrival, and that’s definitely not a good omen.”
“How about you go on a date with me, and I’ll try my best to make up for it?” The Chief cleared his throat, his eyes filling with uncertainty. “It can be casual.”
Before I could answer, a car screeched into the parking lot, and I turned to find my best friends leaping out of the car even as Layla threw it into park.
“Are you okay?” Bel called out. “We heard what happened. The Chief called.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Really.”
“Take her home,” Chief said, raising up the keys. “I’ll bring her car back, since I won’t let her drive right now.”
“Well,” Layla said, climbing out of the car. “That is one way to jump back into the dating world. Really puts a whole new spin on the saying knock ‘em dead, now don’t it?”
Chapter 6
An hour after the Chief had dismissed me from the crime scene, I sat at my kitchen table, wrapped in a blanket and freshly showered, surrounded by my best friends.
The three of us lived in a cul de sac—each of us had our own little cottage, but they were linked together by walkways. We had no other neighbors, so instead of the normal cement road in the middle of the street, we’d planted grass and flowers and trees, and used the space for a garden.
Needless to say, it was not uncommon to find one of us in another’s house at all hours of the day and night. Some people might say we lived too close for comfort, or were too deep into each other’s business, but I liked it. It was cozy, homey.
Our situation provided me with the perfect built-in social network. Due to my demanding job, I didn’t get out a whole lot—hence the no dating in five years thing—but even so, I liked company. It was nice to have Layla or Bel drop by on a random Tuesday night for dinner. Even better if they stopped by for a glass of wine after a long day on Wednesday.
And on nights like tonight, when one of us was in trouble, it was nice not to be alone.
A sharp crackle in the air signified the arrival of a small, shrunken woman old as ash. She magically appeared in the same moment that the timer went off above the oven, signifying the brownies inside of it were done.
The old woman cackled, then took a sniff of the aroma, the smell of baking hanging sweet in the air. Wearing a black robe with bright, neon pink hair, she went by the name of Madrina. At least that’s what we called her, since she was our real, live, fairy godmother.
“Howdy, girls,” Madrina said, still sniffing like a hound. “Are those brownies I smell? Rosie, I hear you went off trying to get a date, and ended up killing the guy. Come on, don’t you know I’ve been angling for that new, flat screen TV?”
Lately, Madrina had been pushing hard for one of us to get married. She claimed that in order to be promoted as a fairy godmother, she needed to get one of us to take the next life-step forward. Marriage counted as a life-step. However, since all three of us were still single and mingling—unsuccessfully, I might add—it didn’t look like she’d be getting the new TV anytime soon.
“That is not true! I didn’t even get a chance to talk to him before he was declared dead,” I said. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“That’s a record, schnookums.” Madrina cracked her knuckles. “Back in my day, I had been known to knock the socks off a man after some good kissing. Some called me the heart-stopper.”
“I’ve never heard that,” Bel murmured under her breath.
“Oh, it’s true. Let me tell you about this one time. I dated a man named Dick Sorenson. Can you imagine? With a name like that, he had to be—”
All three of us girls groaned, cutting her off in the middle of whatever she was about to say.
“Cripes! I was young once too, you know,” she said, pulling open the oven door and taking an even deeper inhalation. “I’m not all that far past my prime.”
Madrina’s “prime” had been several hundred years ago. Now she had more wrinkles than a T-shirt left crumpled at the bottom of the laundry bin. Things sagged on her that I didn’t even know had the potential to sag. Like earlobes. And the tip of her nose.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I repeated. “And neither did Jo, even though the police arrested her.”
“Jo?” Madrina shook her head. “That woman’s wine collection is something to die for, most certainly. It’s been said that she could put a man into a coma with some of her concoctions. Of course, I can’t confirm or deny whether magic is involved, but I’m telling you something is up with Bubbles & Broomsticks. There’s no way a mere mortal—”
I interrupted her, since I didn’t want to get charged with any fines from the Council for talking about other folks’ magic. “Stop!”
“When in safety of our own home, we can talk and speculate as much as we want,” Madrina said. “Y’all know the rules. You made the rules. Anyway, did Jo do it?”
“No!” All three of us chorused together.
“Jo would never do anything like that,” I finished. “Nothing that would hurt another person.”
“Do you think it was an accident?” Layla asked. “I mean, things happen. Maybe she put some love potion into the wine glass, and he had an allergic reaction or something?”
“We won’t know much for sure until we get the results back from the autopsy,” I said. “The way the cops are treating this case, it seems like they think it’s murder.”
“We can’t do anything,” Layla said. “Plus, the Chief is working on it.”
“We can’t wait a few days,” I said. “Jo needs our help.”
“You’re just feeling self-conscious that your first date in five years ended up dead.” Layla shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I shifted my weight from one side of the chair to the other. “I’m not blaming myself, I suppose, but it’s a little unnerving when I finally get back out into the romance game, and I don’t even make it to the appetizers, let alone the first course.”
“I’m not allowing you to investigate a murder,” Madrina said, helping herself to half the pan of brownies. She scooped a huge hunk of the stuff onto her plate and pulled open the freezer in search of ice cream. “It’s dangerous, risky, and troublesome, and you’ll make my job much harder.”