Murder to Spare

by Tamara Woods

  She tapped the last card on the spread. It was curiously the only card that was upside down. A woman sat on her throne, her hands crossed, the moon at her feet.

  "This one is The High Priestess. As she's upside down, she can't tell you everything you seek. The cards do not hold the answers," Aunt Maybel's voice was quiet and kind. "You have to look inside yourself for that answer. You already know."

  Meredith nodded and ran her finger along the top of the cup. "It's good then."

  Isa took another sip of her tea, looking at Meredith's reactions. What was going on in her head? When they were younger, she'd always understood what was up with Meredith, but time had passed. And they just didn't feel as tight as they once were. How could she separate the adult from the girl? Should she? Detecting in a small town with people she knew was hard. How did real detectives do this?

  "Thank you Auntie. This was a blessing," she smiled sadly. She opened her worn purse and pulled out a couple of bills. "For your time Auntie. I really do appreciate it."

  "You know I don't ask for no money, child."

  "I know you don't, but you need to. I hear things at the store. Now you take this as a donation and to say thank you for all the times you let me stay at your house even when my own family didn't want me there."

  Auntie put her hand on Meredith's, " I always thought of you as one of my own. If you need me, that door's still open, you hear me?"

  "I hear."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE NEXT DAY, ISA PUSHED open the heavy wooden door of her aunt's biggest competition, The Coalminer's Cafe and let her eyes adjust to the lighting. Back in the day when when she and Travis used to hangout, it was a rundown hot dog joint that had the cheapest food in town and the most questionable quality. She felt a pang at the thought of her ex, but tried to put him aside for the moment. She needed to try to focus and figure out if this was truly a competition or maybe a potential for future opportunities.

  The aesthetic was hipster gone cowboy converted warehouse. The first thing she noticed was the strong smell of cedar. Not unpleasant, just unexpected. The floors were a shiny pine. By Chad's construction company? Booths lined the sides of bar and in the center were tables that looked like large wire spools with tall stools set around them. A row of large kegs in the back could be seen behind a glass wall. Presumably that was their microbrewery.

  The lunch crowd was definitely strong, there were very few spots open.

  Skirting around a group of people standing in the walkway chatting and a waitress holding her full tray with one hand, Isa made it to the back to the bar with the deep finish and the rough edges to it. She climbed onto a seat, leaning forward to peer at the menu. It was written in orange chalk on the massive blackboard behind the bar. The menu mostly consisted of microbrews and coffees, where the food seemed more like a vehicle for more drinks than anything else.

  The bartender came up to her, wearing jeans and a green shirt with a stein and black pickaxe graphic on the front pocket, the coffee shoppe's logo.

  "Is this your first time here?" he asked.

  She nodded. "I just moved back to town and I'm getting reacquainted with everything. I think you were renovating when I was last home."

  "I thought so. I would've remembered you," he said.

  She looked up so quickly her glasses slid a little down her nose. She pushed them back up with her finger and felt a flash of shyness. She turned back to the menu, and tried and failed to focus on the menu items.

  "Wh-what's the house special?"

  "The Coalminer's Daughter could make your mama weep, it's so good. It's a thick, dark creamy brew with that hint of sweet to it. Are you in the mood to indulge?" He smiled at her and she wasn't sure if he was flirting or not.

  She tried to shrug nonchalantly, but it felt more like a weird twitch. "Sure, that sounds like not the worst thing ever."

  He barked a laugh. "With that incredible endorsement..." He wiped the already clean counter in front of her. "Are you in the mood for soup and a salad or one of our specialty sandwiches?"

  She saw that the soup of the day was a chowder and it came with a side salad. "The chowder will work."

  "Coming right up," he said.

  She watched him walk away despite herself. He had a strut on him like he knew he was all f-i-n-e fine. He, like all of his coworkers weren't wearing name tag.

  "You looking for a ride on that white stallion, you're going to have to take a number."

  "Excuse me?" She spun her chair to tell the rude person how she felt and there sat a smirking Clarebel. "Gurl! You almost got cussed out."

  Her best friend laughed. "I know, right? If you could've seen the look on your face!"

  "Never say 'white stallion' again. That was gross." Isa shuddered, making her friend laugh even harder.

  Isa rolled her eyes. "So hilarious."

  The bartender came back and brought them both waters. More people were milling in and he couldn't take the time to talk again. Isa tried to push down the little flash of disappointment. She wasn't there to flirt. Right? Right.

  "Hey there young ladies! Fancy seeing you here!"

  Isa couldn't stifle her groan. She plastered a plastic feeling smile to her face she twisted her chair to greet the newcomer.

  "Pastor Collins. How are you today?"

  The minister pinched face looked like he was perpetually constipated. Out of his slacks, he pulled out his ever-present handkerchief.

  "I'm mighty fine, thank you," Pastor Collins said, wiping his damp brow.

  He turned to Isa. "I'm so sorry to hear about your Auntie honey. If there's anything I can do to help you through these troubled times, let me know." His cherry red mouth was pursed into a semblance of sympathy. The only distinct feature in his doughy face.

  Isa's brow furrowed. "Troubled times?"

  He nodded piously. "Oh yes, what with the bookstore going under and all. It must be terrible for you. Even though you and your aunt don't come to church as much as you should, I think my church represents the community and everyone here and I..."

  He continued, but she'd stopped listening to him. Why was this information such public knowledge? Sure, rumors ran rampant in town, but why would this even be spreading? What was the point? She knew her aunt hadn't told anybody about it, she had barely wanted to tell her. Something didn't feel quite right about all of it.

  "Thank you for your support in these troubling times," Clarbel said smoothly. "Isa is speechless from your generosity. We wouldn't want to keep you from the rest of your meal! We'll see you Sunday."

  She turned back to the bar and after giving another weak smile, Isa followed suit.

  "Here you are." She looked up and the cute guy from earlier slid the plate in front of her and her brew on the side.

  She reached for her purse to pay the tab.

  "Oh no," he said, shaking his head. "It's on me."

  "Thank you." She felt her cheeks flush.

  He winked at her. And then he slid a plate in front of Clare and quoted the price to her. She shot her friend a look and Isa just shrugged with a little smile.

  "YOU KNOW, AUNTIE, I don't think that shop is really your competition," Isa said, folding her clothing. They were seated in the living room after their dinner. Isa was finishing up the laundry, while she and her aunt watched Wheel of Fortune.

  "Why do you say that?" Auntie was having her evening cocktail, occasionally shouting answers at the television.

  "That place is more about alcohol and food, whereas you're—"

  "Don't buy a vowel girl! You ain't even tried to get a 'T' yet!" Her aunt shook her remote at the screen. Maddie opened her eye from her spot on the couch and seemed to glare at Auntie, before going back to sleep.

  "—more about the books and tea end of the spectrum." Isa continued calmly.

  "What? Books and tea, yup that's me," her aunt said. The show was on commercial and turned her full attention to her niece.

  "I think you could probably drum up some busines
s if you did an event with him."

  Her aunt took a sip, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I don't know Isa. How would that work?"

  Isa folded her top, her mind working quickly. "It needs to be something that would benefit the town, but also would help each other's business too. If it was more for charity, you could get the churches involved. Then other folks would have a stake in it."

  Her aunt's eyes were soft while she wanted her niece think things through. "This is just like when you were in high school and you'd come to me with one of your schemes."

  "This is a plan, Auntie!" Isa protested. "Or at least it will be. It could be some sort of small event to start off. Maybe for Spring? And involve books and food. And have a 21 and over component so they could bring in their beers."

  "I do like the sound of that," Auntie said, shaking her glass, making the ice clank.

  "I figured you would," Isa said wryly. "In any case, I don't know who the owner is, but I think that could be something really fun."

  "That does sound great, but a whole lot of work. You'll have to work on that with the other owner. His name is Brandon, Brendon. Something. One of those new names, you know," she said and turned away.

  The commercials had ended and so had Aunt Maybel's attention.

  The house phone rang and Isa looked at her aunt to see if she'd make a move to get up.

  "Q is the worst letter to choose! Y'all don't know nothin'!" Auntie said, shaking her head in disgust. Maddie got up and stalked out of the room, apparently giving up on napping there.

  "Don't worry, I'll get it," Isa said, grunting as she set aside piles of clothing so she could stand.

  An old school cream white phone was on the corner furthest away from her, of course. She rushed over and picked up the receiver.

  "Hello?" she answered. There was a long pause and then a robotic voice said, "Collect call from—"

  And after a long pause she heard a familiar voice:

  "Travis."

  She almost dropped the phone in surprise and sank into the chair.

  The robotic voice was at it again, "If you accept the call, press one. To—"

  In her excitement, she pressed the number way more times than necessary and she couldn't hear the other things the robotic voice said. And then there was another pause.

  "Hello?" she asked, cautiously.

  "Hey, what's up?" Travis said, his voice scratchy.

  "Travis! How are you holding up?"

  "I'm doing..." he said, his voice drifting on. He cleared his throat. "I'm glad your aunt has the same number after all this time."

  "I can't believe you still remember it," she said, and she twisted the phone cord around her finger.

  "I remember a lot of things," he said.

  The ensuing silence felt clunky and heavy. She scrambled to fill it.

  "Have you talked to a lawyer yet?" she blurted.

  He snorted. "Yeah, a public defender. I think your cat is probably more prepared than that guy. He said he's represented one other person for a traffic violation."

  Isa grimaced. "How did he do with that case?"

  "He lost."

  "Oh boy," Isa said.

  "Yeah. It ain't looking too good," he said.

  "I'm trying on my end," she reassured him. "In fact I wanted to come visit next week so we can think up a game plan."

  "Naw, naw, naw, I don't think that's a good idea."

  "You don't?" She frowned.

  "Naw, I think you better stay out of it. Things are going to get heated and I don't want you to have to deal with all that."

  "Travis, you can't ask for my help and then dismiss me before I can do any real good."

  "I shouldn't have put you in that spot anyway."

  She got that familiar sick feeling in her stomach. "Travis. Have you been crying? What has happened to you in there?"

  His chuckle had a bitter edge to it. "Nothing gets past you, does it? Just let it go, Isa."

  "Travis, I can't do that."

  "I don't need your help," he said. And then there was a click.

  "Travis! Travis!"

  She was yelling at the dial tone.

  "Girl, calm down! I can barely hear Pat Sajak!" her aunt hollered.

  Isa slowly hung up the phone, frowning. What was going on at that place? Mysteries upon mysteries.

  "Who was that?" Auntie asked from her favorite spot in the living room.

  "Travis." She gave her aunt a quick recap.

  She harrumphed. "I wonder what he's trying to protect you from."

  Isa shrugged. "I'm not sure, but at this point, he needs protection more than I do."

  "Maybe he got a point."

  "Auntie!" Isa's mouth dropped open. "I thought you loved Travis."

  "I do. But you're my heart. And we don't know what he's got his fool self caught up in. I'm serious."

  "Maybe," Isa said, just to end the conversation. Regardless of what her aunt said, she was not going to let Travis sit there in jail being underrepresented with nobody at his back.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

  Clare: You ready?

  Isa: Where we going?

  Clare: It was your idea to babysit these demons this wkend.

  Isa: Oh no! I forgot.

  Clare: ...

  Gurl.

  Isa: Come on up. I'll pack a bag.

  "Auntie, we're babysitting for Elsie Mae this weekend. She might be able to shed some light on this whole mess."

  "You're babysitting her little hellions? You better pack yourself a little sipple tipple for your health," her aunt crowed.

  "Oh, they'll be fine. I love kids."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "DO THEY EVER SLEEP?"

  "Evil doesn't rest, Isa. It just gets stronger in the night time."

  Isa and Clare were whispering behind the couch, trying to take cover from the Mogwais who'd obviously been fed after midnight. Those kids were full-fledged Gremlins at this point. Elsie Mae and her husband had pretty much run out as soon as they'd gotten there, leaving skidmarks in their wake. The little boys had looked like little triplet angels when they were in bed pretending to sleep. As soon as they'd heard their parents driving off, they'd tossed off the blankets and the cute veneer. Dillion, Drake, and Darron had become the super villains there to fight against their biggest enemy yet—Bedtime.

  Once their parents had gone skir skir down the road, three very suspicious little boys were standing at the top of the stairwell armed with Nerf guns and their favorite super hero towel tied around their shoulders. Apparently, they'd decided that Isa and Clare were enemies of The Avengers and they needed to be stopped.

  Who knew little boys were able to be so creative with their torture?

  "Maybe kids shouldn't watch superhero movies until they're too big to try to swing from the chandelier?" Isa groaned silently, rubbing her forehead where the tiniest one had kicked her on his way down. At least she hadn't lost consciousness.

  For too long.

  "Maybe we shouldn't tell the parents about that one?" Clare suggested.

  "Oh no, I've got some words for these people," Isa whispered furiously. "They've been raising them on Mountain Dew and The Avengers. Then they unleashed them on us?! And now we're hiding behind a couch? This has to end now."

  Isa stood slowly, her groan silent.

  "Be careful," Clare said, still behind the house.

  "Gurl. If you don't get from behind there—"

  "You're not the boss of me."

  "Clare!"

  "Fine." Her face looked like she'd been sucking on a lemon. "I just want the record to show that this wasn't my idea."

  "Yeah, yeah, everybody in North America knows. Let's go find these kids before they burn this house down."

  They followed the sounds of yelling to their expansive living room where one child was standing on the back of the couch, firing tiny plastic soldiers at his brothers with his slingshot. One of his brothers was yelling, "Stop! Drop! Roll!" and rolling across the
floor. The third brother fired his water gun at Clare, hitting her directly in the face.

  Isa held her back, before she snatched the kid up by his ears.

  "Let me at him! I just want to talk." Her teeth were clenched as she lunged toward him against Isa's restraining arm.

  "Enough!" Isa yelled, flickering the lights on and off three times. Something in her voice penetrated the boys' sleep madness. They stopped in mid-motion, their eyes huge.

  "All of you, sit on the couch. With your butts. Right now."

  She sighed. "Not you, Clarebelle."

  "Oh right. My bad." Her friend slid off the couch, sheepishly.

  Isa walked over to the kids, pulling over one of their short chairs and sitting on it gingerly. She looked each one of them in the eye.

  "I know having a babysitter sucks and I'm sorry. But your mommy and daddy wanted to have some time to hangout all by themselves."

  Their little faces looked so sad. Even though they were literal Gremlins, her heart strings were pulled.

  "Okay, what's your favorite game to play?"

  They named a popular game in unison where they'd each be wearing headsets and their avatars did dances. And they shot at people, but it was her watch. Not her children. With an internal shrug she said:

  "You can play it for one hour and then you're going to back to bed. Deal?"

  They looked at each other like they were silently communicating. They were giving Isa distinctly Children of the Corn vibes and she wasn't a fan. Finally, they all nodded.

  "Alright, go on and play. No more hitting, throwing, or water guns. One hint of trouble and I'm turning off the machine. Understand?"

  They nodded again in unison.

  "Good. We'll be in the kitchen if you need us."

  The kids mumbled something in response, already getting into setting up the game. The babysitters made their way to the kitchen, but had to keep their voices low. The Pricketts lived in an older home that had been renovated to current standards. The living room and kitchen were basically one grand room with a dining table in the middle of the space as the only real divider.