"What, no elevator?" I joked.
"There is one, but the stairs are quicker. I didn't think you would mind. We could take the elevator if you prefer?" He said as he pointed behind him.
"The stairs are fine." I agreed.
Clive opened the door, and I followed him. We went down three flights until the placard on the door read B3.
"B3? We're three floors below ground?" I asked and Clive nodded.
B3 was a lot like the main floor we entered on. There was a hallway with doors and desks lining them, but this hallway was twice the length as the first one.
"Our office is on the other end," Clive said.
As we walked down the hall, Clive nodded and spoke to different people walking past us until we got to the door at the very end.
"This is it," Clive said as we stopped in front of his office.
The door read: Detective Moss & Detective Torres, Homicide.
"Does every detective have their own office?" I asked.
"Most do. There's not a lot of us in the SPF. The floor below us is where the standard magical police force is. Above us is the lab where most tests are done, and evidence is stored."
"Do you guys have a gym?" I asked, prolonging my entrance to his office.
"Two floors down," Clive said as he opened the door. The room wasn't large by any means. Just large enough for two desks, a whiteboard on wheels, and a side table by each desk for personal items. I smiled a little seeing a selfie I took with Clive and Dessen sitting on his desk. I remembered taking that photo about a year ago.
Jacob and Gregory were already in the room, seated at Jacob’s desk. Jacob looked up when the door opened.
"Good afternoon." Jacob stood. Gregory and Clive shot him a look.
"Good afternoon. Are we early?"
"No, not at all," Jacob said, pulling a folding chair from the wall and opening it for me. "Here, has a seat."
As I did, Clive took the chair from his desk and sat down as well.
"So, Clive told me that you had some answers?" I asked. "But Clive wouldn't share them with me."
"I'm not on the case, Olivia," Clive said. "You know this."
"He is correct," Jacob said, taking his seat once more. "Since he has a personal connection to Mrs. Coe, I am not able to share any information with him like I normally would."
"I know, Clive is a stickler for the rules." I smiled at Clive.
"Yes, well, let's get started," Gregory said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his notebook and pen. "To start, how much do you know about Mrs. Coe's past?"
"Excuse me?" I asked, visibly confused. That was not the way I thought the conversation was going to start. Clive said they had answers, not they needed to ask me more questions.
"Her life before she opened the store," he repeated, "how much do you know about it?"
I shrugged. "Not as much as I would have liked. Mrs. Coe was an open person, but she also wasn't. She told me what she wanted me to know."
"Did you ever think that was weird or out of place?" Jacob asked.
"No." I shook my head. "It wasn't any of my business; it was her personal life."
"The other day, you said she was like your mother, and today you can't tell me about her life before the store. How close were you?" Jacob asked.
"I didn't mean it like that." I corrected it. "But I could say the same thing to you, how much do you know about your mom's life before you were born." I retorted. "I know she was an only child, her parents died when she was in her early twenties, and she got married when she was like twenty-five, I think, and her husband died when she was in her fifties."
"Anything else?" Detective Dawson asked.
I laughed a little. "I don't know, I could write an essay on what I know, and I probably still wouldn’t give you what you’re clearly looking for. Your question is too vague."
Detective Dawson seemed to understand where I was coming from. Or at least I hoped he did. "Ok, let's start at the beginning. Did she ever mention going by a different name?"
"What?" Clive said, cutting in. "Why would you ask that? Is there an issue in her history?"
Detective Dawson nodded. "We ran an extensive background check on Mrs. Coe, and we found a few inconsistencies."
"Like what?" I asked.
"There is no record of a Norma Coe ever being married, and the further we went back, the more inconsistencies we found." Detective Dawson continued.
"What other inconsistencies?" I stressed the word.
"Besides no record of marriage, Norma Coe didn’t exist before 1977."
"What? What do you mean there was no record of her before 1977? That’s a mistake. You made a mistake. Whoever was in charge of the search, made a mistake."
"We don't think so," Jacob spoke up. "We believe this may have contributed to her attack. If she lied about who she was, whomever she was hiding from might have found her."
I tried to swallow, to comprehend what they were telling me. "She couldn't have been hiding. She never strayed away from people. Who would do that if they were hiding? It didn’t make sense for her to open a shop that put her in the face of new people all the time."
"Hiding in plain sight,” Jacob answered, and I hated that he was making sense. “Our information shows that before 1977, she lived in Philadelphia," Jacob explained.
"What?" I knew I didn't know everything about her, but she told me she was born and raised in D.C. She lied to me. "She never told me."
"Does the name Veronica Brief mean anything to you?"
I shook my head. "Who is that?" I was almost too afraid of the answer.
"From our research, we believe that is the name Mrs. Coe was born with. Her prints and magical signature popped up in our database." Jacob answered.
I paused. If her information popped up, that meant she was arrested at one point. "What?"
"From looking into the history of Veronica Brief, she was a confirmed member of the cult 'The Children of the Chosen.'" Jacob continued.
I blinked. I couldn't have heard him right. "No." I shook my head. "You're wrong. Mrs. Coe was never in a cult. If you had met her, talked to her, spent any amount of time with her, you would agree. Right, Clive?" I turned to him.
Clive crossed his arms across his massive chest and took a breath. "That doesn't seem like the woman I knew. Are you certain?" He looked to Jacob; Jacob just nodded.
"Look, I don't care what your investigation found, Mrs. Coe was not in that cult. The Children of the Chosen killed magical beings. Mrs. Coe wasn't linked to that. She always taught me inclusion for all magical beings. She wasn't... No, it's not possible." I waved him off as I felt my eyes start to water.
Detective Dawson noticed my discomfort and started explaining. "The cult was at their height in the 1970s, but it's possible that she was caught up in their world and didn't realize how wrong she was at the time. With the store, she could have been working to make amends for her actions."
"What are your other questions?" I said, changing the subject, well, at least trying to.
Jacob flipped through his notebook. "We looked into the terms of the agreement. Though there was one difference. You mentioned to us that Mrs. Coe presented you with that document because her lawyer informed her it would be a good idea to have everything on paper. Our investigation has determined that that wasn’t the case."
"Are you trying to say that I’m lying?"
"We're not accusing you of that," Jacob said. "Her lawyer informed us that the contract was put together by her request, and she couriered the copy to him Sunday morning."
"Oh," I said. "Well, what does that mean?"
"It means," Clive took over the explanation, "the Detectives believe she knew something was going to happen."
"Is that true?" I turned to them.
Jacob nodded and continued. "He also told us she requested the contract in a rush. After learning about this, we dug a bit into her finances. Mrs. Coe had already reached out to her financial institutions and was in t
he process of draining her personal accounts and transferring the money to several offshore accounts. We believe she was going to run."
"No." I shook my head. Whatever they believed; it was wrong. There had to be some explanation, it just wasn’t that one. She wouldn't have done that. "She was not going to leave me. Just because you believe something doesn’t make it true."
"We understand this is a hard time for you, and this is a lot to process." Detective Dawson said. "But all the evidence points to her planning to run."
"I've never known her to run from anything."
"The Children of the Chosen were a scary cult; they hurt a lot of magical families. If someone knew who she was, who she really was, that would be reason enough to run." Jacob stated, but I didn’t want to hear it.
"She didn't scare, she wouldn't have run, and she was not in that cult!" I felt my blood rush to my face, how dare he talk about her like this. How dare they! "Are you sure you don't mean the Unbound Coven?" I was desperate for this to be a mistake. "I read about them in this book, before they were the Children of the Chosen, they were called the Unbound Coven. They were peaceful then; she could have been a member of the Unbound Coven?"
Jacob shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ms. London, but as we said, all evidence points to the contrary. We are still looking for suspects, but it looks as though her attack was related to her past."
"Have you released her body yet? I want to lay her to rest," I said, changing the subject once more.
"We should be able to in the coming week, but we can release the store to you today," Jacob said, pulling my keys off his desk and passing them to me.
"Thank you," I said as I took the keys and dropped them in my purse. "Can I go now?" I asked, not sure I could handle anything else.
"Yes," Detective Dawson nodded. "That is everything, for now."
"Thank you," I said as I stood up.
"I'll walk you out." Clive stood.
"Thank you for your time," I said before shaking both of their hands and following Clive out the door.
TEN
As soon as I left SPF, I headed straight to WICCA. I needed to get the store up and running as quickly as possible. I needed to get back some sense of normalcy.
The shop itself was in good shape, and thankfully they cleaned up after leaving. My money was on Clive; I bet he had it handled for me. I walked to the back of the store and grabbed one of the aprons. My eyes lingered on the area where the table used to be.
"No," I said into the silence. I was stronger than this, I wouldn’t fall apart. I had been through too much to fall apart. Everything was going to be ok. The SPF was going to really do their job and figure out the complete truth. And I wouldn’t be met with speculation, but facts. Facts that wouldn’t have me questioning the one person I allowed myself to trust completely.
I pulled the apron over my head and tied it around my waist and exhaled deeply before getting to work. I reached into one of the built-in draws along the wall and grabbed the inventory ledger, still sitting there. Again, my money was on Clive having the SPF be extra careful to return all items where they found them. I remembered Jacob mentioning they needed to go through all of the inventory.
I walked back out to the front of the store and got started. I began marking items on the list. I had a feeling the only items I would need to replace were the potions. They only had a shelf life of a few days to be at their most reliable, and we never liked to sell items below their peak.
Not we, me.
Just me.
It was just me now.
I crumbled to the ground as the pain-racked my body, and the dam that had been holding back my tears finally broke. What was I thinking? How could I think it would be a good idea to be here so soon? I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to give myself any comfort I could.
"Ms. London, are you alright?"
I wiped my face and looked up at the door; I didn’t even hear the bell ring.
"Andrew Easton?" I asked as I started up at the heir to the Easton coven. I had never seen him in person, but I had seen plenty of photos. A lot of the women at the firm had a crush and basically stalked him. Though, after seeing him in person, I started to understand his appeal. It was true, he was attractive. Andrew Easton was tall - about 6'0 – with an average build. He had dark brown hair, piercing brown eyes, and dark chocolate skin. The more he stared at me, it felt like he was staring into my soul. I didn’t like it.
"I see my reputation proceeds me." He smirked, looking down at me. I fought the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes. This was not what I needed right now. "Do you need help?" He asked as he held out a hand for me.
I swatted it away as I stood up on my own. I dried my hand tear dampened hands on my jeans. "May I ask why you are here?"
"I came to speak to you."
"Why?"
"I believe we have much to discuss." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a letter.
I walked over to the counter to put some distance between us. What was he doing in my shop? In all my years, I never, and I mean never, so much as laid eyes on any member of the Easton family.
The Eastons controlled all of Virginia while the Abbas had Maryland and because DC was so special, they shared it. Still, never, had I ever laid eyes on an Easton family member in person.
"How do you know my name?" I asked, realizing he called me Miss London when he walked in.
"I know a lot about you." He waved the letter once more; I narrowed my eyes at it.
"Nice, go with the creepy route." I snarked. “What is so special about that letter?”
"Is there somewhere we can talk?" He asked as he looked around the store.
"No," I said flatly.
He smirked. "I do believe there is an apartment upstairs." He pointed to the ceiling.
"And I don't know you." I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Yes, you do. You said my name when I walked in." He smirked again, but I wasn’t in the mood for him or his games.
"I don’t know you; I know of you. Big difference. And based on what I know, I don't want to be alone with you.”
"Aren't you a bit curious to know why I am here and how I know who you are?"
"Slightly, but not enough for me to go upstairs with you."
He paused before saying, "I'm here because of Mrs. Coe…she sent me."
I shook my head. “She couldn’t have, she died a few days ago.” I paused, trying to ignore the pain those words caused. “She couldn’t have asked you to do anything.”
"I know, and I am sorry." He lowered his head as if bowing slightly. "But this letter arrived just this morning.”
"What does that have to do with me?"
"It is of a private nature." He looked around the store again.
"Well, we are alone here." I rolled my eyes. "The shop is closed, no one is going to overhear you," and then it dawned on me. "You are not just worried about being overheard, are you? You don't want to be seen here."
He nodded. "It's very rare I come to this side of town, I'm not sure who else received this letter, and I don’t want to draw any suspicions towards me."
I heard the bell above the door ring and saw Arte Abbas walk in.
"I should have known you would be here." Arte narrowed his eyes at Andrew.
"Hello, Arte." Andrew nodded. "I tend not to wait with information as great as this."
"I guess she thought she could trust you as well." Arte pulled out a letter from his pocket. It looked identical to the one Andrew showed me.
"You have a letter as well?" I asked as I turned to Arte. "Well, will you tell me what the big deal is and whether this has anything to do with why I was offered the chance to join your coven?"
"What!" I saw Andrew's eyes narrow at Arte. "You Abbas’ always did play dirty."
"You mean, we play to win," Arte smirked, snapping his fingers. The blinds of the store closed; the door locked. “We need a bit of privacy for the next bit of our conversation.
"You know we cou
ldn’t have her join your coven," Andrew said.
"You don't have a say in the matter."
"Excuse me, but neither of you have a say in what I do." I interrupted. I hated when people spoke about me like I wasn't in the room; Coven members always did that. "I don't want to join your coven Arte, and if that is why you are here, Andrew, I don't want to join yours either. I was perfectly fine on my own before, and I don’t need help from either of you now."
"Please, Ms. London, there is much we need to discuss." Andrew turned to me, his tone much softer than before.
"Wouldn't you like to know why we both have the same letter from Mrs. Coe?" Arte asked.
"Honestly, at this moment, I don’t." I was getting very annoyed with them being in my shop.
"It has to do with her death." Andrew explained.
I blanched at his words. Why would she write to him, either of them? "Why would she write to two people she never met before and tell them she knew something that would cause her death. I don't believe you."
"Who said we never met?" Arte asked as he walked closer. "We've known Mrs. Coe since we were teens. Isn't that right, Andrew?"
"Yes." Andrew agreed, visibly annoyed he had to agree with Arte.
"What? What do you mean you’ve known her since you were a teen? How? I've never seen you here before."
"I never said we met her here. She met us once a month, along with the leaders of the halfling and vampire communities."
"Why?" I asked, but I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer. Mrs. Coe never once told me she was meeting with the leaders of the DMV magical community.
"I had hoped she would have left you a letter to explain, but I guess she didn't have the guts." Arte snipped.
"Listen, you might be able to get away with saying whatever you want anywhere else. But I refuse to let you disrespect her here, of all places.” I replied sternly. He might’ve been the leader of his Coven, but I wasn’t about to let him disrespect Mrs. Coe in the place she called home.
"Don't listen to him," Andrew said, trying to smooth the situation. "Look, this is why I wanted to talk to you alone…in a more controlled environment.” He glared at Arte, then sighed and turned to me. “Mrs. Coe was on probation."
Ahmentree's Magic Page 6