Poison and Pinot (A Paranormal Cozy Mystery) (California Witching Book 2)

by Samantha Silver

  She got us inside, shutting the door behind us without making sure to keep quiet about it, and immediately made her way to the alarm system, where she punched in the code.

  I frowned at her. "Be quiet!" I hissed.

  But Karen shook her head, twirling her finger around. "I took care of it already. We're in a sound bubble — none of the noise we make inside of it will be heard or sensed outside of it. And no one, furry or otherwise, will be able to detect us either."

  Ok, that was definitely impressive. "Got any more cool tricks up your sleeve?"

  "You’d be surprised," she said with a grin. "It's actually just an extension of my own powers. Sort of like an add-on, I guess. It took a long time to really get it down, though. Come on. Portia's office is this way."

  The room was larger than I'd imagined, with two differently-sized desks at either end. The larger one had a huge corkboard behind it filled with pictures of tons of different animals, some business cards, and a calendar of cartoon dogs. Papers were scattered all over the desk top, with an old laptop and several empty bottles of water lying around. The other desk was smaller but surrounded on both sides with large filing cabinets. This one had a much neater appearance, with a couple of disordered piles of paper stuck in the inbox, and a pretty white orchid peeking out from behind the computer monitor.

  "Let me guess. That's Maxie’s desk," I said, pointing to the messier desk, "and that's Portia's." Maxie and Portia were like night and day — Maxie was boisterous and outgoing, always laughing in her booming voice, while Portia was much more reserved and organized.

  Karen nodded. "Winner winner, chicken dinner. I don't think we'll find anything in the file cabinets. I check those all the time because those are where our intake files for the animals go. Portia keeps everything else inside her desk. Wait," she quickly added, pulling at my arm. "You can't move any further than ten feet away from me. That will break the bubble. We need to stay close to each other."

  I stared longingly at Maxie’s desk, and the comfortable-looking office chair behind it. "I'm going to check Portia's phone. You check the desk."

  Karen dove right in, yanking open the drawers, rifling through folders and papers left and right. She pulled out a big binder, checking through it frantically, before shoving it back into the desk with a loud thud. When Karen finally leaned back in the chair, frowning, I knew we had our answer.

  "Nothing?" I guessed.

  "Nothing suspicious, anyway. It's all stuff I've seen and known about. There's nothing in her junk drawer, even. If you could call it that." Karen pulled at the thin middle drawer, opening it to reveal a plastic desk organizer, neatly filled with office supplies in every little nook.

  "Okay, that just makes the rest of us look bad," I said. Waving around the phone, I leaned against the desk. "Maybe we'll have better luck with this."

  "Have you been able to unlock it, yet?"

  I shook my head. “As nice as she is, she certainly doesn't trust anyone not to go through her phone. Smart lady."

  Karen sighed. "Hopefully she's smart enough not to be doing something stupid. Pando apertumroa. There. Try it now."

  I tapped the home button and revealed the home screen, complete with a picture of Portia's huge Doberman as her wallpaper. It was hard to imagine someone who loved animals so much possibly wanting to murder a human.

  "Let's see. Where to look first," I mumbled to myself as I checked the recent call history and noticed that there had been some calls to and from James Lim within the past couple of days, but nothing between them before that. Most of the calls had been from Portia's parents who, according to Karen, lived up in Sacramento, plus calls to and from Gilly Mills.

  "Well, at least that's sort of backs up what she said at the restaurant. She and James hadn't been calling each other before Lisa's death. Hold on, let's see what the texts say." One name jumped out it me from all the rest. "Hey, it looks like Portia had been texting Lisa two days before she died."

  Karen stood up and leaned against my shoulder to read along with me. "It looks like they were going back and forth a lot. Scroll up to the beginning."

  The first text was from Lisa.

  I know. And this has nothing to do with Gilly Mills, so don't worry about that. I can assure you that whatever my feelings may be, I would never do anything that would jeopardize those babies.

  Beneath was the first reply from Portia.

  Lisa, I understand you being upset with me. But please believe me. You can ask James, yourself. Nothing has ever happened between us.

  The conversation between the two continued.

  I have. But he is not the best at telling the truth. He never has been.

  I know, I've heard the rumors. But I'm not like that. I'm not one of his girlfriends he tries to keep on the sly. And to be perfectly honest with you, I'm not really a fan of his to begin with.

  I had this very same conversation with someone else before. And then I caught him texting her, and the story was completely different. I'm sorry Portia. But I don't know if I can believe you.

  Whether you believe me or not, please don't take it out on Gilly Mills. Maxie and I have worked so hard to take care of everything, and you have been so wonderfully kind in providing everything you have. Please don't let anything personal come between that. I know how much you care about the animals like I do.

  Any earlier texts between the two of them had been deleted, but it was pretty obvious what they had been arguing about.

  "So Lisa knew about it," Karen said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "And Portia tried to cover it up as if nothing were happening."

  "She's denying it to Lisa, though. I really wish I knew what kind of evidence Lisa had against her. What made her think that her husband was cheating on her with Portia? I think that would probably clear things up."

  Karen took the phone from my hands, rereading the texts between the two women.

  "Whether she did or not, I don't know. I wish I could say for certain that I believe her. But it's not looking good. These texts were sent before Lisa was killed obviously, so if Lisa suspected an affair between James and Portia before, then why did Portia tell you that she only just started seeing him after Lisa died?"

  I shrugged. "If anything, this just goes to show how right you were about Lisa. She wasn't planning on doing anything drastic, like taking any revenge out on this shelter, so that's good."

  Karen slammed her hand down on the desk. "But it only goes to show just how messed up this is! There was no real reason for anyone to do this to her, and if this doesn't prove that, I don't know what will." Karen dropped the phone onto Portia's desk, shoving the chair back underneath it. "Yet, at the same time, I'm not sure Portia would —"

  I held up my hand to stop her from saying another word. "Shh." I could've sworn that I heard something. A door opening maybe at the other end of the building? "Did you hear that?"

  Karen froze on spot, listening intently. There was another muffled bang – unmistakably a door being shut – and both of our eyes went wide.

  "Shoot, we need to get out of here! If it's Portia or Maxine I don't know how I would explain this,” Karen hissed at me.

  I knew we were safe in the bubble, but it wouldn't stop anyone from seeing us in the middle the room, red-handed with no reason to be there. Another door slammed somewhere closer inside the building, and I jumped.

  "The window!" I hissed, pushing Karen toward it.

  Without saying another word, Karen unlocked the window and threw up the pane, her eyes full of fear as she shimmied her way out of it. Her small frame fit easily, but unfortunately, as I tried to stick my upper body through headfirst, I realized that I was much too close to getting stuck for comfort.

  "Help, pull me out!" I shrieked, beginning to panic.

  Karen stood outside, pulling on my arm, trying to get my wide hips through the frame, and when I was finally through and able to pull myself out the rest of the way, she made a run for it.

  But I never had the chan
ce to.

  The tip of my shoe snagged on a nail on the bottom of the window frame and I fell forwards, dangling at least three feet above the ground for a second before the fabric of my shoe tore, sending me hurtling towards the ground.

  I let out a cry of surprise as I bit the dust – literally - my mouth full of dirt and grass as I tried to roll over and pull myself back up. A sharp pain surged up my left arm. Great.

  I tried inspecting my arm in the bits of moonlight peeking down through the silvery clouds, but all I noticed was that it was definitely sitting at an unnatural angle.

  "No, no, no," I whispered, cradling my arm against my chest. "This is not happening."

  "We have to go, Taylor!" Karen hissed up ahead, frantically beckoning for me.

  I bit my lip as I stood upwards, pain lancing through my arm in a way I'd never felt before.

  "I think I broke my arm!" I called out. My voice was hoarse and sounded distant even to my own ears.

  Karen waited for me to catch up, and the two of us ducked into the smattering of trees that the edge of Gilly Mills' property backed up to.

  My heart was hammering out an uneven rhythm as if it knew something was up, and we stood there barely breathing, listening.

  Minutes passed with the pain slowly fading to a dull ache, before Karen finally spoke up again. "Are you okay now? It healed, right?"

  I gingerly moved my arm back and forth, and while it felt okay, I could definitely tell the healing process was much slower this time around. "Yeah, I guess. It was just weird though; it took a really long time."

  Karen looked down at my arm to inspect it, before shrugging.

  "I'm sure there's a logical reason for that. But we need to leave first before we can try and figure out why."

  I knew she was right. It was getting late and there didn't seem to be much else we could find on Portia after checking through her phone and checking through her office junk. I nodded.

  "All right. Let's go around the other side and back to the car."

  Trying to shake off the weird injury, I followed as Karen led the way. But in the back of my mind, I was a bit worried about my arm. I had no idea why it had taken so long to heal, and I had a feeling it would be a good idea to get it checked out by a doctor, just in case.

  Chapter 18

  I stood outside of a large brick building, staring at the sign that read 'Napa Valley General Practice'. Truth be told, I couldn't remember the last time I'd stepped foot inside of a doctor's office. I knew it had to have been when I was a kid, back when my parents would take me for my yearly checkup. But that was it. And that had ended a long, long time ago.

  My stomach fluttered slightly as I pushed open the door. Even though my arm felt okay now, I still thought it was bizarre, what happened the night before at Gilly Mills. I had never broken a bone in my body, never dislocated anything, torn anything. Yet I knew that something had gone wrong when I looked down and saw my arm twisted in an odd fashion.

  What did that mean for my powers? Was I somehow draining them? Had I messed something up, along the way? I had a ton of questions that no one could really answer, but there I was. Hoping for the best from a doctor who knew nothing about my magical capabilities.

  Both Barbara and Karen had told me the doctor’s appointment was totally unnecessary, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see if maybe there was something I was missing. Ok, I could admit it: I was panicking. I had never experienced anything like this before, and I wanted to make sure my arm wasn’t going to spontaneously combust or something.

  The inside of the office was plainly wallpapered, adorned with small green plants here and there. I wasn't sure what to make of the fact that half of them were in desperate need of water. Besides me, there were only a few other patients — an older couple, pouring over the latest people magazine together, a young father bouncing his toddler up and down on his knee, trying to keep him quiet, and a sullen-looking teenager seated far away from everyone else, frowning down at her phone.

  Shuffling up to the receptionist, I pulled out my information and smiled as best as I could when the woman acknowledged me. "Hi, I'm here to check in under Taylor Dean. I have an appointment at 10:15."

  "Sure thing. Would you mind filling this out for me? Just bring it up, once you're finished," the receptionist said, handing me a clipboard with a whole bunch of paperwork to fill out.

  I nodded, taking a seat near the older couple.

  The waiting room was pretty quiet, with the exception of the random, irritated noises coming from the teenager. I couldn’t help but notice that every time she did it the older couple rolled their eyes, and exchanged a look.

  Once I had turned in the paperwork what felt like hours later, I took a seat again, searching for the least boring looking magazine from the stack of them on the table next to me.

  "Ugh! I've been waiting, for like ever. Why make an appointment for a specific time, if I can't be seen at that time? What's taking so long?" the girl in the far corner grumbled loudly.

  She crossed her legs and shoved her phone into her hoodie pocket, staring straight up at the ceiling, looking angry at the world. I remembered those days. And I was sure as heck glad they were over.

  The girl looked back down, casting a dirty look over at the rest of us as she fixed her curly auburn hair into a giant bun on top of her head. Honestly, she looked like she had just rolled out of bed, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a matching hoodie to go with it. She clearly did not want to be there. But then, I supposed being sick mustn’t have been a pleasant experience. It wasn’t like I really knew.

  The heavy wooden door opened, and a pretty nurse with braids popped her head around the corner. "Miss Lim?" she called out.

  The teenager popped up, rolling her eyes dramatically as she threw her purse over her shoulder and stomped over to the nurse. "Finally," she muttered.

  As she walked away, I caught the letters running down the side of her sweatpants — STANFORD.

  Stanford? Miss Lim? This must've been Jeanette, Lisa's oldest daughter who supposedly got expelled from the school very recently. Suddenly, everything Callie told us yesterday morning made a lot of sense. I could easily imagine this girl giving her mother a hard time.

  So Callie had been right: Jeanette was back in town and mad at the world. In any other situation, I could see why she would be upset and furious with everyone else. It wouldn't have been her fault, she would have been upset about losing her mother. But witnessing the way she was just went hand-in-hand with what Callie had told us, and I wondered how she really felt about losing Lisa. Did she care?

  I was getting angry about it myself. What I would have done to have even one more minute with my mom…

  I wondered what Jeanette was in the office for. It was only the day after Lisa's memorial, and as far as I knew, Lisa was being buried tomorrow. Jeanette didn't seem like someone who was upset about their parents’ death, but rather someone who was more annoyed by it.

  I pulled out my phone to text Karen.

  Guess who else is here at the doctor's office?

  It took a few minutes, since Karen was at work, but she finally responded.

  Who?

  I texted her back quickly, the tip of my tongue poking out of the corner of my mouth.

  Jeanette Lim! Total drama queen. You wouldn't know that her mom just died, the way she's acting. She's more like a princess who isn't getting her way.

  I could imagine Karen's face as I read her next text.

  She's always been a real brat to everyone. Thinks she's too good for everything. She probably expects the doctor to come see her, not the other way around. Gtg. Maxie needs my help.

  I tucked my phone back into my pocket, leaning back in the chair. I had been considering every possible suspect we came across since finding out that Lisa really was murdered. Any one of them could have technically done it, and we didn't really have any evidence proving otherwise. Maybe that was what was so frustrating about the whole thing.

&n
bsp; I tried to add it all up. James Lim was the most obvious suspect, but the problem was that we didn't know how Lisa had been poisoned. It must have been slow acting, whatever it was. If she'd driven all the way over to Gilly Mills without a problem, what made her all of a sudden just drop dead?

  A loud commotion came from behind the door that led back to the examination rooms, and all of a sudden the door went flying open, Jeanette's devastated red face streaming with tears as she ran across the lobby and out the front door of the office, leaving a bunch of confused people staring at her in her wake.

  I was one of those people.

  The older couple beside me both made noises of disapproval. Clearly, they knew something I didn't.

  "Well, she didn't seem very happy, did she?" I said casually, flipping to the next page of the random home improvement magazine I had grabbed.

  The older woman glanced over at me, looking as though she were trying to figure out whether she should say something or not. "I know, it looks bad. But the poor girl, her mother just died."

  I bit my lip, closing the magazine in my lap. "Oh my goodness. What happened?"

  The woman's husband spoke up this time. "No one really knows yet. There’s talk that she was killed, but I don't know if all that is just hearsay. Wouldn't surprise me in this town,” he mumbled.

  "Oh, be quiet, Marvin. We're actually neighbors of the Lims," the woman waved him off, turning to me again. "Jeanette and her mother did not get along at all. They haven't for a long time, I'm guessing. Plenty of us have heard the terrible things she shouted at her mother late at night. But I'll tell you what, she's been home for a week now, and ever since her mother’s death I’ve seen her every night, crying and sobbing in her car. She's hurting really bad. I don't think the poor girl knows how to handle it. She probably feels mighty guilty about the whole thing, if you ask me. I can't imagine it."

  "She could at least try and keep her composure," her husband piped back up, shaking his head to himself as his wife glared at him.

  I sat back in my seat, my own guilt swirling around my stomach. Here I had simply assumed that Jeanette’s acting out was her not caring about her mother’s death. I should have known better than anyone that grief can take a number of different forms, and that losing a parent is never easy. Maybe that was the case, even if they didn’t get along.