Carrot slowly got to her feet. “Entrepreneurs? I don't get it.”
Dawna sighed. “We get two paid breaks plus lunch. People who work for themselves don't get paid breaks.”
“Why wouldn't they give themselves paid breaks?” Carrot frowned. “One day when I open my tattoo studio, I'll give myself paid breaks.”
Dawna pulled her head back in surprise. “Your tattoo studio? Girl, that book of Annette's has really gone to your head!”
Carrot gave her a sweet, bashful smile. “I think it has.”
“Good for you!” Dawna offered her a high-five. Carrot slapped her hand tentatively.
Dawna asked, “Do you need any start-up money?”
Carrot said, “I asked my brother, Ishmael, for a loan. He's got a pretty good job, I think. He won't tell anyone in the family what it is. He might be doing something illegal.”
“That doesn't sound good,” Dawna said. “You don't want money that's tainted.”
“It doesn't matter, because Ishmael said no. But my uncle, Arden, might help me out.”
Dawna said, “Great. Let's get some fresh coffee, and you can tell me all about this generous family member of yours. Is Uncle Arden dating anyone?”
“Just his dog,” Carrot said. “Oops. I didn't mean that the way it came out. He's just very close to his dog, Doodles.”
“That's sweet. I love a man who's kind to animals. So, Uncle Arden isn't dating anyone human?”
“No,” Carrot said, leading the way to the break room. “And he's actually my great-uncle.”
Dawna followed, talking about how it was just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one.
Zinnia looked over at Gavin for his reaction to Dawna's hunt for a sugar daddy.
Gavin said, defensively, “We're on a break, okay?”
“Sorry to hear it,” Zinnia said, even though she had no feelings about yet another Dawna-Gavin breakup.
Margaret said, “Don't worry. You can get her back. Just think.” Margaret pretended to think hard, her chin on her fist. “What would Nivag the Gnome do?”
Gavin frowned. “He'd stomp his foot three times to get away from the two of you witches.”
“Do it,” Margaret said, still pretending to think hard with her chin on her fist. “Stomp your foot for us, Nivag. Let's see if you're a real gnome.”
Gavin gave her a dirty look and walked away.
Jesse emerged from his office, yawning. “Coffee break?”
Margaret waved him toward the break room. “Go ahead. I need a minute to discuss something with Zinnia in private.”
Jesse leaned against his door frame. “Something juicy? Office gossip?”
Margaret said, “Just female stuff. About female things.”
“Ew.” Jesse faked disgust and left for the break room.
Zinnia said to Margaret, “Good one.”
“The threat of hearing about female stuff works on males of all ages.”
Zinnia grabbed her thermos and opened the lid. She was already out of tea.
Margaret said, “So? You didn't call me last night.”
“I was reading Annette's book.”
“Me, too. Most of it, anyway.” She stifled a yawn. “Did you hear from Fung? What did he say about you-know-who and her pet wolf, and her animal scratch tattoo?”
“He hasn't called me back.”
“Figures.” Margaret looked in the direction of the break room. The others were laughing about something. Tattoos, maybe. Or the idea of Dawna dating Carrot's great-uncle.
Zinnia shuffled some papers on her desk, accidentally knocking her pen to the floor. She looked at the pen, remembering her experiments with Annette's pen.
She picked it up and said to Margaret, “I should go to the station with Annette's pen. I don't think it's charmed in any way, and I've got no idea why Gavin was after it, but who knows? It might mean something to Fung.”
“No!” Margaret exclaimed, her eyes wide with alarm. “Don't do that. They'll put it in an evidence box and we'll never see it again.”
“Maybe that's where it belongs.”
“Give Annette's writing pen to me.” Margaret rubbed her hands together the way she did when she knew there was birthday cake waiting in the break room. “I want it.”
“You only want it because Gavin wants it.”
“Sure, but so what? At least I'd hold onto it. If Gavin got his grubby little gnome hands on it and figured out the secret, he'd sell it to the highest bidder in a heartbeat. Gnomes aren't sentimental, except about money.”
“You're assuming he is a gnome,” Zinnia said sagely. “We don't know for sure that he is.”
“His uncle is a gnome. Griebel Gorman.”
“Yes, but as you know, blood lineage isn't everything. Magic has its own plans.”
Margaret was still rubbing her hands together. “It simply cannot be a coincidence that Annette made him a gnome in her book.”
She was right. Plus, there was the troublesome detail that Annette had cast Zinnia and Margaret as a pair of witches named Nina and Gretta. Zinnia had read the whole book last night. There was no doubt in her mind about Nina and Gretta. Aside from the fact they were teenagers, they were obviously based on the two real-life witches.
Zinnia asked, “How do you think Annette knew about... Nina and Gretta?”
Margaret raised both hands. “Don't look at me. I didn't tell her nothin'. I barely knew the woman.”
“You knew her longer than I did.”
“Only by a few months, really. She started working here in August, year before last. I remember the date because she was sitting in here by herself when we all got back from Jesse's father's funeral. Nobody told her we'd be starting late that day.” Margaret smiled at the memory. “She didn't know which desk was hers, so she was working on the reception area couch with that old laptop.”
“Because she didn't want to offend someone by sitting at their desk?” Zinnia smiled as well. She hadn't heard that story before. “That Annette. She was a special lady.”
They sat in silence for a moment, honoring their friend.
Suddenly, an acoustic ceiling tile over Annette's desk came loose and landed on her empty desk with a loud THWAP.
Margaret and Zinnia ran over to see what had happened. The others in the break room had either not heard the crash or hadn't cared to investigate.
A sheaf of papers were drifting down from the rectangular hole in the ceiling, fluttering like white butterflies marked with blue handwriting.
It took only a few seconds for the two witches to determine that it was the first draft of Annette's novel, written in pen.
Margaret clutched some gathered pages to her chest. “We need to read this,” she said breathlessly. “Annette wants us to. The way it fell from the ceiling like that. It's got to be a message from the other side.”
Zinnia looked up at the ceiling. Several other ceiling tiles were crooked and looked ready to fall at any moment. It could have been a message from the other side, or it could have been physics. Either way, she did want to read the handwritten pages, so she didn't argue with Margaret.
The other witch was already grabbing her purse and coat. “I'm taking it to get scanned somewhere else, like that chain photocopy place. I'll get us both copies, then I'll take the original to the police station.” She waved her hand and answered a question Zinnia hadn't asked. “It's not like the pen. We can make copies of this, so it doesn't matter if it sits in an evidence box.”
“Relax. I agree with your plan,” Zinnia said. “But why don't you scan it here? We have that fancy fax machine that does everything but make toast.”
Margaret shook her head. “I'm doing it somewhere they don't know me. I don't trust anyone right now. I barely trust you.”
Zinnia's jaw dropped. What had she done? Besides pelting Margaret with office supplies and trussing her up like a mummy.
“You took the pen home without even showing it to me,” Margaret said, once again answering a question that h
adn't been asked—not out loud, anyway.
That's the thing about witches with psychic powers. They're always having conversations with what's been left unsaid. It's rarely appreciated by others, unless they're also witches.
Margaret hustled out the door with the handwritten notes.
* * *
Zinnia walked into the break room without Margaret. Nobody commented on the other woman's absence. Dawna, Gavin, Carrot, and Jesse were still discussing tattoos.
Carrot looked up and asked Zinnia, “What kind of tattoo would you get?” All eyes were on Zinnia.
Zinnia shrugged one shoulder girlishly. “What makes you think I don't have one already?”
Gavin guffawed and lifted his fresh coffee to his lips.
“A feeling,” Carrot said, her eyes glazing over. “I feel like I've seen you naked before.”
Gavin snorted, shooting two streams of fresh coffee out of his nostrils. Everyone laughed. Gavin grabbed paper towels and started mopping up the mess.
Dawna asked Carrot, “Why would you say something like that about Zinnia?”
Carrot's cheeks flushed. “I don't know. I have a lot of strange dreams.”
Jesse took a paper towel from Gavin and dabbed at his sleeve where Gavin had sprayed coffee. Gavin didn't apologize.
Jesse waggled his eyebrows at Carrot. “Do you ever have dreams about me?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Just the other night, I dreamed you were flexing for someone, trying to impress them.”
Dawna said, “That sounds more like something Gavin would do. Are you sure it wasn't him?”
Indignantly, Gavin said, “Excuse me? I don't flex.”
“It was definitely Jesse,” Carrot said wistfully. “I'd know those blue eyes anywhere.”
Dawna leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Don't start dreaming your dreams about me, Carrot. I like my privacy.”
Carrot self-consciously twirled her orange hair around one finger and looked around the room.
Zinnia wanted to leave the break room, but it was too late for that. She pulled out a chair and joined her coworkers at the table. Gavin kept staring at her. She gave him a squinty look. “Stop trying to picture me naked,” she said.
Gavin's cheeks flushed. “I wasn't,” he said.
Everyone laughed again. Jesse opened his mouth to say something. By the twinkle in his eyes, Zinnia guessed he was going to say something else about her naked body. Luckily for Zinnia's reputation, he was cut off by Carrot asking the group, “Hey, so what does everyone think about Annette's book? I stayed up late to finish reading it. We all did, right?”
People murmured but nobody spoke up.
“Come on,” Carrot said. “We should talk about the book, right? Isn't that why Dawna wanted us all to read it?”
Jesse, never one to give up on a joke easily, said, “Let's get back to your dreams about Zinnia naked.”
Another round of laughter.
Zinnia adjusted the collar of her blouse. “That's enough, everyone. I'm still here. At least have the decency to talk about me behind my back.”
More chortling.
“Okay. We can talk about the book,” Gavin said. “I would say... it wasn't bad.”
Carrot said, “It was really good.” She quickly added, “For a make-believe novel.”
Gavin said, “Carrot, all novels are make-believe.”
She frowned at him. “I meant that it's science fiction.”
“It's fantasy,” Gavin said. “Did you even read it?”
She stuck her tongue out childishly. Gavin returned the gesture.
Jesse said, “It's a shame it won't get published.”
Dawna said, “Actually, I was talking to Annette's cousin, and the family might be able to publish it posturally.”
Gavin corrected her. “You mean posthumously.”
“That's what I said,” Dawna said, eyes flashing.
Nobody corrected her a second time.
“I'll buy a copy,” Carrot said. “Ooh! I could buy a whole box and give them as gifts.”
Jesse blew over his steaming coffee and said, “It probably won't sell very many copies. I've been asking around, and nobody's heard of AJ Scholem. Not even at the local bookstores.”
“I had to special-order the other ones,” Dawna said. Everyone looked at her. She explained, “I'm reading all of Annette's older books to see if there are any more clues in there to solve her murder.”
Gavin groaned. “Dawna, it was a wild animal attack, not a murder. Will you let it go already? There aren't any clues to be found. This isn't one of those murder mystery party games. It's real life, and the case is closed. Remember how we got that memo yesterday to check the windows? That was the end of it.”
Dawna crossed her arms and glared at him. Oh, they were definitely broken up again.
The room was quiet.
Everyone remained subdued until the coffee break was over. People started tidying up their coffee mugs and preparing to get back to work.
Jesse paused, looking at the calendar on the fridge. “Hey, gang,” he said with a mild note of alarm. “It's Friday today, right?”
“All day long,” Gavin said. He was the kind of guy who always said “all day long” instead of simply answering yes to the day of the week question. He didn't get to say it often, because if Karl was around, he'd jump on it first, but today was Gavin's lucky day.
“We've got bowling league tonight,” Jesse said.
Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked at each other. They'd all forgotten. Should they go? Should they carry on in Annette's honor, or cancel out of respect?
Zinnia was eager to get home and start reading the handwritten version of Annette's book, in case it contained the secret of how she'd known or guessed that two of her coworkers were witches. But Zinnia did have the whole weekend to do that, minus Saturday night's dinner at Jesse's. The book could wait. It wasn't going anywhere. In fact, she would cast a steadfast spell on her scanned pages to make sure stray ghosts didn't mess with it.
After a discussion, the group unanimously agreed that since Annette was the one who had initiated the bowling league, they should go. They were short a couple of players, since Annette was dead and Karl was taking some vacation days, but they still had six bowlers. The league would allow them to play. The scores wouldn't count toward their average, but nobody really cared about their average except for Annette.
“Then it's settled,” Jesse said. “Tonight, the Incredibowls will knock down some pins. Hey, maybe we'll beat the Wisteria Wizards.”
“Not without Karl,” Gavin said.
The others murmured in agreement. Say what you wished about Karl Kormac, the man could bowl.
* * *
By the end of the work day, Zinnia was dreading the bowling night. Why had she agreed to go? They all were probably feeling the same way, but wouldn't admit it. Who wants to spend more time with their coworkers after five o'clock on a Friday? Only a person like Annette, which was why she'd organized the team. What a strange and lovely woman she had been.
Margaret dropped a storage stick on Zinnia's desk as she walked by. “Here's a digital copy of that document we discussed,” she said.
“Where's the original now?”
“At the, uh, customer's workplace.”
That meant Detective Fung had it.
Margaret turned off her computer monitor and started packing up for the day. “I tried running the character recognition software so I could convert it into searchable text, but the original handwriting was too messy.”
“That's too bad.” Zinnia tidied her desk as well. “Smart of you to try.” She thought about how long it would take to read the same book again in messy handwriting. Probably the whole weekend. She would only be reading it to figure out how Annette had known their secret powers. She doubted there'd be anything in the original draft that would shed light on what had happened to Annette.
The book itself was just a typical nove
l for the young adult crowd. It was enjoyable and well written, as far as those things went. There was the standard plucky orphan pitted against the super-nasty villain. Aside from the characters who'd been inspired by Annette's office mates, it didn't feel realistic. The bad guy, a kidnapper with a sadistic streak, was not evil in a believable way. He was just a wee bit too evil. Twirling-his-mustache evil.
Five o'clock arrived. Everyone got ready to leave in absolute silence, which was not typical for a Friday, but then again, this was not a typical Friday.
The group of six walked out together and stood in the hallway while Margaret locked up.
Someone was approaching them. He called out, “Heading out to the staff parking lot?”
It was Xavier Batista, a cocky young man in his early twenties who worked in the building. Zinnia had seen him around, but didn't know him well.
Jesse replied, “Yes, we're just locking up and heading out.”
“Good,” Xavier said, and joined the group. “Don't you hate the whole month of January, how you get to work in the dark and then leave in the dark? It would be great... if we were all vampires, right?” He shuffled himself into the center of their group of six.
Jesse looked at the newcomer with curiosity. “Xavier, are you trying to merge with our pack? Careful what you wish for, buddy. We're heading straight to the bowling alley from here.”
“Uh, no thanks to the bowling,” Xavier said. “Unless you want me to come along.” He looked directly at Carrot, who was about his age. He made goo-goo eyes at her.
Carrot, who'd been chewing her thumbnail, said coolly, “I have a boyfriend, Xavier.”
“Same one as before?”
Carrot glanced at Jesse briefly then back at Xavier. “If you mean Sefu, then yes. He's quite dark-skinned. Kind of hard to miss in a town like this.”
“I thought his name was Steve,” Xavier said. “I guess that's sort of a nickname, huh? What is Sefu? Swahili?”
Jesse cleared his throat. “If you'll excuse us, Mr. Batista, we should be going to Shady Lanes. The latecomers have to buy rounds.”
“Sure, sure,” Xavier said. “I just thought we could watch each other's backs. That parking lot sure is dark.”
Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 77