Good Witch Hunting

by Dakota Cassidy

  “And to think you balked at me when I suggested them.”

  I literally pushed my way into a parking space, the snow crunching under my tires as I did. “That’s because you suggested them in mid-July. I was too busy windsailing and sunbathing to think about tire chains. Plus, like I said, we hardly ever get this kind of weather here. Anyway, I’m glad I bought them or we’d be stuck at Mayhem Manor without a way to get anything done. We have to hit this one hard because we don’t have much time before this storm clears and they come looking for Coop.”

  “Before you talk to Burt, malutka, have you give thought to what Trixie tell you? Have you think about what happened last night?”

  I stared at the console of my car, noting the time was just nine in the morning and I’d had maybe an hour’s worth of sleep. Still, I laughed ironically. “It’s all I’ve thought about, Arkady. But if you’re asking if I think Trixie murdered Hank while possessed? I don’t know. That’s my honest answer. I have no gut feeling about that. What I’m praying for is another solid suspect to at least throw them off Coop’s trail for a bit. I know it’s wrong of me, but if it was Trixie, my first instinct is to find a way to cover it up.”

  “Stephania, you simply cannot!” Win admonished, stuffy tone of voice and all. “If she harmed Hank, she could harm others. How can we have that on our conscience?”

  Yet again, Win was right, logically, but my heart ached for her and all she’d lost. “But it’s not her doing the harming, Win! How can I let her serve time—hard time—if she was possessed? We know it exists. We’re very clear it happens. You’ve possessed a couple of bodies in your time. So is it right to ship her off to prison for something she has no control over?”

  “Bah! This is dilemma, apple strudel! I do not wish to see Trixie go to big house any more than you, but Zero speaks the truth. She can hurt innocent people.”

  I smoothed my gloves over my hands. “But then there’s this… The one thing that keeps me from thinking she’s a real suspect is whoever knocked me down last night at the store. It sure wasn’t Trixie. So what did that person want? What was in that hole in the floor in the storeroom?”

  “Speaking of the assault on your person last night, remember anything, now that you’ve had some time away from immediate danger? Scent, maybe?”

  Sighing, I shook my head and gripped the steering wheel. “Not a darn thing. It all happened so fast, and I was hungry and tired. My reflexes were so off, and I know as spies, you guys think that’s a bunch of hooey, that my senses should always be on, but I can only remember being knocked around. I don’t know if I could even tell you how big the person was.”

  “As you’re not a spy, and you’ve had very minimal training in such, it’s understandable. Sometimes, like in the case of me and the hand with the tattoo, things take time to marinate before they make their appearance,” Win offered.

  I smacked the steering wheel with my hand. “Shoot, Win! I forgot all about investigating the tattoo! I’m sorry.”

  “Nay, Dove. No apologies necessary. Coop’s dilemma is far greater than mine. This takes precedence.”

  Then something else came to me. “Here’s another thing. We don’t even know Hank’s death has been labeled a murder. Maybe we’re doing all this work for nothing? Maybe he just had a heart attack or his arteries were clogged. I mean, he did frequent the fried chicken and waffle food truck, right?”

  “There’s one way to find out. Check the Eb Falls Herald website, Stephania. Surely, if something’s been announced, the Herald’s on it.”

  I took a look at my phone and typed in the URL for our local newspaper, hoping against hope Hank’s death had been ruled anything other than murder. But my hope was short-lived.

  The front page hit me like a shot to my kidneys. Local Real Estate Mogul’s Death Ruled a Homicide.

  “Crud on a cracker,” I mumbled as I read the story. “So much for hope. It says here that the coroner’s report hasn’t come in yet and cause of death is undetermined. But they’re calling it a homicide.”

  “All the more reason to get your backside in gear, Dove.”

  Lifting my eyes to the car’s ceiling, I reached for my purse. “Listen, you guys say a prayer, cross your fingers, do whatever it is one does when they need a miracle, that I’m able to find the person who did this before the police get to Coop. Now, let’s go question Burt. And by all means, if you can think of anything I miss while I chat with him, speak up. I know I usually ask you two to be quiet, but I’m so tired, I’m afraid I’ll forget something.”

  “Consider it done, Dove.”

  With that thought in place, I took one last look at the eerily deserted Main Street, the sidewalks empty but for the snowdrifts, and inhaled a long breath. I had to do this. I would do this.

  I pushed my door open and hopped out into the snow, now at mid-calf and still falling. I really should take a peek at my phone to see if there was going to be any end of this blizzard in the foreseeable future, but I didn’t have time to do anything but hit the bricks.

  Trouncing through the powdery white, my breath visible in small white puffs, I made it to the door of Burt’s shop, complete with candy-striped poles and that old-timey feel of a barbershop from days gone by. Just as I was about to knock, I caught sight of Burt, who frowned at me and waved me off, pointing to the sign that read they were closed.

  But I knocked harder, shivering as the wind cut right through my cute waist-length parka. “Mr. Freely! Please open the door. It’s an emergency!”

  His big body quivered when he huffed, clearly not pleased with me for interrupting him. We’d never formally met. I’d only seen him in passing at various places of commerce and a few Eb Falls events.

  His eyes narrowed at me as he made his lumbering way toward the glass door. He wore one of those throwback white smocks all barbers used to wear, and his face, while on his Facebook profile page was cheerful and smiling, looked just shy of murderous.

  “Didn’t you see the sign?” he growled, pushing the door open with a beefy hand, giving me a whiff of his heavy aftershave. “It says closed!”

  It was time to improvise and appeal to his chivalrous side. Surely someone who celebrated days gone by with an old-fashioned barbershop would rise to the occasion.

  I made my best sad Panda face as I slipped one foot in the door and sort of danced from foot to foot. “I’m sorry, Mr. Freely. My car is stuck,” I said, pointing to my vehicle over my shoulder. “And I really, really need to use the ladies’ room. I saw your lights on and, well, I just thought maybe you’d be willing to help a girl out? Please?”

  Instantly, his face went from a hard mask of perturbed to the gentle teddy bear I’d seen on his Facebook page. He pushed the door wide open with a welcoming smile full of white teeth. “My apologies, Miss…?”

  I smiled wide, fluttering my eyelashes in a foolish attempt to woo him with my charm. “Cartwright. Stevie Cartwright. I own Madam Zoltar’s just down the block here, but I forgot my keys to the shop and it’s going to take forever to get back to my house by the edge of town and no one else looks like they’re open. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, but…”

  “Of course,” he blustered with a cheery smile, letting me pass into the store. “It’s just been one of those days. You know, when it rains it pours.”

  I nodded my head and looked to the end of the store where the sign read “restrooms.” Much like the outside of Burt’s, the inside was a throwback to the day when getting a shave and a haircut were commonplace.

  There were eight chairs all told, with matching mirrors and big jars of green solution used to disinfect combs and mustache brushes. The floor was a checker pattern in red, black and white, and clean as a whistle with the lack of customers on a day like today.

  As I made my way to the bathroom with my legs almost crossed to keep up the act of having to use the facilities, I paid special attention to my surroundings. A little lame, I know. I mean, what killer would leave evidence behind in his place of bus
iness? Still, as tired as I was, I did my best to stay extra observant.

  Once inside the bathroom—also sparkling clean, with white subway tiles and burgundy walls—I turned the faucet on and waited a minute before I flushed the toilet. Then I washed my hands with some fruity soap and hit the button with my elbow for the air dryer and waited another minute more.

  I needed to strike up a conversation with him in such a way as he’d give me information willingly without realizing he had. But as tired as I was, I wasn’t sure how to do that…

  Just as the air dryer’s cycle ended, I heard Burt’s voice, making me press my ear to the door.

  “I told you, I don’t know anything, Martha!” he shouted, his voice clearly filled with dismay. Then he lowered it. “The police were here today asking a bunch of questions because of that stupid Facebook post I made. I overheard ’em talking and they were saying stuff about tetra something-or-other in his bloodstream. I didn’t want ’em to catch me eavesdropping, so I pretended I didn’t hear. I can’t even pronounce whatever they were talking about, but the one said it had to do with his cause of death. That means somebody really killed him, Martha. Maybe that looker and her friend who rented the store, but it wasn’t me! I swear!”

  “Tetra something…” I whispered against the bathroom door.

  “The moment you leave this store, you must look up deadly poisons beginning with the prefix tetra, Dove. Surely, the police have found something if they mentioned it in correlation to Hank’s bloodstream.”

  I nodded, keeping my ears open in the hopes Burt would say more.

  ‘That’s right, Martha. The police!” he stressed with a frantic hiss. “I almost bit the head off that nice kid from down the road who owns that crazy psychic place because they had me so scrambled. I haven’t seen or heard from Hank since he told me he was raising my stinkin’ rent, and I told that detective with the broken nose the same thing. I don’t know anything about what happened to Hank. He was a mean son of a gun, for sure. But I wouldn’t murder him for it.”

  There was a pause, and then I heard Burt say, “All right, Martha. I’ll get some on my way home. I’m gonna close up shop once this kid leaves. There’s no business to be had on a day like today. See you soon.”

  That was my cue to exit, and that phone call had just made breaking the ice easier.

  As I made my way back to Burt, I held out my hand to him. “Thank you, Mr. Freely. You’re very kind.”

  He winked with a rumbling chuckle. “No trouble at all, young lady.”

  “I hope you don’t think me nosey, but I overheard you on the phone. Have you been questioned about Hank’s death, too?” I asked with as much innocence as I could inject into my question.

  Burt looked surprised. He planted his hands on his round hips and leaned back on his heels. “Did they come sniffin’ around your place?”

  I would neither confirm nor deny. Instead, I hedged. “I hear they’re asking all the store owners if they saw anything yesterday. Especially people who rented from him.”

  Burt clucked his tongue and scrunched his face up. “You know, funny thing. Coulda sworn Abe said he was going to leave all his worldlies, like his property and buildings, to his wife. I don’t understand what the heck happened. Like I was tellin’ my wife Martha the other day, Hank was taking advantage of Abe’s goodwill.”

  My heart began to race. Now we were getting somewhere. “Abe told you that himself? He actually told you he was leaving everything to Francie? When?”

  Burt’s cheeks puffed outward in dismay. “He sure did. Just before he died. Swear it. Maybe as little as a week before he kicked the can. Used to play poker together sometimes. Abe was a good guy. Darn shame about his heart attack. Him and Hank…well, they didn’t get along all that great. But I guess he figured Hank’d take care of his mother, and seeing as she’s gettin’ on in years, too, the best thing to do was leave all that property with someone who had experience in property management. Buildings here are worth a fortune if you can rent ’em out. Especially during the tourist season. You should know that as a business owner yourself.”

  Tucking my purse under my arm, I looked at him thoughtfully. “And you rented from him, didn’t you?”

  Burt’s wide face went grim. “Didn’t most everybody on this block of buildings? Hank was a greedy SOB. Abe was a decent guy, and he was going to take his stepfather’s legacy and trounce all over it by raising our rent and charging us for sewerage when that had always been part of our rental agreement. Do you know how much water a barbershop uses?”

  “Do you know anyone who’d want to…murder him?” I asked, keeping my voice fearful and hesitant.

  Burt coughed a laugh and reached for one of his warming towels on a countertop under one station’s mirror, throwing it over his shoulder. “I can think of a lot of people who might have wanted to hurt him. He wasn’t very nice, and he had no business raising our rent so high, but murder? That’s not like a punch in the nose. So, I dunno.”

  “I think we’re at a dead end here, Stephania. In light of our time constraints, we should move onward.”

  Pulling my cap down over my head—the one I was using to hide my shiner—I ran a hand over my coat and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Freely. I’ll let you get on with your day.”

  “You need help getting out of all that snow?” he asked, genuine concern on his round face.

  But I waved a hand at him to dismiss the notion and smiled warmly. “Nah. If I have to, I’ll leave a note on the car so they won’t tow me and stay at my store for the night. It’s not far to walk if necessary. Now, you’ve been very kind, Mr. Freely. If you ever want a free reading, pop on down the block. I’d be happy to give you one.”

  Burt cackled a phlegm-filled laugh, his round belly jiggling. “Do you really think I believe you talk to dead people?”

  Now I winked. “I guess you’ll just have to come by and see for yourself. Bye now,” I said over my shoulder as I made my way to the door and headed for my car.

  Beeping the door, I piled in and turned it on, putting my head on the steering wheel so I had a chance to absorb what Burt had told me while I pulled my phone out and Googled the word tetra.

  As I scrolled the meanings for the word, none of which had anything to do with poison, I said, “Burt wears enough aftershave to choke someone out. I don’t think it was him who tackled me in the store last night. I’d remember that scent.”

  “And you’re finding nothing for the word tetra?” Win asked.

  “Not unless he means a fish or an antibiotic, as in tetracycline—which won’t kill you, by the by.” Letting my head hang to ease the tension in my shoulders, I grit my teeth. I would not give in to the fear of failure, but it sure was trying hard to latch onto me. “Listen, Burt’s an older guy, maybe he didn’t hear what the police were saying correctly. But don’t you find it interesting that Abe allegedly told him he was leaving everything to Francie?”

  “Dah, banana cream pie. Very interesting. Maybe it is like Burt said and he change his mind at the last minute. People do things like this all the time.”

  The snow continued to fall, adding to my feeling of defeat. The weather was making everything so much harder. “Okay, so who’s next? Enid Gunkle, I suppose. I don’t see her lights on in the store, but maybe she’s just hiding in the back. Also, Trixie gave me the keys to her store. If I can get in without being seen, I’d like to get back in there and do some more poking around.”

  “That doesn’t seem wise, Stephania. The place is probably crawling with Eb Falls’ finest.”

  “In this weather? Surely they’ve collected all the evidence they can at this point. They have the body, and the potential murder weapon. What else is there?”

  “Exactly my question to you. What else is left to see?”

  I couldn’t say. I just had this feeling. “I can’t say for sure, Spy Guy. I just have this feeling I missed something—somewhere.”

  “I vote we talk to Enid before you go to tattoo shop. Maybe Ha
nk’s mother and sister, too,” Arkady said. “Maybe we find out more personal information, like who didn’t like Hank. If anyone would know, would it not be his family?”

  Nodding, I pulled out of the space and moved down several more to smush my way toward the curb at Enid’s store. “They’re on my list but in a vague way. They must be broken by Hank’s death, and I don’t want to be the one who goes in both guns blazing. First and foremost, we need to clear up the incidentals like Enid. It’s only just nine thirty in the morning right now. We have plenty of time to squeeze in the others if we don’t get anything from Enid.”

  More snow crunched under my tires as I parked and used the emergency break as a just in case. Since I’d been in town, I hadn’t seen a single car, and definitely not a snow plow in sight. Time was still on my side.

  I said another prayer it would stay that way for just a while longer.

  * * * *

  Ten minutes later, after knocking repeatedly on Enid’s shop door and asking her fellow shop mates where she lived, I found out she’d gone to California to visit her daughter—three days before Hank was killed.

  Dead ends sucked rotten eggs. I hated them, but I had a knack for running into them.

  Now, when defeat tried to worm its way in, I found it harder than ever to squash. “I’m trying not to get discouraged, but I feel like I set the ladies up for disappointment. I said I’d help and I’m doing anything but. We have very few suspects, gentleman. What now?”

  “Hank’s mother?” Win suggested, though he did so with tentativeness to his voice that meant he was as uncomfortable talking to her as I was.

  Wincing, I massaged the spot near my temple where I’d been knocked in the head. “I think I should just pay my respects and let it be. I’d do that whether Hank was murdered or died of natural causes. It’s what all Eb Fall-ers do. I’m going to see if the bakery’s open, and I’ll grab some pastries to bring to her and her family. But to pry after something so awful would just be heinous on my part, don’t you agree? Not to mention, they’re not really suspects. They’re more like vessels of information on Hank’s background. So let’s be gentle.”