by Diana Orgain
“So, how busy was it while I was gone today?” Maeve asked, and she noticed Gracie and Donnie both tense up.
“Honestly …” Gracie said with a slight sigh. “It was pretty dead during what should have been a lunch rush.”
Maeve frowned. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Donnie said. “Maeve, I think people are a little sketched out. The local police are not exactly being quiet about how they’re looking into you for Mayor James’s murder. I think until you can manage to clear your name, it’s going to stay that way.”
“I can’t believe it!” Maeve exclaimed, her heart pounding in frustration. “What ever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
Gracie shrugged. “Small town gossip. There’s not much we can do about it, except prove them wrong.” She took a bite of her bagel, then asked. “So did you find out anything? Any leads?”
“Not a whole lot, I’m afraid,” Maeve sighed and sank down into a seat next to her only two friends in town.
“You got a suspect list?” Gracie asked.
“A small one. There’s Christian, Eleanor’s ex,” Maeve said. “He’s definitely still a bit hung up on Eleanor. He seems to go back and forth between pitying her and believing she got what she deserved.”
“Maybe he blames James for making her crazy?” Gracie offered. “I heard her lawyer’s going for an insanity plea.”
Maeve shifted and coughed uncomfortably.
Better they think it was James that drove her crazy and not me! Maeve thought.
“Well, Christian also told me he had even broken James’s leg once over the affair, so it’s not like he isn’t prone to violence. Then there’s Nadine’s brother, Nathan. Nathan could certainly blame James for what happened to his sister, since James was the intended target to begin with. And there’s also Nathan’s friend Alex who was apparently dating Nadine.”
“If you ask me, I think Nathan and Alex are a bit of a stretch. I mean, it seems to me, if this is a revenge thing for what happened to Nadine, then why not go after the person who actually killed her? You know, Eleanor?” Gracie said.
“Well, for one thing, she’s in prison,” Donnie said. “And anyone upset enough about Nadine could blame both Eleanor and Mayor James since they’re the ones who started all this stuff.”
“Yeah, but my money is on Christian,” Gracie said. “Anyone else on the list?”
Maeve shrugged. “I suppose any of the Ethers could be involved. I haven’t spoken to them yet. I remember back when Nadine was killed that I had suspected him as soon as I realized that Mayor James had been the original target. Tommy was being held up in court because Mayor James was trying to take some of his land to build something. A shopping complex, I think.”
“It’s not Tommy,” Gracie said. “Don’t waste your time. He’s a teddy bear.”
The door to the café opened, and Maeve jumped up excitedly to greet a customer. In walked Tommy Ether as though the universe knew they would be talking about him and so sent him there to make them all squirm a bit. Tommy smiled brightly. “Afternoon,” he said to Maeve.
“Hello, Mr. Ether,” Maeve said and scooted behind the counter. “What can I get for you today?”
“The Missus wants some of your blueberry muffins,” he said. “To go, please. Let’s make it four. She ate some on opening night and just won’t stop yammering about them.”
“Coming right up,” Maeve said, and then she saw that there were none in the display.
“Oh, they’re baking in the back,” Gracie said.
“Hold on a second,” Maeve said to Mr. Ether. She hurried to the kitchen to find the timer about to go off. She pulled the muffins out of the oven and placed them on a cooling rack. She headed back out into the café and smiled at Mr. Ether. “They just came out of the oven. Mind if I give them a second to cool so they don’t crumble in your to-go bag?”
“Sure thing,” Mr. Ether said, sitting himself at Donnie and Gracie’s table. “Hope the café is doing well for you, Ms. O’Dare.”
Maeve smiled and sat with the group. “It was doing fairly well, but it has apparently slowed down today.”
“It’ll pick back up,” he said with a wink. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped at his sweaty brow. “Soon as this heat wave passes. No one wants coffee when it’s so hot out.”
“Well, I do serve iced coffee,” Maeve said defensively.
Mr. Ether laughed. “Why not ice cream? I have a dairy farm, you know.”
Maeve studied him a moment. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Oh stop it please,” Gracie said. “We’re busy enough baking all day, now you want us to churn fresh ice cream?”
“I like ice cream,” Penny piped up from a corner booth where she’d planted herself with a sketch pad, colored pencils, and her cat, Tonya.
“Think about it,” Mr. Ether said to Maeve, ignoring Gracie’s comment completely. He stuffed the handkerchief into his back pocket and said, “So, you three will not believe who stayed at my farm the other night.”
“Who?” Gracie asked, finishing off her bagel.
“That weird TV fellow, oh, what’s his name? Chuck Lowry,” he said.
Maeve burst out laughing, and Wanda suddenly stood up and came wandering over as though she was interested in the conversation.
“Chuck Lowry stayed at your farm?” Maeve asked in disbelief.
“Yup! He slept in my barn. Nice fellow. Helped me pull my cow out of a ditch. He even helped me deliver a calf,” Mr. Ether said.
“Really?” Maeve asked.
“Well, I may have made him feel like he didn’t have much of a choice,” Mr. Ether said with a chuckle. “You know me, right, Gracie?”
“Oh, I know,” Gracie said. “Nothing is free at the Ether’s farm. You really put that poor, spoiled celebrity to work?”
“For a Hollywood boy, he handled himself pretty well,” Mr. Ether said. “But you should have seen him shoveling cow patties. The man turned green!”
They all chuckled, and Maeve noted that Wanda seemed to almost roll her eyes at the man.
Mr. Ether looked down and then laughed. “Wanda, girl, you wearing a diaper?”
“She’s in heat,” Maeve said.
“She sure is a pretty dog. Ever consider breeding her?” Mr. Ether asked.
“No, I’m thinking about getting her spayed,” Maeve said, and Wanda whined on cue which made them all laugh again.
“Tonya says that Wanda doesn’t want to be spayed!” Penny called out from her corner booth. ”Or have a bunch of puppies either!”
Gracie smirked. “Tell Tonya to mind her own business, Penny.”
“So, Mr. Ether,” Maeve said, deciding that while the man was there she might as well try to talk to him about the case. “I’m guessing you heard about Mayor James?”
Mr. Ether sighed heavily. “Poor man. I mean, we had drifted apart in recent years. But he and I had been friends once in our younger days. It’s a real shame.”
“Did you ever get things sorted out about your land?” Gracie asked, clearly catching on to what Maeve was trying to do.
Tommy smiled. “Oh, yeah, thank goodness. Right before Nadine was killed she had apparently talked James into building that complex in a new location. The whole thing got dropped about a month ago. James even apologized to me for giving me such trouble. Paid me back my lawyer fees and everything.”
Maeve frowned. Checking out Tommy’s story would be easy enough, and if it was true, then suddenly one of her suspects had dropped off her list.
I’m not getting anywhere with this investigation, she thought.
Tommy looked up at Maeve. “You think my muffins are good to go?”
Maeve hopped up. “Yes, one second.” She bagged the muffins for him and gave him a complimentary cup of coffee for waiting.
Once he left, Maeve sank back down in her seat with Gracie and Donnie. “So much for Tommy Ether being our killer,” Maeve said.
“I told you–he is too sweet. Just a
nice old farmer,” Gracie said. “I still think it’s Christian. The guy is unhinged.”
They grew quiet for a moment, and Donnie suddenly spoke. “So, have you read this month’s L.A. SCOOP?” he asked, referring to a popular tabloid magazine.
Gracie kicked him from under the table. “Donnie, hush,” she muttered.
“Ouch!” he griped.
Maeve raised an eyebrow. “What?” she asked. “Something wrong?”
“Nope, nothing,” Gracie said.
Maeve frowned. “Gracie,” she said her friend’s name sternly.
Gracie sighed and slowly said, “They may have done a story on you.”
“What?” Maeve asked. “Let me see!”
“I don’t think you want to,” Gracie grumbled.
“Gracie!”
“Okay, I don’t want you to,” Gracie said.
Maeve held out her hand. “Give it here!”
“Fine!” Gracie said. She crossed behind the counter and grabbed the magazine. “Page fifteen,” she said.
Maeve flipped to page fifteen where she was met with an unflattering picture of herself in sunglasses as well as a number of photos of her ex-fiancé, Frank. As she skimmed the gossip column, anger flared in her belly. It was a news report about Frank’s sudden disappearance. As a music producer, Frank was fairly popular in the L.A. area. The report spoke of Frank’s alleged affair and, since Maeve had left town after his disappearance, the article was certainly hinting that she probably had something to do with it.
She slammed the magazine down on the table. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she shouted.
“Told you not to say anything, Donnie,” Gracie growled. Gracie turned and looked at her. “Maeve, we’re sorry about all that mess. People will write anything to sell their junk.”
“They didn’t use the best picture of you either, did they?” Donnie said.
“Donnie!” Gracie screeched.
“What? I’m just saying …”Donnie stuttered. “Uh … you’re much better looking in person, Ms. O’Dare.”
“Frank is haunting me!” she declared.
<><><>
The rest of the day crawled at a snail’s pace. Since business was so slow, Maeve let Donnie and Gracie go home shortly after reading that terrible gossip rag. Now, she sulked around the empty café, playing sad, lonely tunes and dodging Wanda’s attempts to rub up against her, to free herself from the doggie diaper.
Maeve scoured the café clean and tried her hand at a new raspberry tart recipe only to burn it.
Not that it matters, Maeve thought. This place is deader than a doornail.
She had to clear her name … get business primed again. And yet, she didn’t have any real leads for Mayor James’s case.
Who wanted James dead?
She had a short list of suspects, and perhaps that was only the beginning, considering how crooked the mayor evidently had been.
But who would risk everything on murder?
Someone cocky enough to think they wouldn’t get caught.
Christian?
Maeve sighed. She didn’t have a clue who could have killed James. And then there was that awful write-up in the tabloid.
What a rotten day!
She closed up shop and hurried home with Wanda in tow. Once at home, she changed the dog into a clean doggie diaper, much to the dog’s disapproval.
“Sorry, girl,” Maeve said, patting Wanda’s head. “I know how you feel. Believe me.”
Maeve dug out her magick book and located a relaxation spell. She lit some scented candles, and after spending a few minutes working on her pronunciation for the incantation, she went for it.
“Respirare, relaxate, interiorem pacem,” she said, inhaling the lavender scent of the candles. Purple magick swirled around her, and instantly she felt the tension in her shoulders lessen. For the first time since the death of Mayor James, she felt that she could breathe.
The relaxing feeling cleared her head, stopping all the distractions and interruptions of daily life. In her calmed state, she was able to look at her problem a bit more objectively.
Maeve pulled out her laptop and sat on the couch.
Wanda curled up beside her.
Maeve ran a web search on pentobarbital. From there, she learned that it was often used in suicides. Like Joseph had said, the web search revealed that it was often used to treat epilepsy as well. She recalled Joseph saying something about Ohio using it as a form of euthanasia, so out of curiosity she typed “Pentobarbital + euthanasia” into the search engine, expecting to read up on the protocols of death row in the state of Ohio. Instead, she was suddenly met with many articles on veterinary practices.
“Interesting,” Maeve said, and something clicked. “What if our culprit doesn’t work in a pharmacy but instead works at the local vet clinic?” Maeve asked out loud.
At the mention of the vet, Wanda whined and buried her head.
Maeve scratched Wanda’s back. “I bet they use pentobarbital at Dr. Roberts’ office. But what kind of motive would he have?”
Maeve thought a bit harder, but nothing seemed to come to her. “I think we need to go see Dr. Roberts again tomorrow to interview him and some of his employees,” Maeve said.
Wanda barked at her, seeming to object to the visit.
“Just to see if we can learn who might have access to the drug, Wanda,” Maeve said.
Wanda yelped, and Maeve laughed. “Sorry, Wanda, but we have to. We better try to get some sleep, though. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”
Chapter Ten
Chuck
There is a distinct look of determination in Maeve’s eyes. A part of me feels like she must have missed her calling. Forget songwriting–forget running a café. This woman should have been a detective. She would probably never admit it, even to herself, but I think she gets a little excited working cases. Early the next morning, we drive back to the veterinary clinic. I can feel my stomach forming into knots. I know we’re not here for me, but the place still makes me nervous.
I’m diaper free today, thank the Lord. We pull into the parking lot, and Maeve takes a moment to check the messages on her phone. Her windows are rolled down, and she props her knees against her steering wheel as she texts Gracie and probably Donnie as well about where she is and what time to expect her back. She looks adorable sitting there like that.
A moment goes by, and a large black bird lands on the hood of her car. Maeve glances up for a second and grins. “Check it out, Wanda. A crow,” she says and then returns her attention to her phone.
“Crow!” a familiar voice squawks. It’s Damien.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Saw the purple car. Thought I would pop in,” he says. “You know, see how things are going since your little wooing attempt went awry.”
“Get lost, Damien,” I say.
“Bit of news,” he says, disappointed. “Found the animal witch, but another creature beat me to her. Rotten luck.”
“So there is another witch in Wisteria Pines other than Maeve? How advanced is she? Does she know how to-”
“It’s just a kid,” Damien says.
I grunt. I might as well stick it out with Maeve then. “That bird is still just sitting there?” Maeve says with a giggle as she puts her knees down and places her phone in her back pocket. “Hmm … I don’t think that’s a crow. Kind of big for a crow. I wonder if it’s a raven?”
“That’s more I like it!” Damien exclaims.
“Hey, Wanda, did you know that ravens can talk?” Maeve says to me, and I look at her funny. “Really! They’re even better at it than parrots. They mimic people talk–it’s one of the reasons Edgar Allan Poe used a raven in his poem Nevermore.” She looks over at Damien. “Can you talk, buddy?”
Damien just stares at her, and she laughs before getting out of the car. I follow her, and I glance up at Damien.
“Is Maeve right? Can ravens really mimic speech?” I ask.
“Of course.
I never have. Never been around enough people to learn. That cousin of mine who works for a witch talks all the time with his human companions,” Damien says.
My mind starts racing. “That’s it! That’s it! Damien, you crazy bird! I can’t tell Maeve about my curse, but maybe you can do it for me!”
“Huh … I don’t know, Chuck. That’s a lot for a bird to communicate to a person,” Damien says.
“Please, buddy! Come on, you might be my only chance!” I exclaim.
Maeve starts walking toward the vet clinic. “Come on, Wanda,” she calls after me.
“This is not the end of this conversation!” I say to Damien, and he nods.
“Whatever you say, Chuck,” Damien mutters before flying off.
I follow Maeve into the vet clinic; I’m unleashed this time. Thankfully we came early in the morning, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone inside with their pets just yet. I’m much more relaxed now. Before too long, Maeve manages to smooth talk her way into a private meeting with Dr. Roberts in his office. The man is extremely friendly, and he answers Maeve’s questions without hesitation. He seems willing to help.
“I would really appreciate the names of your employees or anyone who would have access to the clinic,” Maeve says once they are seated across from one another.
This entire room smells like an overpowering combination of lavender and vanilla. The man has like four scented candles lit up in here. I glance up at Maeve, and I can see her fingers twitching. Tiny bits of purple sparks dance around her fingertips, and I can tell she’s having a hard time controlling her newfound abilities. She pulls her power from scent, and this tiny office is like a hotbox for magick juice.
“I’d love to help you Ms. O’Dare, but really everyone in my office is beyond reproach,” Dr. Roberts says. “We have a very small office. Only six employees. They’re like family. I can’t imagine any of them hurting Mayor James.”
Maeve’s fingers drum faster on his desk, and she seems dissatisfied as though we have once again hit a brick wall in this investigation. “Has anyone here ever had any problems with the Mayor or the local authorities?” Maeve asks.
“Not that I know of,” Dr. Roberts says. “In fact, James even came to our annual adoption fundraisers to help out. We work with the animal shelter in the next town over; it’s about an hour from here.”