Spells and Jinglebells

by ReGina Welling

  “Nuh-uh,” Raven countered. “The phone was on the counter in the kitchen when we went over there. If she’d have been using it, it would have been found with her, not in the kitchen.” He sat back on his haunches and smiled smugly. “I think someone pushed her down the steps outside her house, then she died. Do you have any more of this cheese?”

  Poe tossed him a chunk of cheese from her own plate. No one spoke for a long moment, but finally Ellie piped up.

  “Fat cat’s got a good point about the phone. And the steps were icy, but Edith kept them salted. Didn’t you all notice the salt outside her place? It was crunching under my shoes.” She lifted her foot and looked at the bottom of her sneaker. A large chunk of salt was wedged between the ridges of the sole. “See?”

  Raven looked offended. “I’m not fat. It’s all fur,” he purred.

  No one acknowledged him. Instead, they stared at the salt on Ellie’s shoe. “So who pushed Edith down the stairs?” Mischa asked finally.

  “I still say that Seneca could have done it,” Poe maintained, “but I’m open to other suggestions. Ellie, what do you know about Edith’s sister?”

  Ellie shrugged. “Not much. I have a first and last name--Margie Smaulder--and I know she lives in Kentucky.”

  Poe grinned and reached for her phone. “Perfect. Give me ten minutes and another glass of wine. I’ll tell you everything you ever wanted to know about Edith’s sister.”

  Ellie laughed, but Mischa frowned. “Poe, you really need to get out of the house more often.”

  Poe shrugged. “What can I say--Google is my boyfriend.” She tapped away at her phone furiously, pausing only long enough to sip from the refilled wine glass that Ellie handed her.

  It took her longer than ten minutes, but Poe managed to find Margie Smaulder’s pertinent details online in a relatively short amount of time. “Give me until the morning and I can tell you everything about this Margie woman, even what side of the bed this chick sleeps on,” Poe assured them. “But I’ll need my laptop for that.”

  Mischa glanced nervously at the clock above Poe’s fireplace. “I’d better get home. I promised I’d help Simon with a school project and Daisy needs her hair braided before bedtime or it will be a hot mess tomorrow.”

  Ellie gave her a wicked side-eye. “Can’t Joe take care of that? I mean, I know he’s not magical, but he is a pretty amazing guy. Are you telling me that he can’t handle a six-year-old’s braids so you can hang out with your coven?”

  Mischa blushed. “Well, I was hoping to spend some time alone with him after the kids go to bed,” she replied sheepishly.

  Ellie held up one hand. “Say no more. At least one of us still has a love life. Too bad it’s the married chick,” she laughed. “I guess I’d better go, too. Holly will not do her homework if I don’t stand over her and threaten bodily harm.”

  Poe glanced over at Raven. “Well, one of my kids is out walking the streets and the other is licking himself on the sofa. I guess I’m as cozy as I’m going to get, so see you guys tomorrow, right?”

  Ellie and Mischa wrapped themselves up for the short walk back to each of their own houses. They gave Poe a little wave each and darted out into the cold, dark evening. Poe kicked off her shoes and grabbed her laptop from her desk. Noticing a slight breeze in the air, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers three times, chanting a summoning spell under her breath. Moments later, a fuzzy afghan blanket zipped through the air and settled itself on her lap. With a contented sigh, the witch began tapping away at the keys of her computer, determined to find out all she could about her late neighbor’s mysterious sister.

  Chapter Eight

  “You’re not going to believe this. Well, maybe you will, but it took me awhile to get over what I found.” Poe’s teeth chattered in the cold morning air. She longed to cast a heat spell, but she couldn’t be sure that Seneca wouldn’t see. It was strictly against the Council of Magic’s rules to perform magic in front of non-magical beings, except in a few rare cases.

  Mischa placed a piping hot mug of coffee in Poe’s icy hands. “Where are your gloves? And you’re not even wearing a hat--do you want to freeze to death before my Christmas party?”

  Poe sipped the coffee eagerly, then wrinkled up her nose in disgust. “There’s no alcohol in this.”

  “There’s not supposed to be any,” Mischa replied, rolling her eyes.

  “And there’s not enough sugar,” Poe continued.

  “Sugar gives you zits,” Ellie scolded her. “Now, what did you find out about Margie?”

  Poe cleared her throat. “Margie Smaulders lives in Bluebucket, Kentucky, with her forty-year-old son and a bunch of chickens. She is widowed, plays Bingo every Wednesday, and owes a crap-ton of money to some credit card companies. She recently tried to take out a life insurance policy on her sister, but apparently was not successful because Edith refused to take a physical.”

  “Wow. How did you find all that out?” Ellie asked. “That’s not Google-type information.”

  Poe flashed a crooked grin. “I had to go a little dark for some of this, but it was worth it. The internet is a very useful weapon if you know how to wield it. So now we know that Margie clearly had a motive to kill her sister,” she added.

  “Yeah, but not the means,” Ellie pointed out. “Didn’t Edith ever tell you the reason why her sister never visited her?”

  Poe shook her head. “I just assumed she didn’t like Edith.”

  “No, Edith told me that Margie was in a wheelchair. She hurt herself pretty badly a few years back and could barely even stand up, let alone walk. She couldn’t get up Edith’s stairs, so Edith just went to visit her instead.”

  Poe’s smile evaporated. “Oh. Well, then, maybe Seneca did do it.” She sighed loudly. “Ugh. We know nothing more than we did yesterday. This is just great.”

  “What about the son? The forty-year-old? Isn’t that a little too old to be living at home?” Mischa asked.

  “I guess if his mom’s in a wheelchair, he probably lives there to help her out,” Poe suggested.

  Mischa glanced towards Seneca’s house. “Ssshhh, ixnay on the urdermay alktay,” she whispered. “Morning, Seneca,” she called out, waving to the blonde as she put her purse in her car and prepared to climb in.

  Seneca looked puzzled for a moment, then lifted her hand stiffly to return the wave. She climbed into her car and reversed it down her driveway, carefully turning to exit the street.

  The three witches watched her with great interest, but there was nothing to see. Seneca’s car disappeared as she turned the corner leading onto the main road that led out of the subdivision.

  “I guess I’d better be going, too,” Ellie told them. “Not that I want to. I am so sick of work right now. But I like to keep a roof over my head,” she moaned, “so hi-ho, hi-ho and all that jazz.”

  Poe turned to Mischa. “You too? Can’t you just let the kids play hooky for the day and hang out at with me for a bit? I swear I think we’re this close to figuring out what happened to Edith.”

  Mischa smiled gently at Poe. “Go and rest your brain for a while. The kids go today and tomorrow, then they’re out for nearly three weeks. I can’t wait,” she said sarcastically. “And I’m sending them to stay with Aunt Poe for at least a few days,” she added with a grin.

  Poe’s lips twitched into a smile. “Oh, I almost forgot! Edith’s funeral is tomorrow at noon. I saw the announcement online when I was digging around for dirt on Margie. I know she wasn’t that nice to us, but maybe Ellie would like to go.”

  Mischa nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll have Joe pick the kids up from school for me. You and Ellie and I can all go pay our last respects to Edith.” She started to turn towards her house, but stopped. “Make sure you bundle up, though. That coat isn’t nearly warm enough,” she scolded Poe, whose leather bomber was getting a little threadbare in places. “And no booze,” she added before scurrying back towards her house.

  “But it’s medicinal!” Poe
called out, chuckling to herself before retreating into the warmth of her own abode.

  Chapter Nine

  “There’s something so weird about having a funeral on a Friday,” Ellie pointed out. “I mean, I know Edith probably didn’t plan it this way, but it really starts the weekend off with a fizzle.”

  Mischa elbowed her friend in the ribs. “Don’t be disrespectful. You shouldn’t joke around at a funeral.”

  Poe leaned over and rapped her knuckles gently on the end of Edith’s casket. “I guess I should save my knock knock joke then, huh?”

  Ellie tittered as Mischa pulled them both away. The small church hall was practically empty save for the pastor who would be conducting the funeral services. Mischa thought she recognized a woman at the back of the church, but she wasn’t sure from where.

  “It’s quite a low turnout, isn’t it?” Poe pointed out. “I mean, you would have thought that maybe some of her family would have come, or someone from the animal shelter.”

  “That’s it!” Mischa murmured. “The woman at the back of the church works at the animal shelter. I think her name’s Marilyn something-or-other. We were thinking of getting the kids a pet,” she explained. “I thought she looked familiar.”

  “Wait, look.” Ellie pointed discreetly at a couple walking through the door at the far end of the church. A dark-haired man who looked to be in his late thirties or maybe early forties pushed an elderly, white-haired woman in a wheelchair down the middle of the room. They stopped at Edith’s casket and bowed their heads. The woman sniffed loudly and wiped her nose on a handkerchief.

  “I’m sure that must be Margie Smaulder and her son--what was his name?” Mischa whispered loud enough for her friends to hear.

  “Derek,” Poe replied. “Wow, they are even creepier than I imagined them being.”

  “Should we introduce ourselves, you know, pay our respects?” Ellie was already making her way over to the couple, not waiting for her friends.

  Poe and Mischa hung back, watching as Ellie made her introductions to the grieving visitors. “I was Edith’s neighbor,” she explained.

  Margie looked Ellie up and down. “She never mentioned you. Well, unless you’re the one with the brats who wouldn’t stay out of her yard,” she grumbled.

  Ellie blushed. Mischa stepped forward. “No, that would be me,” she admitted, offering her hand to Margie. “My name is Mischa Henley. We all knew Edith, though admittedly not that well. I’m sorry for your loss,” she added.

  Margie stared at Mischa’s hand as though it might bite her. “Don’t be sorry,” she replied gruffly. “Edith couldn’t stand anybody and I reckon that just about everybody I know couldn’t stand her, either. Still, she was family.” Margie trailed off, staring across the room at something no one else could see.

  Ellie, Mischa, and Poe watched as Derek pushed his mother silently across the room. They took a seat near Marilyn from the animal shelter. Poe steered her friends across the room to the opposite side of the seating area, away from everyone else.

  “Well, that wasn’t weird or extremely awkward,” she grumbled. “Ellie, you are way too friendly for your own good.”

  Ellie shrugged. “What can I say, I’m a people person. Unlike some people,” she added, nodding towards Margie and Derek. “She was really rude to you, Mischa. And your kids are not brats.”

  Mischa shrugged her shoulders. “She’s old. My grandma always says that old people are allowed to be rude when they reach a certain age.” She looked as though she wanted to say something more, but she stopped suddenly. Her eyes widened and both Ellie and Poe turned to see what had grabbed her attention.

  “What’s she doing here?” Poe hissed. Seneca glided into the room silently, her blonde hair pulled into a neat bun and her usual business suit replaced with a somber black dress. She stopped long enough to say a quick word to the pastor, then she made a beeline for Ellie.

  “Seneca,” Ellie said, nudging Poe with a stealthy elbow to keep her from speaking. She paused, trying to think of an appropriate greeting for a woman who might have killed the lady in the casket at the front of the room. Seneca didn’t give her a chance.

  “Ellie, Mischa,” she said, pasting a quick smile on her face. She glanced at Poe, a hint of a sneer playing at her lips. “Poe. How are you all?”

  Poe stepped out of Ellie’s elbow range. “We’re alive. Unlike some people. Didn’t you like totally hate Edith? It’s kind of a surprise seeing you here,” she said plainly.

  Seneca’s mouth made a tight line, then she relaxed slightly. “Well, I’m here on behalf of Kensleigh Landing East Bank and Trust, but I also felt really bad about how things went down between Edith and myself that first day we met.” She put one finger to her lips as though she was carefully considering her next words. “I wanted to make my peace with Edith by giving my condolences to her friends and family.”

  “Well, we weren’t exactly her friends,” Ellie replied.

  “But you had a key to her house,” Seneca countered. “Surely you knew her fairly well?”

  “As well as anyone, I guess, but that’s still pretty little. I mean, Edith wasn’t the kind of person who wanted friends.” Ellie eyed Seneca suspiciously. “You’re not just here to give your condolences, are you? You said you were here on behalf of the bank, so is it something to do with Edith’s estate?”

  Seneca pasted on her best bank employee smile, the plastic one reserved for handling tricky customer service issues. “As you know, I was tasked with taking inventory of Edith’s personal belongings for insurance reasons and to facilitate the swift auction of the estate so that Edith’s last wishes can be carried out.”

  “You mean you have to help sell her stuff so the cat shelter can have the money?” Poe interjected.

  Seneca looked surprised. “I wasn’t aware that her will was common knowledge. She did leave the majority of her money to several animal-related charities, mostly to the local animal shelter,” she admitted. “Most of her listed possessions have been accounted for, however, there is one particular item that’s quite valuable that I simply cannot locate.”

  Mischa and Ellie shared a nervous glance. Poe shifted her weight and scratched at her silver cuff on her earlobe. Finally, Ellie spoke up.

  “Are you talking about the painting? The one with the cats on it?”

  Seneca shook her head. “No, though I did notice that it wasn’t in the house either. I’m assuming that Edith had that put in storage after it was appraised several months ago. What I’m looking for is worth considerably more money than the painting,” Seneca continued.

  Seneca glanced around the room quickly, then leaned towards Ellie and the other witches. “Listen, this is embarrassing and I’m not quite sure how to ask this, but I need a favor. I have to go back to the bank in just a few minutes. I’m meeting with a very important client or I would take care of this myself. Edith listed a priceless Faberge egg in her home contents. Here’s a photo,” she said, pausing to retrieve a picture from her tiny handbag.

  “I’m confuse,” Ellie said, taking the photo from Seneca. “What does this have to do with us?”

  Seneca squared her shoulders. “I’m going to be blunt. My job is on the line. If I can’t locate this egg, my boss is going to fire me. It’s a complicated situation, but I’m the new girl and let’s just say that I’m expendable as far as my employer is concerned.”

  Mischa frowned. “Oh, gosh, well, of course we’ll help.”

  “What?” Poe asked incredulously. “Why should we?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” Mischa asked.

  “And because Seneca could have called the police when she found us in Edith’s house the other night,” Ellie grumbled. “Okay, we’ll help. But I’m just going to tell you upfront that I’ve never seen this in Edith’s house,” she said, holding up the photo. “And I don’t have a key to get in there anymore,” she reminded Seneca.

  Seneca flashed a dazzling white smile. “You are a hero, Ellie.”
She reached into her purse once again and retrieved the key she’d taken from Ellie just days before. “Here you go. And if you can find that egg, I’ll personally cater your next ladies’ night. Do you like sushi?”

  Poe stared at her like she’d just asked if she liked to dine on the entrails of small children. “Pizza’s fine.”

  Seneca glanced at her watch. “I really do need to run. If you need to reach me, here’s my number.” She passed a business card to Ellie. “That’s my cell phone number. You can reach me anytime on that.”

  Ellie nodded and passed the card to Mischa, who added the number to her own cell phone. “We’ll call you if we find it. I’m off all afternoon, so I guess we can head over to Edith’s place after the funeral.”

  Seneca smiled once again. “You’re a lifesaver.” Then she turned and headed out of the church without so much as a backward glance.

  Chapter Ten

  Edith’s house seemed lonelier in the daytime. Its front door was bare, a gaping maw of isolation that practically shouted get off my property. There were no holiday lights or potted plants, just scattered remnants of salt crystals that hadn’t fully dissolved yet.

  Cleo sauntered across the lawn, her feline form contrasting against the patches of snow that had yet to melt. She glanced around to make sure that no one unexpected was around, then she spoke.

  “Are you all going in there?”

  Poe knelt to stroke her cat on its back. “Yeah, you want to come in and see if the old bat left any kitty treats behind?”

  Cleo stiffened. “No, and you shouldn’t go in there, either. I’ve got a bad feeling about this place. Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it.”

  “Something bad already happened,” Mischa reminded her. “Now we’re trying to help the new neighbor keep her job and hopefully help the animal shelter get some money.”