The detectives shared a look.
“What?” I asked.
“In these circumstances, we would do a courtesy death investigation. Mr. O’Conner is adamant someone did something. His wife was active, taking care of her health, and her doctor confirmed she was doing reasonably well. Of course, her body was worn harder by the diabetes. She’d had some issues already.” Detective Keller consulted his notes.
“I understand. I wrote down the names of the baristas working. Esmerelda is here, now. She’s a regular and a member of my coven. She helps when we need it. Beyond that, I’m not sure how to help you. I certainly hope it all proves to be natural causes, and the family can grieve in peace.” There was more. They weren’t telling me something. They didn’t want to tell me something critical.
“Wonderful.” Detective Shelley took the list.
“We’ll be back to talk, again, I’m sure. You can keep going business as usual but understand that we might have more questions or want to inspect your equipment,” he said.
“If the equipment had been tampered with, more people would’ve been made ill. No one has complained, and I drink something made by our baristas every day to be sure they are doing things right. If everything hasn’t been cleaned, I can tell. Quality control.” I tapped my coffee cup.
“Still, if we find more reasons to suspect murder over natural causes—we can get a warrant, and we can take anything we need. Let’s hope the ME gets caught up on things sooner so we can put this to bed. Until then, don’t leave the state,” Detective Keller said.
“What? Wait. I’m a suspect?” That’s crazy!
“It’s just a precaution,” Detective Shelley said.
“No, why am I a suspect? Everyone but her husband thinks this is natural causes. I can tell by your face you feel like you’re wasting your time. Why try to freak me out? I did nothing wrong,” I said.
Detective Keller stood. “I believe you. But still, as the owner of the Witch’s Brew, we may need your help getting evidence or cooperation from your employees. There is another piece of evidence we’re looking into that might support more than natural causes. It might be a coincidence. It might be a joke. But we must investigate as though it was serious.”
“A serious what?” I asked.
“We don’t disclose all of the evidence to potential witnesses or suspects. If you think of anything that was odd or might help, call us.” Detective Shelley handed me her card.
“I will. I’ll get Esmerelda for you if you’d like to speak to her, now,” I said.
“Fine.” Keller sat back down.
I subtly checked that my desk was locked as I picked up my coffee cup. Dashing downstairs, I tried to breathe.
I grabbed Esme by the arm. “Tell me you didn’t have any contact with Mrs. O’Conner since she left here two days ago.”
“That old bat. Why?” Esme asked.
Chapter 6
“No, no. No name calling. Promise me,” I said.
“I didn’t see her anywhere but here.” Esme shrugged.
“You didn’t run into her at a sandwich shop or a store or anywhere and argue?” I asked.
Esme frowned. “I may have gone to the library. I teach a sewing class in their extension program. The first class was yesterday afternoon, but I don’t think I saw her. Is that a crime?”
“Good question. The police are in my office. She’s dead, and her husband is insisting it’s not natural causes. That we upset her badly that morning, and someone might’ve done something to her. But she was gone by yesterday, so you’re okay.” I rubbed my temples.
“Dead?” my aunt gasped.
“Serves the old bat right. Threatening witches,” Ryan scoffed.
“What do you know about it?” I asked.
“Nothing but what I overheard. She was griping pretty loud. Over a wrong order. Really? There are bigger problems in the world.” He grabbed his glass and drank some water.
“Guess his fever is better,” I said to my aunt.
“His fever broke overnight. But he’s still very weak.” She covered him with a blanket. “Acting like a little jerk to compensate.”
“Damn, aren’t there any wizards in your coven? Seriously, I could use a guy around.” Ryan fluffed and punched his pillow.
“I’ll send my uncle down later. Get some sleep and be quiet,” I said.
“Dead?” Esme leaned again the stone wall.
“Her health was frail. You could see it in her aura. She tried hard to keep it balanced, but the littlest thing could’ve set off her heart or her head.” Aunt Mandy tidied up.
“Head?” Esme asked.
“A stroke. Either felt like they were possible if she pushed her body too hard,” Aunt Mandy said.
“She was a brittle Type 1 diabetic. But unless we goofed and put in too much or too little sweetener, I don’t see how we’d be on the hook for it. Plus, she’d be testing her blood and taking insulin accordingly,” I replied.
“She was pissed. Blood pressure up. But that’s not something we can be charged with,” Esme said.
“They want to talk to you. Since you were there and part of the spill,” I said to Esme.
“I’ll go, too,” Aunt Mandy offered.
“No, they only wanted people who had contact with Mrs. O’Conner that morning. And if they do want to talk to you, you were down here checking on inventory. Don’t mention auras or our guest down here. I’m already getting witch questions. Do we get protestors and who makes threats about it.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Mrs. O’Conner made a threat, but she’s all bluster.” Esme waved it off. “I’ll tell them.”
“Tell them just what they need. Don’t offer anything. Don’t embellish,” I said.
She turned and glared at me.
“Sorry, sometimes, I forget you’re a century older than me. But you sometimes talk too much.” I smiled.
Esme nodded. She was used to having power and respect in the paranormal world. She dealt with humans in specific ways. I didn’t want her pushing too much with the police.
Esme headed upstairs, and I helped my aunt collect the trash. We took it upstairs and straight out the back to the alley. It was blowing snow, but we tossed the stuff in the dumpster and hustled back inside.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I can’t believe Mrs. O’Conner is dead. I can’t believe there is reason to believe we did anything bad to her.” I went into the employee-only kitchen area and brewed myself some tea.
“They’re just doing their job. I’m sure it’s nothing. Unless you think it’s an excuse to nose around here? That they’re looking for Ryan?” she asked in a hushed voice.
I shook my head. “At first, I thought that. But they seem like it’s routine. There is something they’re not telling me. But it was all about Mrs. O’Conner. They haven’t asked anything about you or Vinny. Nothing about a stranger hanging around. Nothing like that.”
“Let’s hope they do the autopsy and tox screen and find nothing but natural causes. We can get this off our minds. We don’t need cops roaming around with Mr. Personality down there.” I sighed then sipped my tea.
“I’ll call Vin and let him know,” she said.
“No, wait until they’re gone. I don’t want anyone acting oddly. We need to be business as usual,” I said.
“The staff needs to know,” she said.
“When the cops leave. They’ll be asking what they wanted, anyway. But I’d rather the cops not be here with all the random questions. We’ve got some vampires out there. It’s not the same team that was working.” I fished my lip gloss out of my pocket and reapplied it.
My aunt patted my shoulder. The gloss was a nervous habit when I could do nothing. Then again, it was a very frigid winter, and my lips felt chapped.
I texted the baristas who were on that morning with Mrs. O’Conner to come in for a two o’clock meeting. Lunch could get a little busy, too, but there was a lull until the evening rush, and the eveni
ng brought in various groups and loners. I wanted as few people around as possible so it wouldn’t interrupt business.
Twenty minutes later, Esme walked out of my office and escorted the detectives to the door. I was relieved when she didn’t go with them.
She walked over to me at my usual table in the back corner by the kitchen. No customers wanted that table so it was my open office area. My aunt had found a project restocking the tea bags. We carried so many varieties that the baristas got overwhelmed trying to restock them during breaks, so when she needed to escape reality, she got lost in tea.
“Everything okay?” I asked Esme.
She nodded. “They want to talk to me, again. They recorded my voice.”
I frowned. “Your voice? What a headache. I’m sorry she’s gone, but what could we have done?”
Esme shook her head. “Nothing. Don’t stress about it. They’re doing their job. They’ll make a fuss to impress the family. The autopsy and tests will show she died of natural causes, and it’ll be over. It might take a few weeks, but they can’t prove we did something that we didn’t do.”
I nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s what the witches from the 1600s said, too. We didn’t ruin their crops so they can’t prove we did.”
“Stop making good points. Ignore the humans. Let them spin their wheels. She was too old and ill. It had to be natural. Who’d want to kill her?” Esme asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe we should start checking into her life? Just in case,” I said.
“Stay out of it,” Esme warned. “But I did predict we’d never see her, again. Sometimes, my powers are wicked weird.”
I laughed. “Talk about a bad way to have a right prediction.”
“Now, let’s talk about how to break this to the staff. Because your vamps will bolt,” she said.
* * *
On the second floor, my aunt had lit a white candle and placed it at the center of the table. She burned sage just in case Mrs. O’Conner was haunting us with any negativity.
She chanted for the soul of our dead customer as the baristas assembled for the afternoon meeting.
When we were all there, I grabbed my aunt’s hand. “Would you go watch the shop? You weren’t there when Mrs. O’Conner was.”
“But her spirit might need help,” aunt said.
“You can chant or help her reincarnate down there until a customer comes in. It’ll only be a few minutes,” I said.
She nodded and grabbed another white tea light candle. We put some on the bigger tables in the evenings for a little mood lighting, but I wasn’t a fan of open flames. I had all the proper insurance, but customers could be careless. Enough witches had burned; I wouldn’t be one of them.
“The twins are going to put together a gift basket for the family,” Aunt Mandy said as she slipped out the door.
“People usually send flowers,” replied Margaret, the middle-aged barista who’d made Mrs. O’Conner’s drinks.
“We’ll do that as well when we know when the funeral is. It seems you’ve all heard Mrs. O’Conner is dead. She didn’t wake up yesterday morning. I don’t have all the details, but apparently, she’d told her husband about her incident here and that she was really unhappy. The police think it’s natural causes, but they have some sort of information that has them investigating until they get results back from the medical examiner.”
“They came in?” asked Margaret.
“Yes, this morning. They spoke to me and Esmerelda. I had to give them all of your names, so they will likely be contacting you individually. Just tell the truth. We goofed an order. We made it right. We had a spill. We offered dry cleaning costs and free coffee.”
“For a month. Too generous,” Esme said.
“I’d rather be too generous than not. The point is that’s all we know. I didn’t see her afterward. I’m very sorry she’s gone, but we didn’t do anything to harm her health. She did have health issues, and odds are it will be ruled natural causes. Soon, we’ll be done with the police part.” I looked around. “Questions?”
“She threatened us because we’re witches,” said one of the younger female baristas who was also in the coven.
“She didn’t do anything with it. She was just mad. A lot of people take that easy shot. Like we should magically brew things. Snap our fingers or wiggle our nose like Bewitched, and their coffee should be ready in seconds. We hear those comments all the time when someone has to wait. Don’t look for trouble. Answer their questions, don’t embellish or offer random comments. They have enough to do,” I said.
“I can’t believe they’re investigating us for this. There are real crimes out there.” Margaret sniffled back some tears.
“You did nothing wrong. None of us did. It’s a shame, but she was a brittle diabetic. She had a lot of complicated medical issues. She was a balancing act. We did everything we could to make her happy. She didn’t appear weak or ill, at all.”
“I’m just nervous,” Margaret admitted.
“That’s okay. The police are used to people being nervous. Just admit you’ve never been questioned or anything before, so you’re nervous. And you always have a right to have a lawyer with you if you want one.” I pointed at them.
“That won’t make you look guilty,” Esme said.
“It’s your right. It’s not something they can use against you in a court,” I replied.
Esme shrugged. “This is all worst-case scenarios. They’re just doing their jobs. Do your jobs, answer their questions, and don’t overreact.”
“Any questions?” I asked
They shook their heads.
“Great. Thanks for coming in. Don’t worry. Sorry for calling you in on your days off, but the police will be contacting you. Feel free to come in or call me anytime if you’re worried,” I said.
“Thanks,” Margaret said.
“We’re with you. Margaret made that drink right. Iced or hot was the only difference,” said Ellen, the Wiccan barista.
“Thanks.” Margaret nodded.
“We’re all in this together. We might get a little bad press or a few protesters. Handle that the same way we always do, only be even nicer. More patient because someone is dead. We just want her family to have peace knowing that it was natural. Now, go on with your days. Don’t let death consume your thoughts,” I said.
My aunt was a hippie more than a Wiccan. She’d chant and hope for Mrs. O’Conner’s reincarnation. I just hoped she found peace in the afterlife.
As the group wandered back to their day, I went downstairs. My aunt was working the counter as the twins filled a big basket with the basics.
Esme walked up. “Her husband is accusing us murder, and you’re doing a gift basket?”
I picked out darker roast coffees and black teas, plus a few samplers. “We can send it to her daughter. I know she mentioned a daughter and a grandson. The hubby will get the flowers at the funeral.”
“It’s a nice gesture,” Iris added.
“It is. I’ll write a note and take it over there. Esme, I want to talk to you about the library thing. And what the cops wanted to know.” I didn’t want to seem bossy, but I needed to know all the information.
“Can we help?” Violet asked.
“See if you can research Mrs. O’Conner’s whereabouts without bugging her family or the cops. Social media, maybe. I don’t know if she used it much. I’d like to retrace her steps, if we’re on the suspect list—who else is?” I was tech savvy, but the twins, who lacked magical powers, made up for it with tech skills. Violet was studying computer programming or something.
“No problem,” Violet said.
“Come on, Esme,” I said.
“I feel sick,” she replied.
“I’ll make you some healing tea. All the death talk and inquisition is hard on the spirit,” Aunt Mandy said.
“I could use some of that, please. We’ll be in my office,” I said.
“We did nothing wrong,” Esme said as we walked.
&nbs
p; “I know. But being in the crosshairs is stressful, and we don’t know all the evidence they have. Maybe a certain stealthy black cat could sneak in there?” I asked.
“Into a police station? I’ll end up in the pound.” She laughed.
“True. We can’t risk exposure of our actual magical powers. But we have to do something,” I said.
“Agreed. Getting rid of that hunter is job number one,” she said.
Chapter 7
After a night of tossing and turning I had to agree with Esmeralda. Having Ryan here with cops sniffing around was asking for trouble. With any luck, the police thing would be over with a few tests, but I had no control over any of that. I couldn’t just sit around the café waiting for the cops to come back or call. There was a business to run. I hit the bank for our weekly deposit and change. Then, I stopped a fast food place for some breakfast sandwiches and hash browns.
I dodged questions and concerns with confidence. There was only one place to get some answers, now. With a drink holder full of beverages, the food, and my inventory list, I went down to our visitor. He grumbled and hid under the blanket when he saw it was me.
“I have food, and I’m doing inventory. You can relax.” I tossed a bag on him and set the coffees on the table. I pulled up a chair and ate, taking my preferred drink, just in case he thought I was trying to butter him up. I wasn’t. He needed to eat, and I needed to do inventory. But info would be good.
“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he said after a gulp of coffee.
“Resist, I can. Inventory must be done, and poor Aunt Mandy and Esmeralda have been down here enough. You sound like you’re feeling better.” I finished my food then wiped my fingers with a napkin. Another slug of coffee, and I was ready to get busy.
“You really hate having me here?” he asked.
“I have enough trouble with customers and the coven. I understand what happened to you, but the bravado. The flirting. The act. I can see through it. You’re afraid. What are you afraid of?” I asked.
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