“If you’ve got your eye on him, don’t worry about me. Strictly paranormal connections.” I smiled.
“Really, Claudia. You bumped into one of the men I’d love to see you with. I knew he came here, but you don’t think I could’ve maneuvered Ryan to misbehave just when Bran was about to come in,” she said.
I sat back. “I didn’t say when Ryan acted up.”
“Of course you did. Or Brad did. Someone must’ve told me.” She waved it off.
“You did something. You put a spell on Ryan to act up when Bran came within so far of the shop?” I couldn’t believe it, but it made more sense than Ryan suddenly trying to run when he knew the vampires would stop him. He didn't have a weapon to take out the vamps. If he was serious about leaving, he’d have made a stake out of the old wooden crates we had in the basement.
Esme sighed. “Okay, fine, I did help a little. But Bran comes in so often. His aunt says how much he loves your place. The coffee, the service, and the feel of the place. I wanted you two to meet. And it’s cute you weren’t your perfectly pulled together self. You intimidate men.”
“If I do, then those men are weak. And I’m not always perfectly pulled together. Most of the time here, I wear jeans and a T-shirt for the shop with coffee stains on it.”
“Your hair is always perfect,” she said.
My black hair was thick and pin straight. “If I wanted it to curl, it wouldn’t be perfect.”
“That’s why you and Bran would be great for each other. You accept yourselves and try to help people. You’re not out trying to be something you’re not. Or pretending the world will hand you everything. Your generation has a lot of challenges, but you two weren’t coddled the way most kids your age were.”
I stared at her. “You think the twins were coddled?”
She nodded. “Your aunt never tried to change you. She guided you, raised you, but you were so like your mother and she missed her so letting you be you was more important. And you’d witnessed your mother’s death. You had scars she couldn’t erase. Trauma the twins couldn’t imagine, even now. It makes you stronger as a person. The magic, that’s impressive, too,” Esme said.
“Hardly impressive to you. But I keep trying,” I said.
“You impressed Bran. And he told his aunt already. She texted me. You need someone to push you and challenge you—that’s me. But your man should always admire you.” Esme checked her phone.
“You and his aunt. This is a full-on setup. He’s okay with that?” I asked.
“He’s a man. He thinks it’s all his idea. He ran into you, and you’re so this and that. He might have magic, but he’s still a lovable goofy man who thinks he’s the cleverest guy in the room.” She grinned.
“Then, I’ll tell him what his aunt is up to, and it’ll be done.” I picked up my phone.
Esme waved her hand and knocked my phone across the room.
“You break it, you buy me a new one,” I said.
A customer brought it over before I could go searching.
“Thanks; I’m a klutz today,” I said.
“It’s fine,” she said.
My phone rang, and Esme perked up.
I answered. “Hello, Detective Shelley,” I said.
Esme’s grin disappeared.
“Ms. Crestwood. I wanted to let you know that there was nothing found in the tox screen. No illegal drugs. No poison. Nothing, really. Her usual pain meds for arthritis and her sleeping pill, but nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve let Mr. O’Conner know, so hopefully, he will relax a bit on protesting your shop,” she said.
“Thanks. That makes me feel better. Nothing for the autopsy?” I asked.
“A couple more days. The ME was on vacation for the holidays, and so, we had a backup who was very green and slow. Then, all this cold weather, you get people dying while shoveling a drive. Or lifting salt bags into their truck. The results will be good; we just need to be a bit more patient,” she said.
“Thanks. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. Bye.” I ended the call.
“No poison. She wasn’t shot or stabbed. No one said anything about bruising.”
“Smothered,” Esme said.
“That means someone had to get into her house,” I said.
“Well, you keep doing what you’re doing. Your aunt and I will deal with Ryan. But don’t be too hard on him,” she said.
“I won’t, now that I know it’s you. For the record, Bran knocked him out—magically. I levitated him down there. If he’s complaining,” I said.
“You and Bran sound like a good team,” she said.
“I’m leaving,” I said. I went over to Ellen, head barista on the shift. “Call if you need anything. If Mr. O’Conner shows up, call the cops. It’s not even going to hit zero today.”
“Gotcha, boss,” Ellen said.
“Don’t pick that up from the guys. They’re just weird.” I smiled. The vamps called me boss, and Ellen must be hanging around with them. She was a witch with enough powers that I didn’t worry about her as much.
“They’re different and cute,” she replied.
What was it about vampires? I saw nothing cute or hot about vamps or weres. Those were things that had been done to them. Someone turned them into a vampire or a werewolf. Okay, you could be born a werewolf, but that was rare. Witches and wizards had to work at their powers and grow them. I’d rather earn my powers than be a victim. I felt sorry for vamps and werewolves…but right now, I needed to help Mrs. O’Conner and find out who’d hurt her.
* * *
I strolled into the social center a few blocks away. There were several meeting rooms and a board listing all the groups and when they met. I felt very antisocial when I saw all of the groups. Book clubs, sewing clubs, and even a beginning Wiccan class that I had no knowledge of. I took a picture of that post with my phone, so I could follow up later on.
Putting that out of my head, I found the room for the garden club and slipped in. There were five women in the room, and they looked at me carefully.
“Can we help you?” asked one of them.
“Hi, I’m Claudia. I own the Witch’s Brew café. I understand Mrs. O’Conner was a member here?”
A few of the women exchanged looks, but one patted the seat next to her. “I’m Sara. Martha was a member. She had the most beautiful roses and exotic items. Do you garden?” she asked.
“No, I don’t really. I just came by, because I was so sorry to hear about Mrs. O’Conner, and I wondered if anyone heard anything, yet. I know her husband is very upset.” I played dumb. With this many women, one was bound to want to be a know-it-all.
“He blames you,” another woman said.
“Claudia, this is Kate. That’s Joyce, Misty, and Fran.” Sara made the introductions around the table. All the women were in their fifties or sixties, except for Misty.
“I know he blames the café, Kate. But that’s why I’ve been checking up on her friends and other things she did that day. She was fine at her job at the library and at lunch with her friends. So, whatever made her ill, I don’t think it came from my shop. I really hope the police and medical tests give us the answers as soon as possible. She was a regular customer, and I’d hate for people to believe we’re dangerous or don’t care about our customers,” I said.
“No one thinks that. When tragedy strikes, people need someone to blame,” Misty said.
Fran nodded. “When my husband died, my son wanted to know why I was out shopping. Why I hadn’t been home to call for an ambulance.”
“That’s awful. I know people in grief say and do awful things, but I just wanted to make sure that no one here saw any signs of illness. Or thought there was any foul play from any direction. I know Martha had health issues, and the police seem to think that was the cause, but I didn’t know her very well. A few minutes a day doesn’t give much insight. Martha wasn’t chatty,” I said.
“No, she didn’t disclose a lot of personal stuff to strangers. But she liked
your place more than the chains. She thought you needed more flowers,” Joyce said.
“Oh, she never said that to me. It could cheer things up. Especially with this weather. Do you guys have indoor gardens?” I asked.
“We work on herbs and potted plants in the winter. We also plan our summer gardens. If you want to win, you need to be creative.” Fran nodded.
“Win? Did Martha win a lot?” I asked.
“She did. But no one would hurt her over that,” Sara said with a chuckle.
“Right. Her question. No one we know wanted to hurt Martha or had a problem with her. She had a happy marriage. Her daughter was happily married with a grandson. Martha doted on him. She loved her work. She’d been a member of this club for two decades. Her flowers ended up in her church regularly. She made up baskets for funerals and such, as well. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.” Joyce shrugged.
“Did she have a problem with the witch theme of our shop?” I asked.
Misty shifted in her chair. “She wasn’t a fan, but at one point, we talked about the history of the town. She complained there were so many witch-themed places. I’m a history teacher at the high school, and a lot of people don’t know about our history because Salem steals all the thunder and tourists.”
“Thanks for educating people,” I said.
“Do you want to stay for the meeting or do you have what you need?” Fran looked sharply at the clock on the wall.
“I think that’s it, unless anyone has anything else that they think I should know or want to share.” I felt like I was getting politely tossed out.
No one else spoke so I stood. At that moment, I realized how useful a card would be. The police had them, and Bran had them. I should order some.
“Well, thank you. Have a nice meeting. I’m going to hit the restroom and brave the snow.” I felt like I was babbling. It was uncomfortable, but I had sort of crashed their meeting without notice, and that wasn’t very fair.
I found the ladies room and used it. As I washed my hands, I noticed the door open. It was Sara.
“Sorry if they were rude. Those women have a schedule, and it never changes. Year in and year out. Month in and month out. They care about Martha, but some probably thought you were accusing them,” she said.
I dried my hands with paper towels and nodded. “Sorry, I should have called ahead or something. I get the feeling there is more to this than I know, and people are blaming me.”
“Mr. O’Conner is ruining your business. And people aren’t telling you everything. But we can’t talk here.” She handed me a card. “Call me after five, and we’ll set up something.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I have to get back.” She slipped out.
I touched up my lipstick and put moisturizer on my hands before I left, so it wasn’t obvious Sara and I had been chatting. I got the feeling the people around here were regulars and noticed other people’s patterns a lot. Back to the cold weather. I had some phone calls to make and business cards to order.
Chapter 15
I called, and Sara was happy to stop by the coffee shop. Since I’d never seen any of the other ladies in my shop, I didn’t think it would matter. Filling the biggest cup we had with tea, I tried to figure out what secrets the garden club had. The Wiccan meetings also had me itching to find out more, but I had to prioritize.
“Mr. O’Conner didn’t show?” I asked my aunt, hoping that Mrs. Reynolds had worked her magic.
“Oh, no, he did. We called the cops.” She sighed.
Sara walked in and gave me a quick smile. She ordered a lemon tea, and I gestured her to join me.
We went into my office because there were too many people who’d get nosy if I just went to my table. My aunt would come over and introduce herself at the very least.
“Please sit,” I said.
“Sorry I couldn’t just tell you earlier. Those women are sharks. They gossip like crazy about others, but if you tell anything about them, even the truth, they go on the attack.” She set her tea on my desk then pulled off her gloves.
“It’s fine. I hope this won’t get you in trouble with the other ladies. I’m only looking for info that would really throw suspicion on someone hurting Martha,” I said.
“That’s just it. I don’t think they’d actually kill her. But I know they lied to the police.” She sipped her tea.
“Who lied?” I asked.
“Fran. The president of the club. She said she had no issues with Martha. They were like sisters. Always got along great. Old friends.” Sara rolled her eyes.
“It’s not true? Martha wanted to be president?” I asked.
“I’m sure she did, but Martha wasn’t nice enough to people to be voted in. She thought her stuff was better. She was overly competitive and critical. It’s about enjoying flowers and helping each other, not a war to see who has the best garden. Fran had to handle Martha when she got too snippy. But they have some older issues, as well. They were never really friends. More like frenemies,” she said.
“That sounds like everyone Martha knew. Not really a motive for murder, though,” I said.
“No, not that part. Fran got a divorce about seven years ago. Her husband found her with Mr. O’Conner. It was insane. I mean, he seemed like such a devoted husband. Martha was always sort of the dominant one. There were fights. And canceled meetings. But Martha insisted they wouldn’t divorce like Fran. She never missed a meeting. She didn’t run against Fran for president after that. It was tense and weird. It all sort of calmed down eventually, and no one talked about it for years. But Martha held a grudge. Fran did, too. There used to be twenty people in the group, but with their tension and occasional dustups, the people left.” Sara shook her head.
“You think Fran is still interested in Mr. O’Conner?” I asked.
“I don’t know about that, but quality senior men are hard to find. Maybe they kept up a connection. I don’t know. I have no idea when she’d have had the chance to hurt Martha. I mean, we were all in the room together for that meeting. She was fine when she left. It’s probably nothing,” she said.
“Maybe. But I appreciate your honesty. I know they have the tox screen back with no results. So, I’m guessing it wasn’t a plant,” I replied.
“There are some lethal plants. But with Martha’s health issues, it’d be much easier to kill that way,” Sara said casually.
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“Oh, sorry, I’m a nurse. Martha could’ve been given a huge dose of sugar water. Or too much insulin. Either would kill her. She was on high blood pressure meds. Beta blockers. If someone swapped out those pills, her heart would be under more strain. All of those wouldn’t show up in a tox screen.” Sara waved it off.
“That’s scary. They wouldn’t check for sugar?” I asked.
“Not unless the ME specifically ordered a glucose test. Insulin is naturally occurring in your body. So is sugar. You’d have to test for a level. I think she was on a sleeping pill, too. That could’ve done it.”
“A sleeping pill?” I asked.
“Well, some people take more than one. If you take too many, that’s a problem. Or she could miss taking her insulin or eating if she sleeps too long, then slip into a coma. As brittle as she is, her body would start to shut down. We had her in for kidney trouble once at the hospital. All the meds and everything takes a toll on the liver and kidneys that process them. She was so lucky she wasn’t on permanent dialysis. That’s where she was heading.”
I stared at her tea.
“I’m sorry; I’m not supposed to share her medical details. You knew about the diabetes. But I could get fired.” She fidgeted in her chair.
“It’s fine. I won’t say anything. I appreciate your help, but it was all hypothetical. I swear, no one will hear any of it from me,” I said.
“I never do that. I didn’t mean to tell that.” She frowned.
“It’s okay. You care about her. I wouldn’t be running around town, tryi
ng to find out things if I didn’t. The privacy stuff in this world has gotten out of control. But I know you have to respect it because it’s your job.” I wouldn’t get anyone in trouble.
“I should go,” she said.
“Thanks for coming.” I walked her out then turned to find my aunt.
“Good talk?” she asked.
“Did you spike her drink with a truth potion?” I asked.
Aunt Mandy frowned at me. “Esmeralda did. I assume it was useful?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Yes and no. Nothing is simple about this,” I said.
“We haven’t found out who threatened Mrs. O’Conner, yet. We must have a rogue witch. Esme is trying to scout that angle while you’re doing this,” she said.
“You think I should stop and be more with the coven?” I asked.
She leaned in. “Pushing the issue for proof on Mrs. O’Conner only makes it look like you’re afraid of being accused. Or afraid someone here did it.”
“So, I should let it go?” I asked.
“I know you’re trying to help to keep this business going, but the customers are getting used to Mr. O’Conner. The slow down isn’t as bad, anymore.”
“As bad?” I asked. “It’s still fewer people every day. When he’s out there, it gets really quiet in here. We need closure.”
“Only the autopsy will give you that. And the police’s work. You’re not the police. You’re not a private investigator,” she said.
“I know, but I need to be sure a murderer isn’t getting away. What if they rule natural causes? We know it’s not,” I said.
She looked down.
“What? Let it go?” I asked.
“The spell could be wrong. Maybe she did it to herself?” my aunt asked.
“Suicide? No note?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You don’t know. A false conviction would be worse.”
“Thanks for the advice. I have to go,” I said.
“Make kind choices,” she said.
* * *
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