Old Flames (Lainswich Witches Book 9)

by Raven Snow

  Chapter Eight

  Before Rowen could focus on family problems, she had a lot of work to do. First and foremost, she had an interview with Mr. Hawthorne. He was still in the hospital, but he had Julia invite Rowen and Margo over. Julia Martinez had probably set the whole meeting up for them. At the very least she was taking total credit for it.

  “Second door on the left,” she instructed, pointing them ahead. Her own eyes were on the tablet in front of her. Typically, she would at least try to join them, see if Mr. Hawthorne needed her help with anything. “Tell him to call if he needs me,” she instructed before heading back to the waiting room.

  “I’m not saying anything,” Margo whispered, “but that’s what happens when you cheat with a cheater.” She cast a knowing look over her shoulder. “Just an observation. I’m not saying anything.”

  Rowen rolled her eyes and ignored her cousin. She knocked on the door. “Come in,” Mr. Hawthorne called immediately. Rowen followed his instruction and walked in to see him sitting near the window-covered side of the room. His white button-up shirt against the bright light made him look angelic, almost like an innocent. Rowen wasn’t going to be fooled by that; she knew what this man was capable of.

  “Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Margo went ahead and pulled a chair across from him. “Assuming you are feeling better. You look like you’re feeling better than I expected you to, at least.”

  Mr. Hawthorne gave her a vague nod and a half smile. “The doctors here are very good at what they do.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear.” Rowen dragged over a chair of her own, ignoring the chuckle and ‘just make yourself at home’ from Hawthorne. “Do you mind if we record this?”

  “I suppose not.” Hawthorne scanned the room. “I don’t suppose Ms. Martinez said if she would be joining us or not.”

  “Sure didn’t sound like it.” Margo was only too happy to help spread a bit of gossip, maybe gather some more juicy stuff for her trouble. “Sounds like she’s still pretty mad at you for sleeping with our aunt.”

  Hawthorne’s expression hardened. “Is any of this going in your paper?”

  Rowen laughed at the mere idea. She tossed the recorder to Hawthorne just in case that wasn’t clear. Let him be in charge of what they kept track of. “The more scandalous things we keep from the paper, the better. I know my family is usually responsible for exactly half of those scandalous things.”

  Hawthorne sank back in his chair like he really had been waiting for someone to talk to about everything. “I really didn’t think this would get so out of hand. I thought it was understood that we still saw people on the side. Julia’s career was going so well for her in my absence. If anything, I figured she would rather I stay gone.”

  “Did you discuss the idea of sleeping with other people with her?” asked Rowen.

  “I thought that’s the sort of thing that comes pre-discussed when you meet by having an affair.”

  Margo smirked at her cousin. “See? I told you.”

  “I didn’t know she cared that much. It’s touching, but this is just too exhausting. We couldn't come out about it even if we wanted to. It would create a scandal, especially now that Seraphina…” He trailed away, looking genuinely troubled by the news of his soon-to-be-ex-wife’s death. It was hard to tell why. It was like he still had trouble processing it. Like he had gotten so used to her being alive in the world. “Julia wouldn’t want to be connected with that, and I don’t intend to remain tied to her for the rest of my days here on Earth.”

  The corner of Margo’s mouth twitched into a smile. “You would rather spend some time with my aunt, I take it.”

  At this, Hawthorne did look distinctly uncomfortable. “She’s a very worldly woman. She knows the deal. I like her. She seems to like me. Again, neither of us plans on settling down into marriage, and that works just fine for the both of us. It doesn’t need to be any more complicated than it is.”

  “Except it’s already more complicated,” Rowen pointed out. All of this recent stuff with Seraphina couldn’t make it more complicated.

  “I’ve already spoken to your aunt about that,” Hawthorne explained. “We agreed not to mention anything like that. I suppose you’re amenable to that?”

  Rowen chewed a strip of skin from her bottom lip. “I don’t know. What if this all comes out? Won’t it look worse for her? For all of us?”

  “And what if it doesn’t come out?” Margo asked before Hawthorne could say something along those lines himself. “Why create more drama when we can just avoid it? If it’s really so important, we can mention it to Ben.”

  “No,” Rowen said quickly. “We can’t let Ben know about this. He can’t be involved. Either he lies or he blurts it all. Apparently, we don’t want either of those outcomes.”

  “It’s just wasting time.” Hawthorne jumped back into the conversation. “It’s not as if your aunt had a hand in murdering Seraphina. As I understood it, those two were close.”

  “I never understood why.” Margo had always been one for drama. Rowen imagined that, to her, not having some sort of vendetta against Seraphina was a waste of perfectly good drama.

  “We had been apart for a long time,” Hawthorne explained. “She didn’t owe me anything, and she liked Seraphina, so—” Hawthorne shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been my first choice. I really would rather she hadn’t helped her in this divorce case, but I can hardly hold it against her. She is who she is. I’m sure the both of you always have known that your aunt is a very strange woman.”

  “Definitely,” Rowen said before Margo could add anymore. “And you? Do the police seem to like you for this at all?”

  Hawthorne rolled his eyes. “I’m the husband, aren’t I? Police always like the husband.”

  “But you have an alibi.” Margo indicated their surroundings. As far as she was concerned, a heart attack was a darn good alibi.

  “Yeah, and I’m also getting up there in years,” Hawthorne pointed out. “I don’t think they believe I murdered her directly. If I had to guess, I would say that they believe I paid someone to kill her.”

  “Really?” Rowen hadn’t seen that possibility coming. She really should have. With all of Hawthorne’s money, it sounded like a good one.

  “As if I would risk something like that.” Hawthorne didn’t place much stock in the theory, it seemed. “I’m not so poor I would have to resort to murdering my wife…my ex-wife.” He took a deep breath. “I loved her, you know? This was the sort of thing I would expect from her even when we were first married. Divorcing me and trying to take me for all I’m worth. That was the sort of woman she was. We had a good run. I’d like to think she felt the same.”

  “So murdering her never even crossed your mind?” Rowen paid close attention to Hawthorne as she asked this question.

  “Of course not,” he said, his brow gathered. Rowen believed him. She believed that he had loved his wife and, on some level, still did a great deal. “Maybe once or twice during an argument but only in passing. You know how things are. I wouldn’t have been wholly shocked to hear that at one point she tried to have me murdered.”

  “Is there anyone you suspect?” asked Rowen. She wasn’t sure how much time they would be allowed with Hawthorne. She might as well get the juicy questions out of the way first.

  “I have been out of her life for so long.” Clearly, Hawthorne had already been asked this question before. “I can’t think of anyone who had anything to gain from her passing. She kept her money tied up with her financial advisors. If there was anything worth murdering someone over and stealing in the house, I don’t know what it was. I also don’t know why they wouldn’t have taken it while I was living there. I was away all of the time.”

  “Maybe it was a new addition to the house?” Rowen guessed. “Maybe she brought it with her.”

  “Then one of those lawyers of hers would know better than I would.”

  Rowen had been ready for the conversation to come back there. “Th
ey’re next on my list of people to visit.”

  “Think you could set up an interview for Ms. Martinez?” Hawthorne asked, almost before she had stopped talking. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this meeting if not for her. As I understand it, she’s been good to you and the Lainswich Inquirer lately.”

  “We’re really enjoying working together.” Margo put on a very convincing smile when Rowen didn’t respond at once. Julia Martinez only seemed to help them out when it suited her. Better not to draw attention to that. Besides, Hawthorne really did look like he wanted them to give her a hand on this. She must be having a more difficult time with this particular case than she let on.

  “I’ll let her know if we find anything,” she promised, noting that this seemed to make Hawthorne relax. At the very least, maybe she wouldn’t be responsible for another heart attack.

  They got a lot from the interview with Hawthorne. It wasn’t anything riveting, but it did paint a human picture of him. Rowen always liked that. She liked when her readers saw the human part of a person, even when they were a murderer. She thought it said a lot about human nature.

  At any rate, she didn’t think Hawthorne had murdered anyone. She didn’t think that the Lainswich Police thought that either. That didn’t mean the citizens of Lainswich weren’t blaming him. Rowen had Margo forward all that they had gotten on to Rose. She and the sisters were working on the paper back at the office. Meanwhile, Rowen had her meeting to get to.

  Flint had helped her get this all set up. It was lunch at a reasonably-priced family place downtown. She had met people at high-end eateries before. It was never worth it. She only ever wound up feeling awkward and short on cash she could have spent on something way more useful.

  It was a weekday, and the parking lot was full of SUVs and little old junker cars. This was the sort of place where old people and soccer moms came for lunch. Rowen and the rest of her family came in here on occasion. Usually, they just had dinner at the Italian place across from their building, but this would be a nice change of pace. Besides, it was funny to go in there and find three fellows in nice suits sitting around and waiting for the lot of them. Flint seemed relatively at ease, sitting there and munching on a piece of bread. He grew still as Rowen entered and looked for the door. He must have sensed her come in…or maybe he just heard the little bell.

  “Can I help you?” asked a hostess, giving Rowen and Margo a skeptical look, like she hoped this wasn’t going to become a regular thing. Greensmiths had a tendency to bring trouble. Given all the murders that surrounded them, they were a bit of a bad omen actually.

  “We see our party.” Rowen headed right for the table with the three men. Flint stood, followed by Cox and Smith. “Thanks for waiting.” Rowen took a seat. “I hope we didn’t keep you long.”

  “We only just got here,” Cox assured her, his chubby hands reaching for his own piece of bread now that they were finished waiting for everyone.

  “I’d hoped to be out of this town by now,” Smith murmured. “So, I suppose it really doesn’t matter where I am.”

  Cox elbowed him with a smile. “That’s the spirit.”

  “This is the place to be then.” Flint ignored the frown he got from Margo just for speaking. He looked at Smith while inclining his head to Rowen. “She’s a genius when it comes to this sort of thing. I don’t think there’s been a murder in ages around here that she hasn’t solved.”

  Smith raised his eyebrows. “How many murders have happened around here?” he asked, casting a look around himself while growing increasingly more uncertain.

  “Not many,” Flint assured him.

  “A fair many,” Margo mumbled, taking a small piece of bread for herself.

  “You’re unlikely to get murdered at any rate.” Flint flipped his menu open, clearly trying to put a stop to that particular conversation. Everyone picked out what they wanted without much effort. Smith and Cox preceded their orders with ‘We’re not very hungry’ anyway. She knew that was just an excuse not to be locked in to eating at a place like this. Oh well. She wished them the best at their high-end places. Speaking of which… “Flint?”

  Flint looked at Rowen over the rim of her tea. “Hmm?”

  “Eric and I were wondering if you would like to join us for dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Tomorrow night?” Flint looked down at his cup, pointedly ignoring Margo’s sigh. “I’d love to.” He gave his colleagues a glance.

  Cox was the first to hold up his hands and show that there were no hard feelings. “Don’t worry about us. We know that you’re old friends.”

  “We’re just fine out here on our own.” Smith didn’t much sound like he meant that. Granted, he didn’t sound like he thought Flint could fix it either.

  Flint smiled. “So, just us and the husband then. Should I bring anything?”

  “Just yourself.” Rowen was looking forward to it. It had been such a long time before she had been able to invite anyone but family over to her house. This would be refreshing.

  Their food came and they all ate in silence, making small talk here and there. Cox and Smith ate more than Rowen had expected them to. Apparently, their local diners weren’t all that terrible after all.

  “Anything for dessert?” asked the waitress.

  Cox looked around the room. He raised his hand to indicate that they were all set. “Just coffee, thanks.” That was when talk went to business.

  “Do you know how long you’re staying?” asked Rowen. She didn’t imagine that the police could keep them here all that long.

  “We could leave if we really wanted.” Smith chewed on the inside of his mouth like he was considering it.

  “But it would be a silly move,” countered Cox. “I certainly don’t like the sound of that for my career. One of my clients was murdered, and I could have stuck around to do what I could to help catch her killers, but I wanted to go home. No. She paid me in advance. My schedule is clear because of her. I owe her a small vacation here, at least.”

  “Meaning we leave if these local boys take too long.” Smith sneered, clearly not terribly impressed with the job the local police were doing. Rowen did her best not to get offended on their behalf.

  Cox nodded in agreement. “We’ll give it a week and a half or so. That seems fair.”

  Rowen looked at Flint to see if he shared these sentiments. His elbows were on the table, his hands folded beneath his chin. “I’ll have to check on my schedule.”

  “And do you lot have any suspects?” Margo came right out with that question, lounging back in her seat with her pen tapping on a pad of paper. She watched all three men with poorly disguised contempt.

  Smith raised an eyebrow at her, but he was still the first to respond. “The husband,” he declared. “It’s always the husband.”

  “Or another jilted lover,” Cox shot in, sounding like he just enjoyed playing the devil’s advocate.

  Smith snorted. “And why wouldn’t that person have waited until there were fewer eyes on her? The middle of divorce proceedings is a terrible time to murder someone.”

  Flint smirked at Rowen. “Passion can make you do some reckless things, though.”

  Rowen was quick to avert her eyes away from Flint’s. “Did you witness her with anyone else aside from yourselves?” she asked, changing the subject.

  Cox gave a shrug. “Not that I remember, but her personal life was a bit of a mystery to us.”

  Smith nodded in agreement. “It certainly wasn’t any of our business…although…”

  “Although?” Rowen turned her gaze to Smith. “Although what?”

  “I did see her with…well, I hate to say it.”

  The way Smith glanced away, Rowen thought she had a good idea of who he was talking about. “With who?”

  “A woman,” Smith concluded, giving Rowen an apologetic half smile. “I suspect she’s related to you. I believe Flint pointed her out to us once or twice.”

  “Not that he said anything negative about her,” Cox ad
ded quickly. “Or that we think she had anything to do with any of this. You never see a murderess when it comes to these things.”

  “Actually, our grandmother was arrested for murdering someone not so long ago,” said Margo, unfazed.

  Rowen gave her cousin a kick under the table. She didn’t need their family running into any unnecessary trouble. Not that that was seeming likely. It was like they had lost the ability to keep from running into unnecessary trouble.

  The lawyers had all taken different cars. Margo hadn’t, so she was forced to wait while Rowen and Flint said their goodbyes. “I won’t be long,” Rowen promised when Margo gave her a frown.

  “You better not be. I’ve got work to do.”

  “No, you don’t!” That was specifically why Rowen had brought her along.

  “Exactly! I always have work these days. Not having work is, like, an even bigger burden. I have to spend my time wisely.” She trudged to the passenger side of the car anyway, pulling out her phone to play with.

  “She was always fun,” said Flint, wearing a smirk that was hard to read.

  “I could say the same about you.” Rowen turned on her friend. “Did you really have to bring my aunt to their attention?”

  “I didn’t see any harm in it at the time.”

  “Like you didn’t see any harm in telling me you were back in town?” The more Rowen thought about it, the more annoyed she was that Flint hadn’t contacted her after he had returned to Lainswich.

  Flint rolled his eyes. “Look, this was kind of the sort of thing I wanted to avoid. I wanted to keep my mind on business. I wasn’t up for a stroll down memory lane, digging up our past and what not.”

  Rowen supposed she understood that. It made her feel guilty for bringing it up, at any rate. “Are you sure you want to come to dinner with Eric and me tomorrow? Seriously? You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”

  Flint waved a hand at her. “It’s fine.”