Old Flames (Lainswich Witches Book 9)

by Raven Snow

  “It’s none of my business, but this seems more like a minor thing no one really needs to go out of their way to apologize for. You just keep overreacting to things.”

  “Me?” Rowen looked at her friend, startled. “He has a tendency to overreact to things too you know. It’s not just me here.”

  “I can believe it,” Flint assured her. “I can also assure you that he did not mean to overlook your very generous offering of muffins and omelets.”

  “It’s nice to have people notice when you do things for them. What can I say?”

  “You can’t demand they be grateful.”

  “I know, but I like to think I always am. Back when you and I were dating. Like, really dating, remember?”

  “I do.”

  “Back then, you used to do nice things for me all the time. I was always appreciative, wasn’t I?”

  Flint made a little half shrug, half nod. “More or less.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you were more or less appreciative. It did get to a point where it felt like you just expected it.” He glanced over at her. “You know that kind of thing doesn’t typically last, right? People can’t keep up that kind of…” He trailed off as if looking for a specific word.

  “Passion?”

  “What? No! Generosity. People can’t keep up that kind of generosity. Eventually, you get to a point in your lives where you share the same bank account and have responsibilities together and—”

  “And then you can still do little favors with one another.”

  “Which should just be nice little favors out of the goodness of your heart. They shouldn’t start fights.”

  Rowen sagged in her seat a bit. She wanted to argue, but instead she just sighed. “You’re right.” She folded her arms on the dash and slumped into them miserably. Thinking back on things, she began to wonder if she had been extra hard on him recently because of Flint.

  Flint had made her think of those happy, halcyon days of flirting back when everyone was on their very best behavior—at the height of favors and gift giving.

  “Okay,” said Flint, interrupting her self-loathing. “Don’t be that hard on yourself. He could still do better too.”

  Rowen sat up. She nodded. “I’m going to wait for him to apologize.” In her periphery, she thought she saw Flint roll his eyes.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The house Cox was staying at was the country home of a judge, Flint explained once they had pulled up in the driveway of a rather extravagant cabin. The owner didn’t come there often anymore, a fact Cox had used to convince the man to let him stay. “Cox has never really been worried about his reputation. Doesn’t take himself too seriously, so it makes it hard.”

  “A little bit like you then?”

  Flint bristled at that. “I care about my reputation plenty.” He got out of the car and headed for the front door. Cox was there to meet them before he’d even knocked.

  “What a pleasure.” Cox had dressed down from his suit and tie. He was wearing a soft-looking brown robe and had a drink in hand. “I hope you found the place all right.” It was difficult to tell if Cox actually meant that or not. It didn’t really sound like he did.

  Flint smiled back at him. “Thanks for finding the time for us.” There was a generous amount of sarcasm in his voice as well.

  Cox laughed and opened the door wider to allow them in. “Make yourself at home.”

  “Are you supposed to be the one saying that?” asked Flint.

  Again, Cox laughed. “As far as Judge Davies is concerned, I’m this place’s caretaker for the, well, for the foreseeable future, I suppose. This is really stretching out into quite a thing, isn’t it?”

  Even though the judge wasn’t living in the cabin, there was still plenty of furniture and decorations. It was nice and cozy in the way that hotels tried very hard to be kitschy and cozy. Rowen took a seat beside Flint on the leather sofa. “Seems like you had some extra work to stay around for anyway,” he pointed out.

  “What? The will thing?” asked Cox, as if it could be anything else. “What happened was very sudden. The fellow who would have done it was under the weather. The job fell to me, seeing as I had worked with her on it before. I can’t say that I minded making a little extra money while I was here.”

  “I didn’t realize you had worked with Seraphina in the past.”

  “It didn’t seem worth mentioning. We were all there to do a job. We did. Until we couldn’t anymore.” Cox sat down across from them both in a recliner. “Now, as for me, I could ask what the both of you were doing lurking around this reading. Did you know how much money was going to Lydia?”

  “Of course not,” Rowen blurted, “That was…that was a complete surprise to everyone.”

  Cox smiled like he didn’t really buy it. “Just lucky happenstance, I guess.”

  “You would have known beforehand, right?” she asked, trying to shift the blame onto him.

  Cox fluttered a hand at his chest in mock scandal. “I would never do such a thing.”

  “He’s not allowed to open it up,” Flint explained. “Not until it’s officially being read. If he didn’t work with her on that particular part, he really wouldn’t know what it said.”

  “I was as surprised as you apparently were.” Cox took a drink from the glass in his hand. Ice cubes clinked in it. “The local news has been hounding me, but frankly, I don’t want to get involved. I’m just hoping the police solve this thing soon. I’d really like to leave.”

  “What? You don’t like the accommodations?” Flint lounged back on a sofa and took a look around. “Looks nice.”

  “Oh, sure the place itself is nice. It’s the company I could do without.”

  “The company?” Flint repeated.

  On cue, Smith came plodding down the stairs. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and his hair was disheveled. There wasn’t a shirt to be seen, exposing his rather sinewy frame. It was not a very lovely sight. Had he been sleeping up there? It was pretty late in the day for that. Cox cleared his throat.

  “I’m not going to the store,” Smith complained. “I’d sooner eat out again. The grocery store here is terrible. It’s just terrible. I can’t find anything to eat there and neither can you.”

  Cox cleared his throat again, louder this time.

  “I said I’m not going to the store. You’re welcome to go if you really want to. I plan on staying right—” Smith finally noticed that they had company. He started to say something, choked, and hurried back up the stairs.

  “He’s just sunshine and rainbows to live with, let me tell you,” Cox said once the sound of a door slamming echoed downstairs. “Don’t ask how he talked me into staying. I felt sorry for him, I guess. He was so unhappy back at the hotel. And then I was moving out, leaving him all alone in a strange town. My mistake was that I failed to notice he was just an unhappy person in general.”

  “You seem to complain a lot yourself,” Rowen pointed out.

  “And why would I want more of that in the house?” Cox nodded to Flint. “You should join the group. You’re still full of some of that youthful energy, all bright and cheerful.”

  “And now mixed up in a murder since I’ve been helping my friend here with what happened to Seraphina.”

  “Ah,” said Cox. “Well, never mind all that then. So, how can I help you today?”

  He had helped them some already. At least they had learned a few things from their meeting here. Rowen tried to think of another question when Flint had nothing to say. She couldn’t find one. Everyone was looking at her like they expected her to have a question, but they weren’t coming readily to her mind.

  She wished she hadn’t made her family’s guardians upset. Not that it had been her fault, but—. No, she couldn’t think like that. It had been her fault before. She had gone abroad and left all that behind. She couldn’t try and dump all of the blame on her family.

  A thought came to Rowen suddenly. The g
ut feeling was there and still forming before she had even finished speaking. “Who was supposed to read the will?”

  Cox shrugged. “Some fellow who doesn’t live around here. I don’t recall his name. Part of me thinks he wasn’t really sick at all, just being lazy. He didn’t want to make the drive down to Lainswich. Meanwhile, I’m stuck here with my colleagues, so…”

  “Speaking of your colleagues…” Rowen glanced at Flint before she started. He raised his eyebrows, looking curious about where she might be headed. “Did either of them help you get the will ready?”

  “There wasn’t a whole lot of getting it ready to be done,” Cox assured her. “Easy job. As much as I enjoy complaining, I can’t really say that I minded it. It was something to do.”

  Rowen pressed on. “Did Smith help at all?”

  “He offered to, but like I said, it wasn’t necessary.”

  “And was the envelope the will was in tampered with at all?”

  Cox raised an eyebrow at Rowen. After a few seconds of staring at her, he laughed. “Am I a suspect in this murder investigation of yours?” The way he asked the question made it sound rhetorical, like he found it inconsequential and even a little adorable. “You’re so…quirky. I can see why Flint still carries a torch for you.” Both Rowen and Flint sat up a little straighter at that. Cox laughed again, louder this time. “Did I touch a nerve? I apologize. It’s just, he’s gone so far out of his way to be around you. It’s obvious, isn’t it? I thought it was obvious to everyone.”

  “I’m married,” Rowen blurted, not that this looked like it made much of a difference to Cox.

  “She’s an old friend,” Flint explained. “I told you. I’ve missed her.”

  Cox nodded, giving Flint a wink like he knew better. “No need to explain yourselves to me. I get it.”

  Flint rolled his eyes. “Well, now you’re just being annoying on purpose.”

  It was Rowen who stood first. Something told her more answers weren’t going to be forthcoming as long as she sat here. It was nice having that gut feeling back. Had she manufactured it herself or was it her family’s guardians? Either way, she was going to trust it. Flint read her intentions and did the same. Cox caught on. Guests standing up and edging toward the door was a rather obvious and universal sign. Besides, it didn’t look like he would mind being rid of them. He was doing just fine lounging around this place on his own. If anything, he’d be happier if he could lose Smith too.

  They made some small talk on the way to the door. It was mostly Flint and Cox. They made halfhearted plans to eat out again, maybe meet up if they were ever in the same town again. To Rowen, he just smiled and shook her hand. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he told her, assuming a much more serious tone than before.

  “He kids around a lot,” Flint explained on their way to the car. “I don’t think he’s a bad guy, but he’s not the most polite guy in the world when he’s not around clients. Likes to tease a lot.”

  She got the feeling he was talking about Cox’s insinuation that Flint still had feelings for her. “I caught on,” she assured him, even while she found herself drifting a bit away as they walked together. To assume he was still interested would be narcissistic of her and yet…

  The vibe was tense when they got into the car. Neither of them seemed to really know what to say. Flint leaned forward and turned on the radio as he began driving, finding a music station for them both to enjoy. That helped until the DJ came on to talk more about the Seraphina case. He gave a sigh and was reaching for the power button when something caught his eye. “Someone is following us.”

  That immediately caught Rowen’s attention, and she turned quickly in her seat and looked for the car. It was easy to recognize. “That’s Eric.”

  “I thought he was a private investigator, not a stalker.” Flint’s eyes went wide. “Oh, God, he’s not the jealous type is he?”

  “Just pull in there.” Rowen rolled her eyes at him and pointed to an empty lot. There were the beginnings of a structure on the gravel, but no construction workers were there for the moment.

  Flint did as he was instructed. Eric pulled in behind them, getting out of the car just as his wife was. “I was about to call you,” he said as he approached. “I didn’t know if you two were still together though, and I don’t have Flint’s number yet.”

  Flint, still getting out of the car, began to pull his number up on his phone so that Eric could copy it down. “So, what? You were looking for me? What for?” Flint’s hand was a little shaky as he held out his phone for Eric to get the number. His own phone pinged as Eric sent him back a text.

  “I think we’re investigating the same people.” Eric slid his phone back into his pocket. “I tracked my guy here and saw your car, and, honestly, I’ve just sort of stopped believing in coincidences around here.” It was at about this time that he noticed how Flint was staring at him. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no.” Flint took a step back toward his own car. “Let’s go sit down and you can tell us what you’ve found out.”

  Sitting in the car was a little cramped but was better than standing around awkwardly outside. It was unlikely anyone would be listening in on them out there, but still. It felt more secure talking in an enclosed space.

  Eric had brought a folder from his own car and was flipping through it for them, showing them some documents Rowen had yet to see. “This is from that case I was telling you about. My newest one, remember? His wife hired me to figure out if he’s cheating on her or not.”

  She could remember him telling her about this case. She had meant to help him on it but had never found the time. Rowen was going to kick herself if she would have solved this murder thing a lot sooner had she just helped him. Sure enough, there were pictures of one of the people she suspected for the murder. “Maxwell Smith,” she read aloud, tapping a photo paper clipped onto the inside of the folder with her index finger. “Did you ever find out anything? Was he cheating on his wife?”

  “He always did creep me out,” Flint put in, even though no one had asked for his opinion yet.

  “She had this idea that he was cheating on her with multiple women. She thought he hired prostitutes in towns he traveled to, didn’t really think he could get anyone based on his own merits,” Eric continued.

  “How nice of her.” Rowen had to admit that she hadn’t seen much in the way of good qualities as far as Smith went. There had to be some, but she hadn’t seen them. “I’m not sure we have many ladies or fellas of the night in Lainswich.”

  “I couldn’t find any.” Eric flipped through the papers of his folder before he realized what it was she had said. “Not that I went looking for them for anything other than business.”

  “I think business is just about the only thing people look for them for, isn’t it? That’s kind of the point.” Rowen couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. At least her husband relaxed upon seeing her smile. “Anyone else he could be seeing?”

  “You know what I’m going to say. Seraphina. I think he was seeing Seraphina.”

  Flint balked at that. “Seraphina was way out of his league.”

  Eric shrugged. “You can’t really account for taste.” Again, he threw a sheepish look at his wife after speaking. “Not me, though. I have great taste.”

  “Seriously, though.” Flint wasn’t ready to let this go. “Seraphina didn’t seem to even like him. I worked with the guy. They didn’t get along at all.”

  “Well, maybe that’s it,” Rowen offered. “Maybe they had a fling years ago, and Smith wasn’t ready to let it go. Do you have any old photos of Smith, honey? Any anecdotes or anything? What kind of a person was he ten or fifteen years ago?”

  “She provided me with some less than flattering ones.” Eric thumbed over to some computer printouts anyway. “I found these on social media. He didn’t look bad. Granted these are just the pictures he saved. Given his profession, he’s done a good job not leaving up anything unflattering. Honestly, I’
m surprised he even has a social media account. That’s a bit risky in his line of work. I’ve got him pegged as a pretty lonely individual. I’m thinking he isn’t shy, but he’s not great with people outside of doing his job.”

  “He’s not terrible looking,” Rowen conceded, looking at the pictures of the reed-thin man with a dark head of hair receding in a way that might be considered distinguished. “I’m not sure what Seraphina’s type was.”

  “Wealthy,” Flint blurted, which really came as no surprise to anyone. “I guess she liked them interesting too. She had plenty of stories about suitors before Darren Hawthorne.”

  “Well?” Rowen turned back to her husband. “Was he interesting?”

  “Looks like he used to enjoy big game hunting.” Eric pointed to another one of the pictures he had printed off. It was Smith holding a gun, standing proudly over the carcass of some large wild cat.

  “That might do it.”

  Rowen looked at Flint. “Really? Was she into big game hunting?”

  “She was into controversy. If he had a permit and the animal wasn’t endangered, she would have loved the stories and the furs. If he was killing endangered animals, she might have wanted to try and change him. Not in any real way, mind you. I think she liked to pretend to be this very generous, good person sometimes. I think it was sort of like roleplay for her.”

  That wasn’t giving Seraphina enough credit, Rowen thought. She seemed like a good person. An annoying and demanding and rude person, but good. Mostly good. That wasn’t the point though. “Even if he did sleep with her, how do we gather proof of that?”

  “That was something I was trying to do before Seraphina was killed,” Eric said.

  “Okay.” Rowen raised a hand, calling a time out to this conversation. “If you knew one of Seraphina’s lawyers was in town and that maybe they’d had an affair and that maybe he’d killed her after that, why didn’t you tell me?”

  Eric frowned at his wife, leaning a bit away from her in the back seat. “He wasn’t one of Seraphina’s lawyers.”

  “What?” asked Flint, who was probably the most surprised by this having worked with the man on a daily basis for a while now.