Hoodoo and Just Desserts (The Witch Sisters of Stillwater Cozy Series Book 1)

by Constance Barker

  The wait staff didn’t seem to be particularly thrilled to be working that day, but then again, when is anyone thrilled to work? Anyone... besides me, that is, and possibly Fern. I was pretty sure even my sister had grown weary of her long hours. The soup didn’t take terribly long to prepare—after all, all they really had to do was ladle it out of a big pot. The paper bowl warmed my hands as I carried it out, the plastic top protecting the contents from the stubborn rain. The food had been a bit pricey, but I was used to getting discounts from Hazel so maybe I was a little spoiled. Getting in my car, I placed the soup in the passenger seat as lovingly as one would place a child, starting up the engine and peeling out of the restaurant parking lot. Fern would have frowned upon the reckless driving, or maybe she’d get a kick out of it. It was really a toss up from day to day. Pulling into the parking lot at the station, however, I realized that it seemed unlikely that anyone there was in the mood for fun. Every officer was parked, apparently working on gathering intel for the Dickney case. Only about three people in the entire station were qualified for such a serious crime, but when you’re a small town, you do what you can.

  I made my way to Fern’s office, ignoring the downtrodden look of some of the rookie officers as they were forced to work desk duty. I was sure there was at least one car on patrol, but from the looks of things, it couldn’t have been much more. I pushed through Fern’s door without knocking, startled to see her angrily tearing up what appeared to be a case file. I tilted my head curiously, approaching her with caution.

  “Hey sis... is there a problem? Or are you just letting off some steam?” I asked gently, setting the bowl of soup on the desk. Upon noticing the food, she flung the remains of the case file away, grabbing the bowl and hungrily devouring the contents before they really even had time to cool. I watched with a vague sense of awe—I’d never seen Fern eat quite so sloppily before. My sister usually had impeccable manners.

  “The business partner is out. His alibi is airtight, and even if he wasn’t particularly upset about Dickney kicking the bucket, that’s not really a crime. If it were, the whole town would be in the cells. I still gave him a stern talking to for kicking Moody, but...,” she trailed off, sighing and resting her chin in her hand. “Honestly? Right now we’re back to Fang and potentially Jimmy Jack as suspects,” she mumbled, sounding just about as defeated as everyone else in the station seemed to be.

  “Wait... Fang, alright, I can see that. But Jimmy Jack? That kid wouldn’t hurt a fly,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Fern rolled her eyes, looking tired of the conversation already.

  “Apparently Fang and Dickney exchanged more than words. They came to blows. Amber mentioned it, and then told me Jimmy Jack came to her shop too, essentially, to tell her to keep her big mouth shut. Not that anyone in their right mind can blame him. The way I see it, it’s probably the gossip queen trying to throw someone under the bus, but we have to check things out from all angles at this point. We’re running out of options. It’s not like Dickney would have just impaled himself on the sword. Sure, I mean, all his investors pulled out, but he still had a pretty hefty inheritance that he could have done something with,” she rambled a bit, tapping her fingertips on the desk. “Thanks for the food, by the way. I’m exhausted, and I was starving so... thanks,” Fern repeated, reaching out to take my hand. She looked suddenly serious, and I didn’t quite know what kind of turn the conversation might take.

  “Fern... are you okay? Is something wrong?” I asked, squeezing her hand.

  “I just want you to be careful while all of this is going on. As far as we know, we may very well have a mad man in our midst. It seems unlikely, but so do a lot of the other options. Keep an eye on Becky as well. I know you can handle yourself in a brawl, but I’m not quite sure the city slicker could keep up,” my sister smiled. I chuckled, giving her hand another squeeze before releasing her and taking a step back.

  “Of course. When have you ever known me to do anything dangerous?” I grinned.

  “The bar fight of 2013,” she said calmly, turning her attention back to the case files. I blanched, not really having an answer.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll be careful,” I muttered a bit sourly, though it didn’t last. I knew my sister was only looking out for me... it wasn’t as if anyone else had ever looked out for us. “You be safe too, you know? Don’t go chasing bad guys without any backup,” I ordered seriously. Fern shrugged, continuing to flip through the case files.

  “I think I can handle Fang and Jimmy Jack, and they’re the only bad guys we have, so far. It just doesn’t make any sense. I understand Fang is super protective of Hazel, and have no doubt he would have come to blows with Dickney. On the other hand, Jimmy Jack is protective as hell of his pop, and would die before he let anything happen to Fang. There’s a chance he’s taking the fall on purpose, but honestly... I feel like we’re just on a wild goose chase right now. I’ve got to find some other suspects,” Fern mumbled, brushing a hand through her fiery curls. Though I wasn’t quite sure what to tell her, I knew it was only a matter of time before my dear sister burned out altogether.

  I could only hope things started piecing themselves together—and quickly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When the sun finally came out, it came out in full force. Moody was thrilled, needless to say, but she certainly wasn’t the only one. I was all too ready to go puddle jumping, or hop in the pond to see how high the tides had risen. It may have seemed a bit immature to outsiders, but small town living was full of simple pleasures like that. I was a bit disappointed that Fern couldn’t come home and enjoy the weather with me, and I expected to have a much harder time dragging my feline companion away from the TV.

  “How about we take a walk along the river? The tides have probably risen, and I wanna try and get an idea of just how much rain we really got,” I grinned, giving the cat a little poke in the side. Moody hemmed and hawed, as if giving the thought great consideration.

  “Alright. Bring the liver treats, though. I get hungry on long walks, and I get the feeling you’re going to want to stop and talk to anyone who happens to cross our path,” the cat announced, leaping off the back of the sofa and heading towards the door. I rolled my eyes, but didn’t have the heart to argue—running into the kitchen to grab a fresh bag of treats before rushing to the door. As Moody and I stepped outside, I was immediately stricken by the humidity. It only made sense, considering the prior weather, but I was hoping for a nice, dry sunny day. Either way, it was better than being cooped up in the house all day. I tossed a liver treat a little ways ahead for Moody to dive after, allowing her to set the pace as we walked in the direction of the outskirts of town. The river, which led into the pond, wasn’t exactly what you could consider rushing rapids. Some days, it seemed little more than a creek even. All the same, I loved to watch Moody chase bullfrogs and get her paws wet while trying to catch minnows. I liked to fish when the weather was right, and though I was sure the fish would be biting that day, I was a bit preoccupied. All I really wanted to do was relax—it seemed as if that particular activity had been entirely neglected in the days preceding.

  “So... am I the only one who misses Fern at home?” I piped up, tucking the bag of liver treats in my pocket. Moody hummed noncommittally, but after a moment breathed a sigh and shook her head.

  “No, I miss the old know it all, too. She’s a lot comfier to sleep with than you, she doesn’t twist and turn the whole time she’s sleeping,” the feline admitted, seeming a bit sheepish. I couldn’t help feeling vaguely offended, sputtering for a moment.

  “Well you don’t have to use me in her absence! You have a cat bed!” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “It gets lonely. I may not seem like it, but I don’t exactly enjoy spending a lot of my time on my own. I had too many opportunities for that as a kitten... before you two found me in that cardboard box,” the feline sighed, seeming a bit reflective. I couldn’t help but reach down and rub her ears,
offering yet another liver treat.

  “I guess I can understand that. Still... You can tell me if I’m squirming too much, and I’ll try to stop. The way things are going, it doesn’t seem like Fern is going to be cutting her hours any time soon,” I mumbled, hopping up on the brick siding of the bridge and balancing my way along the path.

  “You know... I really thought that Dickney’s business partner may have had something to do with it. Even if he didn’t do it himself, isn’t it possible he hired a local hit-man? Maybe even Fang or Jimmy Jack!?” Moody exclaimed, getting a bit caught up in her theories.

  “Neither would have killed Dickney unless he did something completely unforgivable,” I said a bit sourly, watching the cat as she trotted ahead.

  “Some might have considered building that water park unforgivable. Most of the town did, I’m sure. Even the ghosts at the battlefield seemed upset about the prospect, but... y’know. What can they do about it? They’re ghosts,” Moody murmured. I stopped short, considering my feline companion’s words for a long moment.

  “You’re right, I guess. They couldn’t have really done anything. Hell, I doubt they would have done anything. Augustus has gone soft in his old age, and Little Timmy couldn’t hurt a fly,” I agreed, thinking about the prospect a moment longer. “You’d have to watch out for Mary Jane, though. She can be a bit of a firecracker, especially since the whole w omen's suffrage movement. I think she actually likes seeing modern women in their heels and skirts,” I chuckled, shaking my head a bit.

  “I’m sure it would have been another story entirely if a water park was built on what those ghoulies consider sacred property. Maybe Little Timmy not as much, but you can catch the Colonel and Mary Jane having a bit of spiritual fun over there to this day. Not that I like... watch,” Moody said hurriedly, glancing over her shoulder. I laughed a bit, remembering the look on Fern’s face when she’d seen the two ghosts engaged in such an activity.

  “No, they wouldn’t have done anything to cause the murder. But at the same time, they had to have been there that night, don’t you think? Augustus is always giving the teenage trespassers a bit of a scare when they drop their trash all over the place. Little Timmy still patrols the whole field, for reasons I’m not even sure of. If anyone knows what happened to Dickney, it would be those three, don’t you think?” I prompted, hopping down from the brick wall of the bridge and resting my hip against it. The river was in rare form, gushing along almost violently after the storm we’d had. It was a peaceful sound, yet it held so much underlying danger. “Don’t go chasing bullfrogs today. The river will sweep you away,” I ordered the feline gently, and Moody rolled her eyes.

  “You know, Dickney didn’t just have his eye on Hazel and Fern,” Moody said abruptly, pausing mid stride to look up at me. I chuckled a bit, crossing my arms.

  “I’m pretty sure Dickney had his eyes on every woman in the city, including you, Moody,” I teased, raising a brow at the uncomfortable look the feline was sporting.

  “He wasn’t a great guy, is all I’m saying. People like... you know, your friend. The city girl. Darlene...?” Moody trailed off, looking up at me.

  “Becky. Her name is Becky. We’ve been over this. And I’m pretty sure she would have told me if she had any troubles with Dickney, considering we spend every waking work hour together. It’d be a bit strange to not mention anything with all that’s happened, don’t you think?” I pointed out, not really giving it much thought.

  “It would be very strange...is very strange. I’m well aware of Dickney’s interest in your friend. Shortly after that shoddy businessman introduced his boot to my side, I happened across Dickney with a girl that looked like your friend. I can’t imagine there are many tourists as pretty as Becky that come to Stillwater,” Moody continued to muse, and I laughed in spite of myself.

  “Aw, you think Becky’s pretty? I’ll have to tell her you said so,” I teased, knowing full well I wouldn’t do as much. I already had the crazy cat lady down, so I didn’t need the whole town knowing I had conversations with my cat—especially Becky. As big of a heart as she had, she could be oblivious at times, and spent too much time with the town gossip, Amber. I was almost tempted to try and take another museum worker under my wing, show her how things really worked in Stillwater. Amber wasn’t the best judge of character, and God only knew what kind of ideas she’d been putting in the city girl’s head.

  “The point is... you should keep your eyes and ears open. Someone knows what happened, and that someone just isn’t telling. I don’t know about you, but I can’t understand why someone would protect a killer unless... well, they either knew the killer or held that position themselves,” Moody said darkly, glancing up at me before hopping back on the brick wall. “I’m going to see if there are any minnows in the pond shallows...the tides have probably risen, and the getting might be good. Want to join me?” The feline offered.

  “Actually... I think I have something else in mind. How about I catch up with you a little later? We’ll call it a rain check or something,” I grinned, tossing down a final liver treat for my feline companion to enjoy.

  “Alright. If I catch anything, I’ll be sure to leave the corpse on your pillow,” the cat called back over her shoulder as she darted down the rest of the bridge, making her way to that notorious Stillwater Pond. I made a face at the idea of waking up to fish guts in the bed beside me, but I didn’t have a lot of time to take that into consideration. I had a mission, and I wasn’t going to worry Fern with it unless I got some solid information.

  She’d been working enough, and we both knew how finicky spirits could be.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  While walking the path to the museum, I spent a bit of time considering how I would approach my ghoulish friends. It didn’t seem to be in good taste to simply walk up and demand to know how Dickney had died—implying that they knew anything, ghost or otherwise, just didn’t seem particularly kosher. Still, it wasn’t as if I could let this particular lead go unchecked. Fern was losing her cool rapidly and the entire town of Stillwater knew how my sister could be in one of her moods. I would practically be given the key of the city for avoiding a catastrophe that could even make Dickney’s murder seem mild. That may have been exaggerating a bit, but just the same, I was pretty sure it was in all of our best interests to deal with this situation before it got out of hand.

  Truthfully, I was surprised Fern hadn’t been pushing the spirits a lot harder for information. I wouldn’t have expected her to be particularly successful either way, but it was a bit surprising that she hadn’t even explored that avenue of investigation. We had a gift that not many in the world could claim, and I for one planned to take full advantage of it—regardless of whether I caught Augustus in one of his ranting moods. I would approach the subject delicately, of course, to the point that the spirits wouldn’t even realize they were being interrogated. Then, hopefully I would emerge with some information that could put this whole case to bed...and I was running out of option. It was a brisk day, and although the weather made for a pleasant walk, guilt still ate at my insides. Exploring a lead without Fern’s guidance could end badly, in more ways than one. She’d be furious at herself if, somehow, I managed to solve the mystery and she didn’t. It seemed unlikely, especially with how much effort and energy she was putting into the case, but I felt like that would somehow make it all the worse. I didn’t consider myself much of a detective by any means, don’t get me wrong. Fern just tended to overlook some of the more obvious, especially when it came to our magic. I figured it was because our whole lives, she’s just wanted to be a normal person. Personally, I thought normal could be a bit boring, but who was I to judge someone’s desires?

  Sighing, I decided to file that thought away for another day. I didn’t have time to mope around, reflecting on my sister’s occasional neurosis—as fun as it might have been. I had some spooky specters to question, and I didn’t plan to leave until I received some sort of answer. I threw open the doo
rs to the museum, deciding to check briefly in on Becky before moving on to my original goal. She was fidgeting around the exhibits, seeming to debate what light settings she was happiest with for the day. I chuckled a bit, approaching her from behind and resting a hand on her shoulder. She jolted, turning to face me with wide eyes. I smiled gently, but she didn’t seem particularly soothed, returning her attention to her work.

  “No time for your best buddy, Becks? Really? I thought I actually meant something to you,” I drawled, chuckling a bit as she smiled.

  “I don’t know that I would quite qualify you as my best buddy, no offense intended,” she replied, seeming to accept the way things were set up. For once, at least since Dickney kicked the bucket, it seemed the museum was having a bit of a slow day. Her words struck me a bit belatedly, and I raised a brow daringly.

  “Oh? We’re not best pals then? Not compadres? Not even The Two Musketeers?” I mused, pretending that she had committed an atrocity against me. She seemed to believe me for what it was worth, but before I could cut the act, she chuckled a bit sadly.