“Did you get it all written down Jax?” Sweets asked the small girl after they’d said goodbye to Grandma Porter.
Jax nodded. “I think so. She rattled it off awful fast, but I think I got it all figured out. It sounds complicated.”
Holly’s eyes widened. “It sounds fattening! All that butter, sugar, and heavy cream! It sounds so unhealthy Sweets. Are you sure that’s what you want to make for the contest?”
Sweets looked appalled. “How can you say that? Of course, I’m sure that’s what I want to make for the contest! Not only is it a Porter family recipe, but it’s my favorite pie! It’s sure to win the contest! I can’t submit anything subpar to Mr. Bailey!”
Holly widened her eyes but cast her baby blues towards the floor. “Alright, whatever you say, but I think Jax and I should make our own version. A healthier version. With less fat and fewer calories.”
Sweets laughed. “You? You want to bake?”
Holly looked hurt. “What? You think you’re the only one around here who can mix a couple of ingredients together in the kitchen?”
Alba laughed, despite the fact that she was worried about her husband. The temptation to zing Holly was just too great. “Ha Cosmo! Using the smoke alarm as your timer does not make you a chef.”
Holly shot Alba a face. “You just watch. Jax and I will come up with a healthy pie that will win Mr. Bailey’s pie competition!”
“You do that!” Alba jeered. “And while you do. I’m going to go look for my husband!”
9
“So where do we start looking?” I asked Alba as we stepped out onto the street, the bright rays of sunshine hit our faces, causing us to each raise a hand to shield our eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about it. The only clue we have is the name. Arthur Maxwell. Tony had to get that name from somewhere. Whether that woman told him that was his name, or maybe it’s the lead singer of a band, or maybe a customer he had, or maybe it’s from a book, but it had to come from somewhere. That’s not just a name you invent is it?”
I shook my head. “No. I agree with you. You’re right. We need to figure out the name. It could help us find him.”
“I think we should go to the library and look it up. I already texted my mom and asked her to go through the records at work and see if maybe Tony had a customer by that name. We can look it up online and see if there are any public figures with the name. There’s got to be something we’re missing.”
“Agreed,” I said, following Alba down the street and around the corner. The library was within walking distance only a few blocks away, as almost everything in downtown Aspen Falls was.
“So. What are you going to say to Tony when we find him?” I asked as we walked along the street in silence.
Alba looked up at me curiously. “What do you mean? I have no idea. Am I supposed to have a speech prepared?”
“Well, no, of course not. I just thought maybe your reunitement would be just what the doctor ordered to put the spark back in your marriage.”
Alba smiled softly. “Look Red. You need to understand something. Tony and I have a complicated relationship. I’m going to be happy to find him because I want him to be safe, but we aren’t the sparky type of couple. We’re plain and basic. We aren’t about the romance.”
“Everyone’s about the romance, Alba. I saw your face when you saw the flowers Tony was bringing you. You felt it. You felt that spark of romance, and you enjoyed it. He drove all the way out here to surprise you and bring you flowers. That’s romantic. And it did something to you. It doesn’t matter that you’d gone two months without seeing each other before that. He was trying. And so you need to try. You have to give him credit for trying.”
“Do we have to talk about this?” Alba asked, intentionally avoiding eye contact with me.
I knew this subject would make her uncomfortable, but I also knew how uncomfortable she had been all school year when she hadn’t heard from Tony. He had hurt her, and I knew she was having a hard time letting it go. I hated to see the two of them reunite and then have nothing change between them. Obviously Tony was all in, or else he wouldn’t have driven all the way out to see her.
“Yes, we have to talk about this!” I told her. “We’re going to find Tony, and I want you to be prepared. How are you going to show him that you love him?”
Alba ran a hand across the back of her neck uneasily as we approached the brick building across from the police station. “I appreciate the opinion, Red. I know you’re just trying to help, but I think it’s time for you to butt out when it comes to our relationship.”
I threw my hands up in the air, frustrated. I didn’t know how to get through to her. “Fine, Alba. Whatever, let’s just find him and then you can do whatever you need to do. Where do we start?” I asked her, standing in the middle of the small town library.
“We start on the computer, come on,” she said, leading me towards the row of three computers next to a magazine rack.
I slid down into the chair next to Alba and wiggled the mouse. The black screen on the monitor flickered awake, and immediately I opened their internet browser and typed in Arthur Maxwell.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “How are we supposed to know what any of this means?” I asked, scrolling through the pages of information about Arthur Maxwell’s that existed through the ages.
Alba shook her head. “I have no idea. Look there are a ton of them. We need to be more specific. Type in Jersey City as a keyword, too.”
I did as she instructed and came up empty. “No one is popping up. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack, Alba. I don’t think this is going to work.” Suddenly an idea popped into my head and without a word, I typed, Arthur Maxwell, Aspen Falls, PA, into the search engine. And just like that, my search changed. I gasped. “Alba! Look!”
Alba followed my finger, which was pointing at the first several results on the screen. “There was an Arthur Maxwell from Aspen Falls? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
I clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Open the first one,” she instructed.
I clicked on the first headline that read Arthur Maxwell of Aspen Falls Killed in Fiery Car Crash. “It’s from 2006,” I told her when the article from the Aspen Falls Observer opened up.
“Scroll down,” she ordered, her eyes glued to the computer screen. “Arthur Maxwell, 27, of Aspen Falls, Pennsylvania was killed Thursday, November 2nd, 2006 as a result of injuries sustained in a car accident. Authorities say that his southbound 2002 Honda Accord, crossed into the northbound lane on Augustus Hill, and hit a guardrail early Thursday morning. After striking the guard rail, his car flipped over and careened down an embankment where it subsequently caught fire. Authorities believe that an early November snowstorm played a role in the accident. The victim was taken to the Aspen Falls Medical Center but died shortly thereafter. Arthur Maxwell is survived by his mother and father, Sharlene and Michael Maxwell, his grandmother Charlotte Maxwell, and one uncle, Samuel Davis. Funeral services will be held on Tuesday, November 7th at the Arcadia Church of Christ on Benjamin Avenue,” she read.
“Wow. There was an actual Arthur Maxwell,” I said.
“And he was killed on November 2nd. Tony was brought into the Aspen Falls Medical Center on the 1st of November, ten years later. Isn’t that a bit of a coincidence?”
I nodded slowly. That thought hadn’t occurred to me. “What’s going on?” I asked Alba.
Alba stood up. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out!”
“Where are we going?” I asked her, as we raced out of the library.
“To see Detective Whitman. He’s got to know something about that case!”
We crossed the street and threw open the front door of the police station. Officer Vargas was seated behind the bulletproof plexiglass window. He rolled his eyes but didn’t even speak before buzzing us back.
“He’s in his office,” he said monotonously.
“Thank you,” said Alba as we rushed past the off
icer. Alba gave Detective Whitman only a one-second heads up, knocking on the door frame, before bursting in.
Detective Whitman looked up from the sandwich he had just bitten into. “Hello ladies,” he said through a mouthful of bread and salami.
“We’ve got information to share,” Alba said breathlessly, taking a seat in front of Detective Whitman’s desk.
“Don’t mind me,” he said. “Just having my lunch.”
“You can keep eating,” she assured him. “You just have to listen.”
“I’m listening,” he said, taking another big bite.
“We just went to the library and did a little research on the name Arthur Maxwell. I thought maybe it was the name of the lead singer of a band or something that Tony listened to. But get this – there was an Arthur Maxwell that was from Aspen Falls. He was in a car accident and killed on November 2nd, 2006! He was even taken to Aspen Falls Medical Center. Isn’t that crazy?” Alba asked. She was more animated than I’d ever seen her before, I could tell she felt like we were getting closer and closer to Tony.
Detective Whitman shrugged. “There is only one medical center in Aspen Falls so that part isn’t so crazy. Where else would they take him? It is a little interesting that there was someone with that name that lived in Aspen Falls,” he admitted.
“You don’t think it’s strange that almost 10 years later, to the day, Tony goes to the hospital without a name and the name he picks when he wakes up is Arthur Maxwell, the same name as another man who was in a car accident and taken to the same hospital?!” I asked, stunned that he wasn’t more surprised.
“I guess the universe works in mysterious ways,” he said, sipping on a fountain drink on his desk.
“I guess it does,” Alba said patronizingly. “I feel like this is a clue, though. Don’t you?”
“How so?”
“How so? Are you kidding? This is all just too bizarre to not be related. My husband is missing, and this is what we have to go on. Can you at least research his family? His parents’ names are Michael and Sharlene Maxwell, he has a grandmother named Charlotte Maxwell, and an uncle named…,” Alba looked at me. “What was the uncle’s name, Red?”
“Davis.”
“Oh, yeah, something Davis. The obituary is on the internet if you need more information. Can you please just look into the family and see what you find? Dr. Hamley said that he left with a woman that the nurses were calling Grandma Maxwell – so start with the grandmother. Please?”
Detective Whitman put down his sandwich and gave us a tight smile. “It sounds far-fetched, to be honest. To think that this dead Arthur Maxwell’s grandmother would come and steal your husband? Do you hear me? I mean do you hear the words coming out of my mouth,” he said, gesturing towards his mouth with raised eyebrows. “Can you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”
“Ugh,” Alba groaned, smacking her forehead as she leaned back in her chair. “I don’t care how ridiculous it sounds. Tony is missing, and we have no other leads and nowhere else to look. Can’t you just check into it?”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t check into it. I just said it sounds ridiculous – which it does. But I’ve seen ridiculous things happen, so I’ll check. Ok?”
Alba nodded. “Ok. Thanks, Detective.”
“Mercy, do I need to bring anything for Thanksgiving dinner, Thursday?” he asked. “Your mother invited me. She said she’s having a big get together?”
I nodded and gave him a smile. “I think she’s got the food covered. Did she also tell you that Reign invited his father?”
Instantly Detective Whitman’s smile disappeared. “No. She didn’t mention it.”
I gave him a somber face and pointed at him before leaving. “So you better bring your A-game!”
10
We walked into the smell of bacon sizzling on the griddle the next morning. Reign was manning the kitchen at Habernackle’s. He had on his usual uniform of jeans and a v-neck t-shirt, but he’d added a green Habernackle’s apron, and a dish towel slung over one shoulder.
I let the reusable shopping bag I carried slip over my shoulder as I sat it down on the counter. “Hey Reign,” I greeted him with a half smile.
“You look tired,” he commented, giving me a kiss on my cheek as I brushed past him to peek over the double swinging doors into the dining area.
“That’s code for you look like crap, right? You know you’re never supposed to say that to a woman. Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend?” I asked him, as I watched my mother scurry from one table to the next with a pot of coffee.
“So funny, Sis,” he said with a chuckle.
“You guys are busy again today. This restaurant thing is really taking off, huh?”
“We’re actually making enough money to think about hiring,” Reign stated proudly, flipping the eggs he was tending.
“Ooh, can I work here?” Jax asked as she breezed in through the back door carrying another shopping bag filled with pie ingredients.
“You’d really want to work for me? I can be tough,” Reign joked with a smirk.
“I’d work for you,” Holly said following Jax in. “And I’d look hot in my uniform, too.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Reign, causing his cheeks to redden slightly.
Alba rolled her eyes. “Can we not make today about flirting with the brother?” she asked Holly pointedly.
Holly groaned. “I don’t know? Can your mouth not throw insults all day?”
Reign slipped the eggs onto a plate and handed it to me. “Ladies, when I told you that you could use the kitchen to make pies I didn’t realize there was going to be girl drama attached. How about we try and have a pleasant day together?” He turned his attention towards me. “Can you please put two pieces of toast on that and take it to Mom?”
I groaned. I hadn’t come to Habernackle’s to work. I’d come to help keep Alba’s mind off of her missing husband, and I knew that sitting around an empty dorm room and an empty campus wasn’t going to do her any favors. Stiffly, I dropped two pieces of toast onto the plate and took it out to find my mother.
“Thank you,” Reign called after me.
“Mercy!” said Mom happily when she saw me round the corner from the bar. “When did you get here? I didn’t see you come in.”
I shrugged as I handed her the plate. “We parked in the back. Sweets bought groceries, so we just unloaded them into the kitchen.”
“Well this is exciting that you girls are going to have a pie making day,” she gushed. She reached a hand out and grabbed my arm before I could walk away. I stopped moving and looked her in the eyes. “Any news on Tony?”
I shook my head and followed her to her next table. “Not really. Alba and I researched the name, Arthur Maxwell. We found out that there was an Arthur Maxwell from Aspen Falls. He was killed in a car crash on November 2nd, 2006 and he was taken to the Aspen Falls Medical Center. Isn’t that interesting? Tony was brought into the med center on November 1st, 2016, almost ten years to the day after Arthur Maxwell died and then when Tony woke up he was calling himself by that guy’s name. So strange. We just don’t know what to make of it.”
“I don’t understand? Is it a clue of some sort?” she asked.
“We think it is, Alba and I, but Detective Whitman thinks it’s ridiculous, but he’s looking into it. He’s going to give us a call if he finds out anything.”
My mother nodded. “Good. I just really wish that I could remember where I’ve heard the name Maxwell before. I wonder if I went to school with a Maxwell or something.”
I got the odd sensation that someone was staring at me, so I looked down to see an old man at the table next to us giving me a big grin. I gave him a tight smile back and slowly spun on my heel to return to the kitchen. When I was about six steps from Mom, I turned around again. “Oh, and Mom. I told D.W. that you invited Reign’s dad to Thanksgiving. He said you hadn’t told him. You’re welcome.”
I didn’t stick around to watch my mother’s jaw drop. Instead, I bounc
ed back into the kitchen where Holly and Alba were already practically murdering each other.
“Mercy, you really need to do something about these two. I can’t work with them screaming at each other all day,” Reign complained.
I let out a ragged breath and rubbed my forehead in frustration. “They just need direction. Sweets, what can Alba do to keep her occupied?”
“I need these apples peeled,” Sweets suggested, holding up two small bags of apples.
“Both bags?” I asked.
She nodded. “Grandma said she thought the pie came out better if she used half Granny Smith and half Fuji and I’m tripling the recipe, so I have enough for the Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing the two bags from Sweets’ hands. “Reign, where are your peelers?”
He pointed to a drawer. “Over there. You can pull that garbage can up to the counter,” he instructed.
“Great. Alba, here you go. Start peeling,” I said, handing her the bag.
“Holly, don’t you have a healthy pie to start making?”
“Yes, Jax and I are making a sugar-free, wheat crust, pumpkin pie with a low-fat cream topping.”
Sweets rolled her eyes as she pulled out two round mixing bowls from the cabinet. “Sounds delish,” she said mockingly.
“Shush!” Jax cried. “It’s going to be amazing! Just you wait. Mr. Bailey is going to be amazed at how healthy and colorful it is. Maybe he’ll even want us to come up with a whole new healthy pie line for his bakery! You’ll be jealous then, won’t you?”
Sweets laughed. “Bring it, sister,” she scoffed.
Holly pulled her can of pumpkin puree out of her grocery sack and held it up. “Oh, it’s on!”
“You’re using canned pumpkin?” Sweets asked with a haughty grin.
Holly looked down at the can in her hand cluelessly. “Where else do you get pumpkin for pumpkin pie?”
Sweets couldn’t help but giggle as Alba and I rolled our eyes. “You two really think you’re going to win this? When’s the last time you baked anything?”
Witch Pie: A Witch Squad Holiday Special (A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 6