Confessions of a Teenage Slayer (Sister Witchcraft Book 2)

by J. D. Winters

  I thought back to the victim, the man Sybil had called Richie. Sandy hair, average looks, sort of like the Cunningham kid in Happy Days without the red hair and freckles. He looked to be about Sybil’s age—early thirties. I supposed she might have known him in high school, though it didn’t seem as though he was well-known in town these days.

  I quickly ran over what I knew about my sister’s life and realized suddenly that there wasn’t much. She’d always seemed so much older than I was—actually she was 24 when I turned seventeen—the last year we’d both lived here in town, so the gap had been pretty wide. I remembered that year well. She was working as a paralegal for a group of lawyers downtown. That was the year Gary came to town and swept her off her feet. At least that’s the way that she tells it. I hardly noticed it at the time. Funny how you can live in the same house with someone and hardly ever see them.

  I needed to find out more about my sister. Who was I going to turn to? Her husband, Gary? Hardly! He didn’t even know much about our family’s witchy background and Sybil was making sure that he stayed as clueless as possible.

  Our youngest sister, Lucy? She had stayed behind when I went off to college, but I doubted she saw much of newly wed Sybil in those years. And once she came to live with me, I’d been more a parent to her than a sister.

  Who knew the sort of information I was looking for? Who had been around in the days when Sybil was young and I was too young to pay attention to what my sister was up to? It took only moments for the image of the Secret Angels to swim into my mind’s eyes. Four sweet middle-aged ladies who looked for good works to perform at all times. They knew everything that was going on.

  Of course! The Angels would surely remember Sybil. They’d been my Grand-Mere’s best friends, probably had stood by her through thick and thin and teenaged dramas with bad boys on motorcycles and such. And best friends are usually pretty free and easy with family news, aren’t they? Whatever — I was going to have to make a visit to those ladies to find out.

  Sybil had gone to college in San Francisco, but she’d come back home right after graduation, talking about law school and but only getting as far as paralegal studies. Maybe that was still a dream for her, I really didn’t know. Shouldn’t I know? Shouldn’t I know all of my sister’s dreams and heartaches? It only seemed right. Great. A new project.

  I was going to find out everything I could about my sister—starting with the Secret Angels.

  Lucy and I were staying with Sybil and her family until we managed to find a contractor to do some renovations on Grand-Mere’s place, so that it would be habitable. It was a little crowded, but so far we’d been doing fine there. So I was knocked back on my heels to find that a state of war had been declared that afternoon, and emotions were roiling like warmed over oatmeal.

  As I walked up to the house, I saw Gary backing out of the driveway in the SUV, the two girls in the back seat. He roared off as though glad to escape and I wondered right away what was going on.

  I found out soon enough. Once in the house, I found Lucy crying angry tears as she stomped around the kitchen putting away just cleaned plates and muttering about truth and injustice. Meanwhile, Sybil was on the back porch, whispering into her cell phone. She snapped it shut the moment she caught me watching her, but she didn’t say a word as she marched into the house and headed for the stairs as though to avoid having to speak to me.

  “What’s the matter with everyone?” I asked Lucy.

  “Ask her,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of where Sybil was disappearing.

  “You and Sybil are fighting?” I asked in surprise. I thought I was the one always arguing with Lucy-and she was often a handful. But our older sister usually sat back with a slightly amused look and let me handle things. I’d been pretty sure she felt she had enough on her plate with her own two young girls.

  “She’s just so mean,” Lucy announced. “I didn’t know she was prejudiced.”

  I blinked. “Prejudiced? Against whom?”

  She flashed me her big brown eyes. “Against teenaged boys.”

  “Oh.” The light dawned. “You brought a boy home with you from school?”

  She nodded and sniffed pitifully.

  “And what happened?”

  “She…she…she rejected him!” The tears were starting up again.

  I reached out and took her hand, hoping to apply some comfort. “In what way? I mean, did she just tell him no visitors? Or make it personal?”

  Her lower lip thrust out. “She told him I was grounded. I’m not grounded. That was a complete lie.”

  As far as I knew, Lucy was right. Funny, that didn’t seem like Sybil at all.

  “She made him leave and then she started saying things about demons.”

  “Demons!” That sounded even less like my staid and serious sister. Demons? Wasn’t that more in my department?

  “I really wanted him to stay for dinner,” she fretted, snapping her dishtowel at the granite counter top like a whip. “He’s kind of homeless and I don’t think he’s had a good meal in days. I wanted…”

  “What?” I said, startled. “Homeless?”

  She looked like she regretted having put it that way. “Well, not homeless exactly. But his parents have disappeared and he’s staying with friends or something. I don’t know. I was going to find out more about it when he was here with me. And now, he’ll never come back here again!”

  “Oh Lucy.”

  “I think I’ll just go down to L.A. and see my old friends,” she said, sulking. “I could hitchhike you know. I could start down tomorrow and Sybil would never…”

  That one threw real fear into my soul. I grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Listen to me young lady, you can’t do that. You promised me a good three months and then we would reevaluate your situation. You haven’t given me those three months yet. So don’t you even think about it!”

  She sniffed but wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I hate Sybil,” she muttered.

  “No you don’t. I’m the one who is going to make sure you stay here. Hate me if you want to. I happen to love you. A lot. And I won’t let you ruin your life just because you’re mad at Sybil.”

  I pulled her to me and hugged her, hard. She cried a little. I cried a little. And then we both felt better.

  “Okay, we’ll talk about this some more tomorrow,” I promised her. “And we’ll get that boy over here for a good meal. Okay? But we have to talk to Sybil about it first. We can’t spring things on her.”

  I hesitated, wondering if I should tell Lucy about what had happened that afternoon, how Sybil had seen someone she obviously knew die. That might make her understand her sister’s mood a bit more. But still—it wasn’t my secret. I would have to clear it with my sister first. And that was getting harder and harder to do the way she was avoiding me.

  A half hour later, I went to Sybil’s door and knocked.

  “Syb? I need to talk to you.”

  She opened the door a crack. She was still on that darn phone.

  “I’m sorry Mimi,” she said stiffly. “I’m busy right now.”

  “Uh…how about Max’s camera? You’ve got it. Don’t you?”

  She pressed the phone against her chest. “Yes, I have it. Why?”

  “Well, he needs it. He asked me to make sure you got it back to him right away.”

  “Yes, of course. Don’t worry about it.”

  I hesitated. “But…when?”

  “I’ll take care of it. Good night Mimi. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She closed the door.

  I stood there staring at it, feeling as though she’d slammed it in my face. What on earth was going on with her?

  Gary and the girls were back soon after. He’d taken them for ice cream and they were giddy with the deliciousness of it all. I helped him calm them down and put them to bed, but Sybil was once again AWOL through the whole thing. So unusual.

  I was almost asleep when Max called. I picked up my cell and muttered something, th
en woke up a bit more as I realized who it was.

  “Here’s the latest,” he was saying. “The victim’s name is Rick Littleton. He grew up here in town, but he’s been living in Texas for the last ten years. Just came back a few weeks ago.”

  “Huh.” What had my sister called him? Richie? That would fit, wouldn’t it?

  “Cause of death determined yet?”

  “Oh sure. He was hit by a car alright. Right out behind the place, in the alley.”

  I shook my groggy head and realized I’d been told that before. “Poor guy. Who hit him?”

  “Seems to be a hit and run.”

  “Right out behind the Shady Tree? Didn’t anyone see it?”

  “The cops put out a bulletin asking for witnesses to come forward. So far, nothing.”

  I grunted sleepily. “Well, I doubt suspicions will land on those two Jiggs women. That waitress, Beanie, told me they were at the movies. They always go on Thursdays.”

  “That’s convenient.” He coughed. “No real suspects yet. I’ll keep you up to date.”

  I laughed softly. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “I mean, I’m not really your assistant. Am I?”

  His voice changed. It seemed more intimate somehow. “You seemed interested. And to tell you the truth, I like bouncing things off you. You actually listen to what I’m saying. Maybe you don’t know how rare a quality that is.”

  “Interesting.” I yawned, even though I was warmed by his words. “But I have to go to sleep now.”

  “Okay. You got my camera?”

  A guilty pang flashed through me. “I’ll bring it to you in the morning,” I said without admitting anything.

  “Okay. Signing off.”

  And he was gone. I lay back against the pillow wondering about the man. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if he was just a friend or potentially something more. And I also wasn’t sure if I cared either way. Hah!

  Chapter 3

  I overslept the next morning and by the time I got up, Lucy had left for school and Sybil and Gary were both gone. I assumed Sybil was taking the girls to their nearby elementary school and would be back shortly, but after half an hour of drinking coffee and staring out at the trees that lined the street they lived on, I realized she wasn’t coming back.

  I went upstairs and stood outside her bedroom for a good five minutes, tempted to go in and look for Max’s camera. But I finally decided against it. It just didn’t feel right to barge in without permission. I wouldn’t want someone going through my things.

  Not that I have anything to hide—or thought Sybil might. But still….

  I wasn’t scheduled to be at the tea shop until later that day, so I decided to take a walk. Maybe I would come across where Sybil was visiting.

  Lafay is such a pretty town. Most homes in our neighborhood are bungalows in Craftsman style, following the pattern of Arts and Crafts builders of the twenties and thirties of a century ago. That means lots of native materials, broad front porches, natural beams and rafters showing, stone and wood and bright color trim. Many have beautiful beveled glass windows which looked like they belonged in an art museum. A walk down the street was always great entertainment.

  But today, I had another purpose. I wanted to find Sybil before I talked to Max again. This issue of the camera was beginning to nag at me in a very bad way. What reason could Sybil possibly have for clinging to it the way she was?

  An old VW wreck of a bug came sputtering around the corner. I looked up and realized it was too late to avoid Max. He was here.

  “Hey,” I said as he cruised up and stopped beside me. “Where are you off to?”

  He gave me a growl. “I don’t see my camera.”

  “I’ll get it to you,” I promised. “I’m not going to carry it around town with me.”

  He grimaced, but didn’t push it. “Okay. Hop in.”

  I hesitated. If he thought we could go back to the house and get it…. But no. He was all wrapped up in the Shady Tree Alley hit and run case.

  “Hurry. The cops are going to be questioning the Jiggs sisters any minute now. Sgt. Frisco said I could sit in, as long as I keep it on background and don’t quote them or take pictures.”

  We’d gotten to know Sgt. Frisco during the investigation into the man who died on Opening Day for my tea shop and we’d become pretty friendly with him. Not only was he a nice man, he came in handy as a contact when inquiries and analysis of crimes came into play. And the way things were going, I had a feeling they just might.

  I hopped in, sliding down onto a seat that had seen better days. In fact, the stuffing didn’t have anything covering it anymore—except for an old beach towel someone had put there.

  “Ee..eugh,” I said.

  “Toughen up, babe,” he shot back. “If you want to be in the news business, you’re going to find yourself in all sorts of situations, good, bad and ugly.”

  “I suppose I would expect that,” I admitted. “But I didn’t know the bad and the ugly would include the very car I get ferried around in. You ought to clean up your act, newsboy.”

  He grinned, and we tore off toward the Shady Tree Café.

  The Shady Tree served breakfast-- it was open most of the day. But not today. In fact, the entrance was blocked off with yellow tape and when we went inside, there were only a few people already there.

  Macy and Stacy Jiggs were sitting in straight-backed chairs and looking very nervous. The detective was sitting across from them. Sergeant Frisco flashed us a cool look, gesturing toward the back area where we could watch unobtrusively, and we followed his suggestion, then tried to make ourselves tiny and invisible. I even had the impulse to hold my breath, but that didn’t last long.

  “Now according to your answers last night, the two of you were at the Starlite movie theater yesterday afternoon. Can you give me the exact time you left for the theater?”

  Macy cleared her throat and seemed to stutter. With her short black hair in an Italian bob, she looked the most fashionable of the middle aged pair.

  “Uh…uh…I think it was about two when we left. Wasn’t it, Stacy?”

  Stacy nodded vigorously, her purple hair flying wildly with each nod.

  I shook my head. For a pair of witches, they were disappointing me. I mean, they are our enemies, but still…. They’re supposed to be self respecting witches. Here they were, almost blubbering. So they went to the movies? So what? It’s allowed.

  But I soon found out why they were so nervous. It seemed they hadn’t been at the movies at all!

  “We’ve talked to the employees at the Starlite…”

  “One of whom happens to be his girl friend,” Max whispered to me, referring to the detective. I was shocked.

  “…and they claim you didn’t attend at any time yesterday, afternoon or evening. Can you explain that, please?”

  They both looked deflated. Their shoulders sagged and they looked at each other sadly.

  “The Jigg is up,” Max whispered to me and covered his mouth while he giggled. I gave him a sharp stab in the ribs with my elbow. He was going to get us kicked out if he wasn’t careful, and I wanted to take it all in.

  “Are you ready to tell us where you really were yesterday afternoon?”

  The two women shared a panicked look, then Macy pointed at me. “Does she have to be here?” she said. “Isn’t this supposed to be private? What is she doing here?”

  She had a point. I would feel the same way. I shrugged and rose, waving at the police and heading for the kitchen, feeling all eyes on me as I went. Once I was out of their sight, I stopped and listened hard. Yes! I could still make out most of what they were saying if I stayed very quiet. Now holding my breath was working for me.

  The detective was saying something about the café’s panel van—the one with the picture of Macy and Stacy painted right on the side, grinning at the world.

  “We’ll need a list of everyone who had access to the keys of the van, along with….”

  “How do you know it
was our van that hit him?” one of them was crying out as though in anguish. “How can you tell?”

  “Forensics has gone over it very carefully,” the detective told them. “There’s blood evidence, along with fibers from his clothing. And a dent in the fender. There’s no doubt that he was hit by that van. And as long as there weren’t other cars hitting him too, we’re pretty confident we can say the van is the murder weapon.”

  “Murder weapon?” they both cried at once.

  “Uh…vehicle that hit Mr. Littleton, causing his death.”

  “But we were gone and we didn’t take the van. We took the Cadillac. We always take the Cadillac when we…go to the movies.”

  “But you weren’t at the movies.”

  “We weren’t at the Starlite. We were…someplace else.”

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist, ladies. I need to know where you were.”

  One of the women was moaning and everybody was talking at once and suddenly Max was coming out into the kitchen.

  “Did they kick you out, too?” I whispered.

  He nodded. “Let’s go,” he said, pointing at the back door—the very door the victim must have come to after he was hit. For just a second, I thought I could picture him there, struggling to make it to where he could get help—and all to no avail. Poor guy.

  “I’ve just got a text with some new info from Carla,” Max said, mentioning the woman who ran his office for him—since he was so seldom in there. “She says the victim was living with his uncle who has a car repair place—I guess a garage and body shop--right down the alley here. Let’s look into it. Maybe we can hit him up before the cops get there.”

  I glanced at my watch. I still had plenty of time--hours in fact-- before a two o’clock bridal shower was coming in for a special high tea. I followed Max into the alley, wondering why he just assumed I was coming with him no matter where he went.

  But that was okay. I loved a mystery and I loved being involved. I went along willingly. I just wanted a little credit while I was at it.

  “So do you think the Jiggs gals did it?” I asked Max hopefully.