Still, I couldn’t very well ask her not to come. It would be beyond rude—and as much as I was tempted to ask her to leave our pal George at home, I knew that wouldn’t work in my favor either. So, swallowing my pride, I glanced over to Fern with a morose look. My fiery haired sister seemed to have no idea regarding the gravity of the situation, so I steeled myself before replying to the elder witch.
“That’s great, Mom. I know you’ve been discussing the reenactment with George, and he didn’t seem particularly thrilled about the whole idea. How’d you change his mind?” I inquired, feigning interest as I watched my sister’s face fall. Fern fidgeted with her radio, glancing at me with yet another apologetic expression. “Go,” I mouthed quietly, and she didn’t have to be told twice, shouting some excuse about being radioed out. Our mother didn’t seem particularly displeased, though she had always been rather proud of how Fern had so quickly risen in the ranks. She was proud of me as well, of course, but a job at the local Civil War museum wasn’t exactly the same as going out, solving crimes and saving lives. Since the incident with Dickney, things had been blessedly quiet.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I only caught the tail end of my mother’s explanation. I blinked slowly, debating whether it was worth asking her to repeat herself. Reluctantly, I decided that I should at least pretend to care about the situation.
“Sorry, ma. I didn’t quite catch that. How did you convince him?” I repeated, cringing at her airy laugh.
“Oh, I promised him a perfectly romantic time at the local inn. Saves you girls from having to clean up the guest room, I know how messy you leave it,” she said coyly, and I resisted the desire to make a soft ‘blech’ noise. I could only imagine what George expected the two of them to get up to in that inn, but I didn’t want to consider it too deeply. As she’d implied, housing the two of them in our cottage had been a bit difficult, especially considering how paper thin the walls could be.
“Sounds... nice. When will the two of you be arriving?” I asked politely, and my Mom only laughed again.
“That’s a surprise, dear! I know how much you love a good mystery,” she teased before continuing. “I have noticed the speed limits in this little county are ridiculous. Forty five on a back street? There aren’t even any schools nearby. Oh well. I guess that is a mystery for you and Fern to investigate,” the elder witch replied, and I could already hear my mother’s boyfriend grousing in the background. Resisting the urge to grumble, I kept my voice as upbeat and cheerful as possible.
“You two don’t have to actually come to the Civil War Reenactment, you know. There are so many things to do in Stillwater, I don’t know that you’ll have time,” I said carefully, internally groaning as my mother scoffed.
“You put that event together every year, Mazie. Of course we’re coming to see it. Don’t mind Georgie, he can be a bit of a sourpuss,” she said dismissively, and I listened idly as her connection began to cut out. I could only guess she was going through the short stretch of road that received neither cell nor web service. I could hear her trying to say something or another, but deciding I wasn’t really in the mood to hear it, I only laughed.
“Okay Mom, you’re breaking up—and no, I’m not just making an excuse not to talk to you. I can meet the two of you at the inn and help you unpack your things for the duration of your stay. I’ll see you soon.” I piped up cheerfully, before swiftly ending the call. I frowned, leaning back against the nearest wall for support. My Mom, as I said, is a witch as well as Fern and myself. Her skills are more related to the home and hearth, however. She casts the best protection spells I’ve ever witnessed. Still, we had to be careful with our magic around George, because as enamored as the older woman was with the man, we had collectively decided to keep our magic a secret... for the time being, at least. You could never tell how someone would react to that sort of revelation.
Deciding that I certainly didn’t want to spend my day musing on my mother’s jerk of boyfriend, I strode towards the back exit before stepping back out onto the battlefield. Things seemed to have resumed as usual, but my work was never really done. I strode across the battlefield, taking in the collective efforts of the townsfolk. Little Timmy and Mary Jane seemed to have completely forgotten the fight that had taken place, as they moved so quickly I could barely make out their forms—could only recognize the familiar ectoplasmic dust they left behind. The Colonel—the real Colonel, mind you—seemed less than thrilled about the entire situation. I suppose I could see why he was a bit dour about the whole thing, but he was so glamorized in the reenactment, I felt he could have been a little more cheerful.
Deciding to leave well enough alone for now, I strode across the field just in time to nearly trip over Moody. I swore, staggering forward a bit before managing to catch my balance. Moody laughed, as I should have expected from the feline.
“Wow, Mazie. You’re letting that hag Norma get to you this much? She and her brother both seem a bit... entitled. The biddy has been trying to make a splash ever since she moved to Stillwater,” Moody paused, grooming herself for a moment. “I suppose she’s made progress if having the entire town hate your guts counts as making a splash,” she finished, snickering under her breath. I rolled my eyes, all too ready to be done with this whole ridiculous situation.
“Mom and her boyfriend are going to be here... sometime. She didn’t tell me when, because that’s Mom for you,” I said drolly. Moody hackled a bit, obviously displeased by the notion.
“You know I hate that guy. He’s a creep,” Moody said in a surly tone, and I could only shrug though I completely agreed with that assessment.
“Well, there’s not much to be done about it, is there? It’s Mom, Moody. You know how she can be,” I sighed, staring at my feline companion for a moment longer. “I guess I should go to the Inn and wait for them, knowing those two, they’ll need serious help unloading,” I grumbled, somewhat pleased when Moody fell into step beside me. As if reading my mind, she offered me a deadpan expression.
“There’s no reason for me to stick around here. The mice will get what’s coming another day, I suppose,” she said dismissively. I was confident that she was actually making an effort to be comforting, but the big ball of fuzz would never admit as much. She was the first to step back into the museum, launching up around a foot in the air when the doors to the front entrance slammed open. My mouth hung agape as my mother bustled into the museum, followed closely by a red-faced George.
“Mazie, baby! It has been too long! Come give mama a hug,” she cooed, drawing me into her arms. I stood a good head taller than her, so it was a bit of an awkward hug, but it was somehow comforting as well. Maybe I had missed my mother more than I thought. I glanced towards George, who seemed to be caught up in his mind—stewing about something, presumably.
“It’s great to see you, ma. Uhm... hi George. How have you been?” I forced out the latter part of the statement, desperately pretending to care about the invariable woe filled rant the man would launch into.
“How do you think I’ve been, Mazie? I wanted to stay home and watch the game, but your Mom dragged me out of my house to see this stupid reenactment. She’s been talking about it nonstop, like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. Don’t you people have anything to do besides live in the past and leech off of the community teet?” He said without any form of composure, and I raised a brow, more than mildly taken aback by his rudeness.
“Uh. I wouldn’t say I live in the past, George. I just work on preserving as much as I can. That’s my job, you know,” I said, possibly not as politely as I could have on my part, either. He rolled his eyes, gesturing vaguely towards the back side of the museum.
“And getting dressed up to act like a bunch of ninnies is your idea of preserving history? When are you going to get a real job, Mazie—,” he began, though I was only faintly listening as I heard the door open in the middle of his tirade. I glanced up, relieved to see it was just Becky. She had not had the opportu
nity to meet my strange... extended family, nor my mother. I was tempted to introduce to the two in hopes that it would cool the older man down—Becky tended to have a way with men, but then again, my Mom’s boyfriend was a pig. Before I could even consider speaking again, George was leering at the younger museum worker in a way that made me distinctly uncomfortable. “You work at this dump, too? You’re a pretty little thing, why on Earth would you move to Stillwater? Let me guess, you play with the dolls outside all day too,” the man chuckled, rolling his eyes.
“Those are high grade mannequins that we special ordered for the reenactments... they’re... uhm. Not just dolls,” Becky said with clear uncertainty. George raised a brow, looking at my coworker like she was slow. Needless to say, I wasn’t particularly pleased.
“Oh, oh. So expensive dollies, then—” He guffawed, seeming to be the only one in the room who found the humor in the situation. Before I could properly put him in his place, I nearly screeched as Moody leaped on my shoulder, claws digging into my skin.
“Just when things couldn’t get better...,” the feline said sarcastically, and I glanced over in time to see Norma marching up to the lot of us. This would not end well, of that much I was sure.
“Who is this slob? Are you here for the reenactment? In case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t finished the preparations,” Norma said in a haughty tone. George frowned, and in spite of myself, I found myself a little less annoyed with Norma than usual.
“Wow, they really let just anyone work here, don’t they?” George said pointedly. The room went deathly silent for a moment, though I could feel Moody trying to stifle her laughter.
“I’m more concerned with who they let attend. Good grief, have you ever had a shower in your life? I can smell you from all the way over here,” Norma bit back snippily. I could tell George was growing more frustrated with the conversation, and a frustrated George was never a good thing. I stared pleadingly at my mother, who was watching the situation unfold with a slight frown. Catching my eyes, she smiled gently before taking George by the arm.
“George, honey, you should take a look at the little gift shop. It’s adorable. I know how you love to collect shot glasses from across the country,” My mother said sweetly, and just like that, George’s interest in the conversation dissipated.
“Oh, I didn’t even notice a gift shop in this piddly little place. Come on, dear, you can help me pick something out,” George announced, sparing Becky, myself, and Norma a final glance. I thought the situation was over, but it seemed I would not be so lucky.
“Oh, a real tough guy here, running away when someone isn’t going to take his crap. Goodness, Mazie, is your whole family this much of a train wreck? I mean, Fern seems to have things together somewhat, but this is just laughable. Who even let that guy in town?” Norma said loudly, her tone as obnoxious as ever. The brief moment where I had disliked her a percent less evaporated, and I rolled my eyes.
“Considering your issues with your brother, I think it’s funny that you’d insult my family,” I began, though referring to George as family made me feel slightly queasy. It seemed to do the trick, judging by the fury in Norma’s gaze. “I don’t quite know what you’re trying to prove, but you’re doing a pretty shoddy job at it. If you thought there was any way in hell you would weasel your way into the nurse role, you were mistaken from the start. Now, you see... well, you’ll be lucky to have a part in it at all, if I have my say,” I said calmly, the cheerful and gentle side of me having completely evaporated in the face of Norma Pratt’s annoying mannerisms. For her part, the older woman simply looked taken aback. However, that didn’t last long. Instead of heading back out to the battlefield, she strode towards the front exit with her head held high. I barely refrained from scoffing at how self-involved she was, but I wasn’t looking for any reason to keep her around. As she was leaving, however, she paused beside the gift shop, exchanging some undoubtedly unsavory words with my mother and George. Then, with a sly glance over her shoulder, she met my gaze from across the room.
“You’re going to regret this, Mazie Stuart. When a Pratt wants something done, they find a way to do it,” she called out, resting her hand on her hip. I rolled my eyes, unwilling to continue the conversation much longer.
“Well, you’re certainly welcome to try. But seeing as you’ve ostracized most of the town...,” I trailed off, feeling a but smug at the uncertain look I received. Seeming to accept that she was beaten, for now at least, the older woman slipped out of the exit just as George and my mother approached once more. He held a bag in his hands, undoubtedly containing some tacky shot glass, but it seemed Norma had gotten to him more than he would be willing to admit. The vein on his forehead was absolutely bulging.
“Well, at least you’ve gotten rid of that nuisance. That’s one productive thing you’ve done today, Mazie. I’d be just as happy if I never saw that woman again—well, unless she was in a casket,” George said angrily and my Mom rolled her eyes, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Oh, hush. Honey, you know Georgie just likes to rib at you girls a bit, right? He doesn’t mean anything by it. We’re both so proud of how much you and your sister have accomplished here in Stillwater. Keep it up, and maybe you’ll be the supervisor of this place, before long,” my mother crooned. I made to approach the couple, intent upon giving my Mom another tight embrace. However, George quickly looped their arms together and guided my mother towards the door.
“Come along, Lila. You did promise me a romantic getaway. I think we both know what that means,” he said with a smirk, and my Mom giggled in that love struck and airy way that I hated to hear so much—especially since she met this jackass.
“Bye, Mazie, dear. Come visit us at the Inn, but be sure there’s not a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door,” my Mom called out, sounding far too chipper given the situation that we had all just endured. I cringed at the intrusive thought of what my Mom would be doing with that old slob in that inn, turning towards Becky as they left.
“Good Lord. If you’re lucky, you’ll never have to worry about periodic visits from your family. The whole town turns into a mess when these things happen,” I bemoaned, smiling tiredly as she rested a hand on my shoulder. She looked briefly troubled for a moment, but before I could ask about the haunted look in her eyes, it had disappeared as quickly as it came.
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about my family, Mazie. They... well, suffice to say, it won’t be an issue,” she said with a faint smile, turning back towards the back exit before I could probe her for additional answers. “Now, we have a reenactment to put together, and it’s going to blow that jerk’s socks off,” she grinned, striding confidently towards the exit. In spite of all that had happened, seeing the assurance in my younger friend’s gaze gave me the bit of confidence I needed.
“Yeah, you’re right. We’re going to knock ‘em dead this year,” I grinned, giving my own words little thought as I followed her out to the battlefield.
I only hoped it wouldn’t come and bite me on the ass.
CHAPTER THREE
The following morning, Fern woke early as was her routine. Dragging herself from the bed, she strode to the bathroom and set the shower as hot as it would go—the perfect temperature as far as she was concerned. As she brushed her teeth, it didn’t occur to her to close the door—Mazie always gave her all the privacy she wanted, and Moody... well, the feline rarely woke before noon, let alone at four in the morning. It is easy to see, then, why she nearly screeched as she felt something brush against her leg. Idly wishing she had her gun on her—‘but who takes a gun to the bathroom, Fern? Honestly’—she glanced down with great trepidation. Upon seeing Moody in a rather chipper mood, she groaned, preparing for the inevitable onslaught. The feline was never shy about her insults, as much as she seemed to adore the detective. As much as Fern tried to simply ignore the cat, she realized that Moody was staring at her in a rather appraising manner.
“What are you staring at, Moody?” Sh
e hissed, awkwardly covering herself. It felt a bit silly being shy in front of a cat, but most cats lacked the magical energy to be capable of telepathy. Moody was a special case, though they had long been bewildered as to what, exactly, was so special about the feline. To summarize, it’s not exactly pleasant to be stared at when you’re butt naked, just having gotten out of bed, especially when your cat has a habit of insulting everything with a pulse.
“Just noticed you’re packing on a few pounds there, Fern. Planning on going into an impromptu hibernation?” The cat asked slyly. Fern offered Moody a deadpan stare, rinsing out her mouth and proceeding to make another attempt to just... ignore the cat. “Aw, Fern. Don’t be so surly. It’s probably a good thing you gained some weight, now you won’t be all hard angles when I sit on you,” Moody persisted, hopping up on the closed commode lid and watching Fern with a rather cheeky expression.
“So happy to please her majesty,” Fern muttered, flinging the shower curtain open and stepping inside as steam billowed into the room. Moody muttered something that the detective couldn’t quite make out, but she was sure it was just melodramatics on the feline’s part. There were few times in her life Fern ever felt at peace. A nice, long, steaming hot shower was one of the places she could relax and not have to worry about pleasing anyone. With her mother and that insufferable boyfriend of hers in town, it seemed that quiet moments would be rather few and far between. She refused to allow the pesky feline to bother her few moments of solace, standing under the stream of water and breathing a sigh.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m awake so early,” Moody said abruptly, peeking just past the shower curtain. Fern stared at her, inhaling a calming breath before she did something crazy like toss the cat in the tub.
“Not really, but you seem to want to talk about it, so enlighten me,” Fern grumbled, lathering up her thick hair. Moody harrumphed a bit, and Fern could picture the chubby feline grooming herself as she always did to pass the time. ‘It’s a cat thing, you wouldn’t understand.’ Fern understood, but Moody was interrupting what grooming time she allowed herself in the mornings, and it wasn’t as if she could just contort her body and lick herself clean. It was socially acceptable for cats, but humans?
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