by Diana Orgain
Maeve finished signing the lease and handed the papers back to Gracie with a check. “So ... the place is mine?”
Gracie smiled and stood. “Effective immediately!”
Maeve let out a squeal and sprang to her feet. “I can’t wait to get the place done and opened.” She hugged Gracie. “You won’t regret it! I promise.”
“I know I won’t.” Gracie pulled the kerchief off her head. “I’m pretty much done sorting all the stuff in the back. I marked some boxes to go into storage, but mostly, it’s a lot of junk. You’re welcome to anything that fits your café theme. You might just find a stack of old records. Grandpa loved music.” She handed Maeve a set of keys. “I also have a set, and I want you to know, I have a crew coming tomorrow with a dumpster to get the place cleared out for you. After that you’re on your own.”
A nervous enthusiasm rolled around Maeve’s body and she said excitedly, “I’m ready! I think I can start painting this week and contacting suppliers. Maybe we can go shopping for furniture this week.
Gracie laughed. “Well, I’m ready for a bath! Let’s get out of here.”
Together they locked up the shop and headed to their respective cars. Gracie hopped into her truck and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot, but Maeve stood at her purple Volkswagen, staring at the windshield.
Attached to the glass was a slip of paper. Someone left her a note.
She cringed.
It’s probably just an advertisement for a yoga class or a coupon of some sort, she assured herself as she reached toward the paper.
Written in large loopy writing was:
Stop poking around, O’Dare, or you are going to regret it!
Chapter Eight
Chuck
A bar! Yes, we’re going to a bar! This is my kind of town. I must have a bit of a magical effect on Maeve because she is taking me with her. Oh, she loves me; I know it. Me and my lady are heading out. She’s looking gorgeous, of course, and I’m still looking like a four-legged accessory, but we can work on that.
“Hmmm ...” Maeve says as she spins for me. “What do you think, Wanda?”
I’ve been sitting on her couch watching reruns of Jenny Loves Charlie while she’s been getting ready, and this is the first time in an hour she’s emerged from her bedroom. Woof-woof, if you know what I mean.
She’s in a black dress that’s tight in all the right places, showing off a modest bit of cleavage–not enough to look trashy, just enough to make my mind wander off. The bottom half of the dress looks like something out of the ‘40s with the way it flows, and she’s accessorized with some silver jewelry and an oversized black bow in her hair to add to that vintage look.
In an attempt to let her know I love it, I yelp excitedly. Maeve is not quite convinced, though, and she takes a moment to examine herself in the hall mirror.
“You’re right,” she says. “It looks trashy.”
What? No, you misinterpreted my yelp! She looks like a dark version of Marilyn Monroe–you know the scene, the one where the steam blows up her white dress while she does a sexy little wink at the audience. Maeve is my dark and witchy Monroe, but she’s not feeling it. She spins around on her heels and heads back into her bedroom, but she doesn’t close the door.
Oh my.
I can’t help it. I don’t get up off the couch, but I lean over the side and peer around the corner. Just as I am about to get a glimpse of Maeve removing that sensational dress of hers, I lose my balance. I fall face first off the side of the couch, and the noise sends a still fully dressed Maeve darting out of her bedroom.
“What was that?” she questions me when she sees me plopped down on the floor. She shakes her head. “Wanda, did you fall off the couch?” She reaches down and pats my head. “Silly girl.” With a slight eye roll, she returns to her bedroom.
I go back to watching my show, figuring that’s what I get for being a pervert. Honestly, you would think after getting turned into a dog by one witch that I wouldn’t risk ticking off another one–even if the new one has no idea she’s a witch! Another minute passes, and Maeve emerges in an equally stunning, red dress.
“I think this is better,” she declares, examining herself in the mirror. “What do you think, Wanda?”
I wag my tail this time.
Is it time to go yet?
Come on, Maeve, I want to go to the bar! I mean, maybe ... If I’m lucky ... I’ll actually manage to score a drink! Its wishful thinking, I know, but still.
We head out the door, and you best believe I’m right on her heels.
“I should probably leave you home,” she debates with herself, but I let out a sad whine and she concedes. “Okay, okay. You’ve been my lucky charm so far. I might need that with Bobby.” She opens the passenger’s seat of the car to let me in.
The tavern that Gracie told Maeve about is just a ten-minute drive. We pull up to the very packed barn, and Maeve sits in the car for a moment.
“Stay here,” she tells me, and I cringe.
Excuse me?
Um–hello! Maeve, doll, I’ve got in everywhere we went today. You dragged me all over the place–remember the Courthouse? Surely you remember that there was a security team there that let me waltz right past, and you’re telling me to wait in the car at the bar? My sanctuary!
She locks me in, and I watch her sashay up the sidewalk toward the entrance.
Look at those hips!
Ugh ... I wish I wasn’t a dog. I also wish she’d quit kicking me out of her room at night and making me sleep on the couch. One day, though, I think I can win that battle.
As soon as she’s inside, I let out my magical bark, and the car unlocks, opening the passenger’s side door. I hop out, and the door closes behind me and locks itself. Walking around the outside of the building for a minute, I spot Bobby Farley moving toward a window seat with Maeve.
Way to go girl, you got him to yourself quick! I frown. I don’t like her talking to other men ... ugh, I say that like I’m actually a man right now.
I sit down under the window and let loose a soft yelp, and the window slowly opens. It’s only a slight crack, still I can hear everything.
“Thanks for agreeing to talk to me,” I hear Maeve begin.
“Thanks for the drink,” he responds, and I gag at the flirty nature in his voice. I will bite your face, Farley.
“I’m going to cut right to the chase,” Maeve says. “I know all about the little emails you sent to Mayor James regarding your ... questionable business practices.” Maeve pauses, letting her words sink in with Farley. The silence speaks volumes–that’s my little detective!
I don’t know how much time passes, but it’s more than I can bear.
Glad I’m not the one doing the interrogating ... definitely glad I’m not the one being interrogated. I peer up into the window, and I can see the frightening gaze Maeve is displaying. Eventually, Farley snaps, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Save it,” Maeve says. “I don’t really care about any of that. If Mayor James wants to go to the police about it, so be it. That’s not why I’m here. The police have questioned me because they suspect me regarding Nadine’s murder. And you want to know what I think?”
Farley sat upright and leaned forward. I can’t see his face from where I am hidden outside the window, but I’m sure it’s devilish. “You better think long and hard before you say something you’re going to regret,” he threatens.
“I think you tried to kill Mayor James but Nadine got the poisoned drink instead. Your emails that I gained access to were extremely threatening, Bobby–you threatened Mayor James, and it’s only a matter of time before he pieces together what happened and has you arrested, so you might as well come clean now,” Maeve insists.
She’s not backing down, her words cutting through the air like daggers.
Bobby leans back in his chair taking a breath. His demeanor changes as he recollects himself, letting the initial shock of Maeve’s accusation sink in.
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Come on, Maeve, get this creep to confess!
“Listen, Ms. O’Dare, you’re right about those emails ... and about my business.” He’s calm now. I can tell by the sound of his voice, his defenses are down. “Mayor James and I go way back, though. We’ve been friends since high school–good friends. His parents practically raised me. If it wasn’t for them, I never would have gotten my scholarship, and I wouldn’t be where I am today. I would never try to hurt James after all he and his family have done for me.”
Maeve makes a sound, something akin to scoffing.
Bobby ignores her. “There was a period of time where I falsified reports to investors, and James caught me. He and Nadine started compiling evidence against me. James and I had quite a few heated discussions, both face-to-face and through emails, that got out of hand, but ultimately, I backed off. I haven’t falsified any reports in two years. James didn’t go to the police about it because we’re old pals, and that was only under the condition that he would have Nadine check my numbers before releasing anything to the public. Whatever emails you’ve stumbled on regarding that have to be at least two years old. I don’t play dirty anymore, Ms. O’Dare. I’m not that greedy man, not anymore. I got straight, and I improved my business on my own merit and not by financial schemes. It could have blown up bad if James hadn’t stepped in, but he did.”
I slump down into the bush under the window. I wonder if Maeve checked the dates of all of those documents she found. It would be easy to do, and it is probably unlikely that Bobby would still hold a grudge over someone not reporting him to the police for illegal activity, especially if his businesses are now doing well.
“You expect me to believe all this?” Maeve asks.
“Please,” Farley pleads. “Don’t go to the police about this. No one was hurt. James put a stop to it before anyone had to suffer because of my greed. If you open an investigation about this, James will be in trouble–and all he was trying to do was set an old friend straight.”
Maeve, keep at it. Break this guy–he’s got to be hiding something. Bad boys don’t make that big of a reform.
I should know.
“I’ll confirm your story with Mayor James,” Maeve says, her voice threatening.
“I know it probably looks suspicious,” Bobby says. “But you could ruin me with rumors, not to mention this town. They rely on my companies for nearly fifteen percent of jobs, between the banks, the realty group, and my community service projects. If the police freeze my assets for an investigation, you’ll put fifteen percent of this town out of work—for who knows how long. My companies are back on track–no one lost any money because of the falsified reports I put out. No harm, no foul, right?”
Maeve shakes her head. “I don’t know.
“You can come and look at my personal reports–dig through my company’s computer systems if you have to. You can look for yourself, but do not drag my name through the mud for a mistake I almost made two years ago. I mean it.”
There is a long silence shared between them. By the look in her eye, I can tell she is trying to get a read on him–trying to decide whether to trust him.
Bobby leans forward. “I suggest you leave this matter to the police,” then he adds in a menacing voice, “In other words, stop poking around.”
Maeve jolts up. “Stop poking around?” she repeats.
Bobby shrugs. “Yeah. Stop nosing around other people’s business ...” His voice trails off, and I venture a peek at him. His eyes are glued on Maeve.
She’s pulling a slip of paper from the cleavage in her dress–oh, dear Lord, woman! You sure do know how to make me shudder. From the look on Bobby’s face, he’s feeling the same way.
“It’s funny you should used those words,” Maeve says. “I found a rather threatening note left at the building where I’ll be opening my future café. Does this look familiar?” She turns it around to face him.
He doesn’t reach for it, but he does look, and his face pales. “I swear, I didn’t write that.”
Maeve shrugs. “Well, I didn’t peg you for the sort of guy that has loopy handwriting. Still ... maybe your girlfriend ...?”
“I don’t have a current girlfriend,” Bobby says. “And if I did, she wouldn’t be the type to leave threatening notes.” He lets out a laugh, and Maeve laughs too.
To my surprise, I let loose a soft growl. I don’t like him laughing with her. Never realized I was the jealous type until I found Maeve.
“Any idea who wrote this?” Maeve asks as she returns the slip of paper to her bra, and I cannot help but think I’ll help you find that later, sweetie.
Bobby eyes her nervously. “No, I don’t think so.”
Maeve gets up to leave and on her way out says, “If you’re lying I’m going to find out.”
Chapter Nine
Maeve
After leaving the tavern, Maeve had an unsettled feeling. She should have been feeling high on life, with the café lease signed, instead she felt as if she’d let Nadine down. She felt as if she’d failed. She hadn’t cleared her own name from Officer Joseph Mont’s suspect list, and she was no closer to figuring out why someone had hurt Nadine.
She slept fitfully and awoke in the morning with an even greater desire to find justice for Nadine and clear her own name from suspicion. After all, if she was to have a thriving café in the heart of downtown, she needed a healthy clientele.
And who’s going to patronize my café if the police suspect me of murder?
As she dressed to head to over to the café to meet Gracie, she ran a few scenarios through her mind. When she saw Wanda staring at her, she decided to speak out loud.
“So, pretty much everyone in town thinks the mayor had some sort of affair with Eleanor, but I haven’t confirmed it. Do you think I should try and squeeze in a chat with her, Wanda?”
Wanda barked and wagged her tail, and Maeve could swear that dog nodded her head.
Maeve studied her reflection in the mirror. “I suppose I could use a trim, maybe I can get an appointment today.”
Wanda gave a little shake and Maeve laughed. “Oh? You like my hair long?”
The dog ran around the room, seemingly excited.
That dog sure does feed off my energy, Maeve thought.
Wanda raced out of the room and Maeve continued to get ready, pulling her hair into a ponytail and applying a touch of lip gloss. No reason to get dolled up today to clean, but in a small town, you never knew who you could run into and if she was lucky, she might catch a glimpse of Officer Joseph.
Now where had that come from?
He was cute, sure, but Maeve didn’t have the bandwidth for a relationship right now.
“Better keep the ogling to a minimum,” she mumbled to herself.
Wanda bounced back into her room with a book trapped in her jaw.
“Whatcha got there, girl?” Maeve asked, picking up the book that Wanda laid at her feet.
“MAGICK FOR DUMMIES,” Maeve read out loud and giggled. “Where’d you find this?”
Wanda barked as Maeve flipped through the book. “I should have done a better job of tossing stuff before I moved, huh? This is some gag gift, from ... I don’t even remember who gave it to me.”
She perused the book. Chapter headings jumped out at her – How to Connect with your Magick Energy, Discover your Magickal Strength, How to Activate the Magick inside you, How to Write a Spell.
A warm feeling engulfed Maeve as she held the book, and she smiled. “You think I should put a love spell on Officer Joseph?” she asked Wanda.
Wanda howled as if wounded, and Maeve smirked.
“You don’t like him? Just because he accused me ...” Maeve paused and thought about it for a moment. “Did he accuse me? Maybe I’m oversensitive. He’s really only doing his job.”
She glanced at the threatening note left on her car yesterday. Who could have left it? Who wanted Nadine dead? Had Nadine been the real target?
Is someone targeting the mayor?
>
She thought about Mr. Ether and his wife. Mr. Ether had been upset about legislation the mayor was pushing through. Something about a shopping complex cutting into his farming land. But Mr. Ether was so friendly, he couldn’t be a killer, could he? She thought about Mrs. Ether, and fingered the note from yesterday. The writing was loopy. Certainly, a woman had written the note. Could Mrs. Ether be protecting her family?
Maeve tucked the note inside the Magick book and put it into her bag.
“I should probably tell Officer Joseph I’ve been threatened, right Wanda?”
Wanda growled fiercely and Maeve patted her head. “I know, girl. You’ll protect me, right?”
Wanda wagged her tail.
“How about clean up? Will you help me do that?”
Wanda blinked at Maeve.
“I thought about as much.”
<><><>
Maeve found Gracie at the café. There was a cleaning crew busy hauling, sprucing and dumping items in a fury.
Gracie smiled when she spotted Maeve and Wanda. “Any items you want to keep, you need to speak now or forever hold your peace,” Gracie said. “Those tables and chairs for example?” She indicated the set of tables where she and Maeve had signed the lease.
Maeve nodded. “Yeah. We can keep a few tables. Also maybe the wire racks in the back.”
Gracie agreed. “Okay, those stay. Everything else goes ... except maybe that.” She pointed to a box in the corner along with a large item covered with blue tarp.
“What’s that?” Maeve asked.
Gracie marched over to the cardboard box and flipped the lid.
Maeve peeked inside to see a large collection of vinyl records. She clasped a hand over her heart and gasped. “Where did these come from?”
Gracie smiled. “I told you Grandpa was a junk collector. The man never threw out a thing.”
Maeve fingered the albums. “These are amazing! Nina Simone, Bob Dylan, David Bowie, John Coltrane.”
“Well, when you told me about your idea for the music themed café, I started going through some of my grandfather’s old records. These right here I thought would make for some awesome wall décor. What do you think?”