by Hannah Reed
“It’s my case!” Johnny Jay snarled, as menacing as I’d ever seen him, which is saying a lot. The chief can look downright scary.
But so can my man. K-9 star, Ben, wore his high-alert expression, his sharp Belgian Malinois eyes never leaving his partner.
“Country Delight is over the town line,” Hunter told him, moving closer, no trace of a snarl, but the look on his face said more than any caveman growl could. My guess was that the original emergency call came in to Moraine’s police station and the chief took his sweet time notifying Waukesha County.
Hunter went on to add, “And as Moraine’s chief of police you should already know where the town lines begin and end. You had no business taking over the crime scene before my team arrived. And you haven’t fooled anybody. We know you sat on that call.”
“Get out of my face!”
“Can somebody please tell me who’s dead?” I blurted, too loudly since a few customers coming out of the store and several people on the sidewalk nearby heard me and made a beeline for our trio, their original plans taking second fiddle to our lively tune.
At this point I was getting pretty upset, because the dead person could be Al, or his son Greg, or one of the witches. I needed to know. Unfortunately, the two men were more focused on each other.
“Waukesha is handling this, Jay, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I ought to have you brought up on charges for tampering with a crime scene.”
“You couldn’t solve a crime if it bit you in the ass.”
“Getting personal now, are we?”
Nose to nose, the two law enforcement authorities weren’t setting much of an example for our community members when it comes to peaceful communication and orderly conduct.
Thankfully, Ben had had enough and decided to give a menacing snarl that no human could duplicate in terms of serious intimidation. Johnny Jay has always been cautious around Ben, so he reacted first, backing up a few steps and shutting his big mouth. My man took that as concession.
Next, Hunter reached into the back pocket of his jeans, produced several sheets of paper rolled up into a circular tube, and tried to hand them to our chief. Johnny balked, but when Hunter continued to extend his arm, the chief reluctantly took them, giving Hunter a questioning expression.
“Now that lines have been established,” Hunter said to him, “I’m requesting your assistance.”
“What?” I burst out. “You can’t be serious!”
Johnny Jay has never, ever allowed Hunter to assist in any criminal cases within his jurisdiction. In fact, he’d been downright rude to Hunter when he’d offered in the past. Now that the creep didn’t have authority to interfere for a change, Hunter was actually inviting him to get involved? I wish he’d talked this over with me first. I’d have set him back on the straight and narrow. Instead, Hunter was setting himself up for a knife in his back, if you asked me.
What was my guy thinking?
Hunter and I had some information-sharing issues at first (okay, maybe we still do), sometimes forgetting that we were a partnership and that meant discussing topics and resolving any conflict issues. To tell the truth, I’d been worse at communicating than he was. Until now.
We needed to talk in the worst way.
I tossed the rest of my apple in a trash bin near the store door and asked again, “Who’s dead?”
They both eyed the gathering crowd before turning to me as though they were only just now realizing they had attracted an audience. Which probably they just had.
Johnny was the one who answered. “It’s going to come out soon anyway, and the family has been notified. We identified the body as that of Claudene Mason.”
That certainly surprised me.
“Al’s crazy sister?” I’d heard of Claudene but hadn’t actually known her personally. She’d moved away when I was just a kid. In the past, older locals had referred to her as Crazy Claudene, but with the passage of time, we all but forgot about her. I hadn’t heard her name in years.
Hunter was grim. “Al’s sister, yes,” he said. “But she hadn’t gone by Claudene for at least ten years. Apparently she legally changed her name after joining that witch coven that’s in town.”
“Witch coven?” somebody said, and I heard a few echoes. But I wanted to know, which witch?
“I saw them come into town in a van yesterday,” somebody else said. “But I didn’t know they were witches. Jehovah’s Witnesses is what I thought.”
Someone added, “They better keep right on passing through.”
A few nodded in agreement.
“Was it foul play?” someone else wanted to know.
“All we are prepared to say at this time,” Hunter answered, “is that the death is under investigation.”
“Okay,” Johnny Jay said, taking control, “let’s break it up. Go about your business.”
The crowd dispersed, and Johnny Jay and Hunter, with Ben sitting patiently at his side, put their heads together out by the curb like they’d worked cases together all along and hadn’t just had a confrontation. That’s men for you. I couldn’t believe that one of the witches from last night’s ceremony was dead and gone. I wanted more information, so I casually joined them, as though I belonged there.
I had to clear my throat several times before I got their attention.
“Lucinda was murdered, right?” I asked, thinking she was the most obvious as far as murder victims go. Overbearing, controlling, cold, and unyielding. She’d be my first choice if I was going to kill one of the coven members.
“No.” Hunter turned, noticed me, and shook his head. “It wasn’t Lucy Lighthouse.”
“I thought her first name was Lucinda,” I said, scratching an itchy arm through my fleece.
“Each of them has a special name selected during a ceremony of initiation,” Hunter explained, although I already had suspected that. “It supposedly gives them special powers. Lucy’s witch name is Lucinda.”
“Well, whatever her name is, she’s the head of the group.”
The chief perked up his ears. “So you know these people?” he said, all insinuatingly.
“They came into the store,” I told him. Then to Hunter, “Which one of them is dead?”
“Claudene legally changed her name to Rosina years ago.”
The victim’s identification surprised and saddened me. Rosina was dead? We’d barely spoken, but I’d liked the woman. I’d admired her pentacle necklace, and she’d gone on about how it protected her. I hadn’t asked her why she thought she needed protection. Or from what. Not that the necklace’s magic had been able to save her after all.
In a perfect world, only mean and nasty and unsalvageable people should die violent deaths, right? Although, now that I thought about it, in a perfect world everyone would be sweet and kind and good and no one would ever die by unnatural causes anyway.
“What happened exactly?” I asked, since the two cops hadn’t kicked me out of their new club yet.
“That information isn’t being made available yet,” Johnny said.
Hunter stepped in. “Jay, the story is about to break anyway.” Then his eyes met mine. “It appears that she died from multiple stab wounds,” he said. “But the ME still needs to confirm cause of death.”
“Not a pleasant way to go,” Johnny added, keeping his voice low and narrowing his eyes to appear tough now that he was back on the case.
I’ve been around a few murders in the past, and they always hit me hard, even when I didn’t know the victim. Oh my God. I didn’t feel so good. And I was pretty sure I’d seen the murder weapon, that big, sharp knife that had been on their altar, the one that vanished from view during the ceremony.
“That’s horrible!” I said. “Have you arrested anyone?”
“Not yet,” Johnny Jay told me, “but I’ll see that this case is closed quickly.”
Johnny went off to his squad car, carting my clothes with him. They had taken a backseat to the paperwork Hunter had given him. But then he just sat there in his car, not starting his engine and driving off like he should. Not a good sign.
I took the private moment with Hunter to say, “You usually criticize my store for being a—what have you called it?—oh, I remember . . . a hotbed of gossip and innuendos. And I seem to recall a certain tone of distaste in your voice combined with a very negative attitude. Now you want me to talk this up with my customers and report back to you? I know what you’re doing.”
He rewarded me with a tired smile. “You’re too smart for me,” he said. Seeing how exhausted he was, I told him to go home and get some rest. I opened the passenger door for Ben, who hopped up and settled into the shotgun seat.
Hunter hugged me. “I’m gonna get a few hours of downtime. We’ll talk more later. In the meantime, try to stay out of trouble.”
“No problem,” I said, kissing him and sending him off for a nap.
Then the police chief unfolded from his vehicle.
I turned to face Johnny Jay, who still had my clothes under his arm and that stupid smirk back on his face.
Eight
There was a very good reason why I didn’t protest when Johnny demanded that I get into his squad car for a “little ride down to the station.” The most convincing argument in favor of complying was his threat to go public with his “request.” We’d gone viral in the past, and it never was pretty. If we faced off, my mother would find out, and that was unacceptable considering my efforts to stay on her good side. So would Hunter, who needed a few hours of shut-eye and tended to become snarky when overtired. Plus, I never win those rounds with the chief, so what was the use? I’ve learned to pick my battles.
Another important reason I capitulated is because I hate wearing handcuffs. Been there, done that, and Johnny promised I could go accessory free if I didn’t put up what he called “a stink.”
He opened the back passenger door. “I want to ride in the front,” I demanded.
“Just shut up and get in,” Johnny said, “before one of the local snoops notices and you draw all that unwanted attention that gets you in trouble with your friends and family.”
“Fine!”
But before I could move, Holly pulled in front of Johnny’s car. My sister’s Jag literally purred, and she had the top down. I envisioned her leaping over the top of the driver’s door, but she opened it before pounding her way over to Johnny.
“Relax,” I said to her. “It’s voluntary on my part.”
She stopped abruptly and gaped at me. “Did he drug you?”
“You two sisters crack me up,” Johnny said. “Now make like a roadrunner and vamoose before I ticket your piece of junk vehicle.”
“Don’t tell Mom,” I said, trying to keep the begging tone out of my voice. “And you need to help out inside. Tell them I’ll be back in an hour.”
Holly didn’t believe a single word coming out of my mouth. She glared at Johnny, who grinned back at her. I could tell she was psyching herself up for a wrestling match, so I saved her from having to ride to the station with me by saying, “DeeDee was in the store. Stanley had her in his sights but he needs you.”
That did the trick. Sure, I’d failed to mention that our most notorious local shoplifter was long gone by now, but Holly would find that out soon enough.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked me, hesitating, but I could tell her interest had been piqued.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
With that, she marched off, heading for the store.
I got in the back but crossed my arms with enough melodrama that he couldn’t miss the fact that I was a hostile witness.
It appeared that the only way to handle the chief was with a whole lot of confrontational attitude. He’d backed off last night when Lucinda stood up to him. I’d try the same technique with him today.
On the way to the police station, I considered my options and responses. First of all, I took a moment to mentally forgive Hunter for including Johnny Jay in his investigation. Since Hunter hadn’t come home last night, I hadn’t had a chance to share with him what had happened over at our new neighbor’s house. If he’d known, he’d have made sure Johnny and I stayed as far away from each other as possible. But he didn’t, so he couldn’t be blamed. Secondly, Hunter might have been trying to set an example for Johnny Jay, one of collaboration, teaching him how to be a team player. Too bad Hunter apparently didn’t realize it was wasted effort, because the chief would never, ever get it.
We arrived and soon entered the same interrogation room where Johnny Jay always harasses and grills me. It was windowless and totally bare apart from a table, four chairs, and a heavy wood door with an unpickable lock (tried that once). This time it had a new feature, a mirror on the inside wall, and I had no doubt that there was an observation area behind it.
“I’m holding you,” he announced when the door banged shut behind us.
“You’re arresting me? For what?” I had my back against the mirror and my arms crossed in classic defiance.
“I didn’t say that, now did I?” Johnny Jay threw my clothes on the table and sat down, swinging his feet up next to them. “I said I’m holding you. There’s a difference. Legally I can hold you for forty-eight hours without charging you, which I intend to do. After that, we’ll see what happens based on how cooperative you become.”
“You can’t do this!”
“Pretend you’re back in high school,” Johnny gloated. “Remember all those detentions you used to rack up? This will be pretty much the same thing, only with fewer amenities.”
I gave up my stance at the mirrored wall and slumped down into a chair but kept my back to the mirror just in case someone was observing. This wasn’t starting like usual. Normally Johnny charges in like the bull he is, wildly flinging accusations. Meanwhile, I wave my red flag to get him snorting mad before deftly stepping aside at the last minute. Dazed, he then regroups, redirects, and comes at me again.
Had the bull left the ring?
My eyes slid to the heap of clothes on the table.
“Recognize them?” he said when I shifted my attention back to him.
“Should I?” Dodging was our game, after all.
“You left a big clue behind. Imagine my surprise when all those naked women got dressed and . . . what do you know? . . . there was an extra pile of women’s apparel on the ground.”
“So what? You’re implying what?”
“There were Queen Bee Honey business cards in one of the pockets.”
“So?”
“And flip-flops on the ground, too.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Fischer,” he said with a heavy sigh. “They ratted you out, so you might as well come clean.”
Figures. If it isn’t Patti snitching on me, it’s somebody just like her. Couldn’t the witches have covered for me? Although I guess I hadn’t exactly endeared myself to them, had I?
Johnny really did look exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, tired lines around his mouth. So, in a weak moment of compassion and patriotic duty, I came clean.
“I only went over there because I was worried about Aurora. I’m the one who suggested her as an alternate to number thirteen and didn’t consider at the time that those women could
be evil witches and might sacrifice Aurora in some kind of cult ritual. When I got concerned, I went to get her.”
My actions sounded sort of lame when expressed in words. Why is it that things seem so much more rational in your head than when you make your thoughts verbal? The act of talking about my motive brought on some pretty strong emotions—guilt and regret. A woman really had been murdered. If only I could have known and helped Rosina.
“So,” Johnny said, removing his feet from the table and leaning in, “why did you decide to get naked?”
“Oh, that.” I waved it off. “Only so I’d blend in.”
“Let’s hear the whole story.”
Then an important fact struck me. Hunter was head investigator and would not be happy if Johnny Jay had information regarding the case before he did. Especially if it came from his live-in lover, who possibly could become his ex-live-in if she didn’t handle this delicate situation with kid gloves. “I’d like Hunter to hear this, too.”
“Hunter’s not available,” Johnny Jay had the nerve to say. I knew very well he’d be available if I asked.
“I demand Hunter Wallace be present,” I said.
“You can demand all you want.”
“I demand an attorney!”
“Tough luck.”
What? This wasn’t going well. Now I knew what it felt like to be caught between a rock and a hard place, or more accurately between Johnny Jay and Hunter. Let’s see, what to do? What a no-brainer. Hunter trumped Jay anytime. “I’m not saying another word until Hunter is here,” I announced, thinking my man would be so proud of me if he could just see me this very minute, going way out of my comfort zone to protect his position, even risking incarceration.
“Suit yourself.” Johnny stood up and towered for effect.
“I want my phone call.”
“Thanks for reminding me. Hand over the cell phone.”
“No.” Realization dawned—the phone had been in my pocket the whole time. I should have called Hunter from the police car when I had the chance. Or at least shot him a text message. Maybe Holly would become suspicious when I didn’t return. Although I’d been so convincing.