“Hey,” I said. “Good. Just went and took care of a horse.”
“No horses,” said Paws. “If the animal is not going to provide me with entertainment, I do not want it here.”
“If it isn’t going to entertain you then it won’t be here. Promise. It’s all about you,” I said.
“Exactly,” said Paws, looking happy.
Mr. Bone chuckled.
Just then Greer banged through the screen door holding a cutting board. My fantastic cook of a roommate had set out various cheeses and cut meats, two kinds of breads sliced into individual pieces, and a row of delicious-looking jams that I knew were both local and homemade. My mouth started watering the minute I saw the spread.
“Wow,” I said.
“I didn’t feel like cooking. There’s a salad on the counter that we can have after we’ve done justice to the cheese plate,” Greer explained.
“Sure thing,” I said, staring at the board.
“Cheese. Cheese. Cheeeeese!” The tortured sound was coming from a suddenly sleeping Paws. His eyes were closed and his paws twitched a little.
“Can I wake him up?” Greer asked.
“I’d rather you didn’t. This version is preferable to his conscious personality,” I said.
I fetched a small wooden folding table for Greer to put our dinner on, and we settled into chairs and started to eat. Since Mr. Bone had wandered off, until Charlie came home it was just the two of us.
A slight breeze brought us the warm smell of summer mixed with the luscious smells coming from Greer’s tray.
“How’s Deacon?” I asked.
“Good. He’s excited about this wedding. He said the bachelor party last weekend was epic. You have to be careful with weddings, though. Sometimes I get the idea that when he talks about this one, he’s also fishing about what my ideal wedding would be.” Greer took a piece of prosciutto, sandwiched it between two slices of cheddar cheese, and popped it into her mouth.
“What do you tell him?” I ask.
“Depends on my mood. Sometimes I tell him I want to get married in a canoe. Other times I say Vegas is good. If I’m grumpy I say I want to pay actors to stand in for us at the wedding,” she said.
“I’m sure he’s overwhelmed by all the good options,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.
“I just haven’t thought about my wedding,” said Greer. “It’s not every girl’s dream to walk down the aisle in a white dress with the man of her dreams standing there waiting for her.”
“Charlie probably wants all of that,” I said.
“Charlie probably already has the wedding playlist picked out,” Greer laughed. “Nothing wrong with that. It’s just not me. Never has been.”
“Do you think Deacon is okay with that?” I said.
“Deacon wants to have a good time. He cares about his friends and family more than anything else in the world. But he also knows that I still have some stuff to figure out. Apparently I can’t be a bartender forever,” said Greer.
The thought made me a little sad. It was likely that when Greer gave up her bartending gig, she would also be gone from the farmhouse.
I imagined Charlie and me growing old together in the farmhouse, the porch sagging ever so slightly more every year, Paws getting more and more annoying. . .
Then Greer ruined my daydream.
“What about you?” Greer’s voice entered the fog of my mind.
“Huh?” I looked at her in a daze.
“Marriage? Do you have a dress picked out?” she said.
I nearly choked.
“I’m serious!” Greer leaned forward in excitement, her eyes burning into me. “We’ve never really talked about any of it. We’re of age. We both have boyfriends. . .”
“You have a boyfriend. I have. . .”
“A boyfriend,” Greer finished for me. “He knows you’re a witch and he doesn’t mind. That’s at least half the battle.”
I shook my head. “I’m a witch and he’s a Witch Hunter. I’m pretty sure it’s still a problem.”
“Have you ever seen him hunt any witches?” Greer challenged.
“Of course not,” I said. “If I had seen him do that, he probably would have been coming after me.”
“Then you just don’t know,” said Greer.
“I guess not. But it feels like I know,” I grumbled.
“CHEESE! CHEESE!” Paws cried out.
“Think he’s having a bad dream?” Greer and I glanced over at the sleeping ghost.
“There are no bad dreams about cheese,” I said.
Just then Charlie’s Volvo came into view around the bend in the road.
Greer and I kept chatting and talking while Charlie parked and walked over, but we didn’t say anything more about weddings. Part of me was relieved. There was no way I wanted to explore that topic too closely.
On the other hand, the thought of marrying Jasper. . .
“What’s wrong with you?” Greer asked Charlie as she walked up to us, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and her face bare of makeup. She looked distraught.
“My career as a journalist is over.”
Chapter Three
“What are you talking about?” Greer asked.
Charlie fell heavily into one of the rocking chairs without answering. Paws woke up with a start and looked around.
“Charlie!” His voice had changed from earlier. He sounded really happy for the first time all evening.
“Hi, Paws.” Charlie, for her part, still sounded sad.
“My darling girl, what is it?” Paws hopped right off his crate and came over to get petted. Absently, Charlie obliged.
“There’s no work left for me. The news is finished,” she said.
“So, nothing happened?” Greer demanded. “You didn’t get fired?”
“I would never get fired.” Now Charlie sounded indignant.
“So everything is fine?” Greer pressed.
“NO,” Charlie cried. “It most certainly is not fine! There’s nothing for me to write about. The paper is thin, the news is sparse, there are too many journalists on the beat!”
In normal times there was always something going on for a reporter to dig into. Charlie was usually overworked, so much so that the Mintwood Gazette had recently considered hiring more reporters. That was up until a couple of weeks ago, when August hit. Not only were the locals going on vacation, but the news had decided to take a break as well.
Normal people were busy enjoying the weather and the quiet remainder of Maine’s short summer with loved ones. Charlie took it as a sign that the world was ending.
“Nothing is happening. Even downtown is boring,” said Charlie.
“How do you know that?” Greer asked.
“I’ve been down there today,” Charlie said, suddenly busying herself with arranging some cheese and bread on a small plate.
“And when you say boring?” Greer continued.
I frowned at her. I wondered why she was pressing.
“I’m pretty sure Mrs. Barnett is hiding something,” Charlie said, as if admitting something she’d been reluctant to reveal.
“What could she possibly be hiding?” I asked.
“She found me behind her counter and ordered me to leave the Daily Brew. It’s definitely suspicious.” Charlie was rallying.
Greer rubbed her temples. “Maybe because she’s running a business? Maybe because you were trespassing?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Charlie. “I’ll find out what she’s hiding. It won’t save my career, though.”
“I’m sure your career will be fine. Why don’t you see if. . .” Greer was cut off.
“Do not say his name,” Charlie insisted, holding up her hand. “He already stole one story from me. I won’t go groveling to him for help now.”
“Wasn’t that story about Caedmon anyway?” I said.
“I forget,” said Charlie, raising her chin. She hadn’t forgotten a story that she or anyone else had writ
ten in her entire life.
“Anyway, half of downtown has now kicked you out, so you came home,” I said.
“How’d you know? Did Fearne call? I knew she couldn’t be trusted. She’s a known criminal. Lucky I don’t expose her,” Charlie said.
“After she became a judge at the fair when no one else was willing, I highly doubt that anyone is going to hold a little breaking and entering against her,” I said.
“You’ll find something soon. Don’t listen to these two lowlifes,” said Paws.
“Who are you calling a lowlife?” Greer asked.
Paws pointed to Greer, and then to me.
“Maybe something will happen at the wedding that’ll be interesting,” said Charlie, sounding hopeful.
“It’s a wedding in the woods with a bunch of guests who don’t want to be in the woods. Someone definitely might die,” I agreed.
“Exactly,” said Charlie, looking happier than I had seen her all day.
After a long day of feeding Moon and running around doing errands, I was looking forward to a relaxing evening. Unfortunately, that was not to be.
Greer had gotten on the phone with her mother and was trying not to kick anything, while Charlie was in her room mopping. No sooner had I plopped down on the living room couch to do some reading than there was a knock at the door.
“Don’t open it,” Paws yelled.
“Is it one of the dark witches?” I asked.
“Worse. Much worse,” he said.
“Are you pulling my leg?” I asked.
“Of course not. You’re way too far away,” he said.
I glared at him through the window. Feeling like there wasn’t that much risk, I went ahead and opened the door.
My main reaction when I saw who was there was surprise.
Chapter Four
“Hello, Miss Violetta,” I said.
The Mintwood hairdresser smiled back at me, but she looked agitated. “May I come in?” she asked, nervously twisting the end of her shawl over her shoulders.
“Of course,” I said.
“I was wondering if Charlie Silver was at home,” she said.
Miss Violetta was dressed all in black tonight, an odd choice. She usually dressed in colors, but tonight she blended well into the nighttime background. She looked very much as if she didn’t want to be seen at my farmhouse.
“Sure. She’s in her room. I’ll get her. Do you want a cup of tea?” I asked.
“That would be lovely,” she said.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll just be a minute.”
As my guest made herself comfortable on the couch, I headed through the kitchen to Charlie’s room. I found her sitting on the bed, scrolling through something or other on her computer.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Reliving my glory days,” she said sadly.
“It’s unfortunate that they’re all behind you,” I told her.
“That’s what I was thinking,” she said.
“Miss Violetta is here to see you,” I said.
Charlie wasn’t exactly thin. In fact, she was kind of plump. Even though I had never seen her run, I had always suspected that she was in pretty good shape, one of those people who just didn’t have to try hard. My suspicions were confirmed when she was off her bed like a shot. I had honestly never seen anyone move so fast. It was all I could do to get out of her way as she came through the door, her whole demeanor transformed. Her back was straight, her shoulders were back, and her chin was up, leading her back to work at last.
“Would you mind putting on some water for tea?” she asked over her shoulder.
“I was just thinking that,” I said.
She didn’t even hear me. She was already in the living room, greeting Miss Violetta with her business voice.
While the tea was steeping, I made my way upstairs to let Greer know we had company.
“It’s just such a terrible business,” was all I heard from the conversation in the living room as I passed through.
Greer said she’d be down in a couple of minutes, and I returned to the kitchen to finish the tea. Once everything was ready, I arranged a tray and took it to the living room. I had given Charlie a few minutes alone with her informant, but that was enough. I wanted to know what was going on too.
“It’s the strangest thing. I swear they go in and out in the evenings. Nobody ever says a word about it. They’re all in cloaks. I just wonder if Mrs. Barnett knows,” Miss Violetta was explaining.
When Greer and I joined them, Charlie introduced Greer, even though Miss Violetta already knew her.
“Yes, of course they can listen. Whatever you think is best,” said Miss Violetta. “I really had no idea what to do with this information. Charlie, I read your articles and it sounds like you’re really good at solving mysteries. The way you write is just amazing. I figured if anybody could solve this mystery it would be you. I know you’ve solved several in the past.”
Charlie blushed modestly. “It’s unbelievable about those meetings, though. Are you sure they happen regularly?” she asked.
“I’m very sure. It happens once a month,” said Miss Violetta, returning to the story she had come to tell, “but I’ve been around for enough of them to be sure. I stay up late. I always have. That’s part of the reason I like being a hairdresser, because no one ever wants a haircut at six in the morning. Most people come after work and that suits me perfectly. I’m happy to cut hair until eight, then I go sit in the window. That’s part of the reason I wanted to live on Main Street. I didn’t want to be out in the boonies. No offense,” she added quickly.
“So you sit in the window and you see them go into the Daily Brew?” Charlie clarified.
“Yes, that’s exactly it,” said the hairdresser. “They arrive in twos and threes until there must be quite a crowd in the café. They look both ways, then they go inside. I have no idea who any of them are. Are they breaking and entering? I know there was a series of break-ins a while back.”
I exchanged looks with my friends.
“Yes, there was. I figured that when they stopped, the criminals had . . . seen the light,” said Greer.
Miss Violetta was referring to a series of break-ins that had taken place on Main Street the previous summer. It had turned out that Fearne and her sister Frannie, the two old ladies who owned the hardware store, were taking people’s spare keys and letting themselves into shops. Unfortunately, they were only old in appearance. They had nerves of steel and were nosy as all get-out.
“We can certainly revisit that case,” said Charlie.
“I would be so relieved,” said Miss Violetta.
“I’m riveted. Really,” said Paws from the window. Over the cat’s head I could see several other ghosts watching, their faces pressed against the glass of the window. There really wasn’t enough excitement in the month of August.
“I’m curious about when the next meeting is going to be,” I said.
“That’s the thing. It’ll be Sunday, if they keep to the same schedule,” said Miss Violetta. “I figured you could do some research, and come to my place Sunday night if you wanted to take a look.”
“That’s a very good idea,” Charlie agreed.
“Do you have any theories about what’s going on?” Greer asked.
“I have my suspicions,” Miss Violetta said, sitting back.
Her new position put her face in a strange sort of shadow, and I suddenly wondered what she could possibly think these gatherings were. Clearly she considered the matter to be serious, as if maybe something horrible was happening in Mintwood. Was there a smuggling ring? Were people paying under the table to use one of the lakes? Whatever this association was it was big, both in numbers and maybe in importance.
“What do you think is going on?” I asked when she didn’t elaborate.
Miss Violetta took a long sip of tea, then sat forward again, her face filled with shadows. “Witches.”
For a split second her declaration did n
ot have the impact she was clearly hoping it would.
If she’d been wearing the special jewelry that would have allowed her to see ghosts, she would at least have seen Paws’ reaction. He looked downright delighted. In fact, he started laughing so hard he fell off his crate. I could still hear his howls even after he disappeared from view. Then he hopped quickly back up as if no one could have seen him fall.
The rest of the ghosts stood behind him in bemused silence.
Greer, Charlie, and I quickly tried to get it together, pretending to react as we figured we were supposed to by looking surprised and concerned. Charlie even managed to look like it was a possibility.
Miss Violetta did not stay long after she had shared that shocking bit of information. She felt confident that she was right. She also felt a lot better now that Charlie was prepared to help. If a reporter such as Charlie could look into the witches, maybe something could be done.
“She thinks that witches are meeting in the Daily Brew once a month,” Greer mused.
“She thinks there are witches in Mintwood. Can you imagine?” I joked.
“Hard to believe. But let’s not lose sight of the question of what somebody is actually doing there,” Charlie pointed out.
“We’ll have to come back from the wedding and find out. In the meantime, maybe we should talk to Mrs. Barnett and see if she knows anything,” I said.
“Why would they meet in a public place at midnight?” Greer asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“They could very well go to somebody’s house. Then they wouldn’t arouse so much suspicion,” said Greer.
“Not necessarily. Maybe everyone who attends these meetings has a family. At least a boyfriend or girlfriend. Maybe it would be known,” I theorized.
“Then why aren’t these people missed? Mrs. Barnett has a husband,” said Greer.
“I have no idea. I know someone we can ask, though,” said Charlie. She picked up her pen and notebook and started to write.
Chapter Five
Charlie knew exactly how she wanted to kick off the investigation. She wanted to talk to Liam, our friend who owned the Twinkle Costume Shop in the space across the street from the Daily Brew. She theorized that if whatever was going on at the coffee shop had reached his ears, he was the perfect starting place for her inquiries.
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