“Huh?” Agnes looks back at Helga. “What? Did I forget something?”
Helga thumbs one of the bottles in her hand, “No, but I have an idea of how to get rid of Mr. Busybody out there.”
Agnes cocks her head to one side. “I dunno if I like where this is going . . . What are you thinking of doing?”
Holding the potion bottle between her fingers Helga presents one of the potions to Agnes, suggesting, “We can spike his food with one of these brews.” She grins a playful grin, saying, “I think this one will do the job.”
Agnes shakes her head side to side. “No, Helga. We’re already in a lot of trouble. We can’t afford to get into even deeper trouble.”
“OHHHH, come on!” Helga whines, “Just let me do it.”
Agnes’s nose flares, and she narrows her eyes. “No. No good will come out of it. If my memory serves me right, nothing good ever comes out of YOUR plans or ideas of ‘fun.’”
Pouting, Helga mutters, “Spoilsport.”
As Agnes leaves, she asks Helga, “Besides, how would making Higgins get a case of gas or toads change anything?”
“I figure that he’ll leave everything here, and I can get rid of the evidence that he has against us.”
“No. I don’t think it will work. We’ll get caught.” Agnes continues on through the doorway.
Helga steps swiftly to catch up and reaches for one of the plates, urging, “C’mon, Agnes. Let me do this . . .”
Agnes pulls the plate away, retorting, “NO! Lay off.”
Higgins clears his throat and asks, “Ladies, is there a problem?”
“No,” Agnes replies.
“I just wanted to help bring the food out . . . that’s all,” Helga adds.
Higgins straightens one of the piles of complaints while tapping it on the table. Then he says in a sarcastic tone while nodding his head, “Sure, Ms. Helga, I believe you.”
Helga huffs, “I’m sure you do, Mr. Higgins.”
Agnes places the plates on the table and then sits down before urging, “Helga, come and eat. Quit fooling around.”
Ursa, Higgins, and Agnes all start to dig into their food. Helga remains standing. She pocketed the potions before they came out of the kitchen, so she fumbles with them in her pocket, thinking.
A moment later she asks, “Say, I noticed that no one has anything to drink. Does anyone want something?”
Ursa pipes up, “Hot tea for me, please.”
Agnes, in between mouthfuls, manages, “Coffee, two sugars, one cream.”
Higgins dabs his mouth with a napkin and then replies, “Coffee, black.”
Helga offers, “Mr. Higgins, are you sure that you would not like a cappuccino? I can make a rather mean mocha.”
He ponders Helga’s offer and then looks at the two sisters. Ursa seems fine but Agnes has a worried edge to her look. Were they hiding something? He responds, “No. Keep to the coffee.” His mustache swaggers from side to side, as he adds, “No funny business.”
With a sigh, Helga goes to the coffee and tea station just behind the counter near the register. She pours Agnes’s cup of coffee with the cream and two sugars. Then pours Higgins a cup of black coffee. Finally she fills a small teapot with water and places teabags into it to steep.
With each item lined up on the counter Helga, not needing a wand for such an easy spell, well—an easy spell for her—wiggles her fingers at the cups and pot, saying, “War-it-up.”
Steam starts to rise from each container as she places them on a serving dish. Just as she is about to uncork one of the potions, Agnes tells her, “Don’t take too long . . . don’t want to seem like you’re up to no good.”
Helga grumbles and puts the stopper back on the potion, remarking, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She returns to the table handing everyone their drinks. She sits down, staring at her brunch, trying to think of another way to give Higgins the potion. Her stomach rumbles again, so she eats as she ponders her next move.
Higgins places his cup down on the table, away from Helga. He gestures towards the pile of papers, saying, “I am sure that you ladies have had a chance to take in the severity of the problem?”
Ursa, Agnes, and Helga reply, “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“Whenever you’re ready, sir,” the sisters say in unison.
“My dear, Ms. Ursa, you have the least amount of complaints lodged against you. Most are from ladies who suspect that you used a love potion to sell unscrupulous wares to their husbands.” He hands the small pile of papers over to Ursa. “Would you take a moment to look through these papers and let me know if you recall any of these incidences?”
She starts to rifle through them, reading the details of each accusation.
“Ms. Agnes, you don’t have as many either, but you DO have some that are rather grave.” He hands Agnes another stack of papers, slightly thicker than Ursa’s but not by much. “Some are really old and may have been resolved, and the files may never have been updated. Please go through them and see if you can remember.”
Finally he slides a towering pile over to Helga’s side of the table, “You, Ms. Helga, have the MOST complaints. I can’t fancy why since you have the most charming customer service skills,” he voices with a knowing look.
“Pfft, these morons have no sense of humor,” Helga whines, “I refuse to say that any of these are true due to these folks’ lack of character. Besides, they’re just jealous of my magical genius.” She then shoves the papers back towards Higgins. The tower wobbles threatening to topple over.
Higgins’s mustache twitches.
“But, Helga,” Ursa starts, “You NEED to review these compl—OW!”
“Don’t kick your sister, Helga,” Agnes chides, “You DO NEED to—YOUCH!!”
Helga juts her bottom lip out and steels her gaze. “Mr. Higgins, these complaints are no longer valid. Don’t they have a time limit?”
A twinkle appears in Higgins’s eye. “Does that mean that you are admitting to your guilt, Ms. Helga?”
She gasps, “Why no, I am not! I am saying that when a complaint is lodged with the Order that the Order has thirty days from then to investigate, or the complaint is no longer valid.” Helga mumbles under breath, “I swear all of you officials have it out for us. Especially me.”
His lips press firmly together. “You are quite right,” he admits. Turning his head towards Agnes and Ursa, he states, “Ms. Agnes and Ms. Ursa, disregard the complaints for they are far older than thirty days. Though DO take note so that you will not repeat the same offenses in the future.”
With a wave of his hand the old complaints disappear in a puff of smoke.
Agnes and Ursa smile, delighted to hear that they are relieved of any complaints made against them. They jump up and start to do victory dances about the room.
“HA!” Helga laughs.
Higgins returns his gaze back to Helga. “Take note of the complaints in your pile, Ms. Helga. The majority of YOURS are STILL VALID.”
She gulps loudly, peers at the papers, and sifts through the stack. About half of them, which have vanished, are old so no longer count against her. But, there are quite a few that could keep her in hot water.
“Anything to say for yourself, Ms. Helga?” Higgins asks.
Glancing about the room, Helga notices two things, one, her sisters are off doing victory dances and two, Higgins’s cup is empty. She asks, “Want another cup of coffee, sir?”
Higgins, briefly caught off guard, replies, “Why, yes, of course.”
Helga gets up and grabs his empty cup. On the way to the coffee station she removes the cork from one of the potions that she snuck out of her pocket. She moves herself so that neither Higgins nor her sisters can see what she is doing. She has poured the contents of the potion into the empty cup by the time she arrives at the coffee station.
“Do you still want your coffee black, Mr. Higgins?” Helga asks over her shoulder wh
ile trying to sneak the empty bottle into the trashcan. It bounces and rolls to the floor.
“No, add four sugars but no cream,” he replies.
As Helga pours the coffee into the cup, she notices that the coloring is off. The coffee is a strange murky color. She must convince Higgins to add cream to his coffee or else the potion will be discovered.
“Are you sure that you do not want any cream?” She asks over her shoulder.
“Quite.” Higgins was already playing the game of chance eating their food. Any of it could be spiked. But he is quite sure that Helga was the person behind all the wrong doing which is why he wanted to keep the coffee black. All potions leave a colored trace that cannot be hidden in regular black coffee.
“Well, you’re gonna get some anyways,” Helga mutters, pouring the creamer into the cup, “It’s better on the teeth or so I am told.”
She turns around to find her sisters sitting back at the table, going through her pile of complaints. Agnes gives her a worried look every now and then.
Helga shouts, “HEY! Those are mine! Paws off!”
Agnes and Ursa stick their tongues out at her.
“Such a handful she is,” Agnes titters to Ursa.
“Yeah,” Ursa replies, “She can be so difficult to be around at times because you never know when you’re going to be the butt end of her jokes.”
The two erupt into a joyous laughter as they continue to rifle through Helga’s stack of complaints.
“HEY! Give me a break.” Helga shouts over her shoulder at her two older sisters as she finishes preparing Higgins a cup of coffee.
With Higgins’s new cup of coffee Helga walks back to the table, places it before him, and then sits down.
He peers into his cup with a frown, noting, “I didn’t want cream.”
As his hand almost grabs ahold of the cup, Agnes jumps up and pulls it away, declaring, “You don’t want that, sir. You wanted black coffee with four sugars and no cream. Let me get you what you really want.”
Helga gives Agnes the evil eye, saying, “I am sure that Mr. Higgins will LOVE the way I prepared his coffee. Let him TRY it.”
Agnes shakes her head back and forth. “No, he wanted it black with four sugars, no creamer. If that’s what he wanted, then that’s what he’s gonn—OW!”
Speaking through her clenched teeth, Helga leans in closer to Agnes, growling, “Let. HIM. TRY. IT.”
Agnes lets go of the cup and sits back down. “On second thought, Mr. Higgins, go ahead and give it whirl. My sister can cook up a MEAN cup of coffee,” she tells him with a wink.
Higgins does a double take. “What do you mean by a ‘MEAN’ cup of coffee?”
Helga kicks Agnes again. She winces with a reply, “Nothing at all.” Then she winks again.
Helga stomps on Agnes’s foot. “YOUCH! What’cha do that for?”
“There was a bug on the floor,” Helga replies, “so I squished it.”
Higgins looks between the two sisters. “Is there something that you want to tell me?”
“Nope,” they both reply.
He sniffs the cup of coffee, which wafts a fine smell of hazelnut, delicious rich coffee, and a hint of marshmallow. He thinks to himself ‘What’s the worse that could happen?’ Shrugging one shoulder he takes a few gulps from the cup and then places it back on the table. Casting his gaze back towards the papers he continues, “Now, Ms. Helga, what do you have to say for yourself in regards to these complaints?”
“I’m innocent,” Helga asserts.
He quirks an eyebrow, questioning, “Innocent? For which complaint?”
“All of them,” she replies, “It is obvious that I’m being set up by the Order of Magic. Why do an investigation now?”
“Now, now, you cannot state that you are not responsi—” Higgins stops and holds his hands over his stomach as it gurgles and moans loudly. He tries to double over but only manages to bend a small fraction.
His face grows a ghastly white as sweat starts to pop up on his neck and bead on his forehead. His bushy mustache becomes limp from the moisture. More gurgling sounds out loudly and more urgently.
Higgins, appearing like he is about to pass out from the sudden pain of gas, groans, “Bathroom?”
The sisters point to a door off to the left of the cafe’s entrance. He hops up and waddles quickly towards it while holding his bottom. Once the door to the bathroom clicks closed, Ursa, being the caring person that she is, leans in towards Helga, whispering, “What in Samhain did you do to poor Mr. Higgins?”
Smiling widely Helga responds, “Nothing that he didn’t deserve.”
Agnes scowls, raises herself from the table, and then hurries over to the coffee station. She rummages through the trash when the empty bottle on the floor catches her eye. Bringing the empty bottle back to the table she presents it to her sisters.
“Oh no, Helga, you didn’t.” Ursa raises her hand to her mouth. “Not Toady Day . . .”
“I sure did,” Helga chirps.
Agnes, still shaking her head, says, “I hope you know what you’re doing . . . ‘cause I’m not bailing you out if he finds out that you are the one behind his sudden sickness and toad infestation.”
“Shut up,” Helga scowls, “I know what I’m doing. Shush . . . he’s coming back.”
The door to the bathroom opens as the toilet behind Higgins flushes. He looks sheepishly at the girls and quietly informs them, “Ladies, I am sorry, but I seem to be feeling quite ill.”
He continues, “On that note, until I return, I am putting this shop under probation as well as Ms. Helga under stricter terms of probation. No magic on mortals, no selling of magical wares to anyone, and, Ms. Helga, YOU are not allowed to do any magic AT all.”
“WHAT?” Helga yells.
Higgins’s face becomes white and queasy again. He waves Helga away as he moves towards the door. “Yes, Ms. Helga, under no means are you allowed to do ANY magic at any time. You will need to wait until you have been cleared of all charges before you can use magic again.”
She stomps on the ground, asserting, “That’s not FAIR!”
“Fair or not, that is my ruling. No magic unless you want to face the consequences.”
Crossing her arms Helga grumbles, “Ugh, fine.”
Higgins grabs his hat from the coat hanger near the door. He tips it towards the girls, saying, “Good day, ladies,” and then leaves the cafe.
Agnes and Ursa both look at Helga who is fuming. The two sisters go over to Helga to try to comfort her about the probation that Higgins placed upon her.
Helga sniffs a little, “Oh, leave me be . . . it’s nothing really.” Agnes and Ursa start hugging her. “Ugh, really, stop,” she insists.
The phone starts ringing.
Helga asks, “Is anyone going to answer that?”
The phone rings again.
Pushing away from her sisters and throwing her arms up in the air, she stomps over to the phone, muttering, “Someone’s got to answer the dang phone around here . . .”
On the third ring Helga grabs the phone, yanks it off of the receiver, and answers in a huff, “Hello?” Not waiting for a response she soothes her voice and continues, “Baubles and Brews Cafe, how can I help you?”
A man in a raspy voice, with an urgent edge, wheezes, “You gave me the wrong potion.”
5
Wrong Potion
Helga blinks and asks, “Wrong potion, you say?”
“Yes!” cries the man on the other end of the phone.
“That’s highly unlikely. We NEVER mix up our orders. Perhaps you meant anoth—” Helga gets cut off by the man.
“No, no, no, NO!” he shouts. “It was your shop! Do you know who you are talking to?”
Helga purses her lips and takes a moment to think of who it might be on the line. She surrenders, “Sorry, I don’t know who this is except some poor sap that apparently got the WRONG potion from ANOTHER shop.” Bending down Helga moves the phone closer to the receiver to han
g up, saying, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some other things to attend—”
The man breathes through the line, stating, “This. Is. Brimstone.”
“Oh, my lord. I’m so sorry, sir!” Helga pulls the phone away from the receiver and stands straight up. Her eyes widen with shock and worry.
“Are you willing to admit that you’re wrong, Helga?” Brimstone fumes through the line.
Sneering into the phone, Helga replies, “I’m NEVER wrong . . . sir.”
“Well, never say NEVER. Today you are wrong . . . completely and absolutely wrong,” asserts Brimstone, “and because of your mistake, I think she suspects something is amiss”.
Agnes and Ursa join Helga at her side to listen in on the conversation. Ursa leans against the counter pulling out her smartphone to text her boyfriend Hogarth, Hogey for short. Agnes starts to tap her spatula on her hip in a rhythm. Helga rolls her eyes at the both of them and continues her conversation with Brimstone.
She pinches the bridge of her nose and asks Brimstone with his fake name to hide his identity from her sisters, “Hypothetically, Mr. Jenkins, sir, IF you DID get the WRONG potion . . . exactly what did this potion do that GAVE you the IDEA that it was the WRONG potion?”
“She’s dangerous,” he whispers.
“Who’s dangerous?” Helga asks.
“Lady Ava.”
“You’re making NO sense, Mr. Jenkins.”
He clears his throat and then continues, whispering, “I only meant to give her a small portion. I did not mean for her to get out of control.”
Helga quirks her eyebrows and looks at the phone. “Huh?”
Brimstone hurries, “Oh gah, she’s coming . . . I can’t do this again.”
“What are you talking about, sir?”
“Shhhh . . . she’ll hear you,” Brimstone barely whispers.
Helga presses her ear against the phone to listen harder. She looks over at her sister Agnes, signaling for her to stop munching on a sandwich.
Brimstone whispers over and over, “Please don’t find me . . . please don’t find me . . . Oh gah, please don’t find me . . .”
Helga can faintly hear over the line a silvery voice, presumably Lady Ava, calling out, “Briiimmeee! Where aarrrrree yooooouuuu??”
Potion of the Hound Page 6