Cursed at First Sight

by Daphne DeWitt

  “I worked for one of the most prestigious law firms in New York, you know,” I said confidently, trying to explain why he didn’t need to worry about gauging me.

  “'Worked' being the operative word,” he answered. “Which begs the question of why you came back.”

  “I came back to help my Grandma Misty,” I responded.

  “And have you?” he questioned, his bright eyes and the way they looked at me threatening to steal my focus right away.

  “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much. Always have been,” I told him, attempting to walk faster to ditch him, but it was to no avail thanks to my heels. I reminded myself to invest in some flats.

  “That’s not even close to the question I asked,” he said flatly, irritatingly keeping pace. “I asked if you had helped her since you came back because, as far as I can tell, all you’ve done is invested a lot of the firm’s time and money into a case we might not be able to win.”

  A flush of anger ran through me. I didn’t have to explain myself to him, even if his name was going to be on the top of my paychecks from now on. I was a Norwood. This was my town. It was my business. “If you don’t think we can win, Mr. Price, then by all means, don’t involve yourself. I’ll work on it as a private contractor. No connection to the firm whatsoever. And just so you know I’ve made it this far without your help.”

  I had half a mind to tell him that I was a big girl and I could take care of myself.

  “Is that supposed to impress me?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Because, from where I'm standing, it looks like the only place you've gotten is the starting line. We're not exactly drowning in leads, in case you haven't noticed.” He shook his head. “And don’t bother with that ‘private contractor’ nonsense. As far as anyone in town is concerned, a Norwood lawyer works for the family firm, regardless of what she tells you.”

  He was right on both counts, of course. Potion aside, we didn't have much to go on. I was going to have to buckle down if I was going to have a chance at saving Mason.

  “It's early in the game, Daniel,” I said, trying to sound convincing. “If you’re going to be involved in this, we have to work together, and that might go smoother if you'd quit acting like you know everything. It doesn’t look good on you,” I told him, completely lying. He was the kind of man that everything looked good on, but I wasn’t about to feed his over-inflated ego.

  “I bet it looks better on me than you're willing to admit,” he said as if he was reading my mind.

  “Don't flatter yourself,” I muttered.

  “That's the thing, Suzie Q. I usually don't have to. You’re making me work for it,” he said, opening the door of the mill and standing back to let me enter first.

  “I’m not sure what you think ‘it’ is, Mr. Price, but I assure you, there’s not enough work in the world for you to achieve it.”

  He grinned at me as I passed, irritating me even further.

  We were at the old mill to speak with some of Mason’s coworkers. I made a promise to Mason, and I was going to keep it no matter what I had to. I was going to get to the bottom of it. Preferably without Daniel’s unneeded help.

  “Can I help you?” Mr. Langley, the owner of the mill, asked, eyeing Daniel Price strangely. Who’s this funny looking fella?”

  I would have laughed, but that would have been very unprofessional, and besides, I couldn’t get too happy about it. A giggle from me probably would have probably caused some kind of horrible accident or cause something to catch fire, and we didn’t need that. We had enough problems without having to worry about my curse coming into play.

  “This is Daniel Price, sir. He’s new to Norwood, Norwood, and Norwood,” I said, plastering on a fake smile for business purposes and business purposes only. Everyone knew everyone in Cat’s Cradle, and they didn’t take too fondly to people they didn’t know. They thought everyone that lived outside of town was crazy when in reality the residents of Cat’s Cradle were the crazy ones. Albeit, the absolute best kind of crazy.

  “A new part owner,” Daniel amended, holding his hand out for the man to shake.

  “And me without my autograph book,” he answered, not bothering to take Daniel's hand. “What can I help you with?” he asked, talking only to me.

  “We need to speak to some of Mason's coworkers,” Daniel said, pulling a legal pad out of his expensive leather briefcase. The smooth black leather briefcase with Daniel's initials engraved in gold caught Mr. Langley's eye, and then he scrunched up his nose in disgust.

  “You sure you wouldn't rather just stand outside and let Malady and I talk?” Mr. Langley said, looking Daniel up and down. “Wouldn't want you to ruin your new shoes.” It was true Daniel stuck out here, especially in the mill, where things like dust and dirt were the norm. He was kind of soft, and very proper to look at. His hair had to take him at least two hours to style it, and I probably couldn't count on my fingers and toes the number of products he used in it. “And, on the plus side, it would save me from having to smell anymore of that cheesy cologne.”

  “This cologne isn’t cheesy. The lady at the sales counter said it made me smell like a sexy lumberjack. And I'm not worried about the shoes,” he said, smiling like he had just won Miss America.

  “I don’t like him,” Mr. Langley said, eyeing Daniel. In response, I let out the small portion of the laugh I was trying to hold in.

  “He tends to have that effect on people,” I said. Suddenly, a loud boom sounded throughout the room, and I watched as Daniel jumped, startled by the noise.

  “You need a paper bag to breath into or something?” I asked, smiling as I teased him.

  “I-I’m fine,” he answered, steadying himself and straightening his hair. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Somebody clean that mess up and then bind the lumber for Pete's sake!” Mr. Langley barked. Turning back to me, he shook his head and let out a sigh. “We've been hiring a lot of high school guys lately to keep up with demand. I guess they've been cutting corners.”

  “Yeah,” I said uneasily. “I'm sure that's what it is.” Steadying my stance and trying to remember that people were starving in third world countries right this minute (You know, to keep my personal mood down enough as to not bring the roof down on top of us or something), I got back to the subject at hand. “If I could just talk to some of his coworkers, I think it would really help matters.”

  “Not sure how much it'd help,” Mr. Langley muttered. “Seeing as how I heard he confessed and all, but sure. If it makes you happy, never let it be said I set a Norwood woman away wanting.” For the first time, his gaze traveled to Daniel and stayed there. “People tend to get into all sorts of trouble if they let that happen.”

  “I'll keep that in mind,” Daniel answered, and his tone was a little too snide, a little too confident for Mr. Langley's taste. He groaned and turned back to me.

  “Mason's close to Ricky Shafer and Bobby Lyons. If anyone knows anything, it's those two boys. They're closer than pigs in mud,” he said, attempting to make a joke. Of course, they would know. Those three had been best friends since they were only knee high to a pig's eye, a pretty common phrase in these parts. They would want to help get Mason off the hook as much I would. I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of them to begin with. “You think he killed that girl? You think Mason has that in him?”

  I wanted to protest, going so far as to open my mouth to speak. Of course Mason didn’t have this in him. He was one of us. He was a good man. Still, I bit my tongue. I wasn’t going to inject myself into that right now. It was unethical.

  “We can’t answer any questions about his case,” Daniel said, holding his hand up to stop Mr. Langley right there.

  “I don’t think I was asking you, Atlanta,” he said, grabbing Daniel’s hand to inspecting it. “What kind of hand cream do you use? My wife would love for her hands to be that soft.”

  Daniel pulled his hand away.

  “How did you know I was from Atla
nta?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “I don't believe I mentioned it.”

  “I don't believe you needed to,” Mr. Langley chuckled. “This is a small town, son. Give me ten minutes, and I'll know what you had for breakfast this morning.”

  “Granola,” Daniel answered flatly.

  “Figures,” Mr. Langley grimaced.

  Rolling my eyes, I turned the conversation back to the subject at hand “Where would we find Ricky and Bobby?” I asked, looking around the mill. They were nowhere in sight.

  He looked down at his watch and back up at me, “Right now they are taking their lunch break. So that means they're in the break room. It's on the second floor just past the locker room. You'll have to take the elevator because there ain't no way you could make up the stairs. There was an accident last week. One of those high schoolers drove a forklift into them, and I haven't had a chance to get them fixed yet.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I answered. “I'll be sure to steer clear.”

  Spotting the elevator, I walked to it with Daniel following like lost puppy. “So, Suzie Q, what’s the plan?” he asked, deliberately trying to aggravate me with that stupid nickname that made absolutely no sense.

  Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose. The only thing I could accurately compare Daniel to was a migraine that didn’t know when to go away. “The plan is I talk because I know them and you write stuff down. Got it?” I asked, hoping he was good at following directions, but knowing him, he probably wasn’t.

  “That's not going to happen,” he said, following me into the minuscule elevator. We were stuffed in like an over-packed can of sardines. Accidentally getting a whiff of his cologne, I had to admit the lady that sold it to him was right. It did smell like a sexy lumberjack. Shaking that thought from my head, I looked down and focused on my shoes.

  “Was this your plan all along?” he asked, his voice making me think that jail may have been worth killing him.

  “What nonsense are you talking about?” I asked, wondering why the elevator was taking so long to get to the second floor. It was ridiculous. That elevator was moving slower than Mrs. Abernathy in the buffet line and let me tell you that was slow.

  “Did you plan to bring me out here just to make me feel out of place?” he asked, smiling down at me.

  There was no way he was serious. He had to be messing with me to see how I would react. “I tried to leave you at the office, so no I did not plan this.”

  “I’m just saying,” he answered. “You seemed happy enough to watch me squirm out there.”

  “I’m a lawyer. So I’ll choose not to answer that on the grounds that it might incriminate me,” I answered, though I didn’t match his smile. There was no need to encourage him.

  I didn’t have time for his ridiculousness. I had to get an innocent man out of jail and prove that he didn’t murder his fiancée. But most of all I had to figure out who used magic on Mason and why.

  The elevator doors opened after what felt like a lifetime. Diving out of the elevator, I started looking for the break room. I was in the zone. I had an important job to do, and I wasn't going to let Daniel and his stupid face distract me. No matter how unbelievably handsome said face was.

  “Suzie Q!” Daniel’s infuriating voice called from behind me. I chose to ignore him. Daniel and his tiresome banter would have to wait.

  “Leave me alone!” I called back, attempting to find Bobby and Ricky.

  “Whatever you say,” he said, laughing.

  Finally, he was going to give in and realize he couldn't boss me around. He was in my hometown; he was on my turf, and I was in charge. Well technically Grandma Misty was in charge, but she wasn't there. And I was a Norwood, so by default, I was in charge. He was just going to have to learn to deal with it.

  I was starting to think that the break room was a figment of Mr. Langley’s imagination. Maybe his age was finally getting to him. Either that or he was lying through his teeth because he didn’t want me to question his employees and cause a ruckus in his mill.

  “Daniel, did Mr. Langley say the second floor or do I need to clean my ears out?” I asked, expecting a smart answer, but I got nothing. Looking behind me, I saw no one there. “Daniel?”

  Hearing men's voices, I followed them until I saw a door that was clearly labeled ‘BREAK ROOM.' Opening the door, I saw Daniel mid conversation with Bobby and Ricky.

  Daniel spotted me, and that caused Bobby and Ricky to look my way.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Malady Norwood. How have you been?” Ricky asked, taking a bite out of his sandwich. I hated to ruin their lunch, but I had to work fast if I was going get Mason from behind bars and out of the hideous orange jumpsuit.

  Taking a seat next to Daniel and sitting my briefcase on the table next to his. My briefcase failed in comparison to his to his super fancy one. He probably paid insane amounts of money for his whereas mine came from a bargain bin from an office supply store. I had gotten it before I left for college and it was a little beat up, but it has done what I needed it to do, and that was okay with me.

  “I'm doing well, Ricky. How about you?” I asked, pulling my legal pad and pen from my briefcase so that I could jot down their answers.

  “I’ve been better, Malady. I still can’t believe Allison is dead and Mason is in jail,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. I understood the way he felt.

  Bobby kept giving me a funny look, and at first, I thought I was imaging it, but every time I looked up, he was just sitting there staring at me. “Bobby, is there something you want to say to me?” I asked, raising my eyebrows as high as they would possibly go.

  “Is there something wrong with Abigail?” he asked, bringing up my least favorite sister. I loved her but dealing with that girl was as hard as trying to have a conversation with a rocket scientist.

  “I mean she's crazy as a bat and as mean as a rattlesnake, but other than that she's just a peach. Why do you ask?”

  “On our date the other night she never uttered one word. She just nodded and smiled a lot,” he said, looking very concerned.

  “She was probably just nervous. You know how long she’s had a crush on you,” I told him, wondering why he wanted her to talk. I preferred quiet Abigail. She was much easier to deal with.

  “Yeah, now that I think about it, I bet that’s what it was,” he said, his ego inflating bigger and bigger by the minute.

  “Can we ask you guys some questions about Mason? It isn’t that I’m not interested in your love life because I am. We just have a job to do here” Daniel said, tapping his silver pen against his pad. They both nodded letting him know it was fine to ask questions. “What time did Mason leave work on the day Allison was murdered?” Daniel questioned, writing something down.

  Ricky and Bobby shared a look that told me they weren't sure if they should answer that question. “Guys, you have, to be honest. Mason is depending on you to help clear his name,” I told them, hoping they would spill the beans.

  And they did.

  “We get off at five. Everyone was getting ready to leave, but then Mason just disappeared. I'm talking like 'now you see me now you don't' disappear. It was crazy,” Bobby said, recalling the strange occurrences. That wasn't going to work in Mason's favor.

  Writing that down, I looked over at Daniel, and I knew that by the look on his face he was thinking exactly what I was thinking. “And about what time was that?” I asked, hoping I was going to get something that could help me help Mason.

  “About 5:45. Like Bobby said it was almost like magician performed a disappearing act on him. Have you spoken to Mason?” Ricky asked,

  * * *

  “Yes, Ricky, I have spoken to Mason because I’m his lawyer. Speaking with my client is part of my job description,” I told him, speaking slowly and making sure to enunciate each word. He made an "Oh, that’s right" expression before laughing.

  Daniel looked at Ricky in disbelief before turning to me with an expression that read "is he serious?" He wa
s as serious as a heart attack. “Moving on to the next question, leading up to that day had Mason been acting out of character?” he asked, unbuttoning his coat and leaning back in his chair.

  “He always seemed to be in a daze lately. Oh, and he was starting to act differently with Allison,” Bobby said, recalling Mason’s weird behavior.

  “How was he acting differently? Give me an example,” I said, not liking where the conversation was going.

  “He seemed to be annoyed with her a lot, and he was never annoyed with Allison. And you know Allison she could annoy people like it was her job. He seemed to be the Mason he was before that infamous dance with Allison at prom,” Bobby said, scratching his head as he tried to think of more information. “I’m sorry, Malady, but that’s all I got.”

  Whoever put a spell on Mason was one smart cookie, and they knew exactly what they were doing. The question I needed to find an answer to wasn't who would want Allison Talbot dead because that would have been everyone in Cat's Cradle and probably the surrounding town as well. I needed to figure out who was using magic on Mason.

  I gathered my things and stood to leave with Daniel doing the same. “Thank you for all your help, boys. Enjoy your lunch,” I told them, walking to the door. I hated the fact that I was leaving the same way I came, with no information to help Mason. I had only information that made him look even guiltier than he already did.

  “Malady, wait!” Bobby called, causing me to stop in my tracks. I knew it was about Abigail. They had a relationship that turned on and off more than a light switch. “Yes, Abigail likes you, Bobby. And I'm positive she will go on another date with you. I mean y'all have already been on about three hundred dates,” I said, rolling my eyes. They were like a repetitive soap opera story line.

  “This is not about Abigail. Mason started to get a cold before he started falling out of love with Allison.” I wasn't sure what good knowing about a common cold was going to do me.

  “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Bobby,” I told him, turning the doorknob to leave the room.