Right Witch Wrong Time

by K. M. Waller

  “And then they come into town and get our sons in all sorts of trouble,” added the woman who’d recently had her hair blown out.

  I let this information set while Penny pulled out a pair of shiny scissors. My mother was a juvenile delinquent at a reform school. “Surely the girls can’t be all that bad.”

  Penny pulled up a large handful of my hair on the side and snipped off at least three inches. “Hon, if I were you, I’d turn tail and run for the hills.”

  Chapter Four

  I grimaced as another chunk of my hair floated past my shoulders. The magic would replace the chopped locks when I traveled back to my time, but I hadn’t planned on looking like a Hall & Oates super fan while I was here. Penny’s emotions calmed down as she snipped, and I could tell she enjoyed her work. However, the woman in the next booth who’d made the son comment sent radiating vibes of irritation.

  “You’ve met the girls?” I asked.

  “The head-monstress brings them on the bus every other month to get a haircut.” Penny pushed around a few items on her cart. “Mary, hon? I can’t seem to find my best scissors for feathering. Can I borrow yours?”

  Whoever Mary was must have agreed because Penny patted my shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

  Missy removed her client’s cape, and the woman shook out her dark hair. She stood, and I noticed she wore wrist-length gloves in a shade of hot pink that matched the belt around her white dress. She withdrew cash from her purse and paid Missy. “Book me for four weeks from today for the same time.”

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Ruiz.”

  The woman caught my stare in the mirror. We locked gazes and my breath hitched in my throat. With a tight smile, she tilted her head. “You have almost the same color eyes as my son, Hector.”

  I knew why. I’d known before she’d even spoken. The emotional vibrations emitting from her hit me with a force I’d never felt before. And while I might have her son’s eyes, I definitely had her nose. Without a doubt the woman staring me down was my grandmother.

  She turned and flounced to the entrance before climbing into the brown Ford. My heart raced, and I wanted to follow her out the door and down the street. I shut my eyes tight. They were not my main mission. I’d make time for them later.

  Missy flipped through the bills and groaned. “Stiffed me on the tip again.”

  Penny came back with a different pair of scissors. “Ugh, that’s Mrs. High and Mighty Ruiz for you.”

  “She’s not a nice woman?” I asked.

  Missy sat down in her chair and leaned forward. “Uppity is her problem because she lucked up and married a successful businessman. But if she knew what we knew about Don, she’d stop putting on airs. But they own the building so we can’t say squat.”

  “Missy, hush your mouth,” Penny snapped, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard her.

  Missy rolled her eyes. “Anyway, where are you from?”

  “Tampa,” I lied with ease.

  “Really?” Penny asked. “Missy came back from over there about six months ago. Her daddy sends her on these extended vacations, lucky girl.”

  “Yeah, so lucky,” Missy said.

  The door banged open, and a woman rushed inside. “They found Sarah Turner this morning. Dead in the woods behind that school.”

  Several of the women gasped. It made sense why the salon hadn’t been abuzz with the murder when I’d walked in. They hadn’t known yet. With the lack of technology, it’d taken a few hours to pass around the news by word of mouth.

  Penny never stopped chopping my hair. “What else do you know?”

  “That Chief Everett…” She flickered a glance in our direction but only paused a second. “He told Officer Mike it’s the most brutal murder of a woman he’d ever seen. Officer Mike barfed. The news crew from Channel 10 is coming over to cover it.”

  I checked the reflections of the women closest to me. Penny’s eyebrows furrowed, but she stayed focused. Missy had initially paled but now chewed her bottom lip deep in thought.

  The bringer of news sat down on a chair by the front door. She smacked her chewing gum several times. “We’ll probably make national headlines by tomorrow.”

  “Who’s Sarah… Turner, did you say?”

  Penny paused the snipping and narrowed her eyes. “She’s the headmistress at that reform school. Man, your agency really didn’t tell you anything about that place, did they?”

  I shook my head, feigning ignorance.

  Missy tapped Penny on the shoulder with a comb, a hum of excitement surrounding her. “Gotta watch what you say about her now. It’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead.”

  “That’s just superstition,” Penny barked at her.

  I wondered at Penny’s constant suppression of Missy’s comments. Let the girl spill it all.

  “Her poor husband,” I offered, digging for information.

  Missy snorted. “She wasn’t married, but she preferred them that way.”

  “Honestly, Missy!” Another stylist from across the room chastised her with a threatening tone.

  Missy ducked her head, her face scrunching into an angry pout and pretended to check her combs.

  It was as if a cloak of fear and uncertainty had enveloped the salon. The women talked in hushed tones and the bringer of the news grabbed a broom and pushed discarded hair around the floor.

  Not a good time to ask more questions. I’d circle back around to these ladies at some point within my allotted seven days. They’d know all the town’s dirty little secrets, but I’d have to earn a little more of their trust before they’d share them.

  Penny made a final snip and fluffed up my feathered mullet.

  Yikes.

  I smiled like I’d won the lottery. “It’s awesome. So rad.”

  “I’m so glad you like it, hon.” She pulled off the cape and gestured to the register. “That’ll be thirty dollars even.”

  I removed a fifty from the wad of cash in my backpack. “Keep the change.”

  “Whoa.” Her smile increased, and I hoped I’d made a friend.

  Missy frowned, the disappointment of not being on the receiving end of a good tip obvious. She shook it off and smiled. “If you’re not busy tomorrow night, I teach Jazzercise in the community center of the First Baptist Church. Only ten bucks a class.”

  “I’ll see if my schedule allows it.”

  Missy appeared to be the more talkative one of the group, and I didn’t want to dismiss her willingness to dish the dirt.

  I waved goodbye and stepped out into the sunlight again. Equal attention needed to be given to each of my B.A.G. questions. Boyfriend question asked and answered. If the gossip was correct, then I’d need to pay attention to the married men of the town. I’d bide my time and dig a little deeper at Missy’s exercise class.

  Another man had joined the two older ones at the bench in front of the shopping center. Younger than the others by about twenty years, he wore a short-sleeved collared shirt with a blue pinstripe tie. His thick black hair had a cowlick in the front that gave him a boyish charm even in his advanced years.

  I pretended to study a floral arrangement in the flower shop to cover my eavesdropping. The men burst into laughter, and I couldn’t imagine they were discussing the murder. I edged closer.

  “And they say old Mikey puked his guts out all over the body,” the younger man with the hair said, his voice still full of mirth.

  I took an instant dislike to him.

  One of the older men spoke up. “Back in my day, the police were made of sterner stuff.”

  I shook off my anger at their obvious disregard for the woman who’d lost her life and their twisted view of history. Becoming emotionally involved in the case only distorted the facts. I didn’t need to like the people in town, I needed them to give me information they wouldn’t normally share with the police.

  Happy to disrupt their current conversation, I walked up to them and fluffed my recently shredded hair. “Hi there, gentlemen. I’m s
o sorry to interrupt, but do you know where I can buy some of that animal spray stuff?”

  The guy with the hair gave me his full attention, letting his gaze linger on my chest a little longer than necessary. Gross. “Animal spray?”

  I crossed my arms. “Well, on my way into town, I swore I saw some coyotes running through the trees. They attack people, right?”

  I hope I looked as dumb as I sounded.

  One of the older gentlemen laughed. “That must have been stray dogs you saw. Our biggest animal problem is raccoons in the trash and possums in the road.”

  I sighed dramatically. “That’s such a relief. I’m a true city girl so I don’t know about these things.”

  Hair Guy hiked his leg up on the edge of the bench Captain Morgan style. “What you doing in these parts, City Girl?”

  “I’ll be working at the school.” I let my face crumple. “At least I hope so. I heard that they found the poor headmistress murdered this morning.” I whispered murdered as if it were a taboo subject to discuss.

  Please don’t let this creepy interaction be a waste of time.

  “Such a shame,” Hair Guy took on a somber tone. Much different from a few minutes earlier when they’d joked about the officer who’d thrown up. “I can’t imagine who would do such a terrible thing. Has to be a vagrant who passed through town.”

  “Has to be,” repeated one of the elderly men.

  “That’s a relief,” I said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find a ride out to the school. The employment agency had me checking in tomorrow, but I think it’s important to help the girls deal with this recent tragedy.”

  Hair Guy smiled. “I can take you out there. It’s on my way to my next sales call.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t impose, Mr.…”

  “Ruiz. Don Ruiz.”

  Holy grandfather!

  In a matter of less than two hours I’d run into both of my grandparents. Either the weirdest coincidences of my life or the cosmos on a broader level had a reason for putting us all together.

  Taking him up on his offer would’ve been a blessing in disguise if he wasn’t looking at me like a piece of steak placed on his plate. One thing Momma Carla and Chuck had banged into our heads as young girls was not to get into cars with strangers. Did a grandfather I’d never met before count?

  I needed more information about everything and his demeanor suggested he liked hearing the sound of his own voice.

  “If you’re sure it’s not out of your way?” Sorry Momma Carla and Chuck.

  Don gestured to a shiny silver Buick parked a few spots away. While I still needed the toothbrush and a few other personal items, I’d have to find my way back into town later.

  He opened the passenger door for me and I slipped onto the vinyl seat. Down the sidewalk, I noticed Missy and Penny standing out front of the salon, both smoking cigarettes. Their expressions told me I’d be the second hot topic of gossip for the morning.

  Don noticed them too and clicked his tongue while winking at them.

  Missy waved—a little too enthusiastically—and Penny tossed down her cigarette butt and went back inside.

  Before he could put the key in the ignition, I blurted out, “I met your wife this morning in the salon. She mentioned your son.”

  “Stepson.” He started the car and guided it onto the main street. The friendly flirty guy attitude of the last fifteen minutes dissipated as we headed away from the main strip. Must have killed his thrill with the mention of his wife.

  At least he wasn’t my biological grandfather. Whew. A relief to know his flirty, sleep-around DNA didn’t flow through my veins.

  I gave myself a mental shake. Investigation first. Family second.

  If he drove the speed limit, I’d only have about five minutes with him before we reached the school. “Did you know the headmistress?”

  “As much as everyone knows everyone else in these parts.”

  I chewed my bottom lip. “What kind of business are you in, Don?”

  “Have you heard of facsimile machines?” His side-eye told me he wouldn’t believe me if I said I had.

  “Sounds futuristic,” I responded.

  “They are in fact the wave of the future.”

  Great. I’d pressed his salesman button.

  “Right now, only big businesses like major corporations and banks have them, but soon they’ll be commonplace in every household.”

  Meh. He was half right. “Does the school have one?”

  “It does. Sold it to them myself.” Pride clung to his voice like bad aftershave.

  “Wow. How does a reform school afford something like that?” I quirked an eyebrow. I’d traveled to the past often enough to know that in 1985 a fax machine would still cost between three to five thousand dollars. “Friends and family discount?”

  His forehead gathered in a deep frown. Uh oh. I’d hit on something important. Time to start the mind map. I envisioned the tree and gave a lower branch to Don Ruiz. The leaves would be a cheater, connection to headmistress, and all around jerk-face.

  He pulled into a long gravel drive but parked by the mailbox. I couldn’t see a school or any other building.

  Don leaned over and pretended to pick fuzz off of the shoulder of my dress. “If you’re not too busy this week, you can always find me at my little drinking hole in town.”

  Ew. Gross. And not in this lifetime. Thankfully, we didn’t make any skin-to-skin contact so his true emotions wouldn’t make me feel like I needed a shower. I narrowed my eyes and went over my options. Left jab to his eye, a spell to make all his zippers stick at the top of his pants for hours at a time, or be the adult and walk away.

  I gestured out the window deciding on the high road. Lily Rose would have preferred I’d left him with a scar. “Where is the school?” I leveled my tone with enough disgust so he’d understand that I’d never meet him for a drink or anything else.

  “The school is up the drive about a quarter mile.” Don glanced at his watch, his expression turning to one of boredom. “I’m running really late so you’ll have to walk the rest of the way up.”

  Good. I didn’t relish spending more time with my disappointment of a step-grandfather, anyway. “Thanks again,” I chimed as I exited the car.

  He sped off, kicking up dust. What a gentleman.

  Chapter Five

  The walk up the dusty, white gravel drive took less than five minutes. As I came around a bend and past a thick grove of oaks, elms and pine trees, I saw the local Heckle police car, a Florida state patrol car and two news vans parked in front of the one-story red-brick building. It resembled a run-down elementary school.

  The parking area to the left only held a handful of various civilian cars. A faded yellow school bus took up a corner of the parking lot and where it should have said Miss Cackles School someone had used spray paint to cross out the C and replace it with an N. It now read Miss Cankles School.

  Great.

  I stopped for a moment and pushed against the cosmos. I expected a little supernatural buzz or hum to come from the school. Nothing.

  An officer in a dark brown uniform with a shiny star on his chest stood at the entrance to the parking lot. I gathered his job was to turn around the busybodies who thrived on morbid curiosity.

  I took a deep steadying breath. Time to stroll into the fray.

  I approached the officer to get a sense of how the police department worked. His posture tensed and he adjusted his dark sunglasses. There were a few stains on the pants of his uniform. No doubt this was the officer who’d lost his lunch after seeing Sarah’s body.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” His thick 80s-style mustache bounced with the question. I couldn’t be sure of his age because of the mustache, but I placed him to be early thirties.

  I dug through my backpack and retrieved the letter. “The employment agency sent me. What in the world is going on here, Officer Mikulski?”

  His stance relaxed as he read over the letter. “You can call me
Officer Mike. This is a bad day for a first day of work.” He handed me back the letter. “They found a body behind the school this morning.”

  “How terrible.” I clutched the letter to my chest and faked a mini-panic attack. “One of the girls?”

  “No, no.” He leaned forward and gave my shoulder a stern pat. The connection between us enough for me to know the murder still rattled him, but he hid it well. “Someone murdered the school’s headmistress.”

  “How?” I whispered back. “Did a student do it? Is it safe to work here, Officer?”

  “Reform school or not, I can’t imagine one of these girls doing something like this. It has to be some vagrant passing through and poor Sarah got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Not a surprise that this was the second time I’d heard the vagrant theory. No one wanted to believe they had a cold-blooded murderer in their neighborhood.

  I didn’t imagine I could get away with too many more questions without having a reason to justify my interest in Sarah’s death. Not yet, at least. The small-town police department might have screwed up the crime scene, but that didn’t make them stupid.

  I glanced around his shoulder to front of the building. “Who’s in charge now?”

  “That’d be Ms. Rebecca Zagat. You can find her at the front of the school in admin. Pretty lady with red hair. You can’t miss her. Nicest woman you’ll ever meet.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  His cheeks reddened.

  It didn’t take another shot of my empath power to know Officer Mike crushed on the newly appointed headmistress. I created a branch for Officer Mike. Two leaves: genuinely nice and the possible suspect’s boyfriend. Would he have helped her destroy evidence if she asked him to?

  I’d circle back around to Officer Mike.

  I wound my way through the news vans and only half-listened as one newscaster practiced her lines for the camera. There would be a lot of “what we know so far” and “a community is rattled after the discovery of a body” type soundbites. With ratings their number one aim, I wouldn’t bother with trying to gain useful information from anyone in the media.