The Patsy's Patsy

by Brooke Shelby

  “Khat is a powerful stimulant,” he said. “What they call an upper.”

  “So you get wired on it,” she assumed.

  “Yes, that’s right. It is similar to cocaine in that it makes your heart race and keeps you awake and makes you downright jittery,” David answered. “Actually, according to my research, two people have already died from it here in Boston due to heart palpitations. This is why Green Demon is under investigation. Be careful, Maggie.”

  “I will. I just needed to know what that little request in my shop was about,” she affirmed. “I can’t thank you enough, David. Now I know what I am dealing with, you know, what to expect when they ask me something about it again.”

  “You’re welcome, girl,” he replied. “Just be careful. The people who distribute this stuff are very protective over their clientele, if you know what I mean.”

  After Maggie had finished speaking to David, she was adamant about letting Sheriff Walden in on the new information. Not only would it help him in his search for the root of the recent problems that had the public furious, but she, too, would know what she was dealing with the next time one of the young people asked her about it.

  It was very worrying for Maggie. This was a deadly substance and it was in Hope’s Crossing. She called Carl Walden while he was at a PTA meeting, but he used the call as an excuse to get out from the claws of the rigid teachers. Maggie shared her recently obtained information with Carl. He finished his bad, cold coffee, sipping the last bitter bit from the bottom of the Styrofoam cup. Maggie’s message was invaluable. At least now he knew what he was up against and he intended to start wearing down the local dealers for information on the new hidden scourge.

  8

  Maggie had no rest from her former husband and biggest mistake, Gareth. No matter how she blocked his number, he found a way to call her. Her business phone line had to remain active and he knew it. Corey’s Herbs and Simples had two lines of communication—email and the landline. On her email, she had blocked any connection with Gareth or closer mutual friends, but unfortunately, she could not compromise her clients for the same reason. Corey’s Herbs and Simples had clients who called in orders on a regular basis, regulars who used Maggie’s products for gifts or for healthy options to their own lifestyles.

  A few days after Maggie spoke to Carl about Green Demon, she was packing an order for Mrs. Bray down the street when her phone rang.

  “Corey’s Herbs and Simples,” she sang cheerfully.

  “So I’m back in Boston, thanks to you,” Gareth whined through the line.

  “Oh good,” she replied casually.

  “No, it’s not good. Do you have any idea how much time and money I wasted on coming to that godforsaken hole you live in?” he bitched.

  “I don’t recall inviting you, Gareth,” she replied indifferently.

  “You can’t avoid me forever, you know!” he complained. “I came all the way to see you and that’s the treatment I get!”

  “Listen up, you moron,” she sneered. “Nobody invited you here! We are done! Besides, I’ll have you know that I have reported you to the local authorities as a stalker, so if you call me again or show your miserable face in my town, you will get your cheating ass thrown in jail!”

  With that, she hung up the phone in the old-school way.

  “God, it feels good to slam a phone down like in the old days!” she told Bramble.

  “He has a rather thick skin, don’t you think?” her cat purred snidely as he groomed his coat. “Maybe I should upgrade your level of witchcraft subjects from now on. You know, once you settle deeper into your abilities and embrace the lessons as second nature, you will ascend to a degree of status where you can choke a man by will alone.”

  “Yeesh,” she cringed. “Much as I would love to see him reduced to ash right now, I don’t think I could ever live with myself if I did something that harmful. My conscience is a prominent part of me, Bramble.”

  “Oh, don’t I know that!” he scoffed in his dramatic jest. “However, I feel that I have to get special tributes for the extra credit.”

  Maggie smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll perk up the cuisine.”

  After effectively threatening her ex-husband properly for once, Maggie’s week quickly perked up. Relieved that she’d successfully conveyed her contempt to her ex, Maggie felt more positive for the mild release. Customers came from far and wide, lending her some well-deserved companionship with their cheerful chats. Nellie would help in the shop and amuse Maggie while she did some occasional babysitting for Carl, and the beautiful witch thoroughly enjoyed the bliss of not having her boat rocked for some time.

  Maggie only thought of Gareth when she heard a song from their era, but other than such memories, she was happy that he finally got the message. He had not contacted her since that day, which, in itself, was already a load off her mind. She found that she was even more productive when making her soaps and herbal tea combinations, while she offered her familiar the best of cuisine, even those ingredients that she paid less for. Bramble apparently did not care if the dish was expensive, as long as it was exquisite.

  She found that her unperturbed mind made for more positivity and she even discovered that the town gossips and the church hypocrites were more tolerable when she felt so accomplished. Many of her old detractors hardly bothered to pass her the hairy eyeball in public anymore and even small gestures like that uplifted Maggie’s spirit greatly. Her toils were few and the constant hostility had subsided, leaving her free to shop where she wished and walk through the streets without surreptitious winks between onlookers.

  It was late Friday afternoon when she was cashing up her till and tidying up to see where she needed more stock. Through her shop windows, the sun pierced its bloody rays as it approached the tomb of night. The late light wrote the shop name against the walls in black- shadow lettering while she was packing up her basket to head home for the night, and she had to shove Bramble aside to get him away from the spilled bits of oatmeal cookies. A young boy who had come in with his grandmother had wolfed away at a packet of cookies, leaving crumbs all over the floor by the counter.

  “Hey, don’t just eat cookie crumbles, Bramble,” she winked. “You don’t know what is in that.”

  He giggled with her reference to the previous debacle in Hope’s Crossing when a plague of poisonings had ravaged the town. Belladonna cookies had been responsible for some awful things at the time, a good reason why Maggie had ceased to offer free cookies on a plate in her shop.

  Carefully, she lined her quaint little bottles of fine-ground spices. The ornate bottles she bought in bulk from Aunt Clara’s regular wholesaler were beautiful, small, and good sellers. Housewives and chefs, especially, who enjoyed embellishing their workspaces with cozy things, loved Maggie’s spices. It was her second-best seller, next to her pineapple chutneys. The latter was a favorite among the tourists this year and she could barely keep up with making the delicious condiments.

  Suddenly, an unholy hammering ensued against her shop windows, prompting Maggie to look up from behind the shelves to see where the ruckus was coming from.

  “What the hell?” she shrieked, furious and terrified at the abrupt and violent bother. Her head peeked over the middle shelf and saw the tall, distraught-looking young man hammering his fists against the glass. “Hey! You’re going to break my windows and then I’m going to kick your skinny ass, pal!”

  Only when she came out from behind the shelf did she see who it was.

  “Ollie?” she winced.

  Maggie knew him from the group of kids at the gas station. Carl had briefly told her about Ollie, but she did not know the boy personally. His green eyes were bloodshot under disheveled black hair, his teeth exposed as he pounded on the window.

  “I need you to open up, Miss Corey,” he sneered. For a fifteen-year-old, he was quite intimidating, but Maggie was too concerned for his plight to feel intimidated. The petulant boy sounded desperate, although she could hear that he
was trying to be as polite as possible. His frantic knocking was alarming nonetheless, and even though Maggie was reluctant to open her door to him, she was far too curious about the nature of his presence not to answer his call.

  “What do you want?” she mouthed from the other side of the window.

  He looked exhausted, seemingly having neglected his personal hygiene for some days.

  “Please, Miss Corey, just please, let me in,” he pleaded.

  9

  Not about to just let the unstable young man into her store, Maggie Corey unlocked the door, braced herself for a possible fight, and opened the door just a crack. She maintained her distance and kept him securely outside her threshold. Once she was a few inches from the young man, she could smell the body odor of more than a few days radiating off Ollie.

  “Open the door,” he insisted, sniffing constantly. From behind him, the evening breeze lifted and brushed over his greasy dark hair.

  “The door is open,” Maggie retorted in blunt frustration. “Would you like me to close it again?”

  “No!” he quickly recovered from his arrogance. “No, please don’t. Just … just open the door, okay?”

  He was stammering so much that Maggie hardly made out a thing when he spoke in the wind. As the sky darkened, so did his demeanor. Fidgeting and looking around in paranoia, Ollie’s sweaty hands ran up and down his jeans as he rubbed them on his hips and thighs. He leaned in closer to Maggie, forcing the poor woman to hold her breath.

  “I need … uh, I need some Green Demon, Miss Corey, like now, you know?” he whispered furtively. “Just one bottle. Promise I’ll pay you back at the end of the month. Promise. Just one bottle?”

  “Honey, I don’t sell Green Demon,” she revealed.

  “Yes you do! Don’t lie! Don’t you lie to me!” he shrieked.

  Maggie recoiled, not in fear, but in impatience for his attitude.

  “Excuse me?” she scowled at him. “Who do you think you are talking to?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, really. Okay? Forgive me. I just … just need one little bottle just for now, please. My mom’s sending me some money in two weeks and then I’ll square with you. How’s that?” he persisted relentlessly.

  “You are going to rub the skin off your hands, Ollie,” she warned with concern.

  The boy quickly stuck his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat to attempt to appear relatively stable, but Maggie had seen this before in the city.

  “So, can I get some?” he asked again. His rapid breathing caused great concern in Maggie. In her mind, David’s words echoed repeatedly as she secretly studied the desperate boy in front of her. All the signs were there and he was clearly in withdrawal. Maggie decided to ease up on him, hoping to obtain some more information about this condition.

  “Why would you think I have Green Demon, my dear?” she asked him.

  Ollie was immensely impatient with the petite woman who was standing between him and his next fix, but she was his only hope and he had to play nice.

  “You have it right there in your shop, man!” he wailed. “It is exactly the same bottle as my previous hit, Miss Corey, and you know it! There!” He pointed to one of her spice shelves. “Look! Right there. I can see the Green Demon bottle from here, so stop trying to bullshit me!”

  “You had better watch your tone, Ollie,” Maggie cautioned him, feeling her chest warm with anger. “I do not take crap from teenagers.”

  “Well, screw you then!” he shouted viciously. “If you don’t sell me any of your stash, I will tell everyone what you are!”

  Maggie’s left eyebrow arched as she assessed the threat. “What am I? Please, enlighten me.”

  Maggie was proud of how calm she had managed to remain in quarrels these days. Had she been confronted by this brat when she first arrived in Hope’s Crossing, she would have been very upset by now. However, with all she had suffered in the short time she had been living here, Maggie had honed her ability to covert anger into sarcasm, fear into fight.

  “You are a bitch, that’s what you are! A damn dealer! You are the goddamn crank mommy, dude, and I’ll make sure everyone knows it!” he yelped and growled like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. “Of course they come from your shop! I’ve seen the bottles, you dumb bitch!”

  A burning wallop met his face, sending him staggering. Maggie did not even realize what she had done until she watched him cower. Inadvertently, the insult and impudence had triggered a physical reaction and she had backhanded the boy before he could draw another breath. Livid, the volatile youth staggered to his feet and snarled at Maggie. She looked as shocked as he, but all he saw was a cold and stuck-up harpy who was trying to humiliate him. Roaring with fury, Ollie reached for the stones on the garden edge of the sidewalk and started hurling them at Maggie’s shop window.

  Hastily, she rushed back in and locked her door, making for her phone. Bramble was inside the window, arching his back and hissing at the impudent brat attacking the shop, while Maggie tried to summon the sheriff to aid her.

  “C-Carl?” she stuttered when he answered his phone after too many rings for her fancy. “Carl, I need help over at the shop! A teenager is attacking me, for God’s sake! He is throwing rocks at my windows and I think he is drugged up badly … or in withdrawal from something!”

  “Withdrawal?” Carl asked.

  “Yes! He is wired on something and he is getting more violent by the second. I really need your help over here! I’m telling you, he is off his mind,” she reported.

  “Who is it?” he inquired, sounding more alert to the situation.

  “Ollie. That kid Ollie? It is him, asking for Green Demon from my shop. Can you believe that?” she moaned.

  Carl could hear the crash of cracking glass as Maggie spoke. It was real. It was urgent.

  “I’ll be right there,” he told Maggie. “Just hang tight.”

  In the background, she could hear him shout to his deputy to join him and then the line clicked. Maggie stayed low to avoid any injury, but the stones did not penetrate the window any more than blossoming fractures. Holding her cat tightly, she stayed out of harm’s way.

  “Oh my God, it is taking Carl forever to get here,” she grunted. “That delinquent is going to break all my windows by the time they get here!”

  “At least you got a good shot in, Tyson,” Bramble said. “Worth the breakage, I’d say.”

  “Of course you would see it that way,” she sighed.

  Maggie and Bramble noticed the rotating red and blue flashes against the wall above them not long after. The screeching of tires was followed by shouts and orders. Maggie could hear a scuffling after the loud crashes on her windows had stopped and Ollie’s shouts and threats could be heard echoing across the main road. It was safe for her to get up and have a look now, but she remained wary as she stole to the front doors, watching Sheriff Walden and his officer apprehend the unhinged young man.

  Carl looked up at Maggie through the window and gave her a quick nod. His deputy took the task of getting a statement from the shop owner while Carl secured the suspect in the back of the car. Ollie would not stop spitting and shouting inside the car while the sheriff had a quick word with Maggie.

  “You think he is wired on crank?” he asked Maggie.

  “Look at him, Carl!” she retorted. “Don’t you think he is off his rocker on drugs?”

  “I do. I do,” Carl frowned. “Don’t fight with me now. I am just trying to get your opinion. Jeez.”

  “I’m sorry, Carl,” she apologized, shaking her head. “I am just on edge.”

  “So what do you think he is on? Green Demon, I suppose?” he guessed. “It seems to be a hard drug, an alkaloid, like your friend David says. All the typical signs are there.”

  “I know. That was my first thought,” she agreed.

  “I’m taking him in now, booking him, and calling his dad,” Carl reassured her. “I’ll keep you posted on the case …” he pointed at the damage, “and the r
epairs.”

  “Thank you, sheriff,” Maggie sighed. After the law enforcement officers had left, Maggie looked at Bramble.

  “I am going to need extra catnip after this. You do know that, right?” he mentioned.

  “Absolutely,” she answered. “So much for our peaceful week, hey?”

  Back at the police station, Ollie was inconsolable and fuming. It was clear that he had no control over his reactions or his words, yet he screamed without stopping once, calling out Maggie Corey repeatedly.

  “She is holding out on me! That bitch has enough Green Demon for a year, but she just keeps it to herself! Only the rich kids get any, right, Maggie?” the boy was persistently screeching. His red face held bulging veins as his voice began to fail him. Carl listened to his mad litanies of hate and guilt and desperation and realized that there was something seriously amiss in his town.

  “His tests show that you were right, sir,” his deputy reported to his office an hour later. “Ollie Miller tested positive for khat, sir. Alkaloid substances in his blood. What are we doing?”

  “Just detain him and wait for his father to show up,” Carl sighed, rubbing his eyes in the light of his desk lamp, but he was concerned about Maggie being implicated in something this serious. He trusted her, and knew she was honest, but such statements from a minor would be considered grave evidence against her and he thought it best to let Maggie know what the boy was claiming. At least then, she would have a fair chance in preparing for any questioning or possible odd reactions from the townspeople again.

  10

  As the days turned into weeks, the drug problem in Hope’s Crossing became exceedingly worse, especially for Sheriff Walden. His officers did their best to contain the complaints and keep the peace as best they could while constant grievances persisted. From noise complaints to attempted burglaries, the youth in town became practically uncontrollable.