The Elder Witches
Page 2
Chapter 2
After taking Rutger for our morning run, showering and feeding us both, I said goodbye to the shaggy mutt. With the top down the Spring sun warmed me as the cool air cleared my head. The cherry blossoms lining the streets were just starting to bloom, giving the promise of summer to come.
Reynolds had called the women I currently worked for witches, and not in the normal way people say that about a woman, but the hocus pocus turn you into a frog kind. I ran over what I knew about the women in my head as I drove. I was a private investigator, or at least mostly. I didn’t know we even offered security until my boss said that would be part of my new assignment.
I was assigned to protect the three women at 1313 Sycamore Ave. Two sisters, Gwendolyn Keane and Maeve Brookshire, and their mother Marianna Brookshire. The sisters were as different as their surname’s suggested but were almost inseparable. Their mother, Marianna, in her endless collection of business suits, spent most of her time at their book store which must have been more of a hobby as it couldn’t possible afford their lifestyle. Gwendolyn spent most of her time at the mansion growing herbs that they sold in their book store as tea or potpourri. When Maeve wasn’t helping Marianna or Gwendolyn, she vanished for hours at a time, even though I told her repeatedly that part of my job was supposed to be to look out for her.
I tried to figure out how Reynolds had moved so fast, it was like he was on some kind of super steroid. But something about that explanation didn’t sit right. I’ve never heard of a drug that can make a person go faster than you can see them. Unless he slipped me a drug. Could he have slipped me something, maybe when we shook hands, I’d heard of drugs that could sink through your skin and get into your bloodstream. I felt fine though, nothing else looked like it moved like he did. Rutger wasn’t all of a sudden super dog, blurring around the apartment.
I arrived at my latest assignment in a very posh neighborhood in DC. My 15 year old Jeep stood out in contrast with the luxury cars more typical to the area. The irony hadn’t escaped me how out of place and suspect I looked heading to work as “security”. Getting rich has never really been high on my list of priorities. I do well enough now days, Rutger and I don’t go hungry and we can still do our side job of looking for my sister’s killer.
There was a driveway but I choose the street parking. Not bothering to lock the Jeep, I followed the flagstone path up the stairs by the sidewalk, through the wrought iron gate. The gray stone house was partially hidden from the street behind big hardwood trees. The walk through the trees gave me a chance to enjoy the birds and squirrels that were always in abundance. Large oak, birch and sycamore trees dominated the property, with so many flower beds and herb gardens as to look like a botanical garden. I hadn’t seen a gardener on duty once since I’d started, except for the ladies who walked the grounds frequently, mostly Gwendolyn. However, it’s been my experience that most rich people didn’t do their own gardening, especially not when you have most of 5 acres to tend to.
Beneath a massive twisted sycamore tree near the side of the estate, Gwendolyn sat reading a book in the shade, her sweater wrapped around her thin frame. She wore black leather boots that were well scuffed.
“Good morning Miss Keane. Enjoying the outdoors again I see,”
She set her book down on my arrival, but remained seated on the bench and smiled up at me, “I’ve told you, please call me Gwendolyn. How are you this morning— I trust you slept well?”
I stifled a yawn thinking about Reynolds knocking on my door in the dead of the night, waking me from a sound sleep.
“Yes ma’am,” I said figuring the white lie would be better than worrying her just yet about Reynolds.
“How is work going?”
“Everything is going well.”
“No problems?”
“To be honest, there’s not much to it. Most clients that would require security are celebrities or have had death threats for one reason or another,” I said thinking about the ‘vampire’ that came to visit last night.
“Your firm also does investigative work, I understand,” she said.
“Yes, we are all licensed private investigators—”
“Good. We have a long family history with a deep interest in learning more about certain aspects of our past.”
“Your home is beautiful, has it been in the family long?” It was in the suburbs of an older part of town. It had to be at least 200 years old.
She waved her hand dismissively at the house. “It’s been in the family since it was built. Marianna likes the house very much. Personally I like it out here much better.”
“You do seem to spend a lot of time outside,” I said and meant it.
“I’d better go relieve James,” I said walking toward the mansion. James was the only other security officer. He was a fatherly looking man, trim and fit looking. When I came in for my shift we would usually chat a bit before he made his way to the apartment behind the main house. He’d been working for the women for years.
On my way through the door a black cat darted past my feet. Once inside, it turned and studied me with blue eyes.
“Where did you come from?” I said. I didn’t know the ladies had a pet, maybe it spent most of it’s time outside. I stuck my head outside to ask Mrs. Keane if she knew who’s cat it was but she was already gone.
“I should make sure somebody is feeding you,” I said. “Maybe James knows what your name is.”
I headed to the kitchen in the back of the house, where James and I usually met up.
He looked up from reading the paper. “You look like shit, son,” James said.
“Long night,” I said.
“Oh?” he said raising his eyebrows. “Have a seat and tell me all about her.” A smiled warmed his face and laughter filled his eyes.
“You know you’re a dirty old man, right?” I said.
“Who, me?” he said, his easy smile in place.
“It wasn’t a woman though,” I said.
He remained silent but his eyes widened a bit.
Ignoring the look, I went on. “A man showed up at my apartment last night. He had a picture of Miss Keane,” I said. I filled him in on as much as I could but held back the part about him being a vampire and the women being a coven of witches.
He set down the newspaper he been reading. “Why do I get the feeling like you’re leaving something out?”
“How long have you worked here, James?” I asked.
“A lifetime,” he said.
I trusted James, and the fact that he worked here for so many years spoke volumes.
“The man that visited me made some accusations and while I don’t believe the things he said, it’s made me think. Things here do seem a bit too… perfect”
“Perfect how? It’s just some women fussing around in gardens or in books and an old man, yours truly, mostly watching TV.”
I raised my hands. “Maybe it’s just lack of sleep.”
“I’m not sure what your friend told you but be careful, the women are protective about their reputation, and they are my ward.”
“He’s not my friend,” I said and what the hell is a ‘ward’?
“But you’re still going to dig into whatever it is you’re not telling me,” he said frowning.
I nodded.
He sighed loudly and headed for the door.
“Hey, do we have a cat living here? Do you know what it’s name is?” I called.
I thought I heard him chuckle as he kept walking.