“I don’t know,” I replied at last. “It’s like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Is this how the TV detectives feel?”
“Ethan and Patrick are both fishy, if you ask me,” Mee-maw remarked, brow furrowed as she scrutinized the board.
“Are you saying you think one of them was behind the stealing of the typewriter?” asked Zoe, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.
“Yep.” Mee-maw’s eyes narrowed. “I think we ought to consider them. It just strikes me as odd that they’d both start hanging around Cricket right around the time she got the typewriter.”
“Are we not going to talk about the fact that the guy who took it is dead?” I asked. “They still have no idea who he is, never mind enough info to tie Patrick or Ethan to him.”
“Sure,” Mee-maw replied. “You and your boy-toy were out for sushi when it happened, right? Convenient.”
“Please don’t call him my boy-toy, Mee-maw,” I replied, pinching the bridge of my nose. I was too overwhelmed at this point to be embarrassed.
“Guys, focus,” Zoe said, clapping her hands together like a kindergarten teacher.
I sighed. “Okay, you have a point. They both showed up right around the time the typewriter did, and I was out with Ethan when it was stolen.” Two towns over, no less. But the thought made my insides feel squirmy and I pushed them away. “But I’ve known him for years. It just doesn’t seem like something he’d do.”
Hell, I thought bitterly, what do I know anymore?
“What about his family?” asked Mee-maw.
Zoe and I stared at her in confusion. “Huh?”
Mee-maw snatched the notebook she had been using off the coffee table, flipping through page after page of hastily-scribbled notes and annotations. “This you’ll find interesting,” she said, pausing when she got to the right page. “Turns out, your pal Ethan’s family has been around Rocky Knoll a lot longer than you’d expect.” Seeing my raised eyebrows, she knew she had me, and continued. “I did some digging through the old town records. Turns out, his family’s had a mansion in town since the 1700s.”
“So?” asked Zoe. “A lot of families have had property here for--”
“That’s not all,” Mee-maw interrupted her. “Some of his ancestors are listed as being in town during the second witch scare—the one in the 1800s.”
“Hmm.” I frowned, but I couldn’t deny that it was an interesting tidbit. “And Patrick?” I asked, looking back up at Mee-maw.
“He’s been harder to pin down, your mysterious handyman,” Mee-maw replied, a twinkle in her eye. “But the fact that he suddenly showed up in town is interesting. I also found out that he has a sister in the area.”
“That’s right,” I said, nodding as a rush of relief stole over me. At least that much was true. “He moved here from Scotland so he could see her.”
“As for the rest…” Mee-maw glanced through her notes. “No criminal record, not much of an online presence… I’ve got pretty much zilch on him.”
“So what do we do now?” asked Zoe.
“Well, obviously we need to keep looking,” Mee-maw replied. “Which means, we need a game plan. We’re going to have to step up our reconnaissance efforts.”
“Recon…? Mee-maw, you’re not talking about spying on these guys, are you?” I asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, and you two are going to help me,” Mee-maw responded, not missing a beat. “First things first, you said Ethan got a call in the middle of your date. I say we figure out who called him. It could’ve been the burglar checking in.”
I had to admit, the timing was uncanny. And Ethan did know that Mee-maw was going to be out for the evening. As much as I hated suspecting him, it would be silly not to at least look into it.
“Okay, fine,” I said with a grim nod. “So what do we do?”
“Well,” Mee-maw began, “I could always use my dark web connections to get some mickeys. All you’ll have to do, Cricket, is slip one into his drink the next time he takes you out, and--”
“Wait, a minute, mickeys?” I exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. “Mee-maw, that’s unethical. Not to mention, illegal, I imagine.” Also, not to mention, we’d have to take a time machine back to the nineteen fifties to get one.
“Fine,” Mee-maw retorted. “Chloroform, then. Get some on a rag, slap it over his face for a second or two, problem solved.”
“The type of poison isn’t the problem, Mee-maw,” I protested. “It’s the poisoning itself. You see why that’s a problem, don’t you?”
Mee-maw rolled her eyes. “Considering the two of you aren’t giving me any ideas, you’re not exactly in a place to complain, but if you’re so hung up on it... “ She scratched her craggy cheek for a moment. “We’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way. Take him to a bar and get him so fried he can’t see straight. He passes out, you tie him to a chair, and you don’t let him leave until he answers all our questions, Spanish Inquisition style. Got it?”
Zoe was staring at the two of us with her mouth open. “What are we, the Avengers? Geez, Mee-maw. Let’s try a little finesse here, huh?”
“Finesse,” Mee-maw spat. “And just how are we supposed to finesse it out of him, hmm?”
“Easy,” Zoe shot back. “Just use your god-given gifts.” She raised her eyebrows at me, gesturing at her chest. “If you need to distract a man, you’ve got to make sure you’re putting your cookies on full display.”
“You know, Zoe,” Mee-maw said after a moment’s thought, “that might be the best idea you’ve ever had.” She turned to me. “Maybe we should all go, now that I think about it. Yeah, that just might work. We all wear low-cut tops—nothing too showy—can’t give away all the goods for free, but enough to keep that fellow’s peepers glued firmly… here.” She pointed down at her own substantial bosom.
My eyes might as well have been bugging out of my head at the sound of those words coming out of Mee-maw’s mouth. Fighting off the image of my grandmother in a revealing shirt, I cleared my throat. “Um, maybe it’s better if I do it alone. We don’t want him… too distracted.”
Mee-maw looked at me dubiously, eyebrows raised. I noticed her eyes drift to my petite breasts. “Okay. If you’re sure…”
I ducked my head, wondering if it was possible to disappear into my sweatshirt, but nodded. “Yeah. I think if we’re going that route we should probably be a bit more subtle.”
“So who do we start with?” asked Zoe. “Ethan or the other guy?”
“Patrick?” I supplied. “I don’t know. I agree we need to figure out who was on the phone with Ethan at the restaurant, but--”
“But it might be better to start with the hunky handyman,” finished Mee-maw. “A man with no flaws is a man with secrets, as my late husband used to say--”
“He never said that,” Zoe muttered.
“What would you know about it, anyway?” Mee-maw retorted. “Either way, we need to decide our priorities.”
“We’re going to have to look into both of them, so what’s the problem?”
“Remember Connie, too,” Mee-maw added.
“And just how is Cricket supposed to seduce a little old lady?”
I listened to the back and forth of their bickering, feeling strangely Zen about the fact that they were talking about deception, seduction, and interrogation. As much as I disliked the idea of throwing this kind of a wrench into my growing rapports with each of these guys, I knew that Mee-maw had a point. Their sudden arrival was too much of a coincidence to ignore.
I was just starting to wonder if I should begin cleaning up dinner while they continued to debate which of the newcomers was more suspicious, when I felt the gentle buzz of my cell phone. Brow furrowing, I dug it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. Speak of the devil—Ethan had texted me.
Hey Cricket. Just wondering how your day was. He had finished the message with a little smiley face, just the kind of touch that made me feel a bit like a tee
nager again.
Glancing up at the others, who were too caught up in their debate to notice, I began first to type out a response. Then, realizing that the decision had just been made for me, I deleted the text and dialed his number instead. Putting the phone up to my ear, I listened to it ringing, wondering if Ethan would be able to pick up. It rang three times before his familiar, gruff voice sounded on the other end.
“Hey, Cricket. I was just thinking about you.”
“Ethan,” I said, unable to help the smile that crept onto my face. The others either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I saw your text.”
In the background, I could still hear Mee-maw and Zoe arguing. “As if that would even work!” Zoe was saying, sounding annoyed.
“If you’d stop running your mouth for a minute and let me think, maybe I could come up with something better!” Mee-maw snapped back.
“Yeah?” He sounded both tentative and happy, and I wondered if he could hear the conversation that was going on around me. “I was kind of hoping we could get together again sometime soon, if I’m being honest.”
“Hmm,” I said, making a show of thinking it over. “You know, I was kind of hoping that, too. If I’m being honest.”
He laughed. “Fair enough. Do you want to have dinner with me?”
“Sushi again?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Better make it oysters,” Mee-maw called to me, having finally noticed my conversation. “They’re a natural aphrodisiac!”
“What was that?” asked Ethan.
“Nothing,” I replied, a little too hastily.
He chuckled. “Anyway, no. Not this time. I was thinking maybe you could come over to my place. I could cook you dinner.”
“That sounds really nice,” I said, and meant it. The fact that this would presumably mean getting him alone, and in private, was secondary. At least, that was what I told myself. “When were you thinking?”
“Tomorrow night?” Ethan asked.
“Sure,” I replied, not wanting to come across as too eager. There would be time to look into Patrick, but I couldn’t say no to the opportunity that had presented itself here.
“Great,” Ethan said, and the excitement in his voice was enough to make me grin. “I’ll make us something good.”
“So you can cook?” I asked teasingly.
“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he replied. “I bought my parents old house, so you know where I live. See you tomorrow at seven, Cricket.” And then he hung up, leaving me to look from Mee-maw to Zoe.
“Well?” Mee-maw asked.
“Dinner,” I replied. “Tomorrow night at his house.”
“Perfect,” Zoe said. “This’ll be exactly the chance we need. He’s the more suspicions of the two, in my opinion. He was with you when the burglary happened.”
Mee-maw frowned and shook her head. “Exactly why she shouldn’t go to his house alone. What if he catches onto you and murders you in cold blood? Why can’t you have your date in public?”
“If he had something to do with the burglary, he doesn’t want to kill me or the guy would’ve done it when he broke in. He wants the typewriter. Plus, he knows that I will tell you both where I’m going. Ethan might be up to something nasty, but he’s not stupid enough to get arrested for murder in his own house. Plus, the best way to get info on him is to be in his lair. You guys both know it. I’ve got to go on that date.”
They both fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment and I pressed my advantage.
“I know it in my gut. I’ll be fine.”
“Make sure you have your phone with you at all times,” Mee-maw grumbled.
“I will. Pinky swear.”
“And over the next few days, we’re gonna do as much digging on these two fellows as we can. Then, we’re gonna bring it to that Connie woman and get some answers.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, nodding. I did feel a bit like a spy.
“Until then,” Mee-maw continued, locking eyes with me, “I say you try to practice those witchy powers of yours, Cricket. See if you can figure out the secret to using that typewriter.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You’re saying I should just... write?”
“Damn right,” Mee-maw replied. “See if you can predict the future. Write one of those magic stories of yours.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. I stood up while the others cleared out the takeout containers, and made a mug of coffee before lugging the typewriter into the living room. I plopped down in the middle of the couch, the others coming to sit next to me and watching with wide eyes as I loaded a sheet of paper. Thinking for a moment, I typed one word at the top of the page.
Ethan.
Then we waited, hardly daring to breathe in anticipation of the writing storm, the wave of inspiration. The seconds ticked by. I stared at the blank page, Ethan’s name glaring back at me like a black spot on the empty paper.
Come on, Maude…
My fingers poised over the keys, I continued to look down at the blank page, my eyes eventually sliding over to Mee-maw, and then Zoe. They were still fixated on the typewriter.
“Well?” Mee-maw asked. “Get on with it, Cricket.”
“I’m trying,” I said. “I can’t force it. Or, at least, I haven’t learned how to, yet.”
“I guess we should just wait, then, right?” asked Zoe.
I frowned. “I guess so.”
We continued to wait and stare at the typewriter. I didn’t feel anything other than vague indigestion from the food—at the very least, nothing like the half-possessed state I entered when I wrote that first story, or the subsequent ones. I couldn’t get into the zone.
It was like some kind of supernatural writer’s block.
I jumped when Mee-maw slapped me suddenly in the back of the head. “What was that for?!”
“Just wanted to see if I could shock some inspiration into you,” she replied.
I rubbed the back of my head, not feeling anything other than a vague ache where she’d slapped me, and tried to focus on the writing. Eventually, it became clear that nothing was going to happen tonight, but I wasn’t ready to just let it go. We continued to sit there silently, until the room began to blur out of focus and my head started to lull against my chest. The food we’d eaten sat heavily in my stomach, and it suddenly felt impossible to keep my eyes open.
When I finally came to, more than an hour had passed. It had gone dark outside, and as I stretched, trying to work the ache out of the back of my neck, I saw that both Mee-maw and Zoe were still slumped next to me. They were fast asleep, sawing logs like there was no tomorrow.
The Avengers, indeed.
Chapter 18
"How about this one?"
Siskel and Ebert, here, were tough critics and, despite trolling through my entire closet for nearly an hour, I was no closer to picking an outfit than I had been when we'd started the process. My date with Ethan was getting closer by the minute, and I was getting desperate.
"If 'sexless schoolmarm' is the look you're going for, you hit it right on the head. What is that color called, anyway? Puce?" Zoe asked, her nose wrinkling like she'd sniffed week-old cod.
"It's purple," I shot back defensively. "With a hint of brown," I admitted, frowning at my reflection as I held it in front of me.
She was right. Seriously unflattering.
I tossed it on the pile with the rest of the rejects and threw up my hands.
"Look, I don't know what you two want from me. I'm trying my best here and working with what I've got."
"I told you we should've went shopping," Mee-maw muttered from her seat on the bed.
"You're supposed to be taking it easy, not going on marathon mall runs," I shot back. "And let's all remember, Ethan liked me back in high school, and then asked me out after seeing me on numerous occasions in my regular style, so..."
"'Style' is a stretch, I'd say," Mee-maw said with a sniff.
"Whatever you want to call it. I'm done. I'm wea
ring the black dress and that's that."
"Perfect." I was about to sigh with relief, until she added, "If you were going to your great uncle’s wake. But for a date, no way."
Kill me now.
My entreaties to the Grim Reaper were cut short as Zoe swept into the room with a bag under her arm.
"Where did you come from?" I asked, blinking at her in surprise. "I didn't even see you leave."
"You and Mee-maw were too busy arguing. I ran out to the car."
"For what?" I asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously.
"I had a feeling this was going to happen, so I brought over a few things, just in case," she said, preening a little.
I let out a groan and shook my head. "No way. I can't pull off leopard print. Or a hat. And your boobs are, like, twice the size of mine."
"I know," she said with a regretful shrug. "And how sad is it that, in spite of all those things, what I have in this bag will still be more flattering than anything you have in that tragedy of a closet?"
I gritted my teeth and sucked in a steadying breath. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"
She shrugged and upended the bag onto my bed.
A small pile of clothes slithered out onto the comforter and I eyed it like it was a pit filled with vipers.
"Red?"
"One of them is red, yes. And there's a blue one and a cream-colored one, as well. Don't knock 'em until you try them."
I bent low and lifted the cream-colored one from the pile. It actually wasn't bad. Soft, buttery cotton that looked as if it would hang saucily off one shoulder. The hem came to just above the knee, and it looked expensive. I was surprised because it was understated for Zoe's usual taste, but I had to admit, I liked it. Casual, as dresses went, which made sense for an evening in. In a word? It was perfect.
The proof was in the pudding, though, and I tugged off one of the more recent vetoed outfits, stripping down to my skivvies.
"I can already tell that color is going to look good on you," Mee-maw rasped approvingly. “You’ve got great, rosy skin.”
Writing Wrongs: Crow’s Feet Coven, Book One Page 14