After Parker dropped me off back home, I finally finished the shower I’d started what felt like a lifetime ago. Yes, it was still uncomfortably cold, but that discomfort helped me work some of the shock out of my bones. Actually, it was just what I needed.
As I toweled off, I made a mental catalog of the things I knew:
My landlady was a witch.
She’d been murdered.
Her killer was still out there.
Now I was expected to fill her emptied shoes.
That night I’d be given temporary magic.
And my boss was a talking cat.
I wrote fiction for a living—telling stories was my literal job—and still I couldn’t have come up with something quite this crazy, even if I’d tried.
In fact, if it had been up to me, I’d have chosen a much more worthy heroine to take my place, and instead of a jerky cat, I’d probably have written Parker into the authoritative role. It would make for an interesting office romance premise. Opposites attract, enemies to lovers… Yeah, it checked all the boxes for the makings of a good book.
Still, I guess that’s why people liked to say that life was stranger than fiction.
First that harlot of a PTA mom, and now this. What a riveting life I led.
Fully dried off now, I slipped into my favorite pair of jeans and an old T-shirt, then pulled on my running shoes. Did I ever run? No, don’t be silly. But it made me feel like I could if I had to, wearing shoes meant for that purpose.
Then again, if things went south with my training tonight, I might actually have to put the poor sneakers to use for the first time in their miserable lives. I shuddered. Best not to think about that.
Suited up in my inconspicuous casual wear, I headed outside and crept down the worn path to my former landlady’s main residence.
Imagine my surprise when I found I wasn’t the only one who’d had that idea.
A young woman wearing a black maxi dress with a floral printed cardigan, scuffed up combat boots, and a big floppy sunhat stood in front of the house staring up at a second-floor window. She was so immersed in her inspection that she didn’t seem to notice me approaching.
I hesitated. Would it be better if I turned back and pretended this whole thing had never happened?
It was too late for that, I supposed. I was a part of this now, whether I liked it or not.
And so, I raised my hand in greeting and shouted, “Hello there!”
The other woman startled so badly, she somehow managed to dislodge her hat, which the wind immediately swept up in a sudden playful gust.
We both ran after it, but a high up tree branch claimed it before either of us even had a chance.
The stranger bit her lip and turned toward me. “That was my favorite hat.”
“That was my favorite landlady,” I said, deciding just to jump into it as I motioned toward the now vacant house. “Did you know her well?”
“Not really,” the woman said with one last lingering glance toward her lost hat. Now that her face was fully exposed, I could tell she was even younger than I’d originally guessed. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d only just finished high school in the last year or two.
“I’m Tawny,” I offered with a warm smile. “And you are?”
“Nobody important,” she mumbled with another glance toward her lost sun hat. Her long black tresses blew in the breeze, giving her an almost ghastly appearance. “I really should be on my way.”
“Wait,” I cried, not entirely sure how I meant to follow that up. But I couldn’t just let her get away. What if she was the murderer? I owed it to my former landlady to find out.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded when she turned back to me with a resigned sigh. “Did you know Mrs. Haberdash was murdered?”
Her eyes bore into mine, direct and determined but also giving nothing away. I suddenly became very aware that I had confronted someone who could be lethally dangerous. Was this the killer? Did she have the magic that belonged to the town?
When she didn’t answer, I took a guess. “You did. Didn’t you? Know she was killed, I mean. But do you know why someone would want her dead?”
“It was a mistake coming here,” she spat, then turned on her heel and strode off so quickly I didn’t have a prayer of catching her despite having donned my running shoes.
“Wait,” I called after her again, but that nameless girl didn’t acknowledge me and didn’t turn back.
Well, shoot.
I’d had the suspect right here but hadn’t been able to get anything useful out of her. If she’d been a friend or family member, she’d have said something, right? Her sudden departure screamed of a guilty conscience—but could she be guilty of murder?
Whatever the case, I had a feeling this strange visitor would turn up again sooner rather than later. Hopefully, though, it wouldn’t be with murderous intent, especially now that she knew I suspected her.
Gah!
What was wrong with me? I hadn’t merely tiptoed around danger, I’d dived headfirst in after it.