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“She’s magical? Amy Gosnik? Well, isn’t that something?” Aunt Trixie said in the living room of the Victorian later that evening.
It was seven o’clock and Febe had an hour to go before retiring for bed. She had to be up for her eight a.m. workshop with Professor Techer. She was told beforehand to get as much sleep as possible for her first session since it would use a lot of intense energy. Whatever that meant.
“Yes, she is. And by the way, Aunt Trixie I am so glad you weren’t arrested,” Febe blurted out.
“You and me both, sweetie,” she said, taking a swig of rum.
“I knew they wouldn’t hold you too long,” Aunt Vanity said, fixing her coif and glancing into a compact mirror.
Febe swore Vanity must have been bewitched into always checking herself in a mirror. It was unbelievable. No doubt, she must have had a good meeting with Bruce at the paper, because she left there acting like she felt on top of the world. But Febe was smart enough to not ask her how her meeting with Bruce went.
“So what did they say?” Febe asked interested.
“It’s what I said. I had an alibi.”
“You mean you stirred one up with witchcraft,” Aunt Vanity added.
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“How dare you?”
“How dare you? You know we’re not supposed to use magic for personal gain,” Aunt Vanity said.
“And what made you think I did such a thing? You’re the one that concocts those ridiculous love potions to try to make men fall for you. I never need such nonsense.”
“Ladies!” Aunt Eartha intervened.
Aunt Trixie sucked in a deep breath. “I simply told them I was up late watching TV with my cats and decided to order pizza.”
“For the cats?”
“No silly. For me. Okay, I might have given them just a little. Well, they actually took a piece off me.”
“Aunt Trixie! Garlic is poisonous to cats!”
“I know that, silly. That’s why I made sure the pizzas were simple. No garlic in the sauce. It’s the meat they like. They usually take off the pepperoni and dig into it. What can I do? I can’t deprive them. Anyway, it’s fun to watch old episodes of Perry Mason while eating pizza. Nothing like it.”
“So what about your alibi?”
“The pizza delivery guy, silly. I just remembered that he came by at that time and saw me there. The Blackshore Bay Pizza remembered my late night call and the guy told his boss about all the cats. I gave him a generous tip, too.”
“Good thing, or he might not have remembered.” Aunt Vanity made a snarky remark.
“That’s not very funny,” she shot back at her sister.
“Well, that was a very good thing then.”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean sort of?”
“Well, they still want me for further questioning and asked that I don’t leave town and to surrender my passport.”
“Like witches need passports to fly.” Febe grinned. But the joke seemed to be lost on her aunties. Janvier chuckled though.
“Never mind,” Febe said dismissively. “I’m glad that you weren’t arrested Auntie. I’m really glad about that. I was so nervous when that detective asked you to come down to the station for questioning.”
“No worries, dear niece. Your auntie can take very good care of herself.”
“And her exes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aunt Trixie had her hands on her hips.
“You take care of your exes like Al Capone took care of his enemies.”
“Hey, now that’s not fair!”
“Ladies, please.” Aunt Eartha was getting annoyed now. “Now let’s keep things in perspective. The fact remains that someone killed Darla Gosnik and we need to find out who and why. This could be very dangerous if the witch hunters are back in full swing and hunting all modern witches.”
“That’s true.”
Later in the evening, the family had just been treated to a delicious homemade pasta dish by Aunt Eartha with British-styled trifle dessert topped with whipped cream, custard and fresh strawberries with a fluffy cake base. It was scrumptious. Febe felt full for the first time in a while. It was so nice having home-cooked meals for a change and sure beat those cheap packaged noodles on days when she barely had enough to get by on after her student loan payment and rent went through her account. Sometimes she felt like the working poor, just working to exist in the big city on small pay as an intern. But that was all behind her now. She was back home with her peeps in Blackshore Bay.
Ebony, her little four-legged companion was seated cozily by the fireplace in her kitty basket.
Janvier was curled up on the couch, staring into her smartphone like most people these days, waiting for someone to “like” what she just posted on Facebook.
Aunt Vanity was on the far couch, into herself as usual.
Aunt Trixie, who often visited late in the evening before returning to her own dwelling next door, was over by the bar.
Aunt Eartha was seated by the fireplace, too, with a newspaper in her hand.
Febe was seated on the loveseat with her laptop on her lap, scrolling through different search terms on Google. She was eager to get to the bottom of this mystery that could pose a threat to her and her family.
The flat screen TV was on the local news station.
“Our top story today, police still have no suspects in the brutal murder of tabloid queen Darla Gosnik,” the reporter announced. “Gosnik was found at the side of the road just outside the town at the border of Blackshore Bay and Main. Police say that she most likely died of asphyxiation. There were obvious signs of trauma...”
“Asphyxiation?”
“Yeah, when your body is deprived of oxygen with can result in unconsciousness and eventually death, often called suffocation,” Aunt Vanity said.
“I know what that is Miss Vain.” Aunt Trixie rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Hey, that’s Vanity to you,” Aunt Vanity protested.
“All right you two. I’m trying to listen to the newscast,” Aunt Eartha said, her tone laced with annoyance. She was often cool as a cucumber, but Febe felt that she’d probably had enough of her sisters bickering like cats and dogs.
“So someone strangled her?” Janvier said.
“Looks that way,” Febe replied. “What strikes me as odd is why was she there late at night?”
“Or was her body moved there?”
“Good question,” Febe said, “Unless she was lured there.”
“Lured there?”
“Yes. It’s not unusual for reporters to meet the sources of their stories late at night.”
“But in that neck of the woods? There’s a curfew, Sis, remember?”
“I know,” Febe said, tapping her pen to her chin. She’d been scribbling down some notes from her Internet searches. “But there was something about the article Amy showed me that makes me think it could have something to do with that?”
“Florida?”
“Yes. St. Augustine, Florida.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just looking up some notes about St. Augustine and what could have happened there recently that would make her want to meet a source.”
“Okay, you’ve got to look at it from all angles, niece,” Aunt Eartha said.
“What do you mean?”
“It could be anyone who had a motive to want her dead.”
“True. She wrote a lot of mean things about a lot of people on her website. I just read a few things. The comments from readers weren’t very nice either. Oh wait.”
“What is it?” Her aunties eagerly hovered over her computer.
“There was an article written in the last year about Darla’s run-in with the law.”
“Really now?”
Febe scrolled down the screen. “Looks as if she’d been given a parking ticket at one time and she tried to fight it.”
“So?”
“So, she said some unkind things about the parking enforcement officer.”
Aunt Eartha leaned in closer. “James Heart, parking enforcement officer. Oh, another Heart family member. Seems like they have their whole family working down at the precinct. I like ‘em. They’re good folks.”
“But look at this comment.” Febe scrolled down to a J. Smith from St. Augustine, Florida.
The Hearts are good people. They’re all heart, witch is more than I can say for you.
-J. Smith, St. Augustine, FL
“Do you see that? Do you see how that person spelled which?”
“I see. Good catch.”
“They used the witch spelling. Ha! That’s nothing new. Some people do that to be bitchy or to prove a point.”
“But do you think that person knew?”
“Doubt it.”
“Another person wrote she should pay her darn tickets and stop complaining. There’s a good reason they issue tickets.”
“Do you really think that might have something to do with it?” Janvier asked, dubiously. They all hovered on the couch looking over Febe’s shoulder at her laptop now.
“To be quite honest, I don’t know what to think,” Febe admitted. She felt discouraged about the case now. “I don’t think that could possibly be related.”
“Maybe it’s nothing, darling niece. Let’s face it. We may never really know what happened to her. It was late at night in a wooded area that had a curfew for a reason. Bears and all kinds of wild animals are known to be in that area.”
Febe shook her head. “But she had to have circled the article for a reason – and in red ink. Her sister Amy said she never did that unless it was something important. She regarded newspapers as sacred and would never scribble on them. That’s what Amy said.”
“Maybe it was Amy who did it.” Aunt Vanity moved back to her chair and began filing her nails.
“Why would her sister kill her?”
“Oh, come now. We all know what a wretch Darla was to her sisters. She took over the respectable, family-owned newspaper after their parents died and turned it into some cheap tabloid rag. The police should look into the Gosniks and their alibis.” Aunt Vanity continued to file her nails. “I mean the killer would know that she’s a witch. Maybe they pulled off her ring because they didn’t think she deserved it because of her bullying ways and they wanted to throw the cops off the right trail.”
Febe thought about that for a moment. “Amy did seem rather bouncy when we went to deliver the sandwiches for her boardroom meeting. But...”
“But what? There you have it. She’s guilty as sin.”
“But just because people behave a certain way...”
“Oh there you go with your behavioral science crap...”
“Vanity!” Aunt Eartha called out. “It’s not crap. She does have a point. We need to be more supportive.”
“Fine. Fine.”
Febe felt a headache coming on all of a sudden.
Maybe she really needed to just lie down for a while and not think too much. She had way too much on her brain for this. She’d just lost her apartment, her fiancé and her job this week and now she was back home in her small town and in the middle of a murder. Okay, she didn’t do it and she hoped and prayed no one she knew committed it, but she and her sister Janvier were the ones who stumbled on the body. That made it her business. What if that were she? What if they had been the target and Darla just happened to be in the way?
“You know I do think it was pretty strange that the sergeant just happened to be in the area.”
“Well, of course, darling. He patrols the area.”
“But he was following us.”
“And he was probably wondering what two young women in an SUV were doing at that time of night just on the border of the town, driving on that road.”
“Okay, you’ve got a point,” Febe said, “I just have some trust issues right now.”
“Ha! I knew it. That guy really did a number on your heart, didn’t he? Well, just because you met one slimy guy, doesn’t mean they’re all like that. Most men, especially small town men, are pretty nice,” Aunt Vanity said.
“You should know,” Aunt Trixie snuck in her comment.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Aunt Vanity placed her hands on her hips, furiously.
“Never mind.”
“Fine, then keep that pucker of yours shut.”
“Excuse me!”
“You heard me.”
“Ladies, please!” Aunt Eartha called out again.
Just then Aunt Trixie got up and swiftly moved, her long cloak swinging and hitting the glass on the coffee table.
The glass was about to fall on Ebony.
Febe panicked, her eyes widened. A strange energy zoomed through her and the cup froze in midair.
The ladies in the room all had their eyes wide open and their jaws on the floor.
What. Just. Happened?