Break Ups and Break-Ins

  “Breakups and Break-Ins”

  A Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery

  Lainswich Witches Series Volume 21

  Raven Snow

  © 2019

  Raven Snow

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.0 (2019.02.20)

  http://www.ravensnowauthor.com

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: VMH, Renee Arthur, Sue Fay, Jim T., and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Authors Note

  Books by Raven Snow

  Chapter One

  No one could whine quite like Margo. She was a world class whiner, a master at it. It started with huffing and subtle body language. The groaning always started soft, then becoming a gradual crescendo to a sound only dogs could hear.

  Margo was slouched against the brick wall of the building, Peony’s camera in her hand. She was dangling the expensive piece of equipment by one strap. It was swinging perilously close to both the ground and the wall.

  “Peony is going to make you buy her a new one of those if you break that,” Rowen pointed out. She was standing a few feet away with Blanche Crenshaw. Blanche was generously ignoring the tantrum Rowen’s cousin was throwing.

  Margo looked down at the camera like she had forgotten it was even there. “It doesn’t belong to Peony. It belongs to the Inquirer.”

  “Rose is going to make you buy a new one then.” Rowen shrugged, not seeing why the specifics mattered. “Just be more careful with it.”

  It would have been easier for Margo to just pick up the camera and hold it right. She wouldn’t even need to acknowledge that she had been careless. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened. That would have been too easy.

  “You know, if you have a problem with how I’m doing my job, you could always let me go home,” Margo said, like Rowen had thrown down the gauntlet. “It’s not like I didn’t have plans today.”

  Rowen took a deep breath, doing her best to keep her temper in check. She composed herself, gathered her expression into something pleasant, and smiled at Blanche.

  Blanche wasn’t very old. By Rowen’s best estimate she was maybe in her late teens or early twenties. Even so, Rowen felt absolutely humiliated by the impression she and her cousin must be making. “Would you excuse us for just a moment?”

  Blanche shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

  “Thank you.” Rowen stepped away from Blanche and went to Margo. When she spoke again it was hushed. It was all she could do not to seethe the words. “Do you think you could save this until after we’re finished here?”

  Margo raised a well-shaped eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “No, I won’t excuse you. Act like a professional.”

  “This isn’t my job,” Margo pointed out again, emphasizing each word like maybe Rowen hadn’t understood her.

  “Yeah, well, Peony and Willow are sick. Do you really want me to call them and drag them out of bed to come work because you can’t be bothered?”

  Margo shifted her weight from foot to foot, stalling and sulking at the same time. “You or Rose could have done this. It’s just taking pictures.”

  “Right. It’s just taking pictures, so actually do that.”

  “I had plans,” Margo said again.

  “Yeah. You told me. Lunch with Jasper. Do this fast enough and you can still make it.” Rowen motioned to the camera that was still dangling. “Just point and shoot already, will ya?”

  Margo picked up the camera but made no move to actually use it. “If it’s just point and shoot, I still don’t see why you or Rose couldn’t have just—”

  “Margo,” Rowen hissed. She slapped a hand over her eyes. There was a headache beginning to pound behind them. “If you’re mad at us, can you please, please, please talk about it after we’re done here? This looks super unprofessional, and we already have a hard time—”

  “Fine,” Margo interrupted. “God,” she added, like Rowen was the one being ridiculous. She started snapping some pictures, tripping some in her designer heels while she strafed around the building looking through the viewfinder.

  Rowen took another deep breath, shaking the tension out of her arms before she rejoined Blanche in front of the entrance. “Sorry about that.”

  Blanche shrugged. “No worries,” she said, glancing in Margo’s direction.

  “So…” Rowen fished around in the pocket of her oversized cardigan. She found her pen and pad again. “Where was I?” She didn’t have to wait for a response from Blanche. “Right. Do you think a third location is necessary?”

  “Um.” Blanche looked back at the Colorful Cow Creamery. It was a rather unassuming building compared to its first two locations. The first location especially was something of a local landmark. It had a multi-hued, tie-dye and life-sized ceramic cow out front. “I guess?”

  “You guess?” Rowen didn’t want to grill the girl. She obviously wasn’t in charge, and it wasn’t like this was a pressing piece of news. At the same time, she wasn’t sure what to do with such a noncommittal answer.

  “I don’t understand the question?” The skinny blond girl stared at her, fiddling with the pockets at the front of her tie-dye apron.

  “You have three locations now.” Rowen pointed at the sign over the front door. “All inside Lainswich, which isn’t exactly a huge place. Do you think there’s a demand for three locations?”

  “Yeah, I mean…” Blanche glanced at the building. “I guess. The first two did good, so we opened a third one. Dad wouldn’t have opened this place if he didn’t think it would do good t
oo.”

  “But what do you think?”

  “I dunno. There are like, eight of the same coffee places in town. I don’t see why we can’t have three of these.”

  “Fair enough.” Rowen scanned the pad in her hands for another question on her list of things to ask. The flash of a camera blinded her before she could. “Margo!” She swore under her breath.

  “What?” Margo lowered the camera, standing there gormlessly. “You told me to take pictures.”

  “Why are you even using the flash? It’s daytime. You don’t need the—” Rowen didn’t even know why she was asking. Margo was being difficult on purpose. It was what she did when she was annoyed. Never mind whining, she was also a pro at passive aggression. “Why don’t you go take some pictures inside if you want to use the flash so bad?” At least that would get her out of her hair.

  “You sure I have enough pictures from out here? You sure you don’t wanna take the camera and show me how it’s done?”

  “Go take pictures inside. Please.” She added that last part through gritted teeth.

  “Fine.” Margo walked toward the entrance, the camera dangling from the strap again. “It’s cold out here anyway.”

  “Anyway.” Rowen turned back to Blanche yet again. “Sorry again.”

  “It’s cool.”

  “So, how do you think you and your father will be splitting your time between—”

  “Hey, Rowen!” Rose called.

  When Rowen looked in the direction of her cousin’s voice, she saw her jogging over from their work van. She was waving a piece of paper in one hand, and there was a big smile on her face.

  Trying to look professional was a lost cause. “What?” she asked, her tone flat.

  Rose’s expression fell as she came to a stop. Her eyes widened a little, realizing she was interrupting an interview. “I’m so sorry.” At least Rose hadn’t meant to be unprofessional. As the head of the Inquirer, she took her job a great deal more seriously than Margo.

  “It’s cool,” said Blanche again.

  “Were you still— I can wait over here. Just see me when you’re finished.” Rose went to stand next to the building, the paper still in her hands.

  “Okay.” Rowen tried to begin her question again, but from the corner of her eye she could see Rose bouncing from heel to toe. It was difficult to ignore. Whatever news she had, she clearly wanted to share it.

  “Actually, that’s probably enough for now.” Rowen shoved the pad and pen back into her pocket. “You probably have work to do. I’ll let you get back to that.”

  “Are you sure? I’m fine with waiting.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ve got enough to work with here. I’ll come find you if I have any other questions.”

  “Oh.” Blanche seemed disappointed. “Okay.” She trudged back into the diner. Rowen realized too late that she was probably looking for an excuse not to work. Oops. Rowen felt doubly guilty all of a sudden. Oh, well.

  “What is it?” Rowen asked when Rose trotted up.

  “I just got off the phone with Ben.” Rose launched into her news. She didn’t have to be asked twice. “So, this should probably stay between us until we figure out what to do about it. We have to be careful how we approach this story. I don’t want to get Ben into trouble.”

  Ben was Rose’s husband. He was also the Chief of Police in Lainswich. That was a bit of a conflict of interests, what with his wife heading up a newspaper. He had to be careful about what he let slip to her. She couldn’t always be expected to look the other way. A good story was a good story.

  “I heard some chatter over a radio in the background while I was on the phone with him,” Rose explained.

  “And?” Rowen prompted. Rose was beginning to hesitate, like she was suddenly thinking better of sharing the news she was so excited about. “Come on, spit it out. You can tell me. Who am I gonna tell?”

  “Eric?” Rose ventured.

  That was true. If it was something juicy, Rowen would almost certainly share all the details with her husband. “Yeah, but who is he gonna tell?”

  Rose paused as if considering her point. “Fair enough.” It seemed like she wanted to tell Rowen anyway. It didn’t take much pushing. “Okay, so it sounds like there may be some organized crime going on in Lainswich.”

  Rose had lowered her voice, so Rowen did the same. “What kind of organized crime?”

  “Drugs is what it sounded like. I didn’t hear many details. Ben either turned off his radio or left the room in a hurry. I know it was something he didn’t want me hearing.”

  “Drugs,” Rowen repeated. “Do you know what kind of drugs?”

  Rose shook her head. “Like I said, I’m fuzzy on the details. I know they’re doing some kind of a bust right now. If we go out looking, I bet we could get a good news story out of this.”

  Rowen looked back at the entrance of the Colorful Cow Creamery. “I guess we should wrap things up here.”

  “Did you already finish with Mr. Crenshaw?”

  “Yeah, more or less. He had something he had to do inside. I was going to ask him a few more questions when he came back out, but it’s fine. This is a bigger story anyway, right?”

  “I think so. I mean, there’s a chance we won’t find anything. If we don’t find anything, well, it’s not like we can report hearsay.”

  “No, but a potential story like this is still bigger news than the Colorful Cow Creamery, right?”

  Rose bit her bottom lip like she was considering the question. “Yeah,” she said, wincing slightly. “I feel bad about this. We scheduled a time and everything. It can’t be helped, I guess. All right. Let’s pack up.” Rose scanned their surroundings. “Where’s Margo?”

  “Inside. I’ll go get her.” Rowen didn’t bother to mention what a pain Margo was being. There wasn’t enough time for that. She’d just have to complain about it later.

  The inside of the creamery was shiny and new. The black and white checkered floors were polished. The napkin dispensers on the tables reflected the fluorescent lighting. “Margo?” called Rowen.

  She didn’t see her out front, so Rowen headed around the coolers of ice cream and into the back. “Margo?” she called again.

  “I think she’s in the bathroom,” came a voice from around the corner.

  Rowen kept walking to the storage room. A door to the back parking lot was wide open. It was Blanche who had spoken. She was opening one of about a dozen brown cardboard boxes.

  Mr. Crenshaw poked his head through the door next. “It’s really not a good time to be taking pictures back here. We just got a shipment in, so—”

  Rowen held up her hands. “I don’t have a camera. Actually, we’re about to get out of your hair. I’m just looking for Margo.”

  “Bathroom,” Blanche said again.

  “You’re leaving?” asked Mr. Crenshaw.

  Rowen winced. “I think we’ve got enough. You have your grand opening this Friday, right? I’m sure we’ll be back to cover that.”

  Mr. Crenshaw nodded. “Okay.”

  Rowen was relieved he wasn’t asking any more questions. They hadn’t been here all that long. He’d set time aside for this interview. The publicity was good. It wasn’t like he was paying them or anything, though. Rowen supposed he didn’t have room to complain that they weren’t staying as long as they had estimated they would.

  “What now?” Margo’s voice came from behind Rowen.

  Rowen turned to find her cousin coming around the corner. “There you are.” She was relieved she didn’t have to go pounding on the door. She had half expected her to be holed up in the bathroom on her phone. If she was in the middle of updating her social media or fixing her makeup, it could have taken upwards of fifteen minutes to get her out. “We’re heading out, actually.”

  “Seriously?” Margo perked up at the news. “All right.”

  Rowen said her goodbyes to the Crenshaws then walked out with Margo. “We have another story to try and get to,” she said b
efore Margo could get any ideas about slipping off.

  Margo groaned. “Are you kidding? You told me we were done.”

  “I told you we were done here. We’re leaving early because there’s a more pressing story to cover. Why else would we be leaving early?”

  “Because you realized how boring all this was,” Margo suggested, gesturing around the front of the restaurant. “This is a fluff piece. You’re wasting our time on a fluff piece no one is going to read.”

  “Fluff pieces like this get a lot of traffic. It’s a small town. It’s not like there’s big news every day.”

  “What are we running off to cover then? Cat gets stuck up a tree somewhere?”

  “Rose can tell you in the car.” Rowen opened the door and hurried Margo out.

  Rose was already waiting in the van with the engine running. The van was relatively new. Not in the sense that it had been manufactured at some point within the last decade, but in the sense that they had bought it somewhat recently. They needed a company vehicle, Rose had decided. A van seemed fitting for a newspaper. Frankly, Rowen would have preferred something newer and sportier.

  The van wasn’t going anywhere fast. It sputtered as Rose pulled out onto the street. “Know where we’re going?” Rowen asked from the back. Margo had called shotgun. She could run alarmingly fast in high heels.

  “I heard something about Magnolia, I think. I’m headed there first. If we go up and down the street, maybe we’ll see something.”

  “So, we left in a hurry to go… somewhere.” Margo slumped back in the passenger seat. “You don’t even know where. Just somewhere and maybe we’ll see something.”

  “More or less.” At this point, Rowen was tempted not to fill her in on anything.

  “There seems to be some sort of drug bust going on,” said Rose.

  “Drug bust?” That got Margo’s attention but didn’t hold it completely. “I mean, is that news anyone is going to care about? Willow’s neighbor at her apartment complex got arrested last week for meth. It sucks, but it happens. It’s not really news.”