Just Your Average Small Town Cult Read online

  Rose shrugged. “Let her. We aren’t Channel 2, breaking news.”

  The frown on Margo’s face deepened. “Fine. Just ignore it when I bring you good info.”

  “We’re not going to ignore it,” Rowen assured her cousin before Rose had a chance to respond. “We’ll file this away for later. I’ll be on the lookout until then.”

  Margo was still wearing a frown. She didn’t argue, though. Knowing her, she was just biding her time until she could say, ‘I told you so.’ She didn’t have a chance to argue anyway. A police vehicle was parking nearby, drawing all of their attentions.

  Rose hurried to the car. Obviously, she had recognized it instantly. “This is a surprise,” she said with a smile, embracing her husband as he cut the engine and got out.

  “Thought I would swing by after work,” said Ben, pulling his wife into a hug. As the chief of police in Lainswich, he worked even longer hours than Rose did. They typically tried to make the most of their time together. “I didn’t realize you would be here. Happy coincidence, huh?”

  Rose nodded and tugged at the collar of her husband’s uniform, pulling him down for a kiss. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining.”

  Lydia stepped out of the shop before Ben could answer. “Ben!” she sang, supplanting her daughter and going to give her son-in-law a hug. “What a wonderful surprise! What are you doing here?”

  Ben put on a smile and gave Lydia an awkward part hug, part pat on the back in return. “I came by to see you, actually. Well, you or Nadine or Norman. I wanted to know if you needed me to station a police officer or two nearby during the parade.”

  Lydia took a step back from her son-in-law. She frowned at him, putting her hands on her hips. “Now, why would I need that?”

  The answer was obvious, but clearly difficult for Ben to politely voice. “I know you’ve had some problems in the past with… certain townsfolk. I just thought I would offer.”

  Lydia waved a hand, dismissing his concern. “That’s very nice of you, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary. Lainswich is really coming around to us, if you ask me.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Rowen. Over the years, Lainswich’s tolerance of the Greensmiths had certainly waxed and waned. As a general rule, Rowen tried to remain wary of them. Even when things were looking up, their attitudes could turn on a dime.

  “I’m sure,” Lydia reiterated. “We don’t need any special treatment. I’m sure your officers could be put to better use elsewhere.”

  Ben didn’t argue with her. “At least let me help you carry this stuff in,” he offered, seeing that Lydia was still unloading boxes from her car.

  Lydia was at least willing to let him do that. Rowen and her cousins returned to helping as well. “Lainswich has changed,” Rose said, quietly enough so that only Rowen and Margo were intended to hear. “They don’t hate us nearly as much as they used to. Heck, when Grammy died it was like the town actively mourned. We’re an important part of their history.”

  Margo made a noise like she didn’t quite believe that. “I like your optimism, but people have short memories and we’re easy to distrust.”

  Lydia looked to Rowen. “What do you think?”

  Before Rowen could answer, she was startled by several loud noises that came in quick succession. She turned in time to see egg yolk dripping down the glass front door. There was teenage laughter and a blur as what looked to be several kids taking off running. Ben was quick to put his box down and run after them, the little bell above the door ringing as he took off.

  Rowen breathed a loud and heavy sigh. “We might want to reconsider having some policemen handy after all.”

  Chapter Two

  Even with the upcoming tricentennial, it was another slow news day at the Lainswich Inquirer. Rowen still made herself available. Usually she spent these kinds of days next door with her husband. He ran a private investigation office there. Ordinarily he wasn’t working on anything terribly exciting, but there was never a shortage of paperwork to do. Even so, Rowen felt like she was doing more good at the Inquirer. Her cousin Peony was out doing some historical legwork at the library. She had a good friend named Tina who worked there. Tina had access to the archives of old books, records, and microfiche. Whether or not she would come back with anything interesting was up in the air. Regardless, it meant that Rose was short a person today. Rowen was happy to help, editing articles before they were posted to the blog. Cousin Willow’s articles, in particular, always needed a lot of editing.

  Rowen was rewriting an entire paragraph when the door opened. She looked up over her laptop screen, expecting to see a family member. Instead, it was a Stonewall. “If you’re looking for Margo, she’s out doing… whatever it is she considers working,” Rowen told Jasper.

  Jasper raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Oh, no. I was actually just swinging by to drop off some things.” He raised the box he was holding, giving it a gentle shake so that the contents rattled.

  Rowen closed her laptop, pushing it aside as she stood so that she could take a look in the box Jasper had brought them. “I take it your parents changed their mind about displaying some of their own history?” She wasn’t sure where they would fit it into the display at Odds & Ends, but she knew Aunt Lydia would at least be happy.

  “Not really.” Jasper placed the box on her desk. “They still plan on just donating to the hospital float, I think. This stuff is just a few things they had laying around, places where the Stonewalls and Greensmiths overlap.”

  “Seriously?” Rowen rolled her eyes at that news but reached into the box anyway, pulling out a big, leather bound book. Behind her, she heard Rose’s office door open. “I wouldn’t think the Stonewalls would be so ashamed of their heritage.”

  “My family values their privacy,” Jasper said, plainly. “I’d think you Greensmiths, more than anyone, would understand why.”

  “Fair enough,” Rowen conceded. Things would probably be a heck of a lot easier if her family hadn’t been so unabashedly vocal about what they were. She opened the book in her hands.

  “That’s a grimoire your family and mine worked on together several generations ago,” said Jasper. “My family will want that back, obviously. They trust you’ll be careful with it.”

  “Of course,” said Rose, coming up beside Rowen. “May I see?”

  Rowen handed her the book and reached inside the box to pull out something else. She caught sight of Willow approaching from the corner of her eye as she did so. “Leave your drink over there,” she said, firmly. The last thing they needed was Willow sloshing coffee onto something irreplaceable.

  Willow sighed heavily but did as she was asked. She came to stand at Rowen’s side empty handed. “Who’s that?” she asked, nodding at the very old fashioned picture Rowen was holding.

  Jasper leaned in to take a peek when Rowen couldn’t answer. “That’s some of your family and mine and… some people I don’t really recognize. He pointed to a woman with long hair and a tall, slender frame. “That’s your great grandmother.”

  Camellia Greensmith. Rowen had only ever seen one other picture of her. She’d heard stories. Not many stories, but some. Grammy had always been hesitant to talk about her own mother. A few angry citizens of Lainswich had killed the poor woman, hanging her from a tree in the backyard. To think that something so terrible had happened less than a century ago was a sobering thought indeed.

  “She was so pretty,” Willow murmured.

  Rowen nodded in agreement. “Do you care if we make a copy of this, Jasper?”

  Jasper shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Just be careful with it.”

  “And you’re sure your parents aren’t about to change their minds about taking part in the tricentennial?” Rose asked.

  Jasper took a deep breath, like he was tired of people asking him about this. “You can ask them yourselves, but I promise their response will be the same as mine. Sorry, guys.”

  “Well, thanks for the stuff anyway. I know my aunts
will love this,” Rowen assured him. She was about to take something else out of the box when her phone rang. She picked that up off her desk instead. “Well, speak of the devil. It’s your girlfriend,” she said to Jasper before answering. “What’s up?”

  “Someone got murdered,” Margo said, plainly, killing whatever lighthearted mood Rowen had going with her cousins and Jasper.

  “Who?” asked Rowen.

  “Some guy named Edward Waite,” said Margo. “He lives— lived in that subdivision down behind that awful steakhouse Rose loves. Applebottom, I think it’s called… The subdivision that is, not the steakhouse.”

  “How’d you hear about this?” Rowen had to ask. Margo wasn’t the one to typically break this kind of news to them. “Did Julia Martinez tell you?” That would definitely be unusual. Unusual in a good way.

  “No, I heard about it on my police scanner.”

  “Hold up… You have a police scanner? Where did you get a police scanner? When did you get a police scanner?”

  “That’s not really the question of the day, is it? The question of the day is whether you all going to get off your butts and cover some real news? I can text you the address and meet you there.” Before Rowen had a chance to question her further, Margo hung up.

  Rowen swore and lowered the phone from her ear. “Well, we have news to cover,” she said in response to all the inquisitive looks she was getting. “Some guy got murdered.”

  “And that was Margo telling you that?” asked Rose.

  Rowen nodded. “She’s texting me the address. Apparently, it’s in some subdivision called Applebottom.”

  “Oh, I know where that is.” Rose went to get her purse that was hanging on a hook at the front door. “Come on. I’ll drive. It’s near that great steakhouse.”

  Willow wrinkled her nose. “I hate that place.”

  Rose glared at her cousin on her way out the door. “How can you hate that place? They give you as many baskets of biscuits as you want.”

  “The appeal of a steakhouse should not be its biscuits and you know that.”

  “Well, Ben and I love it.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but Ben’s just lying to make you happy. No one likes that place.”

  “Yeah, well, then how does it stay open?”

  “That’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?”

  “Enough, you two.” Rowen wasn’t used to having to direct Rose back to the task at hand.

  “Should I follow you guys?” asked Jasper, stepping outside just before Rowen turned to lock the place behind them.

  Rowen could only really shrug at that. “That’s up to you.” She wasn’t used to telling him what to do like his parents or Margo did. She directed her attention back to her family. “I’ll call Peony while you drive. Willow, you call Benji. See if you can get him to meet us there. We’ll need someone with a camera.”

  ***

  It was easy to find the house Margo had mentioned even without her directions. Two police cars and an ambulance were parked outside. Rowen recognized Ben’s cruiser and the Channel 2 van. Julia Martinez was already out on the curb, microphone in hand. Her crew stood across from her, filming.

  “There’s Benji,” Willow said, pointing to an approaching, lime green sedan. She waved her arms, trying to get her boyfriend’s attention. He pulled up on the curb next to them and got out.

  Benji was a small guy, but he handled his camera well. “Hey,” he said, smiling first at Willow then at the others. “Do you want me to just get some establishing shots?”

  “Go ahead and start filming,” Rose said with a nod. “We’ll put voiceover on it before we post it to the blog.” Rose kept casting looks away from Benji, looking toward the house’s doors and windows. She was likely looking for her husband. Their professions conflicted. It wasn’t like he could poke his head out of the place and invite her on in. He was Chief of Police. That sort of thing could get him fired. Still, she was looking for him.

  “What do you think happened?” asked Willow, her hands jammed in her pockets.

  “I’m not sure,” Rowen admitted. She was wondering that herself. Often times she sensed this sort of thing coming. Why that hadn’t been the case today she couldn’t say. She really needed to hone those psychic skills of hers. It could save lives.

  “It took you guys long enough,” said Margo.

  Rowen turned to find her cousin coming up behind them. As always, she was very overdressed. She looked like a fashionable banana in her bright yellow maxi dress and heels. “Where did you park?” asked Rowen.

  “In a cul-de-sac that way,” Margo pointed. “You know they’re just going to tell you all to clear out in a little bit. You could at least be a little sneaky.”

  “Like how you must have been using a police scanner to catch wind of this?” Rowen shot back.

  Rose opened her mouth to say something but instead turned away. “I’m not hearing this.”

  “I’m helping,” Willow said, firmly. “You’re always complaining that I don’t help like I should.”

  “Fair enough,” Rowen conceded with a sigh. “So what else did you hear?” She glanced in Julia Martinez’s direction and lowered her voice. “Do you have any of the details?”

  “Some,” said Willow. “They went kind of silent about it after the officers and ambulance got here. There was something about a possible break in. The guy was shot in the back of the head.”

  “Shot?” repeated Rowen. “Did the neighbors hear it?”

  “Doesn’t really seem like it. The person who called it in was anonymous. I think they even used voice modulation.”

  That got Willow’s attention. “Voice modulation? Awesome.”

  Rose glared at her cousin. “Willow, someone’s dead.”

  “Still.” Willow motioned emphatically at the house. “We’ve never dealt with… voice modulation before. That’s, like, some next level spy stuff.”

  “Or the work of someone who’s seen too many slasher movies,” said Rowen, determined not to be impressed by violence. Still, it had her attention. She stared at the house, lost in her own thoughts. She almost didn’t hear Julia approaching.

  “Hi there,” said Julia Martinez, “A word?”

  Rowen turned. Julia’s dark hair was around her shoulders in perfect waves. Her blouse and skirt looked smart, with just enough buttons undone at the collar for it to be sexy at the same time. Despite the confidence her appearance projected, Rowen could feel anxious energy coming off of her in waves. She had approached them without her usual crime scene retinue. Her crew was back at the van. A fellow with a camera looked to be shooting B roll in much the same way Benji was.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Rowen.

  “Let’s talk over there.” Julia pointed to the other side of the street. “Not everyone. Just a couple of you.” She glanced at Willow and Benji when she said that. It was pretty obvious who she wanted to exclude from the conversation. Rowen couldn’t really blame her. Willow wasn’t the easiest to deal with if you were already stressed.

  “Stay with Benji and see if the two of you can’t get a few more angles,” Rose told Willow as Julia walked away.

  Willow rolled her eyes. She wasn’t stupid. She knew when she was being ditched. “Whatever.”

  Rose, Margo, and Rowen all walked to the adjacent curb. Julia Martinez was staring out into the distance, her eyes unfocused. A lit cigarette dangled between two of her fingers. “So, what’s on your mind?” asked Rowen.

  Julia gave a small jerk, like she had already managed to zone out and they had startled her just a bit. She cleared her throat and tapped the ash from the cigarette. “I’m not sure I should talk about it here.”

  “You were the one who called us over,” Rowen pointed out.

  Julia frowned at Rowen. “I’m aware of that. It’s just… The more I think about it, the more… Can the three of you meet me later tonight?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it now?” asked Margo. Out of all
of them, she was probably the one closest to Julia.

  “You can come back to the Inquirer with us,” offered Rose. “We can talk in my office.”

  Julia shook her head. She looked more resolute this time, like she’d made up her mind. “Meet me later tonight. Please.”

  “Where?” asked Rowen.

  Julia didn’t answer immediately. She fell silent, like she was considering her options. “Your house,” she said finally, nodding to Rose.

  “Why my house?” asked Rose.

  “Look, can we talk or not?” Julia was clearly growing impatient. She was being more curt with them than usual, and that was saying something. “Please just give me your address. I’ll swing by around dinner time. Will Ben be there?”

  “Probably,” Rose said, slowly. She seemed apprehensive about this whole thing, but she gave Julia her home address.

  “Good.” Julia took a long drag on her cigarette, flicking more ash onto the curb before walking back toward her van.

  “Well, that was weird,” Rose muttered, once she was out of earshot.

  “I told you she was up to something,” said Margo, sounding just a touch too pleased with herself.

  “Well, whatever it is, hopefully she’ll tell us later tonight. You guys are coming to dinner, right?” Rose asked.

  Rowen didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course.”

  “I’ll be there,” Margo said with a nod, her eyes still on Julia. Usually, she didn’t concern herself with this sort of thing. Something about this had her invested. It was probably because she had sensed something before the rest of the family. She’d been close to this one since the beginning.

  “What do you think that was all about?” asked Rose.

  “We’ll find out tonight.” Margo gave Rose a self-satisfied smirk.

  “Again, a man just got murdered,” Rowen said, plainly.

  “Attention!” Ben’s voice rang out loud from the front steps of Edward Waite’s house. “I’m going to need everyone to clear out! We’ve got traffic coming and going here, and I have to ask that you respect that! Let us do our jobs!” Ben lingered on the porch after he was finished speaking. Rowen couldn’t be sure, but she thought he was looking in their direction.