The Dog at the Door: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Lainswich Witches Book 5) Read online

  Chapter Two

  Eric was a little annoyed when, instead of unpacking, the day’s first priority became to check in with their distant neighbors and see if the dog that had shown up on their doorstep had an owner.

  Rowen was confident the dog didn’t, and her hypothesis proved correct. A couple of neighbors recognized him.

  “He’s a stray,” one explained. “We feed him scraps sometimes. I hated to take him to the pound. We don’t have a no-kill shelter around here, and he seemed to be getting by on his own. He’s a sweet thing.”

  “Are you taking him in?” another asked. “That’s nice. I always try to convince my husband to. I’ve seen him around for years, but we already have two dogs, so…”

  “Fine,” Eric said, giving in after the third house. “If you really want to keep him, I guess it’s not going to hurt anything.”

  After that, another chunk of the day was eaten up gathering supplies for the pup. Rowen got him dog food and a bed. She got him a water dish and some toys. Chester was what she named him.

  “Chester?” Eric repeated, looking down at the dog dubiously when he heard. “Why Chester? Why not something like, I don’t know, Duke or Shadow or one of those cool names people call dogs?”

  Rowen just shrugged and looked down at Chester. “I don’t know, he just sort of looks like a Chester, doesn’t he? He’s a Chester.”

  Eric took a critical look down at the dog as well. “I guess,” he conceded. “You know, we don’t have a fenced in yard or anything. What are you going to do if he runs off?”

  Rowen was a bit concerned that Chester would wander off on his own, but he never did. He was an old dog that seemed perfectly content to stay close to the house.

  Rowen’s cousins were pleased to hear about the dog when she headed into their office later that day. “That’s nice,” said Rose. “You need company when Eric has to leave town.”

  “That’s what I said,” said Rowen, leaning against Rose’s desk.

  “You know, you didn’t have to come in today,” Margo pointed out, peering past her own computer monitor. “I wouldn’t have. I’d be unpacking.”

  Peony snorted. “You would be watching Eric unpack,” she corrected. Margo wasn’t one to do work if she could help it.

  Margo glared at her but didn’t argue. “Probably,” she admitted. “Either way, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I’d feel guilty taking any more time off,” said Rowen. After her wedding, she had taken an extended honeymoon in Europe. It had been quite the experience, but it was hard to shake the guilt of leaving her cousins alone with The Lainswich Inquirer.

  “We could take care of it,” said Rose. She was telling the truth. There weren’t many pressing stories lately. Lainswich had gone back to its usual boring, small town self. Not that anyone minded. The stretches of boringness tended to punctuate bizarre happenings. They would all miss these calm, lazy days when they were gone. The biggest stories right now were an upcoming marathon and the opening of a new store front.

  The marathon was a yearly event, organized by the Lainswich police and city hall. The run raised money for the town, and there was a big cookout afterward. It was pretty standard fare. The Lainswich Inquirer was favoring stories about that rather than the other big news in town.

  Aunts Lydia and Nadine, and Rowen’s mother Tiffany were opening a shop. It seemed like only yesterday that their booth at the Fall Festival had been trashed by irate townsfolk. Rowen couldn’t imagine why they thought now was a good time to dip their toes into the business world. Rowen blamed Uncle Norman. She didn’t know how yet, but this was probably part of one of his money-making schemes.

  They had already bought the location. It was an old mom-and-pop video rental store a few blocks away. They had been working on it for a while now, ordering in all sort of New Age junk. For the month leading up to Rowen’s move, the whole Greensmith house had reeked of patchouli.

  The town hadn’t made a huge fuss yet. It was just a New Age shop. A lot of towns had those. They were harmless. Still, Rowen was hesitant to publish more than the shortest of blurbs about the place. She didn’t want the store being sabotaged before it had its grand opening. Her family would be devastated.

  Of course, Aunt Lydia took her hesitance to write about the store as a kind of personal insult. The grand opening was fast approaching, and she wanted it to have plenty of press. “What’s the good of having a newspaper in the family if they don’t give you free advertising?” she would grumble when Rowen was in hearing distance.

  Rowen didn’t point out that most of their business was online these days, and that they had only just weeded out all of the nasty comments from people who were still convinced the Greensmiths were, somehow, directly responsible for all the recent disappearances and murders over the past year. To be fair, they were indirectly responsible for most of them, but still…

  Rowen mentioned the store and would be at the opening next week, but she wasn’t going to give it her focus. That left the Lainswich Inquirer pretty bereft of stories. They only had public interest puff pieces to work with. That suited Rowen fine, even though it wasn’t terribly exciting. Things were good right now. There were no gross injustices to expose or crimes to cover. It was nice. She really did want to enjoy it while she could, but that didn’t mean she was going to skip out on work.

  “There’s something to edit, I’m sure,” said Rowen.

  “You can edit David’s next book,” offered Margo, propping her head on her hand.

  “Next book?” asked Rowen. “Is his first even out yet?”

  “Of course not,” said Margo. “You would have heard if it was.”

  That was certainly true. All David did lately was talk about that book and complain about how they had changed all the best parts. He had already insisted the Greensmith family read both copies and tell him which was better. Rowen was dreading it. She had lived through the crime he had written about.

  “He’s writing a book about that time he was accused of murder,” said Margo. “Remember? That poor girl the old police chief murdered?”

  “That’s how Ben got promoted,” said Rose fondly. “He should interview him. Ben was integral to that case.”

  “I’m sure he will,” said Margo. “I wouldn’t volunteer him for it. I’m trying to get out of helping with this book myself. I helped with the last one, but that was when I didn’t know there would be another this soon.”

  Peony and Willow exchanged knowing looks. Margo and David had an on and off again relationship. It sounded like maybe they were nearing one of their off stretches. Rowen wasn’t looking forward to that. Margo was hard to deal with when she was single.

  “I’m sure he won’t mind,” said Rose. Her own relationship with Ben was still in its early days. Things were still all happiness and sunshine between them. Rowen was happy for them, even if it was a bit weird. Back in high school, she had dated Ben. He was a good guy, but his parents had hated her. Rowen was pretty sure that Rose hadn’t met his parents yet. She couldn’t help but wonder how that was going to play out. “I’ll mention it to him,” Rose continued.

  “Can Peony and I leave early?” Willow asked, inserting herself into the conversation by abruptly changing the subject. Everyone looked at Willow, Peony included. “We’re training for the marathon,” she explained.

  “We are?” asked Peony.

  “I am,” said Willow. “So you better be. I don’t want to do it alone, and Tina said she wasn’t going to train if you weren’t.”

  Tina was a friend who worked at the library. She had hated the Greensmiths in high school only to warm up to them again over the course of the last year. Peony and Willow spent a lot of time with her these days—Peony, especially.

  “Fine,” Peony said, giving in without much of a fight. She was a sweet girl. A bit of a ditz, maybe, but sweet. “I guess I’m in a marathon now.”

  “Have either of you ever even run before?” asked Margo, sounding skeptical.

  “No,
” said Willow. “It’s just running, though. You move your legs real fast and go forward. How hard can that be?”

  “We have plenty of help here,” said Rose. She looked at her cousins. “I don’t see a problem with it.”

  Margo shook her head. She was smiling to herself, like she already knew that this was destined for failure. “You guys get to it,” she said. “What do I care?” Something seemed to occur to Margo then. “Maybe I should run too,” she said. “It is for charity. So, yeah. Yeah, I’ll run too.”

  Rowen rolled her eyes. She should have seen that coming. Willow seemed excited to have the company, but Rowen knew better. “She’s not even going to run.”

  “Sure, I am,” said Margo. She closed her laptop and stood, obviously warming to the idea of giving herself the day off. “I ran track in high school, remember?”

  “No,” said Rowen flatly.

  “I do,” said Rose. “I don’t think you ever ran though, Margo.”

  “Right,” said Rowen. It was coming back to her now. “You just went along for the field trips. It got you out of class.”

  “Margo joined a sport just to get out of work?” Rose asked, mock surprise in her voice.

  Margo ignored them. She looked to her younger cousins. “Do you two want me to give you pointers on training for this marathon or not?”

  “Yeah,” said Willow immediately.

  “Please,” said Peony.

  Rowen exchanged a knowing look with Rose. Rose just smiled and raised her shoulders in indifference. “Go on,” said Rowen. “But, if a news story breaks, you three need to hurry back here and help out.”

  “We will,” Willow promised.

  “We can make this into a story,” Peony offered. “We’ll have an insider’s scoop on the marathon. That’ll make a good story, right?”

  “Sure,” said Rowen. “That sounds like a pretty good idea, actually.”

  Margo glared at her cousin. Clearly, she hadn’t expected more work to come out of this.

  Gradually, all three girls finished up what they were doing and filed out the door. “I guess I’m glad you came in to work today, after all,” Rose said once they were alone.

  “I bet we get more work done without them,” said Rowen, giving her cousin a wink and heading to her office. It was a good day. Rowen wasn’t changing her mind about that. Life was good.

  Chapter Three

  Over the course of the week, the house was gradually unpacked. They didn’t have a house warming party, but people did swing by with furniture and old appliances they didn’t need anymore.

  “You know, we could afford all of this,” Eric said to Rowen, once Aunt Nadine had dropped off a microwave she no longer needed.

  “Be nice,” Rowen warned him. “My family likes helping. It’s what they do. It makes them feel better to give us stuff.”

  “More like unload stuff on us, so they don’t have to leave it in storage,” said Eric, watching her through the window.

  Rowen swatted him on the arm. “I said be nice.”

  Rowen’s family really did mean well. Sure, Eric had plenty of money to buy them appliances and furnishings. The Greensmiths just wanted to help. If that meant that they got to loiter around Rowen’s new house more, so be it. Rowen did get the distinct impression that they were having some trouble letting her go. They had done this once before when she had moved to the city. This was still a far sight better than that for them. At least this way, she was within easy driving distance.

  The house still had a nice feel to it. Rowen enjoyed every minute of unpacking and decorating. Eric was right there to help, but he didn’t seem quite as taken with the process as she was. Rowen carried on with making their house into a home even after he had called it quits for the night.

  Chester accompanied her every step of the way. He had adapted well to having a home. He was already house-broken and seemed quite at ease indoors. Despite his first night, he hadn’t done any more excited running around every room of the house. He was actually quite laid-back. Even Eric had warmed up to him. He was a good, old dog content to be lazy and get petted. And since he was already house-broken, Rowen felt certain he had a home before them.

  “Do you think he belonged to the people who used to own this place?” she asked, moving books from a box onto a shelf in the den.

  Eric had spent a long day unloading boxes and was now sitting on the sofa, trying to watch some television. Chester sat, content, at his feet. “Huh?” Eric asked, looking up.

  “Chester,” Rowen said again. “Do you think he belonged to the people who lived here before we did?”

  “Do you know the people who lived here?” asked Eric.

  Rowen thought back. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Maybe I saw them in passing or something, but I didn’t know them.”

  “Didn’t the realtor say they moved to the coast or something?” asked Eric.

  “Florida,” said Rowen. She remembered discussing it with the woman who sold them the place. The house had been full of so many nice memories, and Rowen had wanted to know more of the story. The realtor had told her that the previous owners had been an elderly couple. They had raised their family in the house and lived on there until they couldn’t keep it up anymore. Several years back, they moved to a smaller place in Florida.

  “Maybe we should call them,” said Eric. “Maybe Chester was theirs and he ran off or something. If that’s the case, I’m sure they’d be happy to know he’s happy and healthy.”

  Rowen frowned at that. She liked the dog. She hated the thought of giving him back to the owners now that she was attached to him. Unfortunately, it made sense. Checking in with the old couple was the only right thing to do. Rowen would certainly want to know if a pet of hers had gone missing, then suddenly reappeared. Besides, Rowen still remembered the way Chester had run through the house like he was looking for someone. There was a decent chance that he missed them too.

  Rowen called the realtor the next day. She had been the one attached to the selling of the house. Rowen hadn’t hired a realtor or anything. She had just fallen in love with the house, and Eric had done the leg work from there.

  The realtor was a woman named Samantha Brown. She was a rather boring woman who had a dyed blonde swing bob and wore tan tweed skirts. It hadn’t seemed like she had been reluctant to sell the house to Rowen at all. The moment they had first met she had given her a skeptical sort of once-over. “A Greensmith,” she had said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  When Rowen called her, she didn’t sound particularly thrilled to be hearing from her again so soon. “This is Samantha Brown,” she said, skipping the customary greeting any other normal person would have made. It was a wonder this woman ever managed to make any sales.

  “Hi there,” said Rowen, managing a jovial tone despite the lukewarm reception. “This is Rowen Greensmith.”

  “How are you?” said Samantha, sounding so disinterested, she somehow managed to make the question sound rhetorical.

  “Great,” said Rowen. “The house is fantastic. We just love it.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” said Samantha. It sounded like she was telling the truth that time. She really did sound happy to hear it. Maybe she took a modicum of pride in her work. “What do you need?” she asked, her tone quickly returning to an impatient one.

  Rowen cut right to the chase. “We found a dog recently,” she explained. “I was wondering if he might have belonged to the previous owners. The way he acts, it sort of seems like he used to live here.”

  “A dog,” Samantha repeated, like the word was new to her and she was repeating it to herself just for the sound of it. “What do you mean, you found a dog?”

  “I found a dog,” Rowen repeated, not sure how else to rephrase that. “He’s a black lab. He’s cute.” Granted, Rowen had never met a dog that wasn’t cute. “He seems like he knows the place, and he’s old. I thought it would be worth asking.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Sam
antha.

  “I didn’t really expect you would,” said Rowen. “I thought, maybe, you should call the couple that lived here before.”

  “The Woodwards?” asked Samantha, as if there was anyone else who had lived there last. “I guess I can…”

  “I would appreciate it,” said Rowen. “Or, I mean, I can call them myself if it’s a bother. I’d just need their number.”

  “I can’t give that out,” said Samantha. “I’ll call them,” she added. “Thanks for calling me.” She hung up then, not saying when she would do it and whether or not she would give Rowen a call back regardless.

  Rowen wasn’t particularly satisfied. She felt like there was a decent chance Samantha wasn’t going to call anyone at all. As tempting as it was to just leave things there, Rowen felt obligated to make sure they got the message.

  The Woodwards. Rowen had forgotten the last name until Samantha had said it. It wasn’t a particularly common last name, and she knew that they were an old family. She felt certain that she had gone to school with a couple of the kids, at least.

  Rowen called Aunt Lydia. After the move and the drama over the upcoming shop opening, Aunt Lydia had been a tad distant. This seemed like a good opportunity to reach out and involve her in something.

  Aunt Lydia took the bait easily enough. “The Woodwards?” she repeated over the phone. “Oh, that’s right. You moved into their old home.”

  “Do you know where the parents are?” asked Rowen.

  “You think they left their dog behind?” asked Aunt Lydia. “Oh, that’s so sad! That poor thing was lost for years. He finally finds his way back home, and his whole family has up and left. Oh, they could make a movie out of that. That’s heartbreaking.”

  “He’s fine,” said Rowen. “I mean he seems happy enough. He might not even be theirs. I just want to touch base with them and find out for sure.”