Hexes and Exes: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Lainswich Witches Book 2) Read online

  “Thanks, but I’ll have to ask my boss.” With a sigh, Ben put everything back in the folder.

  “What was the cause of death?” asked Rowen, trying to get another glimpse before he could put them away.

  “Nice try, but I don’t need you putting that in the paper.”

  “Honestly, it’s more personal curiosity. I’m a little nervous about this one. I have a feeling people are going to point fingers our way.” She hated to complain about her own problems when she had just finished looking at a picture of a woman that had been murdered. It was a definite concern, though. The town’s opinion of them might have improved, but it hadn’t changed completely overnight. It wouldn’t take much for any ground they’d gained to be lost, quickly.

  Ben raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t say anything terribly judgmental. “Well, just keep the facts close to your chest, if you would. We’ll release a statement later today.”

  Rowen nodded. She would probably get one of her cousins to help her write up a quick piece on the official blog. The real story could be written out tonight, when they had more information. “Well, e-mail me those pictures if you get permission. I’ll give you a call.” She headed for the door. “Just don’t arrest my family this time, all right?”

  She meant that last part as a bit of dark humor. Ben didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a smile. Rowen couldn’t help but feel just a little bit nervous.

  Chapter Three

  Eric arrived around lunch time. He’d sent her a vague message that implied there was some sort of holdup. The last she had heard was that he was getting on the plane.

  It came as a bit of a surprise to Rowen when the door to her office burst open and Eric came walking through the door. There was a big grin on his face the moment he laid eyes on her.

  “Eric!” Rowen couldn’t help but smile. She hopped up from her desk and ran into his open arms.

  Eric picked her up in a bear hug. It wrinkled his nice suit a bit, but neither of them cared. Their reunions were always like this. Absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

  Finally, Eric pulled away long enough to kiss her. “I missed you,” he said, even though he hadn’t been gone for an unusually long time. If anything, he had come home sooner.

  They both did all right in long distance relationships. They were both busy people, but that didn’t mean they didn’t feel a great deal of relief when they were finally in each other’s company again. One day, they might have to decide on somewhere to settle down. In the meantime, Rowen wasn’t about to try and pressure Eric into living in Lainswich. They hadn’t been together that long, even if the relationship was going better than any relationship she had ever had in the past.

  Granted, her cousins didn’t think it would last. The relationships of Greensmith girls never seemed to last longer than a few years after marriage. Rowen wasn’t sure if it was a curse or just their abrasive personalities. Fortunately, Eric had a similar way with people.

  “I screwed up,” Eric announced suddenly, placing his hand on her shoulders and pushing her out to arm’s length.

  Well, that killed the mood. “How?” she asked, now anxious.

  “My parents were staying at the hotel with me. When I had to leave early, they asked why, and… well−” Eric was interrupted by nervous laughter from the next room.

  Rowen looked at the closed door. “Oh,” she said, realizing what he was getting at. “Your parents are here.”

  “I tried to stop them,” he promised her. “I told them I could come, get David, then head right back. They freaked out, though. David’s the favorite. They expect big things out of him.”

  “So what, they’re here for an intervention?” Rowen wondered how David was taking this. The last she had seen, he was asleep in the storage closet. It was dark and there was a loveseat back there that didn’t go with the rest of the building’s decor.

  “Something like that, I guess.” Eric shrugged helplessly. “They also expressed some interest in meeting you. I don’t know why.”

  Rowen gave him a light shove. “Gee, thanks.”

  “You know what I mean! I’ve never been with someone this long before, and I talk about you an awful lot.”

  “You’ve never been with someone longer than a year?”

  Eric shook his head.

  “Well, I’m flattered,” said Rowen. “Or maybe a little scared. It’s hard to say.”

  As tempting as it was, they couldn’t exactly spend the whole day in her office. They both ventured out into the main building. Everyone was standing around, looking a bit awkward. There was a semicircle of cousins around the older couple that must have been Eric’s parents.

  Rowen had never actually met his parents before, though she had heard about them. They were both old enough to have gray hair and heavily-lined faces. They were dressed in expensive looking suits, and Mrs. Richardson had the sleekest, fanciest purse Rowen had ever seen.

  Rose was trying to explain the paper and the blog to them— as if they cared. To their credit, the Richardsons were smiling and nodding. If business was part show, they had that down. Both turned when Eric emerged from Rowen’s office.

  Mrs. Richardson came right over and extended a hand. “You must be Rowen,” she said, as Rowen took her hand and shook it. “We’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

  Mr. Richardson nodded. “Nothing but good things,” he echoed.

  “Eric talks about you a lot, too,” Rowen lied— that felt like the right thing to say. Eric seemed to actively avoid talking about his own parents. Most of what she had learned about them, she had learned on her own. They didn’t seem like very affectionate people. They might love their sons, but it never sounded as if they ever spent much time with them— or even that they wanted to.

  “You’re even lovelier than he told us,” said Mr. Richardson, which came off as a little creepy. If Eric always talked about her, he had almost certainly shown them a picture of her.

  Rowen wasn’t sure how to segue this conversation into a new one. “Your other son is in the storage closet.” That felt like the wrong thing to say. It wiped the smile from both their faces, but it did move the conversation along. She pointed them in the right direction, and they headed there.

  Eric mouthed an apology to Rowen as soon as their backs were turned.

  Rowen watched them go. “Don’t worry about it,” she whispered back to him. “They can’t be any worse than my family.”

  “Speak of the Devil,” Willow muttered under her breath, drawing everyone’s attention to the entrance.

  Aunt Nadine and Aunt Lydia came through the front door with bags from a day’s worth of shopping dangling from their arms. “Darlings!” sang Aunt Lydia, coming over for hugs like she hadn’t seen them in weeks. “We were just grabbing lunch across the street, and thought we would drop in. How are my favorite nieces?” She scanned the room and did a double take on Eric. She slid her glasses down her nose as if to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her and gave a shriek. “Eric, honey! What a nice surprise!”

  Eric had patience for her family, at least. They might tell him endlessly that their relationship was doomed to fail, as all Greensmith relationships did, but they liked him. That counted for something. “I came in early,” he said, returning her hug.

  Aunt Lydia took a step back. Her face twisted into a look of sympathy. “Is it because of your brother?” she asked in one of her whispers that wasn’t quite a whisper. “That was just terrible.”

  Eric winced, no doubt hopeful his parents weren’t hearing all of this. “I’m really sorry about him,” he whispered back to her. “This is really unusual for him. It’s never happened before.”

  “You never really know a person,” said Aunt Nadine with a sigh. Her thoughts had likely turned to Grammy.

  Right on cue, David and his parents emerged from the back room. All eyes turned on them. David looked a little ragged, but he had more color than before, and didn’t look like he was about to ruin any more
rugs. Aunt Lydia’s hangover remedy had likely done the trick. Eric’s parents, on the other hand, looked a little out of sorts.

  Mrs. Richardson put on a smile. She clearly had no clue who these two new women were, but she could see Rowen was close to them. “We’re Eric’s parents,” she said, in way of introduction.

  Rowen winced. This wasn’t shaping up to be the best day. She could just sense a train wreck was about to happen. Sure enough, Aunt Lydia’s face lit up like this was the best news she had ever received. “Oh, my goodness!” She immediately released Eric and went over to hug his parents. “It’s so good to finally meet you!”

  Mrs. Richardson was the first to be hugged. She took it reasonably well, though her eyes were a bit wide and bewildered for the first couple of seconds. “You must be Rowen’s… mother?”

  “Oh, no,” said Lydia, moving on to give Mr. Richardson a hug. “I’m her Aunt Lydia. I’m Rose’s mother. She’s adopted.”

  Rowen winced again, as did Rose. Aunt Lydia had a way of oversharing for maximum conversational awkwardness. Undisturbed by all of this, Nadine stepped forward with an altogether meeker smile than her sister. “I’m their Aunt Nadine. Willow and Peony over there are mine. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs.−”

  “Please,” interrupted Mrs. Richardson. “Charles and Lisa.”

  Aunt Lydia finally stepped back. She glanced at David looking sheepish between the two of them. “Are you two in town for business or pleasure?”

  “Family business,” said Mr. Richardson, giving David a meaningful glance. “But, I suppose we have a couple of days to stick around. Lisa gets terribly jet lagged if we do too much flying close together.”

  “We both do,” added Lisa. “And besides, this seems like a cute little town.”

  “Lainswich is fantastic. There’s no place I would rather live.” Aunt Lydia moved on to the inevitable question Rowen had been waiting to hear from her. “Where are all of you staying?”

  The couple exchanged looks. “Well,” began Mr. Richardson. “Eric told us there was a nice hotel−”

  “Oh, no,” Aunt Lydia interrupted. “You’re Eric’s parents! That makes you practically family. You’ll stay with us.”

  There it was. Rowen didn’t even try to stop it. She just took a deep breath.

  Not even Mr. or Mrs. Richardson looked thrilled by the offer. They had likely been looking forward to the peace and quiet of their own hotel room. Lydia was difficult to talk down when she set her mind to being friendly, though. “We couldn’t impose,” Mrs. Richardson ventured, as if that would work.

  “No imposition at all,” Lydia insisted. “There’s plenty of room after… Well, I’m sure you heard about the business with my mother. We have a spare bedroom now.”

  “It really would be no trouble,” Nadine added with a warm smile.

  Mrs. Richardson looked back at her husband. She raised her eyebrows, communicating something silently to him.

  “I guess we’ll take you up on that, then,” said Mr. Richardson.

  Mrs. Richardson smiled at the aunts. “This is really sweet of you. We appreciate it.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Lydia assured them. “Are your things outside? We’ll show you the way and help you get settled in.”

  Lydia and Nadine led the three outside, leaving Eric, Rowen, and her cousins there to stare after them.

  “Wow,” breathed Eric once they were gone. “That could not have gone worse.”

  “Oh, yes, it could have,” Rowen assured him, putting an affectionate arm around her naive boyfriend.

  Margo nodded in agreement. “The first time those two met my ex-husband’s family, they read their future and suggested they should get a divorce. Granted, things actually ended pretty badly between those two. It might have been for the best if they had gotten a divorce. That’s beside the point, though.”

  Eric seemed to get the message. “I guess I should follow them there and see what’s going on.” He looked at Rowen, as if expecting her to come with him.

  “You go ahead.” Rowen would have liked to accompany him, but she just didn’t have the time. “We’re working on a story. There was a murder last night. The police think it had occult origins, so…” Rowen trailed off with a helpless shrug.

  Fortunately, Eric seemed to get the message. “That sucks,” he said, which seemed like quite the understatement when talking about murder. “I guess suspicions might be falling on you and your family?”

  “Not yet.” Hopefully not ever, if Rowen had her way. “If we cover the story and offer our perspective on it now, I’m hoping that might shift suspicion a bit. Plus, we’re trying to work with the police— offer any information we can. You know.” Rowen stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kissed to Eric’s cheek. “You go take care of your family. I’ll try to be home by tonight.”

  Eric nodded. He looked reluctant to leave after having just gotten there, but it was what it was. “Call me if things get too out of hand, all right?”

  “You got it.” They shared a kiss and Rowen watched him leave. Even loving him as she did, she hoped that she didn’t have to call him. If she had any luck at all, this would all resolve itself.

  Of course, Rowen had never been very lucky.

  Chapter Four

  As it turned out, the reason that the murder victim’s name sounded so familiar was because Rowen had gone to school with her.

  Mrs. Martel had once been Lindsay Jefferson. She was a petite blonde with a cherubic face and a devilish attitude. She had teased Rowen and her cousins mercilessly all throughout grade school. Their status as Greensmith witches had been a subject of ridicule back then. Lindsay had made sure absolutely everyone knew just who and what they were. She told the students to be careful around them and had personally made sure they didn’t make many friends.

  Lindsay had enjoyed a certain level of popularity as head cheerleader. After graduating high school, she had gone on to college. There, she had met her husband, Ryan Martel. Rowen remembered reading about their wedding in the newsletter her old high school liked to send out to graduates, telling them where their alumni were now.

  Rowen wondered if they would put news of Lindsay’s death in the next newsletter. It was a strange death, to be sure. Even though Rowen had never been fond of the woman, she couldn’t help feel more than a little sorry for her.

  She also couldn’t help but worry that her sour history with the woman would paint her family in a bad light.

  There had been a press release that afternoon. Naturally, none of the big media outlets made it there. Lainswich had its own unique way of keeping out of the press. It was as if the place was, somehow, cut off from the outside world. The police knew this and seemed to take advantage of it.

  Rowen and Margo stood in the gloomy weather with a couple of more legitimate reporters just outside the police station. It hadn’t been raining when they arrived, but it was drizzling now. Margo kept muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a spell under her breath. Rowen kept elbowing her. Even if she was trying to get rid of the rain, now wasn’t the time.

  “It’s making my hair frizz,” Margo complained.

  “Deal with it,” hissed Rowen. Practicing the occult during a press release possibly concerning the occult was just asking for trouble. Rowen was starting to think her entire family had, somehow, been born without the gift of common sense.

  Chief Tweed walked out of the station holding a stack of notes. Ben came behind him with an umbrella. Rowen saw him stifle a smile when he noted the pathetic turnout.

  A look of annoyance washed over John Tweed. The expression on his face was one of a man who didn’t even know why he was out here for such a small audience. He stepped up to the microphone, but didn’t actually bother speaking into it. “Hey, guys.” He motioned them all a bit closer. “As you’re probably already aware, a body was found at three-thirty this morning. The body was that of a woman— Lindsay Martel. She was a beloved member of the community, and we are doing everything
in our power to bring her killer— or killers— to justice. We are currently investigating all possible leads, but we do have reason to believe some occult practice was involved.” At this, Tweed’s eyes strayed to Rowen and Margo. “With that said, let’s all get out of the rain, shall we?”

  “I have a question,” called one of the few reporters present— Julia Martinez.

  Chief Tweed shook his head. “Ben will answer any questions you might have,” he said, turning on his heel and heading back into the station. Evidently, he didn’t seem to think so few reporters were worth his time. Either that, or he just really hated the rain.

  This, apparently, came as a surprise to Ben as well. He frowned after his boss then turned back to the small gathering of reporters in front of himself. “Yes?” he prompted, unhappily huddled beneath his umbrella.