Twistchapel Witch Cozy Mystery Box Set: Books 1-4 plus Christmas Short Read online

  “That’s the one that burned down, isn’t it?” asked Charline, scanning Travis’ credit card.

  “Yes ma’am,” said Travis, eyes downcast. “One of the worst days of my life. I had worked so hard to get the company to where it was, just to have it all set aflame before my very eyes.”

  “You were there?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he smiled. “There was hardly a day when I wasn’t.”

  “I thought the fire didn’t start until evening?” I asked.

  “That’s correct. Everything caught fire so quickly. I have no idea how it all happened,” he said casually, taking his card back from Charline.

  “Why were you there so late?” asked Charline. For once, her nosiness was coming in handy. I didn’t have to look like I was the one interrogating for once.

  “My watch,” he said, holding it up for both of us to see. “I accidentally left it in my office that night and came back to get it.”

  “That was the night that Jenny Fairfox died, right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” nodded Travis sadly. “That was such a sad affair. She wasn’t a very good worker, but no one deserved to die that way.”

  “You didn’t hear her when you went back for your watch?” I asked.

  “No, unfortunately I didn’t,” he said. “I was- oh!”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his vibrating cell phone. “I’m terribly sorry, I’ve got to take this. It was nice talking with both of you,” he said, taking his bags and nodding goodbye.

  “That doesn’t make any sense to me,” said Charline as Travis walked off. “If the woman died in the fire, surely he would’ve heard her screaming when he went back for his watch.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” said Bart.

  “Interesting…” I said. Could Travis had really murdered Jenny? If anything, he seemed oblivious to the implications. Did he just not care anymore, since he hadn’t been caught after all this time?

  “You can go back and get some work done, Miss Foster,” said Charline. “I’m sure you’re probably behind on things, what with you being gone…” she checked a piece of paper next to her with several black marks. “Six of the last ten days.”

  “Thanks Charline,” I said through my teeth. “I think I’ll go ahead and get back, then.”

  “Is she really keeping tabs on you?” asked Bart as we turned back to my office.

  “Apparently,” I mumbled. I wonder if she would report my absences to a manager if I hired one. She probably would.

  “What do you think after your conversation with Travis?”

  “He sounds very suspicious,” I said, opening the door to my office and walking back in. “But also oblivious to it.”

  “What should we do next?” he asked, hopping up on the couch.

  “Get some actual work done,” I said, sitting down at my desk. “We’re making good progress on Jenny’s killer, at least I think we are. I’ve got coffee with Drake tomorrow, so I might as well get some stuff done beforehand.”

  “Boring,” sighed Bart, curling up into a ball on the couch. “I’ll let you know if any answers come to me in my dreams.”

  Chapter 8

  I pulled up next to the coffee shop near the police station. Even in a small town like Twistchapel, we had an almost endless supply of coffee stores. Coffee Hut was a personal favorite, but I never faulted other people for preferring another. They were just wrong.

  I looked at myself one more time in the rear view mirror, checking on the mascara I applied an hour earlier. I wasn’t sure if this was actually a date or not, but it didn’t hurt to double check just in case.

  “What are you planning on telling Drake?” asked Bart, floating through the car door as I got out of my side.

  “Everything I’ve found so far,” I said. “I don’t see a reason to lie or withold anything from him.”

  “What about when you stole Maggie’s phone?”

  “Is it really stealing if you take it out of someone’s trash?” I asked.

  “So you’re going to tell the detective you went digging around in her trash?”

  “Well when you say it like that… maybe I’ll leave that part out,” I said, opening the door to the Coffee Hut.

  I walked in to find Drake already at one of the side tables, who gave me a small wave. He was wearing a gray long sleeved shirt and jeans. Essentially, his usual attire.

  “Morning, Zoey,” he smiled, gesturing at the seat across from him.

  “I hate it when there isn’t a spot for me,” whined Bart, resorting to floating up and leaning against the table. “Tell him you prefer booths in the future.”

  “Good morning, Detective,” I smiled back, taking my seat.

  “Drake’s fine,” he chuckled.

  “Your coffees are ready, Detective,” called out the barista.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up to get the drinks.

  “How does he know what you like to drink?” asked Bart.

  “Maybe he doesn’t,” I said, wondering the same thing.

  He did. Drake set down a cappuccino in front of me before taking his seat again.

  “How’d you know what I like?” I asked, taking the cup in my hands.

  “It’s my job to figure things out,” he smiled. “That, plus I just asked the barista what you normally order.”

  “Very smart,” I smiled.

  “How’s business going?” he asked.

  “It’s going well, from what I can tell. I’ve been so busy with Mr. Spinner’s case, and then this one immediately after.”

  “You must have a great team if you’re able to take off so much time and not be worried.”

  “I do,” I nodded. “I have been thinking about getting a manager, though.”

  “That way you can sneak out and do more sleuthing?” grinned Drake.

  “Exactly. Our newest detective seems like he could really use my help, so I feel like it’s my civil duty to provide assistance as needed.”

  “Well, he appreciates it.”

  “How are you liking Twistchapel so far?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

  “It is a very close knit little town,” he said. “It’s taking some getting used to, but I think I like it. I’m starting to make some leeway with gaining people’s trust and confidence, which is good.”

  “Have you not worked in small towns before?”

  “Not really. I grew up in Milwaukee and worked there at first. Spent some time in the Twin Cities, as well. A position opened up here, and since I knew Dan from back in the day, I gave him a call to learn more about the town.”

  “Dan’s a great guy,” I said, hit with a sudden pang of guilt. That reminded me that I had hardly seen Bridgette over the past few days. I should really give her a call and see how things are going. I wasn’t just failing as an owner, but as a friend now, too.

  “He is,” agreed Drake. “How’s the case of Jenny’s murder going for you? Any leads?”

  “I might have one or two… how about you?”

  “I’ve got someone in mind, but would love to hear about your ground work first.”

  “Deal,” I said. “My top three are Maggie Davis, Travis Thompson, and Darren Thompson.”

  “The Thompson brothers obviously make sense,” agreed Drake. “Why Maggie?”

  “Honestly, the main thing is that I had bumped into her at Mr. Spinner’s funeral and I saw her name on the list. I thought she’d be able to provide me with some insider info from when she worked with Thompson and Thompson Industries.”

  “What’d she say to make her seem suspicious?” asked the detective, nursing his coffee.

  “Not too much, aside from keeping her old work key, and having a strange cell phone from supposedly when she worked there.”

  “Strange cell phone?”

  “It was pink, covered in rhinestones.”

  “That’s an odd work phone,” he laughed.

  “Right?” I laughed. “She told me about how the Tho
mpson brothers made a killing on the insurance money they received, and seemed to think Travis might have been involved. She didn’t seem particularly convinced that there was foul play, though.”

  “What could you find on the Thompson brothers?”

  “I actually was able to talk with Travis just yesterday. He mentioned that he was at the warehouse the night of the fire!”

  “Really?!” said Drake.

  “I know! He said he forgot his watch there and went back for it. He also didn’t think very highly of Jenny,” I took a sip from my coffee. “How about you? Learn anything more since we last talked?”

  “I’ve actually been looking a bit deeper into the case,” he nodded.

  “I thought you said the police department didn’t have time to spend on a cold case?” I smirked.

  “Let’s say I was looking into it in my spare time, then. Check this out,” he said, leaning forward. “Thompson and Thompson Industries was just months away from having to declare bankruptcy.”

  “What? But everyone makes it seem like they were doing great!”

  “That’s the thing. Publicly, they were always talking about how well they were doing. It’s possible most of the employees did think they were making money. Looking at the financial records, though, it was clear that they weren’t. They were losing thousands of dollars a month.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked, taking a sip from my coffee.

  “When the fire happened, the Thompson brothers handed over all the data they had to the police, wanting to be completely transparent. Jenny Fairfox was a consultant brought in to help improve their profits, and to dig into why the company was losing money. She put together several reports early on that showed TTI was not doing well at all. In fact, she put together a report every Friday evening.”

  “The fire was on a Friday… wasn’t it?” I asked, my eyes widening.

  “Exactly my thought. History showed that she would have been working on another financial report, yet there wasn’t one saved into their database.”

  “That would explain why she was there, even if she normally didn’t work late,” I said. “Did the reports give any indication where they were losing money?”

  “From what I could gather, she said she narrowed it down to the manufacturing floor and the sales department,” shrugged Drake.

  “I still want to talk with Darren Thompson,” I said. “He was just as important as Travis to the business, but I haven’t gotten a chance to track him down yet.”

  “I can save you some trouble,” said Drake. “You’ll find him at Twistchapel Cemetery.”

  “Weird. Is he a grave digger now or something?” wondered Bart aloud.

  “He’s dead,” I sighed in disappointment, leaning back in my chair.

  “Oh. That makes sense too, I guess,” yielded Bart.

  Dang it. He was next on my list to talk to of clear suspects. Everyone else I had just worked there, and it could take months or longer to find and interview all the old employees. Darren could have been the one who set the fire, possibly to intentionally kill Jenny, and now it would be even harder to prove.

  “This is going to take forever to figure out who the murderer is,” I said, staring down at my cup.

  “It seems pretty clear cut to me,” said Drake, sipping his coffee.

  “It does?” I asked.

  “It’s got to be Travis Thompson,” he nodded. “He has several motives. First of all, he made a ton of money from the insurance they had on the building. Second, Jenny was one of the few people at TTI that knew they weren’t doing well. If that info got out, they could have lost many of their employees and not been able to bounce back with increased production. Third, it would have hurt their family name. Everyone in Twistchapel associated the two brothers with the Thompson brand.”

  I nodded. “Those are all true.”

  “By his own admission to you, he was at the scene of the crime when it happened. He would have known that warehouse inside and out, and would have know the best place to start the fire.”

  “Everything you’re saying adds up but… I don’t know…” I said. Everything Drake was saying made sense, but there was something about it that didn’t seem right. I had talked to Travis several times, and he didn’t seem like an evil mastermind that would resort to murder in order to keep his finances going.

  “Why don’t you think it’s him?” asked the detective.

  “He strikes me as more likely to have not known that the business was struggling than to be the one to burn it all to the ground.”

  “You think he didn’t have a clue that his own business was failing?” asked Drake. “Would you not know if Foster’s Market was in the red?”

  “I would,” I agreed. “But not all business owners are the same, and not all focus on the same areas. He also had his brother to help run things.”

  “Who is inconveniently dead.”

  “True. That doesn’t mean that Travis is automatically guilty, though.”

  “I’m not saying he’s guilty,” said Drake, taking a second to finishing his coffee. “I’m just saying that all the signs point to him as being the killer, or at least involved.”

  “What are the next steps, then?” I asked. I had no idea how long it would take Jimmy to get the pink phone working, or even if he ever would. That could be a crucial piece of info.

  “Before coming here, I was already decided on Travis being the prime suspect. Now that you’ve confirmed he was at the scene of the crime when it happened, I’m even more confident.”

  “You’re going to arrest him?” I asked.

  “No,” said Drake. “Well, hopefully not. I’m going to swing by his place and see if he is willing to talk with me. If he is, then there won’t be any need to do that. If he isn’t, then I might have to. Can’t have him running off without being questioned first.”

  “Seems reasonable,” I said. “So are we leaving now, or are we heading over there at a later point?”

  “We?” asked an amused Drake.

  “I want to be there when you talk to him,” I said confidently.

  “Are you sure?” asked Drake. “This is going to be official police business, so that will mean I’m the one doing all the questioning.”

  “That’s totally fine with me,” I lied.

  “Yeah right,” laughed Bart.

  Drake didn’t look convinced either.

  “If I become a problem, just tell me to leave,” I said, sipping innocently on my coffee. “I’ll let you take the lead.”

  “Not just the lead,” clarified Drake with a smile. “I’m the only one asking questions.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, continuing to sip on my coffee.

  Drake looked me over for a moment as I did my best to give him puppy dog eyes.

  “Okay, fine,” he sighed, although I was pretty sure playfully. “You can come with. But no interrupting, and no asking questions!”

  “He’s probably going to regret that,” said Bart.

  Probably.

  Chapter 9

  I pulled out of the Coffee Hut and followed Drake’s police cruiser. I didn’t know where Travis lived, but hoped it wasn’t too far away. I should really stop skipping out on work.

  “Think Travis did it?” asked Bart from the passenger’s side.

  “It’s definitely looking that way,” I said. “It would be nice if we could talk to Darren Thompson.”

  “Too bad he’s dead,” nodded Bart.

  “You know… We’re already talking to one ghost, why not another?”

  “Are you saying you want to summon Darren’s ghost to ask him questions?” asked Bart, looking up at me.

  “Is it not possible?”

  “No, it’s possible,” conceded Bart. “However, it will take you down a much darker path than I think you want to go down.”

  “Really?” I asked. I was a little bummed. Being able to summon the spirits of dead people sounded pretty cool. Maybe I would sell Foster’s Market and go on TV to a
sk people vague questions about their dead relatives, telling the living what the dead thought.

  “Remember how I’ve mentioned there are good guys and bad guys in the witching world?” he asked.

  I nodded. “You said warlocks are bad.”

  “Warlocks are usually bad,” he clarified. “There are these people called necromancers, who will call upon the dead to ask them questions, or do their bidding. Unlike warlocks, these guys are always bad. As your familiar, I’ll teach you the ways of the necromancer if you really want, but I don’t think you’ll like where you end up.”

  “No, you’re right,” I said. “Necromancer doesn’t sound so friendly.”

  We followed Drake for a few more minutes in silence before the detective turned into a gated community. He leaned forward and showed his badge to a man in the guard shack, pointing back at me as he talked.

  “Seems like everyone that worked for TTI came out rich,” I mumbled.

  “You should’ve worked there,” offered Bart.

  “Guess so.”

  The guard waved Drake and I through. After passing a few houses, we pulled into a long driveway for what must have been Travis Thompson’s house. The mansion was even larger than Maggie’s, although that made sense since he was the owner and not just a sales rep.

  I got out and met Drake by his car.

  “Remember, I’m the one doing all the talking,” he said.

  “Absolutely,” I said, putting on a big, fake, smile.

  “If Travis doesn’t want you around, then you’ll have to leave,” Drake continued. “If he’s fine with you staying and if there comes a point where you can ask a question or two towards the end of our talk, then that’s okay. Otherwise…”

  I turned an invisible key in front of my lips, showing that they were sealed shut.

  “You know,” said Bart. “There’s a spell that actually can make it so you won’t be able to talk until you unlock your lips. Very helpful in case you are ever interrogated.”

  I gave Bart a look as the detective made his way up to the front door.

  Drake didn’t have the same concern I had for the beauty of an expensive door, and slammed his fist into it multiple times. The front of Travis’ home had a gorgeous garden, filled with brightly colored flowers. On his porch were several ancient looking columns. They didn’t appear to actually be holding anything up, and instead were just for looks.