Page 15 of Boss Witch

While he didn’twantto work, he needed to pretend he was putting in some effort so when his old man demanded an update, he wouldn’t be caught unprepared. Cheerful note card in hand, he retraced his steps and headed around to the front of the house. After ringing the bell, he heard a dog barking, furious as anything. But when a plump, middle-­aged woman with light-­brown hair swung open the door with an inquiring look, he didn’t see the massive hound he expected. In fact, he could hear the dog woofing, but it must be too small to see out of the screen frame.

“I was expecting to be eaten by a Great Dane,” he admitted.

“You must be our tenant.” She offered a smile and bent to pick up an adorable mini dachshund whosoundedmuch more ferocious than she looked.

“Gavin Rhys. I just wanted to thank you for the little touches in the flat. The fruit and cheese plate is lovely.”

“Mina Rodriguez. Before you ask, no, I’m not Mexican American. My husband is, and I took his name.”

Gavin blinked. “I…wasn’t planning to ask that, though you did offer to answer inquiries related to area attractions.”

Snuggling the little dog to her chest, she quirked a smile. “Sorry, force of habit. I’m proactive in forestalling the ‘you don’t look Mexican’ thing, which pisses me off, because it’s a nationality, not a physical genotype. Anyway, you had questions?”

“I do. If this isn’t a good time, I can come back.”

“No, it’s fine. I work from home, so now is as good a time as any. Do you want some tea? It’s the cold kind, not—­”

“That sounds lovely,” Gavin said, though it was practically a criminal offense to serve it over ice.

He followed Mina through the house, which was as comfortably decorated as the upstairs flat. After setting the dog down, she poured a couple of tall glasses of iced tea and set out some boxed cookies. Her kitchen was large enough to house a small dining set, and he took a seat opposite her, sipping the drink to be polite. It was far sweeter than he’d prefer and laced liberally with lemon; that part he rather liked, but drinking tea cold would never be his first choice.

The mini dachshund wasn’t barking, but the animal eyed him with major concern, sniffing at his boots and dancing away. Mina noticed and said, “Leave him be, Trixie. He’s a guest. Don’t bark at guests.” She smiled slightly. “Tiny dogs can be so territorial.”

“How much does she weigh?”

“Around nine pounds.”

“So cute.” He wasn’t saying that to be polite.

“Thank you! My children are grown, so she’s my baby now. I spoil her shamelessly. Anyway, you said you had questions about the area?”

“I’m a bit of an oddball, so I was curious what you’d recommend for someone with a penchant for quirky entertainment.”

Mina appeared to ponder briefly. “You mean like the giant peach in Georgia or alligator wrestling in Florida? That sort of thing?”

“I’ve been told there’s a giant twine ball in Kansas,” he said. “But I’m also into nature, so those recommendations would work as well.”

Witches, if they were deeply entrenched in St. Claire, would need privacy to celebrate their seasonal rituals. And it wasn’t like he could ask his congenial hostess,If you were pagan, where would you go to dance naked beneath the light of the silvery moon?

Suppose Icould. Probably wouldn’t get my deposit back when she kicks me out.

“Pretty scenery or kitsch,” she said thoughtfully, tapping a manicured fingertip on the kitchen table. “I love the latter myself. There’s just something about visiting a weird site and wondering what the heck that person was thinking. Have you heard about the bottle cap house?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“There’s this woman—­think her name was Olga—­in the Siberian taiga who collected like thirty thousand bottle caps and used them to create mosaics all over the outside of her house. It’s kind of amazing. Search and check out the pictures. But you want something like that locally…oh! We have a farmer, well, Dale’s familyusedto farm, but he’s built something quite strange on the homestead. He claims it’s so aliens who are about to invade will know to spare him. His farm is worth a look, if you can manage to peek without getting shot. For the nature, you can take a stroll in River Park, or there’s the…” She went on in extensive detail, giving him a whole list of parks and preserves he might enjoy. “Is that enough to get you started?”

“Most definitely,” he said, smiling. “Thanks so much.”

Now I have awealthof useless local knowledge to keep the old man off my back, and I can finally take a break.

Chapter 5

Clem hauled a whole carton of journals home from Ethel’s place, all written by Etta Mae Goode, the other witch’s mother.

Most weren’t related to the hunter from the thirties, but as Ethel had said, “You’re the one who promised to deal with this.I’mnot wading through the minutiae of Ma’s life. If you’re determined to solve this mystery, Velma, then do the legwork.” When Clem had complained, Ethel added, “Let this to be a lesson to you about volunteering for stuff.”

So here she was, rooting through journals penned in crabbed writing with incredible attention to detail regarding the prices of various food items. This would’ve been during the Great Depression, so on some level, that made sense, but it made for tedious reading: 1 pound of bacon, 38 cents; 1 pound of hamburger, 24 cents; 1 pound of butter, 25 cents; a loaf of bread, 8 cents. Clem didn’t have the mental energy to run the numbers to compare what those prices would amount to today, but pennies were a lot harder to scrape up back then.

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