Better Witch Next Time Page 8

  "I can make whatever work."

  "Okay, the Hendrickses are usually out of the house by ten o'clock. Want to meet up after then?"

  "Sure. I'll wait for you downstairs."

  "Perfect."

  Chapter 10

  Michael gave me a ride back to the apartment and he didn't even raise an eyebrow when I told him to park one street over so I could sneak in the back. There was something to be said for working with another professional that got you. I found them to be few and far between. My best friend, Lexi, is the only other one that comes to mind. I managed to sneak back into my room unnoticed and let out a sigh of relief. Day four was officially breaking, which meant I had to work overtime to solve this case. It didn't matter what year I was in, time always seemed to move faster when I didn't want it to. Instead of getting answers, my run-in with the detective gave me more questions. Questions I didn't know I'd have to time to answer.

  The sun wasn't even fully up when I heard a commotion outside my bedroom door in the kitchen. Cupboards were being slammed, drawers forcibly jarred open by the sound of the silverware clanging about, and Mr. Hendricks was mumbling to himself. I hadn't even managed an hour of shut-eye, but that was going to have to cut it. I needed to get out there stat and find out what was going on.

  "Mary, make Mrs. Hendricks her special tea," Mr. Hendricks instructed me as he raced past the kitchen. I walked through the kitchen and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled them up. Mr. Hendricks walked to the front door, then turned and walked back down the hall, stopping at a closet and opening it. His head disappeared for a moment and when it reappeared, he was tugging luggage out with it. He took the suitcase into the master bedroom and returned empty handed, looking about the apartment, before turning once more and heading further down the hall, this time into Irene's bedroom. Within another minute, he was back with another suitcase.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Hendricks?" I said.

  The man quit walking up the hallway and looked at me.

  "You'd like me to make Mrs. Hendricks some tea?"

  "That's right. Mary's not here. She puts a tonic in Madeline's tea when her nerves are troubling her. It's somewhere in the kitchen," Mr. Hendricks said, talking with his hands. He then vanished back into the master bedroom.

  "Okay, tea with tonic, coming right up," I said to myself.

  "And turn off the phone's ringer. I don't want it disturbing Madeline while she tries to gets some rest," he poked his head out of the bedroom to add.

  "Tea and phone ringer. You got it."

  I searched the kitchen for anything that might resemble tonic, not even sure what I was looking for. But then I remembered the brown bottles with the little rubber stoppers Mary had lined up on her own kitchen counter. I found just that in an upper side cupboard. It was next to the brandy and the cooking sherry. I twisted off the stopper and smelled the light-colored liquid inside. It was slightly floral and sweet smelling, but I had no idea what it was.

  "Mr. Hendricks, is this it?" I said taking the bottle to the living room. Mr. Hendricks was bringing more luggage out, clothes sticking out of the sides from the wardrobe being tossed in and the suitcase closed without care.

  "Does it look like a tonic?" he asked in return without looking up. He seemed to be analyzing the luggage. Perhaps he was wondering if he had packed everything?

  "Yes, I suppose it does."

  "Then what is the question?" he replied, still not looking up.

  "How much do I put in?"

  "I don't know. That's your job. I don't ask you what the weight of gold is, or where magnesium is on the periodic table of elements, and you don't ask me about kitchen work."

  I bit my tongue and walked back to the kitchen. Chances were good that this was the tonic Mary put in Mrs. Hendricks’ tea, but it could also be perfume given how sweet the mixture smelled. I could always call Mary and check with her. Or I could just guess and do things my way. I went with option number three and put a splash of brandy in the tea, knowing for a fact that would calm the missus’ nerves as good as any tonic.

  I delivered the tea along with some buttered toast. After all, you shouldn't drink on an empty stomach. The curtains were drawn in the master bedroom, dimming the morning sunlight. Like the guest room, the carpet here was pink, as were the bedspread and curtains. There wasn’t a touch of masculinity in the Hendrickses' home decor. A glass and gold-rimmed vanity filled with perfume bottles and facial creams was pushed against the wall, in front of the bed. The vanity was a twin to the one in Irene's bedroom, only this one was super-sized.

  Mrs. Hendricks sat up and leaned forward for me to stack her pillows behind her back. A velvet robe was tied across her slim waist. Her hair was pinned up and her lashes were on, leaving me to question just how nerved up the lady of the house was.

  "Is it my special tea?" Mrs. Hendricks asked, taking the saucer from my hands. I placed a similar plate with the toast on it on her bedside table.

  "It's my special tea. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

  She put the dainty cup to her lips and took a tentative sip. Her eyes closed in appreciation. I took that as a good sign.

  I left Mrs. Hendricks to her breakfast and went in search of Mr. Hendricks to see what he was up to, or more like, where he was off to.

  The man was still pacing the hallway, opening this closet and that one, and piling items into the suitcase.

  "Can I assist you with anything else?" I asked Mr. Hendricks, referencing the luggage before him.

  "I'm taking Mrs. Hendricks to the Catskills. Some mountain air will serve her well," he said, taking a raincoat out of the closet and cramming it into the already full suitcase.

  "You're leaving?"

  "I don't know why I let Mrs. Hendricks talk me into spending the summer in the city. We never spend the summer here and look at what good that got us. No, I need to get her out of here. A change of scenery will do her a world of good."

  "But what about Irene?"

  "Why, what have you heard about her?" Mr. Hendricks stopped moving and stared at me. His eyes were suddenly cold.

  "Nothing, I just thought you might want to stay around in town in case she turned up."

  "And let it ruin her mother's health in the meantime? No, Irene is a grown woman. She's made her choices. Let her live with them."

  I didn't know how to respond to that, which was why I asked him when they would be back instead.

  Mr. Hendricks answered my question by saying, "You're free to go."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Your services are no longer needed. I'm sure Mary will be able to return to work once we are back in town."

  I hadn't been expecting that. I tried to think quickly on my feet for a reason for me to stay. "If you're certain?"

  "Of course I'm certain. And I don't appreciate you questioning my judgment like this," Mr. Hendricks snapped at me.

  At that moment, the Hendrickses’ cat, George, decided to make his presence known with a rather heartfelt meow. "And what about George? Will you be taking him with you?" I asked.

  Mr. Hendricks looked down at the cat. "Where in the devil did he come from?"

  "He's your cat."

  "Well, I never saw the animal before. Take him with you." I looked down at George who looked back up at me and appeared to shrug his shoulders. I knew there was no point in arguing since Mr. Hendricks would just get even more snippy. Just like I knew that if I still wanted to stay there, all I had to do was climb back up the fire escape after they left or walk right in the front door. After all, locks were no problem for me to open.

  "You can't get rid of the cat," Mrs. Hendricks said from behind us. I hadn't even heard her walk up the hallway.

  "Excuse me?" Mr. Hendricks asked.

  "Jillian loves that cat," Mrs. Hendricks said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  "Mrs. Morgan?" Mr. Hendricks sounded incredulous.

  "Yes! And James too. You can't get rid of George. After James and Irene are married, that cat is his. Then you
will be rid of it. Until then, the cat stays, as does Anna.

  "Madeline, you can't seriously think—"

  "Seriously think what? That James will marry Irene? Of course I think it. Why in the heavens wouldn't I?"

  "Because ... nothing." Mr. Hendricks glowered, but he didn't dare say another word. Not with Mrs. Hendricks present. No, he waited until she was out of earshot before saying, "Fine, you can stay, but don't expect your full salary!" His finger punctuated the air.

  "Of course not, sir," I said dryly before clearing my throat and putting on a proper attitude.

  Mr. Hendricks gave me the eye, but only said, "Now fetch Henry. I need him to come get these bags and call for my car."

  I walked out of the Hendrickses' building and found Michael. He was chatting up the old man at the newspaper stand, the one I had given the tonic to the day before. And by the way they were chatting, it seemed like they knew one another.

  "Hi, guys," I said, interrupting their conversation.

  "Officially off duty?" Michael asked me, taking in my appearance. Not knowing where we were going, I opted to change back into the dress I had traveled back in time with. I would rather be dressed up for an occasion versus dressed down. And no, the fact that the detective was an attractive man had nothing to do with my wardrobe choice. Or at least, that was what I was telling myself.

  "Permanently," I replied.

  The detective raised his eyebrows.

  "You ready to go and I'll fill you in?" I asked.

  "Hang on, I was just getting The Daily here from Sid."

  "That's right, I should have known when you gave me that tonic, miss," Sid replied.

  I wasn't really following, but that didn't stop me from saying, "Oh, did it work?"

  "Like a dream. Thanks, sweetheart," Sid lifted his newsboy cap to me in acknowledgement. Then he disappeared from sight, bending over to retrieve something for Michael. When he stood, I saw that it was in fact a newspaper. Unlike the other newspapers that were on display, this one was rolled up so that the front page was hidden, and the paper was tied shut with a piece of brown twine. Michael gave Sid a dime and then motioned for me to follow him down the sidewalk. While we walked, Michael untied the string and read the front page. The paper looked completely ordinary in size and layout. It wasn't until you took a moment to read the headlines that you noticed it was different.

  "Another missing teen witch. Mundane parents clueless," and "Werewolf found dead. Suspect at large," dominated the front page.

  "A supernatural newspaper?" I asked.

  "You haven't heard of The Daily? You are from the Midwest, aren't you?" Michael joked.

  "That makes Sid what?" I said, thinking back to the source. I didn't pick up the shifter vibe from him. If he had been a witch, he could have made his own tonic. He definitely wasn't dead or a demon. "Warlock, shifter, ghost?" I said for clarification.

  "Oh, no. Sid is a bit eccentric, but he's completely normal."

  That's a relief. I was beginning to think my supernatural senses had stayed in the future.

  I looked over at the paper. I suppose it should be no surprise that a city of this size had its own supernatural news network. Just what would they think of next?

  "It just doesn't make sense. Usually the apex predators stick to their own turf," Michael said, reading an article tucked away on page two. "What has them on the move and who's killing them?" he said mostly to himself.

  He folded up the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. "There's someone that I want to talk to. Do you mind taking a drive with me?"

  "No, not at all. Did you still want to try to scry for the girls?"

  "I have an idea on that front too. I'm hoping my source can help us out."

  "Okay, and what about Penny? She's the one I was waiting on last night."

  "I remembered you saying that, and I've tracked her down."

  "You did?" I stopped walking in surprise.

  "Don't act so shocked, it’s my job."

  "No, it's just ... I haven't been able to." I tried not to sound annoyed. In a matter of hours, Michael had tracked down Penny's residence, and I had been forced to stake out a billiard hall in the ghetto. Of course, if I hadn't been there I wouldn't have bumped into the detective here. Now I wasn't sure what emotion to go with.

  "Turns out when you have a badge, people talk," Michael said, walking once more.

  I made a mental note to add "request badge" at our next agency debriefing session. "I suppose that's true," I said catching up.

  "It is. I remembered you saying she worked at the makeup counter at Macy's. I called the human resources department there, gave them my credentials, and got her address. I thought we could go there afterwards."

  Michael navigated us out of the city, and before I knew it, we were headed south on I-95. "So the Hendrickses let you go?" he asked.

  "Technically, they don't need me or any housekeeper at the moment because Mr. Hendricks took his wife to the Catskills. Apparently, the stress of Irene's disappearance has finally caught up with her, or maybe the stress of having to act as if everything is perfectly normal has. Anyway, he packed up their luggage and they took off about thirty minutes before you got there. But I'm not totally canned."

  "No?"

  "No, I've been demoted to cat sitter. Although I like to think of it as a promotion."

  "How's that?"

  "I'd rather care for George the cat then the Hendricks any day of the week."

  "They're that bad, huh?"

  "They're something else, that's for sure."

  "Did Mr. Hendricks say where in the Catskills they were headed?"

  "No, and I didn't even think to ask. I imagine he'll come back to the city though. I have a feeling the man isn't one for taking vacations."

  "No, you're probably right. Most likely, they have a standing resort that they go to every summer. I'm sure he will get settled and then return."

  "So where are we headed?" I asked.

  "My sister's," Michael looked in his rearview mirror before changing lanes.

  "Your sister is your source?" I asked.

  "No, my grandmother is my source. She lives with my sister and her family."

  "Oh, well, why don't we just call her?"

  "You'll see," the detective replied, leaving it at that.

  Chapter 11

  Over an hour later, the detective's car was bumping down a country road. The setting reminded me an awful lot like home, especially when the farmhouse came into view, complete with the wide front porch and large maple tree out front. The tree cast the house in shade, which I knew was appreciated this time of year. The dust hadn't even settled around the car after we pulled in the driveway and parked when a gaggle of kids came running out the front door and down the steps to greet us. Three large dogs followed in their footsteps, barking.

  "Uncle Michael! Uncle Michael!" the collection of kids shouted. All of them were quite young, and I dare say that the oldest was yet ten. With bare feet and big smiles, they were a bundle-of-energy.

  "Even if my sister did have a phone, you'd be hard-pressed to have a conversation with these youngsters around," Michael joked. We got out of the car and I looked up and saw a woman standing on the front porch. She was wearing a white dress with a yellow floral print and drying her hands on an apron. Michael was busy high-fiving and hugging his niece and nephews, even giving the dogs some love, scratching their ears.

  "Is everything okay?" the woman asked with concern in her eyes as we approached. As we got closer, I could tell that she was his sister. She had the same eyes as her brother. They could look right through you and flesh out the truth. The kids took off chasing one another around the front yard, the dogs in close pursuit, before they all scrambled back up the porch and disappeared inside the house.

  Michael didn't answer his sister's question and instead he said, "This is Vee. She's helping me work a case. Is Gran awake?"

  "Are you serious? You can't take a nap in this household." The sound of scre
aming reached us outside. It was hard to say if it was laughter-induced or pain-inflicted. Seeing as the detective's sister didn't move, I assumed it was the former. "Gran's around back, hanging up the wash. I'm Karen by the way," she said extending her hand for me to shake, which I did, but unlike when I shook her brother's hand, nothing remarkable happened. "This visit have anything to do with those apex killings?" Karen asked steadily.

  Michael looked surprised at his sister. "You heard about those?"

  "Sam told me about them. He said some shifters were talking about it in Philly."

  "Philly? I guess I'm not the only person who's noticed. Sam around?" Michael asked.

  "No, he's back to working days. Says it’s as boring as can be, but I'm not going to lie, I like having him home at night."

  "I'm sure you do. Maybe I'll try to call him at work. See what else he's heard," Michael replied.

  "You do that. Sam said everyone's getting jittery, and I don't think it's just because of the full moon this month," Karen said.

  "No, I don't think so either." Michael looked over his shoulder at me. Personally, I didn't know what to think. I wasn't here to solve some shifter mystery, I just needed to find Irene, and fast. Time was running out.

  "Stop back inside after you're done talking to Gran, you hear?" Karen said, turning to walk to the door.

  "You got it," Michael replied.

  "Who's Sam?" I asked as we walked around the side of the house.

  "My brother-in-law. He's PD in Philly."

  "Oh? I didn't know we were close." Had we already crossed into Pennsylvania?

  "It's about forty minutes away. Sam doesn't mind the commute. Says the country soothes him."

  "And you?" I asked.

  "I'd take the city any day," Michael said. "The urban jungle soothes me."

  As we came around back, I saw Michael's grandmother. Her pure white hair flowed loosely down her back, blowing like the white sheets hanging on the line. Her face was as translucent and wrinkled as a piece of used tissue paper. Her eyes were clear and blue as a pool of cool water.