Meows, Magic & Murder (4 page)

“Why does that seem like you’re trying to pay me off?”

“I’m not, but it wouldn’t hurt if you stayed home. Cats need their naps, you know.”

Pansy yawned just then.
“Okay, fine. If you buy me a steak, I’ll play nice and stay home for the rest of the day, but come tomorrow, I expect to be kept in the loop. There’s only so much of lying around and licking myself that I can stand.”

“Fine, but you know I’ll have to keep you in my bag when I go into the meat market. Mr. Thompson sure was cross with me the last time I brought you in.”

Petunia opened her large purse and Pansy climbed inside. She closed the bag only enough to conceal the cat and not cut off his air supply. She sure didn’t want to add killer of cats to her resume.

“Oh, God, you’re heavy,”
Petunia said, trying to straighten her body.

“Suck it up, Red. This isn’t a treat for me, either.”

Luckily, an older gentleman opened the door of Norm’s Meat Market, since the automatic door was on the fritz. Petunia simply nodded at the gentleman and sneezed, lumbering through the door. When she heard laugher behind her, she whirled and the older man was walking away while bubbles danced in the air.

“How odd,” Petunia thought, but went about her business. Norm’s was a small meat market and always packed, as usual. Besides having the best meat you could get in Lake Forest, they also offered grocery items that were more pricy than you might find at a chain store, but it was mighty handy if you didn’t want to traipse all over town buying freezer bags. Of course, they did have some off-brand ones, but those were quite flimsy.

Petunia waltzed over and took a paper number, staring at it angrily.
“Number sixty-seven, Pansy. We might be here for a while. They’re only on number fifty.”

“Figures. I hope I don’t suffocate before we’re out of here.”

The bag was opened a tad more, and Petunia struggled to make sure nobody could see inside.
“Is that better?”

“Who are you talking to?” Olivia Brownmeyer asked with a noticeable frown.

“Me? I’m not talking to anyone.”

“I saw your lips moving,” she insisted.

Drat. Petunia just didn’t have this telepathic thing down to a science yet. “I might have been mumbling. Can’t this line move a little quicker? I don’t have all day, right?” she asked the group of customers who nodded in agreement, whereas the people working the counter gave her a harsh look, but went back to taking care of their customers.

“I’ve been here over a half- hour,” Lucy Winters said. “I have bad arthritis and it’s so hard to stand in one place for so long.”

Petunia nodded sadly. Lucy might be the perfect candidate to try out her latest herbal salve, if only she had the confidence that it wouldn’t have adverse effects, like the hair tonic episode. Still, the more she watched Lucy shifting from one side to the next, and then leaning against the counter, Petunia knew she had to do something.

“Can’t someone let Lucy go next? Poor dear can barely stand here much longer.”

“She can wait her turn like the rest of us,” angry old Arnold Piedmont blurted out, his uni-brow bouncing up and down as he spoke.

Olivia’s number was called and she clacked to the counter, since she always wore six-inch heels everywhere she went.

“Hey, let Lucy go ahead of you.”

“I don’t have time to do that. I’ll barely be home in time to cook dinner for my guests as it is. Henry’s parents are coming all the way from California to see our new house.”

Petunia had to bite her lip. Henry was once her fiancé, until Olivia came into the picture and the two began carrying on, right under Petunia’s nose. They were married six short months after she threw the louse out. It took some doing to get her Aunt Maxine to not whip up a potion that would turn Henry into a toad, or something. Most in town called Aunt Maxine a witch, as they did Petunia, but the simple fact was that her aunt inherited her house from Anastasia Cuza, when she was twenty-one. Shortly after taking possession of the black house on the hill overlooking Lake Forest, Aunt Maxine had found a mysterious and secret room that contained black candles and a pentagram that was drawn on the floor. To the best of Petunia’s knowledge, Aunt Maxine never dabbled in witchcraft, but she did find a leather-bound book that was quite old. That same book now sat in Mystical Remedies, locked up for safekeeping. It was also the same book where Petunia had found the recipe for the love potion that changed her life forever.

One of the workers darted into the back, and a man came out and said, “I’d be happy to wait on you now, Lucy.”

Sighs were heard, but Petunia smiled at Olivia. “At least someone has some decency.” Petunia put a finger against her nose, but wasn’t able to hold back a sneeze. Olivia’s face split into a huge grin as musical laughter erupted from her full lips.

Petunia didn’t see the humor until she saw the bubbles. Where were all these bubbles coming from anyway? She then reached up and plucked a bubble from the end of her nose and as it popped, it became quite clear—it was her! She must have used the wrong loose- leaf tea that was actually something altogether different. She laughed nervously now, since everyone was laughing at her.

Lucy left the counter with her packages and Petunia rushed over to assist her. “Don’t let it bother you, dear,” she said. “Folks just don’t understand how potions work. Are you trying out a new one?” she asked hopefully in a whisper.

“No, I’ve sworn off them completely, since I’m so bad at it, but I do have a salve I’ve been working on. I’m just not sure if I should let anyone try it out.”

“What’s the salve for, exactly?”

“Actually, it’s for muscle aches. Aunt Maxine has sore knees.”

Lucy’s face lit up. “I’d love to try it out. It might help with my arthritis.”

Petunia laughed nervously. “I-I don’t know. Sometimes my portions go haywire.”

“Girl, my body aches so bad these days that I’m willing to try anything. Bring it by later, would you?”

She put the packages into Lucy’s shopping cart, and said, “Okay, I will.” Even though everything in her made her think that it might be a bad idea, she had to do something for poor Lucy, who limped her way to the register.

When Petunia’s number was called, she pointed out which T-bone steaks she wanted. She then made her way to the register and the cashier smiled in greeting. “Don’t you live on Elm Street?”

“Yes, why?” Petunia asked as she pulled out her wallet from under Pansy, who nipped at her fingers at the intrusion.

“It’s just that I saw the sheriff’s car there when I drove by and the meat wagon—no pun intended. Did someone die?”

“How would I know?”

“It was parked in front of your house.”

“No, that’s just where they had to park. I really don’t think I should be discussing this, the sheriff might not like it.”

“So did you do it?” one cashier asked expectantly.

“Did what?’

“Come on, now, word gets around. This is a small town,” the cashier said, leaning forward. “What did you do to Jeremy Walters—after you had your way with him, I mean?”

Petunia’s eyes widened and she had to hold her purse closer to her as Pansy screeched,
“Help me.”
But of course they couldn’t hear a word he said since cats really can’t talk, just communicate with Petunia telepathically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t have anything to do with Jeremy’s disappearance, if it was that at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in a love nest with some random woman he met. He was like that, you know. Why, he even dated—” Petunia sneezed and bubbles flew everywhere. “Can’t you just ring me up? I’m late. I have to get home and feed my cats.”

Laughter surrounded Petunia and she was beyond mortified. The cashier rang her up, eyeing her bag as Pansy just wouldn’t stay still.

“What do you have in there?” the cashier said. “Open up that bag so I can take a look.”

“I-I don’t have anything in there of any interest to you. Hurry up already. Don’t you see there’s a line forming?” she said, indicating the three shoppers standing behind Petunia with grocery carts full.

“Fine, if you don’t want to open it up, I’m calling Mr. Thompson,” she said as she spoke into the microphone that was attached to her register. “Shoplifter on aisle one!”

Petunia threw down a fifty on the counter and grabbed the bags loaded with the steaks she bought, racing through the door. Once she was outside, Mr. Thompson and the cashier were hot on her heels, and just her luck, the sheriff was rolling past and braked hard when they flagged him down, pointing straight at Petunia.

“Oh, criminy!” Petunia exclaimed. “I’m not a shoplifter, Mr. Thompson, I swear.”

Sheriff Pinkerton rushed over to them and asked, “What’s going on here?”

“She has something in her bag and wouldn’t show me when I asked her,” the cashier blurted out. “And then she grabbed a bag she didn’t even pay for yet, and ran out the door.”

“I threw a fifty on the counter which was way more than the cost of what’s in this bag,” Petunia insisted.

“Is that right? Did she throw down money before she went out the door, Sharon?” Mr. Thompson asked.

“W-Well—”

“Check the cameras if you don’t believe me,” Petunia said with a raised brow. “I don’t appreciate being asked to open up my bag every time I shop here.”

“I only do that because Mr. Thompson told me to,” Sharon said. “It’s not like I want to look in that witch’s bag of yours. You probably have poor Jeremy Walters’s shrunken head in there, for all I know.”

Mr. Thompson rubbed the back of his head. “I-I meant if you suspected that Petunia brought that cat back into the store...”

“It was moving. I saw that bag moving!”

Sheriff Pinkerton held his hands up. “Calm down, everyone. So, Petunia didn’t shoplift anything?”

“Well, not exactly, but when I called Mr. Thompson to come up to the register, she ran out the door.”

“I see. Well, Petunia, would you kindly open you bag to satisfy them that you aren’t concealing stolen goods inside?”

“I-I’d rather not.”

“You can either do it here or back at the sheriff’s department. It’s up to you.”

Petunia bit her lip, admitting defeat. “Okay, but Mr. Thompson’s not going to like it.”

She opened her bag and Pansy had disappeared beneath spools of yarn that were also in the bag. Well, most of him anyway. His tail was very noticeable and moving side to side. Petunia took a deep breath and let them look in her bag.

Mr. Thompson, Sharon, and Sheriff Pinkerton all were looking inside her bag just as Aunt Maxine came bustling up from out of her big, black Cadillac. “What’s the meaning of this?” she asked the sheriff.

“Does that satisfy you now?” the sheriff asked Mr. Thompson.

“It sure does. Sharon will be reprimanded for this.”

“For what?”

“I can’t have you accusing paying customers of shoplifting. You said it right over the intercom and half of Lake Forest heard you in there. Apologize to Petunia this instant.”

Sharon’s lips curled back and her face wrinkled up into the most grotesque face ever! “I-I’m sorry, but Mr. Thompson, I was sure.”

Sheriff Pinkerton moved back to his car, but Aunt Maxine stopped him. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment, Sheriff.”

“I can’t right now. I’m late for a meeting with the coroner.”

“Go ahead then, but know this—I won’t stand for you wrongfully accusing my niece Petunia of having anything to do with Helen Patterson’s murder.”

“Helen Patterson?” Sharon asked. “Wasn’t she Petunia’s rival? I mean, seeing as how they were dating the same man, Jeremy Walters. You know, the missing man.” She smiled. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Petunia here murdered the both of them.”

“Whatever for?” Petunia asked. “I didn’t have anything to do with Jeremy’s disappearance, and unless you know something I don’t, he’s not dead,” she insisted. “And I have no ill feelings about Helen at all. I barely knew the woman.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,”
came Pansy’s voice in Petunia’s head.

The sheriff jotted a few things down and just as he moved to get in his squad car, he said, “Thanks for the tip, Sharon, but I hope you keep the identity of the victim today to yourself. I haven’t even had the chance to notify the next of kin.” He then hopped in his car and rolled down his window, saying, “I’ll be in touch, Petunia.”

Petunia watched the sheriff leave and her face dropped. She was looking more like a suspect all the time.

“Come along, dear,” Aunt Maxine said. “You better get those groceries home before they go bad.”

Petunia gave Sharon one last glance on the way back to Aunt Maxine’s Cadillac. She didn’t know what she had ever done to that woman, but Sharon certainly had ill feelings about her.

Aunt Maxine gave Petunia the keys and said, “Be a dear and drive me home.”

Petunia’s eyes widened. “I can’t. You know that.”

“Yes, you can. I drive and so should you.”

“But what about the curse?”

“You can’t worry about that, Petunia. I promise you won’t die today.”

Petunia grumbled as she climbed behind the wheel, trying to still her shaking hands. Far too many relatives had died in car accidents, one of the reasons that Petunia didn’t even own a car. “I’d really rather go home first and drop off the steaks and feed my cats.”

“You’d better open up that bag of yours and let Pansy out before he suffocates,” she suggested.

Petunia settled herself into the driver’s seat and opened the bag, but couldn’t find Pansy anywhere. “He’s not in here!”

“Oh, Pansy, where are you?”
Petunia called out to him.

“I’m right here,”
Pansy said.

Aunt Maxine shrieked, “What on earth just jumped on my lap?”

“Lap? I don’t know, but Pansy is missing. There’s just no way he could have gotten out of that bag.”

“What are you talking about, Red? I’m right here on Aunt Maxine’s lap.”

Petunia swung her head, staring at Aunt Maxine’s lap, but there was no Pansy to be seen. “I-I just don’t know what’s going on here,” Petunia said. “I hear Pansy like I usually do, but I can’t see the blasted cat anywhere.”