5 Beewitched by Hannah Reed

Author:Hannah Reed [Reed, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2014-02-03T23:00:00+00:00

potential

probable

possibly

positive (I.D.)

presumed

process

produce (as in produce an alibi)

procedure (I really hate that one)

“I presume you searched the witches and their tents,” I said to both of them, using lingo they’d recognize.

“Are you trying to interrogate me, Fischer?” That from Johnny, of course.

“Settle down, Jay,” Hunter said. “Don’t go all defensive on us.”

“What would I have to be defensive over?”

“Maybe a poor excuse for a search.”

“You better watch it, Wallace. Besides, what does it matter? We have the murder weapon.”

That was just like Johnny to make a bunch of lazy assumptions. These two were going to go at it again if something wasn’t done to stop it.

Stu delivered our drinks and wings. “Take it outside,” he said. “Or I’ll call nine-one-one. I don’t care if both of you are cops. I won’t have my bar busted up.”

Then he winked at me. See? What a heartthrob! I reassured him, “Nothing to worry about, Stu.”

He sort of rolled his eyeballs and went back behind the bar.

Hunter said to me, “With the assistance of the local police department”—I could hear the sneer—“the grounds were searched. That included Claudene’s tent and belongings. And no, the item in question wasn’t located.”

“What item in question?” the chief asked, slow on the uptake. Hunter had already mentioned new evidence. How many clues did the guy need?

Instead of answering, Hunter countered with, “Why are you sitting at my table?”

Johnny’s self-importance was palpable. “I just came from the library. Seems like someone has been stealing books from the romance section. You know, all those pornographic, explicit novels, total trash, but the library director filed a complaint, so I’m investigating.”

“And that involves me how?” Hunter sure was doing a good job of handling the chief. I didn’t even have to help out with my usual sass.

Johnny stood up and towered. “It doesn’t involve you in the least,” he said. “I just thought I’d spend a few friendly minutes shooting the breeze while I waited for the town chairman. We’re going to set up a sting operation over at the library. Cameras and all.”

Just then, Lori Spandle’s husband, Grant Spandle, our town chairman, came in. He and Johnny moved off into another corner out of earshot, which was just as well. I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall, though. “It’s probably just some kid,” Hunter said. “And look at them, acting like it’s some big crime.”

After we ate the wings and wiped the stickies away with those little wet napkins, Hunter produced a sketch pad, a pencil, and a big eraser, and I went to work. We almost ran out of paper (and eraser) before I got it close to right. Which would have happened sooner if I hadn’t been in such a hurry to get it done so I could get myself out of there. It doesn’t pay to rush, that’s for sure.

Eventually, I handed over the final copy. “The crystal in the middle is blue,” I added. “We really need some colored pencils, too.”

Hunter turned the paper sideways. “That’s a crystal?”

“A blue one.

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