A Paranormal Puzzle: A Witch Cozy Murder Mystery (Witches of Hemlock Cove Book 4) by Kennedy Chase

Author:Kennedy Chase
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Monty's Tale Press
Published: 2016-07-18T03:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

I KNOCKED ON THE door of the cottage-like bungalow on the edge of town, and my hand had just reached my side when it opened.

A weasel of a man stood in the doorway. He stood a foot shorter than me, with thick gray hair and an ashy goatee that surrounded thin lips and covered a weak chin. Sharp green eyes observed me intently.

“Jeremy Buns?” I asked.

“That’s me,” he replied.

I explained who I was, and without a beat he nodded and waved his hand to welcome us in. Dario followed me into the cluttered foyer, and I took a quick look around at the stacks of papers on every available surface. I wouldn’t go so far as to say Jeremy was a hoarder—everything appeared to be organized and neat—but obsessive wasn’t a long way off.

“I should have known you were coming,” Jeremy said, peering through the window beside the front door to check the driveway. “Although I do wish you’d called first.”

“Are you expecting someone?” I asked, peering over his shoulder at the empty driveway.

“What? No. I just keep a strict schedule and don’t like it when it gets thrown off. But I know why you’re here, so you might as well stick around and have some coffee. Cream and sugar?”

He strode into the kitchen, and I stared after him, flustered by his busyness and odd demeanor.

“Black, please,” I said.

Dario agreed to the cream and sugar, and Jeremy ushered us to the cluttered dining room table to wait while he poured coffee from the largest pot I’d ever seen. I guessed a minute didn’t go by where he didn’t have a full mug by his side over the course of his day.

Dario and I sat opposite each other at the table. Between stacks of papers it was a rich dark mahogany that spoke of expense and age. It creaked slightly as I leaned my elbows against it, so I sat back on the chair and took in my surroundings.

The kitchen was much like the foyer; full of papers and books and journals all piled in messy heaps on the granite countertops. White kitchen cupboards showed that they hadn’t been cleaned lately.

It all pointed to the transient preparation room for a busy man who had no time to clean or tidy up. It reminded me of a down-and-out private detective’s office that you’d often see in those old black-and-white movies.

“I’ll save you from asking your questions,” Jeremy said, coming to the table with three mugs balanced in his hands. “You want to know about my relationship with Gary Arneston and why he got the restraining order on me, that right?”

“That about sums it up, yes,” I said, hiding my amusement behind my mug.

“That jerk had his hands in a lot of pies,” Jeremy said. He set his mug down and moved over to a particularly tall stack of papers against the wall. He ran his finger over them until he reached a particular spot, then carefully pulled a sheaf of paper free.

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