Oliver Crum and the Briarwood Witch by Chris Cooper

Author:Chris Cooper
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Dreadful Media
Published: 2019-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

The metal bell jingled against the door, an unusual sound for the late-morning lull, when most of the display cases had been picked clean. Oliver peered out into the empty bakery as a man crossed the storefront and sat in one of the booths. He was oddly dressed, with a blue suit and matching top hat that reminded Oliver of a circus ringmaster’s uniform. His clothes were certainly vintage, but Oliver had a hard time telling from which century they came. The man’s curled mustache had been meticulously waxed to perfect symmetry.

“Think you have a friend who needs a coffee,” Izzy said, sitting at the large metal table and looking up from a stack of papers.

Oliver stepped into the front of the shop and brought a coffee pot over to the man.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“I’d love a cup,” the man replied.

Oliver filled the empty cup at the table. He set the pot on the warmer behind the counter and returned to take the man’s order. “Anything else for you today?” he asked.

“Actually, just you, if you don’t mind,” he replied.

Oliver thought he had misheard. “I’m sorry—what was that?”

“Just a moment of your time. It looks like you may have a few minutes to spare,” the man said, looking around the empty storefront. “Sit with me. I’ll be brief.”

The request was unusual, but Oliver obliged. He sat across from the man and folded his hands on the table. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“I believe you may have something that belongs to me,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Not sure what you mean,” Oliver replied.

“I hear that you stumbled upon a coin.” He looked up at Oliver. “You see, I had a coin stolen from me a few weeks ago, one with a little crow on it. It was a cherished family heirloom, something that’s been passed down for centuries, and I’d like to have it back.”

Oliver scrambled to think of a response. He couldn’t just hand over the coin, especially given last night’s peculiar adventure. Who is this guy anyway?

“I wish I could help, but I handed it over to the police,” he lied. “I’m sure they’d be happy to talk to you about it, though.”

Oliver noticed a flicker of contempt in the man’s eyes.

“Son, hasn’t anyone told you it’s not polite to lie?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not lying,” Oliver said, bristling. “You know, the coin was found at the scene of a murder, so whoever left it there may have had something to do with it. You really should speak to the police. They may have some questions for you too. If it was stolen, perhaps you could identify the person who stole it.”

The man raised his voice. “I really don’t have time for this nonsense. Now, if you just hand over the coin, I’ll be on my way.”

Oliver squirmed in his seat. “I wish I could help, but I don’t have it. You should talk to the police, though. Don’t you want to help catch a murderer?”

The man stood up.

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