Basic Witch

4

Evening, Brian!” Beau called. My feet dragged on the ground as we approached the grim reaper. He placed Morty’s body in his cart and turned to greet us.

“Professor! What a coinkydink! I was just thinking about stopping by the winery when I got the call about, uh…” He hooked a bony thumb toward Morty’s body. His voice was rough and full of gravel, a stark contrast to his friendly, boisterous demeanor.

I leaned in and whispered to Beau, praying death didn’t have the supersonic hearing like werewolves. “Um, is that The Grim Reaper?”

Titus bristled, backing into my ankle. “Oh, spell nah!”

The corner of Beau’s mouth turned up as he angled his face toward mine. “A grim reaper. But he’s the only one in Salem. Brian is the town Coroner.

“Brian?” I raised a brow at the shadowy skeleton standing before us.

“He’s harmless,” Beau insisted. “In fact, I should check out the apartment upstairs. Wait here. Brian will keep you company. I’ll be right back.”

“Are you leaving me with—?” Before I could finish the question, Beau had disappeared through the doorway, abandoning me to make small talk with Brian.

“I’m going with him!” Titus sprang after Beau and vanished into the shop, kicking the door closed behind her.

“Oh, now you like him!” I protested. “Traitor.” I pivoted and gave the grim reaper a weak smile.

“Howdy there!” He called. “You must be Gemma!”

“Nice to—” My introduction was interrupted when Brian spread his arms wide and lunged at me. I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut as I braced myself for… a hug? His spindly fingers pressed against my back in a hearty embrace. Not exactly what I expected from the literal embodiment of death.

“Whoops!” He backed up with an awkward laugh—if you could even call it that. It was more like a fragile death rattle rising in volume and intensity from the back of his throat. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! Prolly should’ve asked first, but I just get so excited about making new friends!” He opened his hands out to each side with a shrug. “What can I say? I’m a hugger!”

“Wow. Um...” I brushed a loose piece of hair from my forehead and tucked it back into my up-do. “It’s okay. Really. I just wasn’t sure what was happening at first.”

“Aw, man!” Brian’s jaw dropped open, and he dropped his head back in frustration. “Not you, too!” His shoulders sagged as his head dropped forward again.

“What?” I asked. “What did I do?”

Brian simply shook his head, refusing to look at me. I waited patiently. Sometimes people just need to be given the space to open up. Maybe Death Himself was no different. Finally, he spoke.

“You thought I was going to take your soul, didn’t you?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his black robe and scuffed a boot-clad foot against the ground. “Everyone always thinks that.”

“No, I…” I sighed. This was usually the part where I told a little white lie to avoid hurting someone’s feelings or avoid some nasty emotional backlash like them not liking me anymore. But as I stood there before a disappointed Death, I felt compelled to tell him the truth. “Actually… yes. But it’s nothing against you, personally. I mean, in the human world, that’s what the Grim Reaper does. I wasn’t expecting you to be so… nice.”

He lifted his face to meet mine. “Really? You think I’m nice?” His teeth clacked as he chuckled to himself, visibly relaxing beneath his hooded robe. “Wowie! What a sweetheart you are!”

I offered a confused smile, which probably came across as more deranged than anything, and stepped back toward Beau. As nice as Brian seemed, I hadn’t yet moved beyond the whole skeleton-who-harvests-the-dead-for-fun-and-profit vibe.

After Brian stopped laughing, I took a chance on leveraging our newly established friendship for a bit or information. “Say… Brian?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Do you know what happened? To Morty, I mean?”

“Of course!” He reigned in his enthusiasm before he continued speaking. “But I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Oh,” I replied as I cast a long look at Morty’s body. “I understand. It’s just that… well, I found his body. And I’m sure that’s old hat for you, but that’s not an everyday occurrence for me. It’s been pretty scary. And I think I might find it easier to sleep tonight—in the same place where he passed—if I knew he died of natural causes, you know?”

“Aw, shucks, Gemma.” Brian raised an arm to scratch his skull with one bony fingertip and let out a sigh. “I guess I can tell you a little bit. In the name of being a good neighbor and all.” He lowered his volume so I could barely make out the words between his raspy breaths. “But keep it between us?”

“Of course!” I leaned in closer so I could hear him better. Not the most comfortable position I’ve ever been in, but it wasn’t every day Death confided in me, so I might as well make the most of it.

“Morty didn’t die of natural causes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. This is my area of expertise. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s death.” He beamed at me proudly.

“How did he die?” I tried to brush off the discomfort creeping through my body as Brian cupped a hand over his mouth and whispered. “Blunt force trauma to the head. One good whack to knock him down, then another when his noggin bounced off the ground. That’s the one that cracked his skull.”

I swallowed hard. “That certainly sounds deliberate. Did they find a murder weapon?”

“Not yet. Detective Otto is on it. But you know how that goes.” He shrugged.

“Not really,” I said. “But I think I’m starting to get the picture. Thanks for the info, Brian. Your secret is safe with me.”

“How did you find out?” Brian grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the carriage, his voice taking on an urgent tone. “Who told you about them?”

“Find out about who?” I asked. “I just meant I wouldn’t tell anyone that you shared Morty’s cause of death. What secret are you talking about?”

“Oh! Haha. Same.” Brian released my arm and nudged me with his elbow. “Sorry for the drama! Just a little game I like to play with my friends, you know? The Secret Game.” He twiddled his thumbs as he backed away.

“That really doesn’t make any sense, but okay,” I offered. “I, uh…” I gestured to the shop entrance. “I should really get going. It’s been a long night.”

“Righty-o!” Brian answered. “I should probably get this guy back to the morgue.” He latched a gate across the back of the carriage and gave me a salute. “Goodnight, new friend!”

“Goodnight, Brian!” I waved to him as I backed up to the shop door. I kept one eye on him as I fumbled with the knob and pushed the door open, then spun inside and slammed it shut, latching it behind me with a sigh of relief.

“Hiding from someone?” Detective Otto’s slow drawl scared me out of my brief moment of relaxation. As if I needed any help with the whole general-anxiety thing.

“No, I just…” I took a deep breath and faced the moose shifter. “Kind of. I just met Brian.”

“Ah. No need to get all bent out of shape,” he said. “Brian’s harmless.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me. Maybe I’m just a little on edge, considering.”

“Returning to the scene of the crime, eh?” He ambled toward me, his eyes filled with mistrust. “Enough to make anyone nervous. What’s the matter? Coven decided you weren’t worth protecting after all?”

“Actually, they told me I could live here. And they want me to run the shop.” I silently wished Beau would hurry up.

“Aha!” Detective Otto cried. He pointed a finger at my face, regarding me with suspicion. “Motive! We already have the opportunity. Now all we have to do is find the murder weapon, and you’re done for, Missy.”

“I didn’t kill Morty,” I insisted.

“Like I said before, I’m the law around here. I decide who’s guilty.”

I started to snap back with a retort about the court system, but I wasn’t sure if Salem’s criminal justice system worked the same way as it did back home, so I thought better of it. No use making him dislike me even more. But since we were on the subject, I couldn’t refrain from prying a bit. “So you’ve determined it was a murder, then?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh, I understand the investigation is in your capable hands,” I lied. “But… you don’t think the murderer will come back, do you?” If the damsel in distress routine worked on Death Himself, maybe it would be equally effective on Detective Otto. “It’s my first night here, and I hardly know anyone. Should I be worried?”

“Come on now, Miss.” Right on cue, the Detective softened, his shoulders relaxing as he propped one hand on his utility belt. Do you really think I’d leave a lady unguarded after a gruesome crime like this?”

“You mean you’re going to stay?” Abort! Abort! An intimate evening with the not-so-friendly neighborhood moose shifter was so not where I pictured this interaction going.

“If you want me too,” he said. He pointed to a tattered sofa near the fireplace. “Down here, of course. Keep it strictly professional.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, Detective.” Please for the love of everything, go home. “But I think Professor Bacchus is on sentry duty tonight. Coven’s orders.” I crossed my fingers behind my back, hoping the embellishment didn’t come back to bite me.

“Ah. Well, then. You should be safe enough, I suppose.” He almost looked disappointed. I got the feeling the Salem Chief’s Department didn’t see much action. Might as well throw the poor guy a bone.

“I’m happy to talk to you about Morty’s death again tomorrow, after we’ve both had some sleep. Maybe something else will come back to me by then? The Coven said I could meet you for an official interview at the Chief’s station? At your convenience, of course.”

“Three o’clock,” he barked. “At the station.” He started to make his way to the door and gave me a nod. “You should lock this behind me.”

“I will. Thank you.” The sound of footsteps echoed down the stairway, signaling that Beau was finally coming back down.

Otto loosened his hold on his belt and cleared his throat. “We, uh… appreciate your full cooperation.” It was almost as if he wasn’t sure how to verbalize a simple concept like gratitude.

“Absolutely, Detective. I’ll see you tomorrow. Three o’clock.”

With a tip of his hat, Detective Otto excused himself, leaving me alone with Beau and Titus in the Little Shop of Horror. At least I wasn’t spending the night in jail.

Finally, Beau reappeared, Titus hot on his heels.

"The apartment is fine,” he said. “Musty, and probably not your style, but it will make a suitable sleeping space until we get it spruced up and redecorated to your liking. I turned on the lights and started a fire in the bedroom and living room to warm it up a bit.

"That's so thoughtful. Thank you."

"I'm going to stop by my house to pick up a few things and retrieve my familiar. Go on upstairs and get settled in. Lock up behind me. You'll be safe here until I get back. But if you need anything before I return, just send an owl.”

“An owl?”

“It’s how we send messages quickly around town.”

“Like in Harry Potter?”

“Harry who?”

“Forget it.” I didn’t even want to think about a world without Hogwarts. “Where do I find an owl?”

“It’s simple enough. You just ring a service bell. An owl will fly right over, pick up your message, and deliver it right away.

“How will I know where to send it?”

“Don’t worry. They know how to find anyone in town. It’s part of what makes them so efficient.” He paused, reconsidering his statement. “That’s not exactly true. The owls are efficient when they choose to work. It’s convincing them to actually make an effort that’s the problem. There’s been some pushback from the Union over the collective bargaining agreement with the town, and…” He trailed off, a slight smile of embarrassment flashing across his face. “My apologies. This isn’t the time for a deep dive into Salem politics. I’ll, um… I’ll just be going. I won’t be gone long.” He turned to leave, but I called out before he reached the door.

"Wait!" I peeled his coat off and offered it to him. "You'll need this."

"Thank you." He smiled, a warm, genuine smile that showcased his perfect white teeth and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. And may or may not have set a hundred butterflies alight in my stomach.

I watched him glance over his shoulder to wave as he walked out the door, then closed it behind him and locked it. I leaned back against the heavy wood with a sigh, feeling every bit like a twitterpated heroine in a Disney movie.

I allowed myself a few moments of lust-addled bliss before straightening to head upstairs. Just then, Titus jumped up on the checkout counter next to me, sending a stack of handwritten receipts flying in a flurry across the room. Startled, she vaulted off the edge of the counter to cower between my ankles.

“Did you see that?” Her amber eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “It just came at me! A vicious attack!”

“Jeez, Titus. Calm down. It’s just paper.” I scooped her up and stroked the back of her neck in an attempt to soothe her as I surveyed the mess of paper strewn all over the ground. “A whole lot of paper.” I yawned, exhaustion taking over. “Let’s get upstairs. We could both use some sleep. I’ll clean this up in the morning.”

“If we live that long. This place is a death trap.”

“Well, my feline friend, after all the weird stuff we’ve seen today, I’m afraid that statement might not be too far off base.”