Everyday Witches

Jeff pulled up to the house in his cruiser and surveyed the scene before getting out of the car. There were two other black and whites present and the crime scene crew were hanging out in the driveway waiting their turn. He had received a call about a robbery turned homicide and the body apparently had been suspicious. Of course they all were, in this type of situation, but this one, they said, had been orange. Wondering if there would be magical interference, or something else entirely, Jeff wearily climbed out of the cruiser and headed up the walk to the front door. He nodded at the crime scene crew and stopped at the porch for a pair of gloves and booties for his shoes. Mac, one of his fellow officers was waiting at the door.

“Is it really as weird as they said it was,” Jeff asked warily. It had been several weeks since the Quepie incident and things had been going pretty smoothly but he had been subconsciously waiting for the other shoe to drop. They still didn’t know how it had ended up here and hadn’t turned up any leads with the Mayhews but he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if that weren’t the end of it.

“Really odd, lieutenant,” Mac answered, shaking his head. “Never seen anything quite like it. The guy is pretty orange. And not like the fake tan kind. Something else.” Jeff had finished donning his crime scene gear and the two officers walked into the house together. Mac pointed out the notable findings as they went. “Over here we have the house’s alarm system. Looks like it was completely melted out somehow. And they must have short circuited the system somehow too because the alarm never went off. The guy was home anyway, obviously. And the crime scene itself is down the hallway in the living room.” He gestured towards the room at the end of the hall they were in.

The house opened up into a large entryway that was richly decorated in a minimalistic style. Everything was painted in whites and light grays, and the furniture was all well crafted. There were several expensive looking abstract paintings lining the walls. Strange the robber hadn’t stolen them, Jeff mused. They had called it a robbery though so he must’ve gotten away with something.

At the end of the hallway the house opened up into a large, airy living room. There was a vaulted ceiling and the second floor was partially open, the stairs leading up to what must be another hallway with a half wall. Large, delicately wrought windows graced the living room, spanning up to the second floor height. Around the corner from the entry hall, spoiling the pristine perfection of the home, lay the body of a man draped loosely in a white sheet. Mac nodded towards the body and Jeff approached it slowly, ducking to pluck a corner of the sheet from the floor. He pulled it back gently, revealing the body beneath. The strange skin tint was definitely the first thing one would notice about it. It wasn’t really orange, per say. At least not neon orange or anything like that. But it did have a strange tint about it. Jeff knew right away what it must be though because the first thing he, as a witch, noticed was that the essence of magic was all over this murder. Everything awakened or attuned to the Gaia had a magical signature of some sort. It wasn’t always overtly obvious but these things had a glow to them, or a resonance perhaps that all magical creatures, including witches, could discern. This man was obviously not a witch himself, but he was the victim of some sort of magical crime, and Jeff would have to tread lightly here. The orange tint most likely came from a badly mixed potion. What that was though, Jeff wasn’t sure. It could have been made to send a person to sleep, or to impair their memory, or to immobilize them; any number of things really.

Jeff tried never to do magic at work, or in front of humans, but he did have a spell to dissolve the effects of other spells that he could use in situations such as these. If the coroner were to get a hold of the victim and find that there were unexplainable things going on with the body, it wouldn’t be good for any of them. He wouldn’t be able to trace the magical signature anyhow, so he figured it best to remove all trace of the spell as soon as possible.

He knelt beside the man and reached inside the pocket for his pen. It was a fancy, refillable type made of wood and ivory; and it was his focusing object. He had chosen it explicitly because he would be able to bring it out whenever he needed to without arousing suspicion. Annabelle, Marge’s fairy familiar, had carved tiny runes and inscriptions on the wooden portion of the pen and imbued it with a strong connection to the Gaia. And since it was so beautifully wrought and expensive looking he could get away with never letting anyone borrow it. When asked, he always claimed that it had been a wedding present and that he never let it out of his sight. At the moment though, the spell would have to wait. Mac was still standing near the body and since Jeff didn’t dare cast a spell with him this close he used the pen instead to lift the victims eyelid, looking for signs of hemorrhaging.

The man was probably about mid thirties with dark brown hair, and in reasonable shape. He had no facial hair or any other distinguishing characteristics. When Jeff pried his eye open he didn’t see any signs of hemorrhaging but he did see something else he had expected. The sclera, or the white part of the eye, was tinted a distinct orange shade as well. He leaned over the body, hoping to block Mac’s view of the eye, if he hadn’t seen it already. Hopefully after this was all over, they would chalk it up to a bad tan after all. As he leaned over the body, one of their fellow officers walked up and began talking to Mac; and Jeff quickly seized on the opportunity. Holding the pen in one hand, he made a circling motion with both hands and murmured softly under his breath. When he had finished the spell, the heavy weight of magic that surrounded the body dispersed and his ears popped as the pressure in the room shifted. The two policemen behind him paused in their conversation and Jeff tensed, but then they continued, unaware of what had happened. The orange tint, having been caused not by the spell itself but by its misapplication, might remain even after the magic dispersed. But at least the remnants of what the spell had been intended to do would be gone by the time anyone else needed to examine the body.

Having dealt with the magical side of the murder, Jeff took another look at the body with his cop eyes. There was bruising on one side of the man’s face, as if someone had slammed his head into something. Jeff reached down with a gloved hand and gently turned the man’s head to the side. There was a large gash on the back of the man’s head. It had bled profusely and was most likely the cause of death. Jeff lifted the sheet back further so that he could see the entire body. The man was dressed in a white polo, now stained with blood, and blue khaki shorts. There didn’t appear to be anything else wrong with him, other than the skin tint and the head injury. He replaced the sheet and patted his chest for his pen, a habit he repeated regularly. Finding it safely tucked away, Jeff rose to his feet and turned to face the other officers.

Mac was in his early sixties and had been with the force for almost forty years. He was respected and well liked. He had a lined, roughened face that had spent too much time in the sun over the years. with brown eyes and hair that had once been a light brown but was now going gray. The woman he spoke with was much younger, barely past a rookie, and Jeff didn’t know her all that well yet. Her name was Davis though, he knew that much. They weren’t on a first name basis, but he thought that it might be Amber or Angela, or something like that. She was thin and angular and she wore her blond hair pulled tightly back from her face in a bun. Her blue eyes stood out brightly on her pale face.

“We know it was a robbery,” she was saying, “But we think that the murder might have been accidental.” She pointed to a hearth mounted above a fireplace, a few feet away from where the body had been found. The corner was matted with dried blood. A few feet away, a picture frame hung askew from the wall, revealing a wall safe beneath. “We think that the robber was surprised in the act and that, after struggling with the victim, the victim fell back into the hearth, hitting his head. It will most likely be found as the cause of death.” She turned back to where the victim lay on the floor and pulled back the sheet once again. Jeff noted that the orange tint was actually a little less noticeable than before. It was still there, but it definitely might be able to be explained away. “You see how there are no defensive wounds on the body,” Davis continued. “No signs of a protracted struggle?” She let the sheet drop, and it drifted back down, covering the man once again. “We believe that whatever happened, it was quick. Most likely he surprised the robber at the wall safe and then died almost instantly. The only thing that doesn’t make any sense is the orange skin and the melted alarm system.” She frowned and a tiny crease formed between her eyes on her seamless face. “We’re going to have the coroner preform a tox screen and find out if there was any poison in his system, or a vitamin deficiency or something of the like. As for the alarm system, there were no signs of forced entry and the perp would have had to enter the residence before having access to the alarm. The only thing we can figure is that the alarm was wired to the wall safe. We just don’t know how the perp would have known that, if it is the case.”

Jeff cleared his throat and when he had her attention, he said, “Two things- are you sure that it isn’t just a really bad tan? These uber rich folks use tanning beds and things all the time, don’t they?” He was betting that since the skin tone had begun to normalize, the sclera might have too. It would be good to get this part out of the way and out of the investigation as soon as possible. Davis shook her head and leaned back down to pick up the sheet again, a wry grin on her face. “That’s the thing, lieutenant, its not just the skin itself.” She leaned forward with a gloved finger and gently lifted the victim’s eyelid. It was a little bit bloodshot, but definitely not orange anymore.

Her frown was deeper this time and added a few lines around the mouth as well as the one between her eyes. She stared intently at the body, as if willing it to tell her what had happened. Then she let the eyelid close and rearranged the sheet around the body. When she stood she looked first at Jeff and then at Mac, her confusion evident. “Did either of you…,” she pointed back at the body and let the sentence trail off. When neither of them had an answer she took a deep breath and continued. “When I first arrived on scene, the skin wasn’t the only thing that appeared orange,” she said, with irritation. “The whites of his eyes were the same color. And that isn’t something that happens with a tanning mishap.” She glared down at the body and then surveyed the room to see who else might be able to corroborate her story. There was a pair of officers talking quietly by the back door and she took a step towards them. “Are you sure you didn’t see anything,” she asked Jeff and Mac quickly. They both shook their heads and denied ever looking at the victim’s eyes. Davis nodded and walked quickly across the room to the other two, her shoes clacking loudly on the floor in frustration.

Jeff looked at Mac and shook his head. “I wonder where they came up with that idea,” he asked sarcastically. “I mean jaundice will turn you yellow, but I don’t know of anything that will turn you orange like that. And I don’t know about you, but his eyes didn’t look orange to me.” He shook his head again and looked worriedly towards the other officers.

“I don’t know Jeff,” Mac responded. “I didn’t look at the eyes myself, but the responding officers did and they said the same thing. I think there must be something to the story anyway. I don’t think that they’d just make it up.” His expression was a little worried though. Nobody on the force liked to see their fellow officers stories contradicted. To be honest, Jeff didn’t either, but he also couldn’t let something like this slide.

“It was probably just an odd reflection,” Jeff said, looking back towards the body and then glancing around the room. “Or maybe he had one of those spray tans and it ran into his eyes and caused some temporary discoloration.” He tugged at his hat and wished for the umpteenth time that he didn’t have to have conversations like these with his fellow officers. He didn’t like lying to them at all, but it was a necessary evil. At least he could talk to Marge about it later and see what kind of spell she thought it might be. It didn’t make up for having to lie to his coworkers, but at least there was a part of his life where he could be completely honest.

“So anyway,” Jeff continued. “About the alarm panel. It’s possible that our perp was able to talk his way into the house but decided to take out the alarm system when he realized it was wired to the safe. He probably had one of those devices that can detect the electronic signature. That’d be my guess anyway.” Jeff knew quite well that an experienced witch could easily have melted the alarm panel from outside the door to the house but he had to go with the obvious theory. “What exactly do we know about the murder though? Was there any DNA or fingerprints found yet?” He was really hoping that if there were, he would be able to get to the witch first. Having a witch in lockup could be a nightmare. If they didn’t have any moral code when it came to robbery and homicide there was a good chance that they wouldn’t be too concerned with using magic in jail either. There weren’t a lot of spells that could be placed without the aid of magical implements but they might still be able to use runes marginally well, and they might be able to sneak a focusing object past the guards. He would have to work hard to uncover the culprit here for more reason than one.

Mac shook his head, gazing at the burgled wall safe. He pulled a little notebook out of a pocket and looked at it for a moment before responding. “Okay, here’s what we know. The house belongs to a Victor Walters. Lives alone. I think he has a girlfriend, but no wife or kids. There was no ID on the body but he matches with some pictures we found in the house. We’ll get a DNA test, of course, just to be sure. But it’s a safe bet. There weren’t any signs of forced entry, so either the perp was really good, or he knew our vic. Then there’s the issue of the blasted alarm system. It is possible that he did it because it was connected to the safe, but we’ll still need to follow up on it. Most of the house was undisturbed except for this area and one of the bedrooms. It looks like the perp must’ve come in and gone right for what he wanted and then gotten out quickly. We got a call this morning from one of Mr. Walter’s coworkers when he didn’t show for an important meeting. When officers arrived they found the front door unlocked and the scene as it is now. No 911 call.” He closed the notebook and casually crammed it back into his shirt pocket. “No substantial evidence that we know of. The crime scene crew is going to come in and go over things more thoroughly once we’re done in here, but so far it doesn’t seem likely we’ll find much. There wasn’t anything obvious around the safe or around the body anyway.” He turned to look around the expensively furnished room. “And the strange thing is that there are so many valuables here that the thief didn’t bother to grab. Expensive art, some rare collectibles, lots of stuff like that. I think he must’ve known about the wall safe and whatever was in it; and just taken what he came for. The only other thing missing is the victim’s wallet and some jewelry.”

“Maybe he just wanted to deal with stuff that would be easy to fence,” Jeff replied. “There could have been a bunch of money in that safe, and jewelry is pretty easy to offload without raising too many flags. Makes it a lot harder for us to track him too.” Too bad he didn’t go for some of the easier to monitor stuff, Jeff thought worriedly. Seemed like this guy must be smarter than he’d thought. He might end up being hard to locate. There were a few well known, sketchy witches around that he could look into, including the Mayhews, but without any proof it would be tough. They couldn’t just go around hassling witches without evidence any more than the police could. And he didn’t know of any who seemed like the type that would murder someone. Even witches who had questionable morals about most things would usually draw the line at something like murder. It was possible that the actual murder had been an accident though, and he did know a few who might go in for a little armed robbery.

Jeff thanked Mac and said his goodbyes to the other officers, who promised to keep him up to date with the progress on the case. Jeff’s job now would be to notify the next of kin and then follow that wherever it might lead. Hopefully he’d be able to get some more information on what the guy might have had that had enticed the robber to his house in the first place. That could give him some leads on who might be behind the whole thing. Before he could get started on that though he needed to call Marge. She and Jude could get started canvassing some of the local witches and see what they could turn up on their end. Hopefully one of them would come up with something useful soon and they could put this whole mess behind them.

**

As soon as Marge got off the phone with Jeff she quickly called Jude and he agreed to meet her at the home of one of the local witches who might have some insight into who might have been behind the murder. The man went by the name of Phoenix and he was a low level nuisance in the witch community. He was thirty something and ran a tattoo shop out of the back of his house to maintain legitimacy, but his main interest was the underground potion ring he also commanded. The man was an absolute legend when it came to potions and he had an epic network of connections, where he could procure rare items for spells that the average witch couldn’t. He could make just about anything, from love and luck potions to the super exotic transformation potions that few witches had the ability to pull off. Marge had always suspected that he had been the one that sold Scott Mayhew the love potions he’d unleashed at the high school dance that year, but since it had only been a minor mishap, they’d never officially called him out on it.

It was early afternoon right now and the kids wouldn’t be home from school for a few hours, so this would be the perfect time to head over to Phoenix’s house and see if he knew anything about the robbery, or the potion the robber used. As soon as she was off the phone, Marge hopped in the car and drove the few miles across town to where Phoenix lived. Traffic was usually good at this hour, so she made good time and she pulled up in front of his house several minutes before Jude arrived. A bit miffed, she put the car in park and pulled the window shade out from between the two seats. She stretched it across the windshield, securing it tightly to protect from the hot sun and settled in to wait. Jeff had made her promise that she’d wait for Jude to get there before talking to Phoenix, just in case he had been up to something and might be dangerous. Marge may have been a formidable potion master too, but her husband was still nervous about sending her in to investigate a witch who might be an accomplice to murder. It irritated Marge to no end, but being married to a cop for two decades now, she had gotten used to it. Jeff often had to see a side of life that most people never did and it made him extremely wary, especially when it came to his family. Marge figured that she could protect herself though. She was no wilting daisy. And she had Annabelle. Speaking of which, she better make sure they were on the same page before going in to talk to this guy. They had left the house in such a hurry that she’d hardly discussed it with her.

Reaching over to the passenger seat of the van, Marge grabbed her large leather purse and pulled it across the seat and onto her lap. She never let Annabelle out in the car unless she knew well that the small fairy wouldn’t be overseen by the wrong person. Opening the top of her purse, she peered down into the depths, where Annabelle sat comfortably in the little custom made seat Marge had had installed in the purse for her. “I guess you know what we’re up against here, right,” Marge asked her small friend, pushing back a stray curl that hung down, blocking her vision.

The tiny fairy nodded, her brown locks bobbing as she did. Her voice was so light and high pitched that it was hard for many to understand her, but she and Marge had been bonded for years and it wasn’t a problem for them. Although Annabelle was technically older than Marge now, in fairy years, she often came off as childlike; in behavior, and because of her delicate, childlike features. “Oh yes,” she replied, nodding again, emphatically. “If you’ll just let me out somewhere inside I’ll keep an eye on him.” She rubbed her dainty hands together in anticipation. Fairies were notoriously good at deciphering human emotion. Viewing the world from a vastly different perspective, they were aware of so much more than their larger friends. Their superior senses allowed them to easily monitor a person’s rate of breathing, the exact moment even the slightest sheen of sweat appeared, and even rapid changes to a person’s heart rate. If Phoenix got overly excited by any of the questions Marge and Jude asked him Annabelle would know it much sooner than they would. And she would be a great judge of whether or not he had been lying. “Can I sit on your shoulder when we go in,” Annabelle asked, her tiny mouth pursing. Having given up the traditional fairy life- marriage and a gaggle of kids, for a life with Marge, she tended to view the woman as a mother figure; and while she enjoyed her small freedoms, she stuck close to Marge at all times. She hated having to be carried around in a bag when they went out though and, although she understood the risks, she was more willing to push the line than Marge usually was.

Marge smiled indulgently, knowing just how hard it was for her to stay hidden all the time. “We’ll have to get the lay of the land first,” she said gently. “There could be humans in there and we’ll have to be good and sure that it’s all clear before you go flying around the shop. As long as there aren’t though, it’d be alright.” A flicker in the rear view mirror caught her eye and Marge looked up to see Jude’s truck pulling up behind her van. Annabelle groaned at the prospect of going back into the purse, rolling her eyes dramatically, but she allowed Marge to get her situated once again. Marge then slung the purse over her shoulder and got out of the van, locking it with the button on the door rather than the fob. If Phoenix did happen to be up to something unsavory, she didn’t want to alert him to their presence before they’d even gotten to the door.

Jude was in the process of climbing out of his truck and he went around to the passenger side to open the door for Kojack. The large dog hopped down out of the cab and waited obediently by his side. Marge gave him a quick hug and greeting and then the two headed up the walk towards the door. It had been a long time since Marge had been out this way and she was surprised to see exactly how far downhill it had gone. The grass in the front yard was about knee high and it looked like it hadn’t been tended in quite a long time. The front of the house was lined in skeletal bushes that had once flowered beautifully but were obviously long past that point now. Even the house itself was looking pretty shabby. There was paint peeling from the wall in several places, and the gutters were jam packed with leaves that no one had bothered to remove. Phoenix didn’t seem the type to be overly interested in yard work, but he had really let the place go since the last time she’d been out here.

Walking gingerly across the sidewalk, which was strewn with sticks and acorns and the occasional piece of trash, Marge and Jude made their way to the front door. Phoenix ran the tattoo shop out of his garage but they weren’t here for that right now. Having reached the door, Jude rapped loudly on the worn wooden frame. A chorus of barking broke out in response, from somewhere inside the house. Kojack whined but didn’t join in. A loud voice cut through the barking, silencing the other dogs, and then nothing. They waited a minute and when Phoenix didn’t immediately appear, Jude knocked again. This time the door opened a few inches and Phoenix peeked out from a darkened hallway. He was probably an early thirty something, with long dark hair that he wore pulled back in a pony tail. His thin face was framed by large ear piercings on either side and he had a tattoo of a phoenix on one side of his neck. He wore a baggy short sleeve undershirt and loose khaki shorts. He looked like he might have been sleeping but his expression brightened and he grinned when he recognized Jude.

“My man,” he said happily, holding out an upright hand and then clasping Jude’s in it. “How’s the Fenrir?” Jude grinned and pulled back his shirt to show off his new tattoo. Marge’s eyes widened in surprise and she side-eyed Jude in irritation, trying vainly to maintain her smile. “Looking good, looking good,” Phoenix continued, nodding appreciatively at his work. He looked over at Marge, his demeanor cooling slightly. “I’m sure you guys aren’t here for tattoos this go round though, are you? What can I do for you?” His expression was friendly, but he didn’t move back from the door or ask them to come in.

“Actually,” Marge chimed in, “We were hoping to talk to you about potions.” Phoenix nodded, looking relieved. He stepped back from the doorway, gesturing at the hallway for them to come in. Jude thanked him and stepped inside, Marge following a little less enthusiastically. The inside of the house wasn’t in much better shape than the outside and she frowned in distaste, thinking that Phoenix must conduct most of his business from the garage. The room just off the front door was dark but several aquarium tanks lining the walls gave off an iridescent blue light. There were clothes strewn about on the floor and several overstuffed chairs that were piled with boxes and small towers of paper. Phoenix walked ahead of them down the hallway and then turned into the kitchen, which seemed to be the best kept room in the house. It was marginally clean and free of clutter and there was a small glass table on one end with seats that were actually accessible. Phoenix pulled out a chair for Marge and then walked around to sit on the other side. Marge and Jude followed suit. Kojack lay down on the cool tile, settling his head in under Jude chair. A buzzing immediately sounded from the inside of Marge’s purse and she recognized the sound of Annabelle’s wings vibrating impatiently. “Is there anyone else here,” Marge asked, looking around the room questioningly. More quietly, she added, “My familiar would love to come out if it’s safe.” Phoenix raised his eyebrows in surprise and shook his head. When she was sure it was safe Marge reached a hand down into her purse and waited for Annabelle to step onto it. She lifted her out carefully and set her on the table. The fairy could fly up to her shoulder if she wanted to.

Phoenix let out an appreciative whistle. His eyes lit up and he held out a hand. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day. What’s your name?” Annabelle blushed and answered him, walking delicately across the table to him. She loved people but she was a little shy and she didn’t immediately climb onto his outstretched hand. Instead she clasped her hands together and greeted him formally. Fairies were wont to bow to one another in greeting and, tucking a leg behind her, she gave him a little curtsy. Then she flew back across the table, landing on Marge’s shoulder. She grabbed a strand of hair to steady herself and peered back at him from across the table.

Jude cleared his throat and Phoenix visibly startled, turning his attention to where Jude sat. “I’m sorry to say it, but this really isn’t a social call,” he began. Phoenix’s dark eyes narrowed with suspicion and he looked back and forth between Jude and Marge. Jude held his hands out in front of himself in a placating gesture. “It’s not as bad as all that. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. We were hoping that you could help us with something actually.” Phoenix sat back in his seat but his eyes remained guarded. He nodded and Jude continued.

“Where were you last night,” Marge blurted out, leaning forward in her chair; her manicured fingers splayed out on the table in front of her. Phoenix glared at her and then looked at Jude in disbelief.

“Really,” he asked sarcastically. “You brought the cop’s wife out here to question me? Really?” He shook his head in disgust. Jude kicked softly at Marge’s leg under the table and she tried not to flinch.

“No, no,” Jude said quickly, glaring at Marge. “What she meant to say was that we were wondering if anyone had been out here lately asking about spells. Something that could be used on another person. It might have seemed to have been a little out of the witch’s league.” He emphasized the last sentence for Marge’s benefit, knowing that she was fully aware of Phoenix’s skill in potions. He paused, wondering just how much he should tell Phoenix about the murder. If he was wrong things could go really badly.

Phoenix’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Ok, I think I gotcha.” He gave Marge a stern look and then turned to Jude, his expression a little less wary. “So, I deal with all kind of witches out here, but mostly it’s the usual kind of stuff. Love potions, luck potions, body modification potions. You know, harmless little things. It sounds like what you’re after is something a little more out there though. Can you tell me more about what happened?”

Jude looked over at Marge, worried. Marge’s face was blank and she stared at Phoenix, chewing a little on her bottom lip as she thought about how to proceed. Annabelle patted the lobe of her ear and whispered that everything seemed fine so far. Finally, she threw her hands up in mock defeat. “Ok, I’m sorry,” she said, not really sounding sorry at all. “It’s just that Jeff got called in on a case this morning and it was obvious that there was a witch involved. The spell they used was pretty inferior, with some obvious side effects, so we didn’t really think that you would have been the one to mix it, but let’s be honest here. You do mix in with some shady folks, and if you know what happened and you’re holding back on us, it’s gonna get ugly.” Marge was generally pleasant and operated with a sense of Southern charm (usually genuine), but she drew the line whenever it came to witches using their power to hurt other people. And being the wife of a policeman, she had little tolerance for criminals. What Phoenix did with his black market spells wasn’t really a crime, but it was a pretty gray area.

Phoenix’s eyes narrowed and his cheeks reddened a bit. He looked back and forth between Marge and Jude. When Jude didn’t show any sign of relenting either he sighed and placed his hands flat on the table. His angry expression softened to weariness. “Look, guys. I don’t know what you think I’m up to here, but I promise you it isn’t anything that bad. I would never sell to someone who was planning to do anything that would get them in this much trouble with the law.” His expression darkened again. “Or you.” He got up and went to the fridge, pulling it open with more force than was necessary. He pulled out a beer bottle and held it out towards the other two in question. Marge scoffed and Jude politely declined.

Phoenix pulled a bottle opener out of a drawer and popped the lid, then he leaned up against the counter and took a long swallow before continuing. “Look, I run a respectable business here. And I haven’t heard of anyone asking around about anything like that either. If they’re getting it from someone, it’s nobody around here.” He took another long swallow of beer and then said thoughtfully, “If the potion was really that poorly done though, you ought to be asking someone like Gage. I bet the fool bought the ingredients and then mixed it himself. Gage would probably have all the stuff he would need at his shop.” He snorted derisively. “It’s talent you can’t buy. Any idiot can pick up ingredients for a spell, but mixing them properly is the hard part.” He gestured towards Marge and Jude with his beer. “Anyway, if we’re done here… I have an appointment soon and I’d like to relax for a bit before they show up.” He waved them towards the front door but moved, himself, towards the door that led from the kitchen to the back yard.

Marge and Jude rose from the table and Kojack skittered out from beneath Jude’s seat. Marge was reaching a hand to lower Annabelle back into her purse when the door opened and two large pit bull mixes came bounding through the door and into the kitchen, barking wildly at the prospect of intruders. Phoenix stood beside the door with a smug grin. Kojack’s fur bristled and he moved closer to Jude, giving out a low growl. The dogs skidded to a stop, a few feet in front of the doorway, sniffing at the air and looking curiously at Jude and Kojack. One of them growled at Marge. Holding firm, Jude held out a hand, calmly, and the dogs stilled. Kojack relaxed as well, sitting back on his haunches. Then the two dogs began to creep forward until they stood right in front of Jude. Kojack stood his ground, but Jude moved a hand cautiously in front of him and he didn’t move to attack them. They each sniffed around Jude’s legs with interest, as if he had been dipped in peanut butter. Then the previously frightening dogs began capering around him like puppies, licking his hands and rolling over to be petted.

Phoenix shook his had sadly, looking at his guard dogs with disappointment. Then he clapped a hand on Jude’s shoulder before turning to lead the way back to the front door. “Never seen anybody calm those two the way you do,” he said over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall.

Standing on the front porch, Jude thanked Phoenix for his help and Marge, although ruffled, tried to look agreeable. When Phoenix had gone back into the house, they picked their way across the porch and then walked through the overgrown yard towards their cars.

“I really can’t believe that you just let him have it like that,” Jude said to Marge, shaking his head. “Having been the wife of a policeman for all those years, I’d think you’d be better at interrogations by now. Next time I think I’ll leave you at home.”

Marge looked affronted. “Come on, look at this house. He definitely looks like he’s up to something shady.” She picked at a spot of lint on her blouse. “And really, selling love potions and all that to the local kids. I know it’s not technically a crime, but that guy is definitely no good.”

Jude chuckled. “He’s really not all that bad. He keeps a low profile but he’s really a decent guy. He doesn’t sell anything too serious or permanent, and he’s a lot more careful than you’d realize.” He rubbed at the tattoo on his chest, wondering if he ought to feel guilty about associating with Phoenix.

Marge was really working herself up now and her face pinched in worry. “I mean it Jude. I don’t like the guy. Just because you’re good at potions doesn’t mean that you have a right to be careless with them. He might not have anything to do with the murder but that doesn’t make him innocent.” She looked back at the house, noticing that the blinds were pulled aside in one of the front windows. She exhaled loudly and turned quickly back towards the cars. “We better go on and get out of here,” she said, nodding vaguely in the direction of the house. “I know you’ve got work to do and the kids will be home soon too. Tomorrow we can go by Gage’s shop and then maybe the Mayhew house. We’ve got to try to make some headway here as soon as possible.”

Jude grimaced slightly at the prospect, walking up to his truck and pulling open the passenger side door. “Yeah, okay, but you’ve got to promise to act better next time.” He looked pointedly at Marge. “No assaulting the witnesses before we’ve gotten any information out of them. Especially Scott. I know you don’t have any problems with Gage, but you’re going to have to have to be more careful here. Somebody committed this murder, and we still don’t know who it is yet.”

Marge said something noncommittal and moved past him, towards her own vehicle. He was as bad as Jeff, with all his worrying. Climbing into her car, she waved a hand dismissively and was back on the road in no time.