Magic & Mystery: A Cozy Mystery Sampler Page 2

The fact that he's an alcoholic, abusive, jerkwad was starting to come to light slowly. Well, it was slow until last night. Last night was one of those incidences that can make or break a celebrity gossip writer's career, and I had a front row seat.

  There is just one problem. I didn't want it. I adore Starla Lex, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to hop into the back of that limo and claw that jerk's eyes out. Especially after what Devon did to me. I was ready to burn my bra and kill all men.

  I held myself together and vowed to keep my presence at that scene a complete secret. The last thing I needed was my boss Veronica finding out I was there. She'd want me to write a horrible, juicy story about Starla, and there was no way I was going to do that.

  This job made me hate myself enough as it was. Starla was a good girl, and she never got into any kind of trouble. She was an excellent role model for young girls, and that was horrible for my line of work.

  Getting the dirt on Starla Lex was the big fish. It could rocket my career as a gossip writer into the stratosphere. Except, I didn't want that. I just wanted to keep my head down and write about awful celebrities, who deserved bad press, until I had enough money for an apartment. Then, I was going to try to get a real job doing real journalism.

  The morning after the break-up, which I was surprisingly not that sad about, and the police station incident I got up and got ready for work just like any other day.

  Jezebel was sitting on my chest promptly at five thirty a.m. with her paws on my collarbone. She yowled and dug her claws in just a bit when I didn't move fast enough.

  "Yes, yes. Breakfast for the queen." I said and scratched under her chin.

  She hopped down and sashayed into the kitchen, so I could fill her food bowl with the grain-free, soy-free, no preservatives or additives cat food that she insisted on eating. Queen indeed. I understand, though. I like good food too.

  Next, it was shower and then pick out the perfect outfit that doesn't make me look too old but also doesn't make it look like I'm trying too hard to look younger. Then it's make-up and hair.

  After I'm done trying way too hard to look like I'm not trying at all, I finally get to sit down to my breakfast. I learned a while ago that I'm a very cranky person if I don't get a good, hot breakfast into myself before work. I don't have time to cook every morning, so I cook a batch something tasty on the weekends to heat up on work days.

  This week it's breakfast burritos. Scrambled eggs, Chihuahua cheese, chorizo, peppers, roasted potatoes, and very thinly sliced sautéed onion all wrapped up in an artisanal whole wheat and corn tortilla. I heat it up and sit down at my tiny kitchen table. I like to eat my breakfast and stare out the window at all of the people scrambling back and forth on their way to whatever the day holds.

  Jezebel stares at me for a few minutes like she can't believe I'm not sharing, so I hold the burrito down and let her have a sniff. She hisses at the burrito and runs out of the room. I assume she's going to go lie down on my pillow and have a nap now that her belly is full.

  I have a confession to make. I know it sounds like I'm some big fancy city girl, but the website I work for doesn't even have offices in the city. I live in one suburb, and my office is in another. I take the commuter train to work every day, so the station is where I go once I'm finished with breakfast.

  Since it takes a while to get there, I always bring a book. I get through one or two a week, just on my train rides to and from work.

  Once I'm there, I grab a coffee from the guy who runs the coffee cart in the lobby, and I head upstairs to my cubicle. Typically, I start scanning social media, aggregation sites, and discussion boards for leads, but today that's not going to happen.

  When I walk into the bullpen, everyone is staring at me. I don't know why I thought I could keep it a secret that I was there when Starla got kicked out of her own limo last night, but someone had been recording it on the phone. I was in the video watching the whole thing go down.

  A hush fell over the office when Veronica opened her door. "I need to see you, Lenny. Now." She said and slammed the door.

  Everybody scrambled and tried to pretend like they'd been busy little worker bees all along. "Thanks for the support guys," I mumbled under my breath as I made my way across the floor to Veronica's office.

  When I got inside, the real fun began.

  "Close the door, Lenny." She said and took a sip of her hot chai.

  Veronica peered up at me over the tops of her very trendy black glasses. She didn't even need glasses but insisted they gave her the air of a real journalist. I'm 100% confident that Veronica doesn't know the definition of journalism.

  "How can I help you, Veronica?" I say hoping that if I play dumb, this will somehow all go away.

  Maybe she'll forget why she called me in here. Perhaps she'll remember what a big fan of Starla Lex I am and not make me write the piece she's about to ask me to write. Maybe a meteor will hit the building.

  "I saw the video of you last night with Starla Lex. I know you didn't call me right away because you've been working on a secret article you'll have on my desk at three p.m. Right, Lenny?" She turned her chair and started typing away at her keyboard.

  The implication was that there was nothing else to say. I was to do the article whether I liked it or not, and it better be good.

  "Veronica, I think that we should honor Starla's privacy on this. What I saw last night wasn't something the world needs to know about. It's a very painful thing she's going through." I almost sounded like I was pleading.

  "Well, it's a good thing we don't pay you to protect celebrities privacy." She said, and it stung. "Now, I don't want the version of the story I saw on the video. I want the special Lenny Brewer version of the story. The one no one else has. The one where beautiful and perfect Starla Lex got in a drunken brawl with her boyfriend and got dragged into the police station seconds before he got dragged in too. Now, go out to your desk and give me what I want, or take a hike. You're a hack, and there are plenty more hacks waiting in line for this job. I could find someone younger and hungrier than you like that." Veronica said and snapped her fingers.

  I jumped at the sound, and in a state of shock walked back out to my desk. As I booted up my computer, a strange feeling started to take over me. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before in my life.

  I was done.

  It was as if I’d run out of excuses. I was always trying to make excuses for people and be the reasonable one when they treated others and I like a doormat. However, all of a sudden, I was out. I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't make one more excuse for the way Veronica was treating me. Normally I would have told myself that she just wanted the website to be successful and that she believed in me so much that she knew she could be tough.

  That was complete bull honkey.

  Veronica was a self-absorbed nitwit who made money off of other people's suffering, and I had been an accomplice all these years. It was time for me to participate in my second ugly scene in twenty-four hours.

  First I needed to pack up my desk so that I could make a grand exit after I told Veronica off. I didn't want to have to come back out here and box up my stuff while security watched me.

  I threw my picture of Devon in the trash and gave the frame to Claudia. She sat three cubes down from me and really liked it, so I figured I'd give her a parting gift. The rest of my stuff fit in a box I found in the basement. My laptop, knick-knacks from my ledge, and a picture of Jezebel all fit neatly in the box. Once it was packed, I marched into Veronica's office.

  "I quit, Veronica. There is nothing I want in this world enough to make me spend one more day in this place or one more ounce of my integrity on this publication." I set the box down on her desk so I could put air quotes around "publication."

  I didn't wait for her to respond. Instead, I picked up my box and headed for the elevator. I'd like to say that people clapped and cheered for me as I made my way out of our office, but most of them just stared at me in wide-e
yed horror. The rest of them scurried away as if whatever I'd just done was contagious.

  Veronica poked her head out of her office as the elevator doors were closing."You can't quit because you're fired."

  "Whatever, Veronica," I said and flipped her the bird.

  I felt pretty triumphant at that moment, although I'm pretty sure the doors were already closed by the time I flipped her off. It still totally counts.

  As I rode the train home, I tried not to think about what would happen if the bank took the money back out of my account. I had my savings back for now, but what if the bank decided he didn't steal it? What if they thought I was in on it? What if I quit my job, lost all of my savings, and I went to jail?

  I was sure that Devon would tell them he didn't steal the money and that I'd said he could have it. All of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. The walls of the train started to close in on me as I pictured the police leading me off in handcuffs. I thought of Jezebel at home all alone starving for two days while I waited for someone to get me out of the pokey, and black spots started to swim in front of my eyes as I hyperventilated.

  Right before I passed out, a nice man in the seat next to me put his hand on my shoulder reassuringly and asked me if I was okay. Only, he startled me so badly that I screamed.

  That's when the train stopped, and the lights went out. Not in my head either. Like, literally the train stopped, and the power went out. The elderly man next to me, who looked a little shaken by my screaming in his face, took my hand and told me to breathe.

  So, I did. He coached me through several long deep breaths until I was calm again. Thankfully, about the time I got ahold of myself, the lights came back on, and the train started moving again.

  Things got a little bit hazy after that. I remember thanking the man as I got off at my stop. At least, I hope that's a real memory. Jezebel looked a little puzzled when I came through the door so early, but she didn't complain because I fed her again. I always fed her when I got home, and it slipped my mind that I was about seven hours earlier than normal.

  I started to snap out of my haze a little bit, so I decided to take a long, hot bath and start this day over again. As I soaked in hot water and watched the bubble float towards the ceiling, I made a decision.

  “It’s time for a significant change,” I said to Jezebel who was sitting on the bathroom counter watching my every move.

  Three

  As soon as I’d gotten out of the tub, I started putting my plan into action. Since I didn’t have to go back to work, I pulled on my most comfortable pair of black yoga pants and a slouchy gray sweatshirt. I took my laptop out of the box from work and booted it up. Much to my delight, there was a place that rented moving vans just a few blocks away from my house. Instead of making the booking online, I actually picked up the phone and called them.

  “Well, Ma’am if you’d called fifteen minutes ago, you’d have been out of luck. But, someone just dropped one off. Give me about thirty minutes to clean it and process it back into my inventory and it’s all yours.”

  Thirty minutes gave me enough time to walk to the rental place, so I decided to do that instead of calling Uber. Before I slipped on my black Doc Martins, I called my one and only friend, Joy.

  You see, when you’re in the business of trashing celebrities on the internet, it’s hard to form trusting relationships. Pair that with the fact that I’m kind of a loner, and you get a lady with a cat and one friend. I had a boyfriend, but ya’ll already know how that went.

  “Come over and help me pack,” I said when Joy picked up the phone.

  “Pack for what?” She sounded about as unthrilled with the idea as a person could possibly be.

  “I’m moving. I want to leave today. Come help me pack up my place and say goodbye. I’ll buy you lunch and dinner. Oh, and all the snacks you want too.”

  “Lenny, I’m at work,” Joy said, and I could almost hear her rolling her eyes.

  “Yeah, so? You’ve taken zero of your vacation or paid time off days in the last five years. When was the last time you even called in sick? Just leave for the day. I’m sure the world will happily wait for your services.” I was practically pleading because I wanted to leave, but I didn’t want to skip town without telling Joy goodbye in person.

  Joy and I are both extreme introverts. We live in the same suburb, and we’ve still done most of our recent “hanging out” over Skype. We call it being alone together.

  Joy doesn’t have many friends either, but that’s because she does audits for the IRS. She really loves her job, which is why she never takes time off, and that disturbs people. I like her. She’s got a dry sense of humor that really cuts to the quick. When she actually makes jokes that is.

  “Fine. I’ll make up the time before the next pay period. I don’t mind coming in early and staying late for the next six work days. Especially since I get to spend time with you packing things into boxes.” She was teasing.

  “Whatever floats your boat. I’m going to walk over and pick up the moving van. I’ll see you at my place in an hour.” I say with an excitement Joy does not share.

  She grumbles something about me needing a lobotomy and agrees to meet me. Then I figure that I should at least call my Aunt Kara and confirm that she does have room for me at her bed and breakfast.

  “Aunt Kara? Hi, it’s Lenny. I was calling about a room at your place.”

  “It’s already reserved for you, Sweetie. I’m going to be so glad to see you.” She said, and the sound of her voice washed away any doubt I was having about this move.

  “Wait? What did you mean it’s already reserved?”

  “You’ll understand more when you get here. You guys have fun packing, and make sure you drive safe.” Aunt Kara said with a smile on her face that I could hear in her voice.

  “Thanks, Aunt Kara. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Brat.”

  I’d almost forgotten that she used to call me Brat. It was a joke because when I was a kid, I’d been the polar opposite of a brat. I was quiet, studious, and well mannered, and Aunt Kara found it utterly bizarre.

  She believed that children were meant to be rambunctious and rude, and Kara tried at every turn to get me into some kind of trouble. It probably wasn’t the most responsible thing for her to do, but we sure did have a lot of fun.

  I slipped a pair of gloves on and wrapped a scarf around my neck. It wasn’t chilly enough for a coat, but I knew that after I’d walked a couple of blocks, my hands would get cold. I walked quickly towards the truck rental place. It felt like a new chapter in my life was opening up before me, and I was in a hurry to turn the next page.

  The man I spoke to on the phone had the van and the paperwork ready by the time I got to the store. There wasn’t a drop off location in Tree’s Hollow, but there was a location an hour away. I’d figure that part out when I got there.

  I took the van and parked it in the underground parking space provided by my apartment building. Thankfully, I had a spot and no car parked in it, so I didn’t have to worry about what to do with the van while I packed up everything in my home.

  When I got back upstairs, I made café and cocoa for Joy and me. It’s a mixture of coffee and hot cocoa, and it’s Joy’s favorite hot drink. My doorbell rang just as I poured the hot drink into the mugs, and I buzzed her in.

  Joy came in, and we sat at my kitchen table for the last time drinking our café and cocoa in complete silence. I would miss having someone to sit around and do nothing with, but I knew that new adventures awaited me in Tree’s Hollow.

  Once our drinks were gone, Joy and I got busy packing. She’d brought a huge pile of boxes from home, and there were even more outside the basement storage in my building.

  It was relatively easy to pack up my entire apartment. Since I’d been saving for a new place, I hadn’t bought much for myself over the years. Most of my books and collectibles from when I was a kid were in storage near Aunt Kara’s bed and breakfast. I still read a ton, but most of my
books were eBooks now, and they didn’t require packing.

  After a few hours of boxing, taping, and traipsing up and down the stairs, we had everything but the furniture. It only took us a couple of hours to disassemble my furnishings and carry them downstairs too.

  “Thanks for the café and cocoa. I’ll come see you soon.” Joy said and gave me a quick hug.

  “Wait, that’s it?” I said, but I was surprised she’d hugged me.

  “Like you said, I’ve got about three years of vacation time saved up. Get settled and give me a call. I like the forest, it’s quiet, and there aren’t a lot of people.” She said and then left.

  I took a quick look around my empty apartment and felt Jezebel rub against my legs. She purred, and I got the feeling Jez was as excited about the move as I was. Everything was lining up perfectly, and it was as if the universe was moving obstacles out of my way.

  “You’ve got to get in the crate,” I said and opened the door on the cat carrier.

  “Meow.”

  “You’ve got to get in the crate, Jezebel. At least until we get out of the city. Please.” I pleaded with my sassy cat.

  “No.”

  “Please, Jezebel. I’ll let you ride in the seat after we’re on the road. I promise.” I promised. “Wait, did you just say No? or Meow?”

  “Meow.”

  “I’m losing my mind. I could swear you just told me no. If you did, please do it again.”

  “Meow,” Jezebel said and reluctantly walked into the carrier.

  I made good on my promise and let Jezebel out of the crate as soon as we passed the city limits. She sat on the seat with her paws on the van’s window ledge and watched the scenery roll by. I could swear she was as excited as I was, but it was hard to tell because she’s a cat.

  When I was about half way to Southern Illinois, I could hear my stomach rumbling. I pulled off the road onto the parking lot of a diner. The thought of leaving Jezebel locked in the van wasn’t appealing, so I looked up the restaurant’s number on my phone and called in a take-out order.