wisteria witches 06 - wolves of wisteria Read online

  “Annette? She doesn't laugh at people. She laughs with people.” Or at least she used to, Zinnia thought sadly.

  Gavin put one hand on his slim hip and eyed the door. “Then maybe she pushed something in front of the door for privacy. I bet she's sleeping on the reception couch again.”

  “Sleeping on the couch? That explains what she was doing last week,” Zinnia said. “I got here early last Wednesday, and Annette was walking around shoeless, brushing her teeth.” Zinnia shook her head. “She must have been here late last night, working on that mysterious project of hers.” Lately, Annette had been staying after hours to work on something personal. She didn't have a computer at home, and nobody minded if she used the one at her desk after hours.

  Gavin pushed the door until it stopped against the object with a thud. And then again. Thud. To Zinnia, who believed the object was the body of their coworker, the thud was sickening.

  Zinnia cocked her head and pointed a finger at Gavin. “You were the last one to leave yesterday. Was Annette still at her desk when you walked out?”

  He scratched his chin. “Come to think of it, she was. And she did say she might pull an all-nighter to work on that mysterious secret project of hers.”

  “Any idea what the secret project is?”

  He shrugged with apathy. “I figured she'd tell us when she was good and ready. I was scared to show too much interest, actually. You know how Annette is. Always trying to get people to have fun and play those lame party games.”

  Zinnia gave the door another push. She could have used magic to boost her strength, but if it was Annette on the other side, she didn't want to disturb the body. Zinnia took a step back and placed a hand on each hip. There were countless ways she could get through the door, but she couldn't do magic with her coworkers standing around.

  Gavin pounded his fist against the window, hard enough to make a loud noise but not hard enough to shatter the frosted pane. “Annette, you've had your beauty rest. Time to wake up, sleepyhead!”

  They waited quietly for a response, but there was none.

  “I have an idea,” Zinnia said to Gavin. “You should go look for Annette in the lobby. If she's not there, try the cafeteria. Take Karl and Dawna with you.”

  Gavin snorted. “If the old broad's anywhere in this building, she's obviously inside this office where the coffee is free, not getting that swill from the cafeteria.”

  “Check anyway.”

  “And leave you here?”

  “Gavin, you know I have my ways.” Zinnia raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes to make her point. “Please go look around elsewhere.”

  “Fine,” he huffed. He turned to the other two yawning coworkers. “Dawna, do you want to come with me?”

  Dawna, who seemed to be sleeping on her feet, woke up at the sound of her name. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “I'm going, too,” Karl said in his usual grumpy morning voice. “I need a coffee anyway, even if it's from the stinkin' cafeteria. Something tells me it's going to be a long day.”

  The three of them walked away. Once they were out of sight, Zinnia dropped her purse on the floor and started rummaging. She had a dozen baby food jars, each filled with things you'd never feed a baby—not unless you wanted the baby to grow tentacles. Everything clanked together noisily until she reached the Ziploc bag with the eyeballs. Bingo. Her fridge had once again given her exactly what she needed. And that was why she kept the old thing, even though it was decades past its prime and cost a fortune in electricity to run.

  She stood up, checking over her shoulders to make sure the coast was clear. Then she poked a small, blue-tinged eyeball—an eyeball that had been sustainably harvested from a magical species of fish—onto the tip of her pinkie finger.

  She pushed the door so that there was a crack wide enough for her to stick her fingers through. Then she closed her own eyes and let the magic do the work. With the fish eye's view, she could see the reception area clearly, including the object that was blocking the door.

  Zinnia breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a chair blocking the door, not a body. But the relief didn't last for long. Beyond the chair, there were signs of a struggle. Another chair lay upside down, and the carpet was littered with papers and folders.

  Zinnia was lifting her hand higher to get a better view beyond the reception counter when she felt a hand fall upon her shoulder. The scent of Gavin Gorman's cologne tickled her nose.

  “Careful you don't lose a finger,” Gavin said. “You need all ten for typing up permit applications.”

  She withdrew her hand, palmed the fish eye, and dropped it into the pocket of her jacket as she turned to face Gavin. He had already returned with Dawna in tow. She was focused on her phone, ignoring them.

  “Any luck?” Zinnia asked.

  “The lobby was practically empty,” Gavin reported. “But at least I got a head start on my exercise steps for the day.” He leaned over Zinnia to give the door a test push. “No luck here, I see.”

  Zinnia turned back to the door and stuck her fingers through the crack again. She gave the air a little twirl of magic—just enough to change the angle of the chair.

  Gavin gave her a wary look. “What's blocking the door?”

  “Beats me.” She shrugged. “The cleaning staff is always moving stuff around at night. Every now and then, they get creative.”

  Gavin furrowed his brow. “But if they blocked the door, how could they get out? That's the only exit, unless you count the window in Karl's office.”

  Just then, Karl rounded the corner with his steaming cup of coffee. “Are you talking about me?” His eyes bugged out. “Is this whole door thing some sort of joke, Zinnia? Did Margaret put you up to this? That woman has gotten too big for her britches.”

  Dawna glanced up from her phone. “It's not a very good joke, Zinnia.”

  Zinnia sighed. “If it's a joke, I'm not in on it. I swear.”

  Gavin crossed his arms. “Isn't it your birthday today, Zinnia?”

  She nodded.

  Karl muttered a lackluster, “Happy birthday.”

  Dawna frowned. “If I'd known, I would have gotten you a scratch-off ticket.”

  Gavin continued to stare at Zinnia with suspicion. “Is there a birthday cake on the other side of this door? It had better be gluten free. You can't use the general expense fund if the cake isn't suitable for everyone.”

  Zinnia sighed. Her coworkers were lucky that the existence of witches was a secret. If she didn't have to worry about blowing her cover, she might have turned them all into frogs ages ago.

  “Let's give the door one more try,” she said. “We can push together.”

  Nobody made a move to help her.

  Dawna said, “I just had my nails done.” She flashed orange talons.

  “We wouldn't want to mess up your nails,” Zinnia said. “Dawna, you stay right there and continue to look fabulous while I do my impression of a battering ram.” Nobody laughed at her joke. People didn't find Zinnia nearly as funny as she thought she was. Annette was the funny one. Everyone would have laughed if she'd made the crack about Dawna's nails, or about being a battering ram.

  Zinnia braced her body against the door and put on a show of grunting as she pushed. The door moved easily now that the chair wasn't acting as a wedge, but she put on a good performance, letting it open slowly, breathing heavily the whole time.

  “There,” she said at last, brushing make-believe dust from her hands.

  The other three continued to stand in the hallway, unconcerned. Karl was grumpily adjusting the lid on his coffee container, Dawna was glued to her phone, and Gavin was trying to look over Dawna's shoulder to see what was so captivating on her screen.

  Zinnia barked, “Get to work, already!”

  The trio jolted and entered the dark office. Dawna flipped on the lights and gasped at the messy sight.

  “We've been robbed,” Karl said.

  “Either that, or a tornado passed through here,” Gavin s
aid.

  The magazines in the reception area were spread all over the floor. The fresh flower bouquet that had been on the reception counter the day before was now on the floor in a pile of petals and broken glass. Zinnia walked in with trepidation.

  She called out, “Annette?” No response. She prepared herself for the worst.

  “I don't think the cleaning crew did this,” Gavin said, kicking a magazine. “This isn't cleaning. This is demolition.”

  Zinnia took in the chaos with a slow sweep of her eyes. In front of her were six desks arranged into four work stations. To the left, there were four doors that led into four different rooms—a storage room, a break room with kitchen facilities, and two offices. The other rooms were dark. There was a chill in the air. It wasn't a magical chill, though. Either the heating system wasn't working, or someone had left the window in Karl's office open.

  Dawna screamed.

  Zinnia turned to look at the one spot she'd been avoiding. Annette's desk.

  Annette's limp body lay in a pool of blood. The darkness stained her emerald green dress. Her eyes were wide open. In life, she had been tall and pleasantly curvy, with curly brown hair. She had a wide face, a pointed nose, and a round chin. Annette had always smelled like the sweetest of spices. Now she would only smell of death.

  Dawna screamed a second time, and then the office was eerily silent.

  Gavin pushed past Zinnia, jostling her on his way to Annette's body. He dropped to his knees next to the older woman's body and began touching her arms and shoulders.

  Dawna shrieked, “Gavin! Don't touch her!”

  Gavin ignored Dawna and continued to move his hands around the body, as though he was searching for something. Zinnia quickly realized Gavin was up to something. What could he be looking for on their dead coworker's body?

  Zinnia swallowed down her revulsion and kneeled next to him to get a better look.

  Chapter 3

  As Zinnia got closer to the body of Annette Scholem, she couldn't help but see the woman's face, and as Zinnia did, the hard coating around her heart threatened to crack. Annette's eyes were completely, utterly blank. At least she didn't look terrified; death had relaxed her expression. Yesterday, those big brown eyes had been so lively. All the vitality was gone now. And there were those deep wounds in her chest, exactly like the wounds the ghost had worn. She'd been ripped into. Seeing Annette this way was enough to break a regular person's heart in half.

  Gavin, meanwhile, was patting down the bloodied body as though it were nothing more than an inanimate object.

  Zinnia, who was kneeling next to Gavin, nudged her shoulder against his. She asked evenly, “What do you think you're doing?”

  He didn't seem to notice her presence, let alone hear her words.

  She sharpened her voice. “If you're checking for a pulse, your hands should be on her neck, not all over her.”

  Her well-dressed coworker kept pawing at Annette's body. He was careful not to stain his wool jacket, but blood was on his fingers and spreading all over Annette's dress. The dark liquid appeared almost black against the emerald-green fabric.

  “Gavin,” Zinnia said with maximum sharpness. “Check her pulse or get out of the way so I can do it.”

  “That's what I'm doing,” he said. “I'm, uh, trying to find a pulse.” More clumsy patting, and then a ripping sound. “Oh, no,” he exclaimed. “No, no, no!”

  Dawna shrieked behind them, then asked, “Is she moving around? Bodies can move after they're dead. It's the gas and stuff.”

  “No, that's not it,” Gavin said sheepishly, his bright white teeth covered by drooping lips. “I just split the seam of my pants.” He sighed. “What a disaster.”

  Zinnia's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Splitting his pants was the disaster? She couldn't hold back any longer. She reached out and slapped Gavin across the face. He reacted with a bug-eyed, startled look.

  “You hit me,” Gavin said.

  Zinnia felt her nostrils flare. Perhaps she shouldn't have slapped him, but it was done now.

  She replied calmly, “I only did that to get your attention because you were acting hysterical, talking about your split pants when our dear Annette is—” She couldn't finish the sentence. Deader than roadkill.

  “But you slapped me.”

  Zinnia blinked. “Stay calm or I'll have to slap you again. Now check her pulse.”

  Gavin's bugged-out eyes returned to normal. He pressed two of his bloodied fingers against the side of Annette's throat.

  “No pulse,” Gavin reported. “She's as dead as she looks.”

  The other two said nothing. Zinnia looked up to see their reactions. Karl was slack jawed. The hand holding his coffee cup was tilting sideways, and the coffee was dribbling onto the carpet. Dawna had her long orange fingernails pressed to her mouth as though they were the only things stopping her from shrieking again.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Zinnia caught Gavin dropping one bloodied hand into the hip pocket of Annette's green dress. He was definitely looking for something.

  From where Zinnia was kneeling, she could see the edge of something purple and plastic poking out from underneath the body. It was Annette's beloved writing pen. Was that what Gavin was after? She couldn't imagine why he'd be searching for the dead woman's cheap plastic pen, but she had a hunch it could be valuable. Zinnia used her body to shield her actions from Gavin's view while she grabbed the pen with one hand and sent it rolling underneath a nearby bookshelf.

  Karl abruptly cleared his throat with his signature HARUMPH sound. Everyone turned to look at him.

  “Stop what you're doing,” Karl said gruffly. “Get away from Annette. Hasn't she suffered enough? Give the poor woman some space.” They didn't move right away, so he barked again. “I said, give the woman some space!”

  Gavin immediately did as he was told, backing away. Gavin's listening skills were much better when it was Karl that was issuing commands, even though Gavin didn't respect the older man.

  “Stay where you are and don't touch anything,” Karl ordered, his face turning red as he blustered. “I'm in charge of this department, which means I'm in charge of whatever—” he waved both hands, spilling more coffee “—this is. You have to listen to me.”

  Zinnia raised her hands like a captured criminal. “Easy now, Karl. We're all in this together.”

  Karl set his now-empty coffee cup on a desk and loosened his tie. The redness in his face faded as he unbuttoned his top shirt button.

  Karl Kormac was a portly guy who turned red at any insult to his ego, and insults to his poor fragile ego were frequent. He was the department supervisor, technically, but he didn't have much real power. People did as he said mainly because they didn't want to be responsible for him getting upset and dropping dead. Annette had jokingly referred to Karl as the Coworker Most Likely To Have a Heart Attack While Screaming at the Photocopier. Karl was sixty-three years old, and less than two years from retirement—a fact he mentioned often, along with the current countdown number of days. Despite his age, he still had a full head of hair, mostly brown. Karl must have known the rest of the office didn't take him as seriously as he took himself. He kept trying to command respect anyway. He always wore suits, even on Casual Fridays.

  With everyone's attention on him, Karl grabbed an overturned chair, flipped it over, and sat down with a loud groan. Ever since the incident with Annette in the boardroom last fall, he'd been groaning loudly whenever he stood up or sat down. Karl picked up the phone on the desk, punched an outside line, and jabbed at the digits for emergency services. The chair squeaked as he rotated from side to side impatiently.

  “There's been an accident here at City Hall,” he barked into the phone. “Yes, Wisteria City Hall. Can't you tell where I'm calling from?” He barely paused for a response. “This is Karl Kormac, the supervisor of the WPD. No, not the police department. I wouldn't be calling you from the WPD that's the police department, now, would I? No. I would not.” His face turned
as red as a ripe strawberry. “I'll speak more slowly so you can follow along. This is Karl Kormac, the supervisor of the Wisteria Permits Department at Wisteria City Hall. You need to send the police over here immediately. There's been an accident. Or maybe it's not an accident.” He glanced over at the body. “Nope. Not an accident. Someone has been... murdered.”

  Dawna shrieked into her orange fingernails.

  “Murdered,” Gavin muttered as he lunged for a box of tissues on the desk. He frantically rubbed off the blood on his fingers.

  While Karl continued giving details over the phone, Zinnia quietly stepped away from the others. She followed the chilly breeze she'd noticed earlier into Karl's corner office, which had the only window that opened. Sure enough, the window was wide open, and the bug screen had been ripped apart. It wasn't a huge window, but even a bigger person like Karl could have squeezed through. Annette's attacker must have gained entry through the window. Zinnia peered through the torn screen at the frost-covered grass and the trees beyond the lawn. City Hall backed onto a woodsy area known as Pacific Spirit Park. The local kids claimed the park was full of ghosts and unspeakable creatures. Kids and their wild imaginations.

  Zinnia stepped back from the window, careful not to touch anything. If Annette's attacker had been the regular human kind, the police might be able to get fingerprints or other physical evidence from the window frame. Then again, the attacker might not have been the regular human kind. They were in Wisteria, after all. And the vicious slashes in Annette's chest didn't seem very human.

  Pulling her winter jacket tighter, Zinnia left Karl's office. She popped her head into Jesse Berman's office briefly without entering. He hadn't arrived yet, but that wasn't unusual for Jesse. Nor was it unusual for the other two employees who hadn't shown up yet, either. She continued on to the next room. The staff break room was small but efficient, with a microwave and coffee pot on the counter, and an apartment-sized refrigerator in the corner. Sitting on the counter was a teapot full of Annette's favorite tea. Zinnia touched her hand to the side of the pot. It was full, but cool. There were two mugs sitting next to the teapot. Had Annette been entertaining someone? Zinnia stepped back. The counter was actually full of glasses and mugs, like a typical office kitchen. It was impossible to be sure how many mugs Annette had been planning to use for tea last night.