“No, I never met her before,” Cindy said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of gum that she held out to the witches.

  “Cindy Baker?” a voice called out.

  Parker and Posie immediately crouched down. They were familiar with that voice, and it had told them to stop investigating. Detective Emerson had arrived at the diner and was trying to attract the waitress’s attention.

  “We better get going,” Parker said, still crouching but inching toward her vehicle.

  “That’s right,” Posie said. “It sounds like there are other people who want your attention. Thanks for talking to us!”

  “No need to mention this conversation to Detective Emerson.”

  “And thanks for the gum,” said Posie.

  They quickly crept over to Parker’s car and jumped inside. She calmly drove out of the lot, trying not to draw attention to their escape.

  “Do you think he noticed us?” Posie asked, slinking down in her seat so only the top of her head was visible through the window.

  “I’m hoping that he thought we were merely diner patrons.”

  Both women took a deep breath as they turned onto a nearby road, seeing no cop car following them. Their hearts were beating quickly, but they felt like they should be able to relax now.

  “Maybe this is a good sign?” Posie suggested. “If Detective Emerson is questioning Cindy, it must mean that he’s still looking into suspects besides Don.”

  “Or he’s trying to get her to say something incriminating against him.”

  “I hope he’s keeping an open mind; though I also hope we solve this case first.”

  “I don’t know,” Parker said. “There’s just something about Detective Emerson that I don’t trust. He’s too cocky and acts like he knows everything. I don’t like him.”

  “Oh,” Posie said, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing. No, you don’t have to like the detective. There’s no reason why you have to.”

  Now, Parker was also frowning. Why was her friend acting so strangely? Was this all because of their strange sleuthing situation? It almost felt like Posie was keeping a secret, but they had always been so open with one another.

  “Posie, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Well, there is one thing I was avoiding bringing up because I thought it would cause you stress.”

  “Is it about Detective Emerson?”

  “It’s a reminder that you have your interview with the bank at 4:30.”

  Now Parker was panicking. She had allowed the investigation to take her main focus so she wouldn’t have to think about the interview that had caused her anxiety. She had been nervous about it when they had practiced what she would say on Saturday. Now, the interview was within the hour, she didn’t feel prepared, and there was dirt on her skirt from when she’d slunk away from the detective’s approach.

  “I have a terrible feeling about this,” Parker admitted.

  “It’ll be fine,” Posie said, using her most reassuring voice. “We just need to adjust the spell so that it works double duty. It needs to be effective for giving you luck at getting your loan and for getting us information about whether the bank manager is a burglar set on framing Don and the diner.”

  “No pressure,” Parker said sarcastically, driving toward the bank despite her increasing feeling of doom.

  Chapter

  Seven

  “I’m not ready,” Parker said. She was shaking so much that her luck talisman was making a jingling noise. She was standing in the bank lobby with Posie, waiting for the manager to meet with her and trying not to hyperventilate.

  “Yes, you are. You were ready before all this nonsense began,” Posie said. “We adjusted the spell too. It’s going to be fine.”

  They had chanted the spell in the car before coming inside, but Parker began whispering it under her breath again to boost her confidence.

  * * *

  “May honesty flow and the truth come through.

  Let the answer to this conundrum be viewed.

  Let this interview work in our favor

  In telling the truth, let the bank manager not waiver.”

  * * *

  “Mrs. Ross?” a voice drawled.

  The bank manager, Mr. Lowe, stood in the doorway to his office with a haughty expression on his face. He adjusted his tie, which was already perfectly straight, and glanced down at Parker’s dirty skirt. His horn-rimmed glasses magnified his eyes, which already looked dismissive.

  “I suppose we can begin,” he said, sitting at his desk before the women had reached the room. Parker held her head high and tried to look like her most professional self, though she was still shaking slightly.

  “And who is this?” Mr. Lowe asked, gesturing toward Posie, who had taken the second guest chair across from him.

  “Posie Pagano, a satisfied customer and character witness for Parker’s business. If needed, I’m happy to give a testimonial.”

  “This is rather unusual,” Mr. Lowe said, but he did not ask her to leave. Instead, he clicked his pen and prepared to take notes on their conversation.

  “It shows the enthusiasm people have for my business,” Parker said.

  “Mrs. Ross, I know you have been a customer here for many years. I still remember when you and the mayor first opened an account here. Of course, your husband wasn’t the mayor then.”

  Parker put on a strained smile. She was here because she needed the loan to help her business while her soon-to-be ex-husband caused her trouble. The last thing she wanted was to hear more about him.

  “However, a business loan is very different from our other services. We are very selective about the endeavors we choose to support. We need to ensure that any loans given can be repaid. Therefore, the business must be poised for success. We also want to only support businesses that will make our town proud.”

  “That sounds like something Parker is perfect for,” Posie remarked.

  Mr. Lowe cleared his throat. “Why don’t you tell me about your business?”

  Parker took out a folder and passed it over. “I’ve prepared some documents about the profits my business has made so far and projections for the next year based on the marketing scheme I plan to enact with the money from this loan.”

  The bank manager looked over the papers, and Parker began to speak with more assurance. She spoke about how the business had the potential to grow and how the jewelry satisfied her customers. The passion for her project was clear, and Parker felt proud of her presentation.

  “I would normally draw this out more, but I feel I should be honest,” Mr. Lowe said after she finished.

  “The spell is working,” Posie mouthed so only Parker could see and understand.

  “I appreciate honesty,” said Parker, rubbing the crystal on her necklace for luck. She hadn’t messed up her pitch, and since she had explained it well, she felt like it would be prudent for the bank to invest in her business. She had shown how she could pay back the loan and how the business could bring joy to the community. She felt more confident than she had in weeks.

  “I don’t see why I should approve this loan,” Mr. Lowe said.

  Parker tried to hide how crushed she felt. If she had failed to explain her business properly, she could understand this response. However, since she knew she’d pitched it so well, it was clear that Mr. Lowe thought her entire business was flawed.

  “Why?” asked Posie.

  “I find that this endeavor is silly. It’s better relegated to a hobby than a full-time business. If you can’t afford to make jewelry, who truly suffers? I believe there are other places where the bank’s money would be better used.”

  “Silly?” Parker echoed.

  “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t normally say that aloud,” Mr. Lowe said, frowning. “Still, perhaps it’s best that you hear this. I assume other traditional banks will feel the same as I do. If you have another option, you could pursue that instead of wasting your time making these little trinkets and baubles. I’m not a jewelry expert, but the one you’re wearing made notable noise in the lobby, and I don’t care for the look of it.”

  “Okay, this is backfiring,” Posie said. “We shouldn’t take everything he says to heart.”

  “I suppose there is another reason why I am hesitant to grant the loan,” Mr. Lowe said, tapping his desk. “This branch has always supported the office of the mayor. Our lobby is often used for publicity shots for the town. We don’t want to come across as against Mayor Ross.”

  “And helping me would do that?” Parker asked, rising to her feet.

  Mr. Lowe gestured toward her chair. “Please, there’s no reason to be upset. You had to know that when you separated from the mayor, some people and organizations would feel that they have to choose sides. In my role, I have chosen. I chose the mayor of Willow Creek versus someone who plays with crystals and twine.”

  “I don’t find this very professional, but thank you for being so direct and not stringing me along,” Parker said. She grabbed her folder and was about to leave when she noticed Posie was still sitting.

  “Wait. There were a few other questions we wanted to ask.” Posie turned to the bank manager. “Maybe it will help us in the future if we want to start a business the bank would deem valuable. It sounds like we should get the mayor’s blessing for anything we do.”

  “That would be prudent,” Mr. Lowe agreed.

  “What are some businesses that would be wise to invest in?” Posie pressed.

  “There are many businesses that could thrive in our town. I suppose we do tend to prefer brick-and-mortar businesses to online ones. There is some fine real estate here.”

  “Yes, we were just talking about real estate,” Posie said. “We noticed that the Willow Creek Diner has not been doing too well lately. We wondered what could go into its place if it fails. Have you ever noticed that property before?”

  “Oh, more than noticed it. I have been waiting for the day Don Silver decides to sell the land. I have a plethora of projects that could go there and earn more than that business does. It’s a shame he’s so stubborn. My wife is a realtor. Between the two of us, we could have an extremely successful business in its spot within days.”

  Parker grumbled.

  “So, would you say it’s a good thing for you that people have been associating the diner with these recent burglaries? Do you think it will lead to you gaining the property?” asked Posie.

  “Overall, I would say that it’s a good situation for me. Perhaps we finally can get our hands on the diner.”

  “And maybe these thefts will encourage more women to put their jewelry in your safety deposit boxes,” said Parker.

  “I hadn’t thought about that before, but it could be true.” Mr. Lowe grinned. “Yes, these burglaries are quite in my favor. Of course, I wouldn’t see any need to lock up the type of jewelry you make. It’s hard to believe that anyone would buy it, and I can’t see anyone stealing something so atrocious.”

  “Okay, now I’m leaving,” Parker said.

  “Good,” Mr. Lowe said. “You make me uneasy, and I don’t like being near either of you. I put up with seeing Mrs. Ross when she was married to the mayor, but now I see nothing to gain from it. There’s something odd about both of you. Something unnatural.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Lowe. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about seeing either of us again soon,” Parker said as she and Posie strode away.

  After leaving the bank, Parker let out a yell of frustration. “That was worse than I ever imagined. It was like a nightmare.”

  “The spell made him a little too honest,” Posie agreed. “However, that honesty was just his opinion. He doesn’t know anything about your jewelry or talent. He’s a mean-spirited fellow who wants to stay on the mayor’s good side. I think we should put a curse on him.”

  “No. With my luck, the curse will backfire, and he’ll win the lottery. I just want to go home and forget this ever happened.”

  Thinking the day couldn’t possibly get worse, Parker and Posie headed to Parker’s car.

  Chapter

  Eight

  “Something isn’t right,” Posie said, sounding worried as they turned onto Parker’s street. “Something is going on at your house. There are people there. I can feel it.”

  “People are inside my house?” Parker pulled over so they could discuss the situation before reaching her rental. Her fingers nervously drummed the steering wheel. “I suppose there’s a chance my daughter came over. She has a key, but Catherine usually calls before she visits.”

  “I can’t sense who they are. There are too many conflicting emotions, and we’re not close enough. But there are several people at your house.”

  “Well, Catherine wouldn’t be throwing a party there.” Parker bit her lip and asked, “Do you think this has anything to do with our investigation?”

  “You mean that the burglar could have discovered that we are onto them and has now broken into your house to convince us to stay quiet?” Posie asked. “Maybe it’s a gang of thieves. I don’t understand why a group of criminals would leave pie at a crime scene more than I understand why one person would. I hope they’re not planning on hurting us…maybe we should head right to the police station. I know you don’t like Detective Emerson, but he could protect us.”

  “I think we should move closer to my house and see if we can determine what is going on first. We should be prepared to call 9-1-1, but I can’t abandon Malachite if he’s in danger.”

  Parker cautiously drove closer to her house and groaned as she recognized several vehicles parked nearby.

  “It’s even worse than we feared,” Parker said, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind her. “That’s my ex-husband’s car.”

  “And I think that’s my son’s,” Posie said, frowning in confusion. “What would Patrick be doing here?”

  “All I wanted to do tonight was take a hot shower and wash away the feelings of failure from the meeting at the bank.”

  Parker led the way to the front door. As soon as she opened it, Malachite bounded over to her and rubbed against her leg, indicating he wanted to be picked up. Parker obliged, trying to make her pet feel safe after this unexpected invasion.

  “It’s not my birthday, so this can’t be a surprise party,” Parker said. “What’s going on?”

  She and Posie looked around the room. It was filled with people who were important to them, but for a moment, no one would make eye contact with them.

  Parker’s daughter Catherine pushed back her dark wavy hair that looked similar to her mom’s and focused on setting out grapes and cheese. Even as a child, she had always been serious, so Parker wouldn’t normally be concerned about the stern expression on the twenty-two-year-old’s face. However, she was also scratching her arm every so often, which Parker knew was a nervous tic for when she had to do something she dreaded.

  Posie’s two sons, Patrick and Preston, were staring at the floor with their hands in their pockets. Patrick’s were in the athletic pants that he wore when coaching, and Preston’s were in a suit that he wore to the office. They had light hair like their mother and freckles like their father. Both looked unnaturally serious right now.

  While it was unexpected to see their children tonight, it was not uncommon for them to gather at times. What was unusual was that Diana Silver from the Willow Creek Diner was also in the living room. Instead of offering a greeting, she played with her nails.

  “Parker, please have a seat,” Mayor Harold Ross said, trying to sound official and empathetic at the same time. Parker was used to hearing him speak like this during campaign season. However, she still didn’t understand why everyone was there.

  “Mom, Aunt Posie, we need to talk,” Catherine said, coming to stand next to her father.

  Parker didn’t like the way they seemed to be forming an alliance, but she decided to sit. She was still holding Malachite, stroking his fur to calm herself as much as the feline.

  Posie leaned against the arm of the sofa and addressed the group with a joke. “If you wanted us to cook dinner, you should have given us some warning. I guess we’ll have to order pizza now. My healthy eating kick will have to start tomorrow.”

  When she barely received a chuckle in reply, Posie started to pale. “Something is really wrong, isn’t it? Where’s your father?” she asked her boys. “Is he okay? Or Paul? Did something happen to your brother?”

  “No, Dad’s fine,” Patrick said quickly. He moved closer to give his mother a reassuring hug. “I left him watching a baseball rerun on TV about an hour ago.”

  “And Paul is okay too,” Preston added. “He’s texted me this afternoon to get advice about a girl he likes in one of his classes.”

  “He texted you?” Patrick asked. “And not me?”

  “What can I say? He knows I have more swagger than you.”

  “I have plenty of swagger!”

  “Hey,” Catherine said, looking daggers at both of them. “Can you stop bickering so we can focus on why we’re really here?”

  “Yes, why is that?” asked Parker.

  “Ah, dear Parker. We’re here because we’re worried about you,” Harold said.

  Parker gritted her teeth. She recognized the note of condescension in his voice, and she hated it. To her, his handsome face had soured, and she wished she no longer had to see him. She doubted very much that he had any real concern for her; only a slight worry that she might embarrass him the next time he needed votes.

  “We’ve been hearing some troubling things recently,” Harold continued. “It sounds as if you’ve been doing things that sane women your age wouldn’t be attempting.”

  Malachite hissed, and Parker told him he was a good kitty.

  “What?” Posie asked incredulously.

  “This is an intervention,” Catherine explained. “What you’re doing is dangerous, and we don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “That’s right. We love you too much to want you to get in trouble,” said Preston.

 

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