The Estate Murder: A Cozy Mystery (The Witch Mysteries)

The Estate Murder

A Cozy Mystery

The Witch Mysteries: Volume 1

By

Kristal Wales

Mr. Sherwood Martin finished dusting off the last relic in the old glass case. Among the artifacts was a chicken claw gnarled in an appearance reminiscent of arthritis, a book bound in soft brown leather, a half melted candle made with beeswax in its natural golden color, and last, a gown made of layer upon layer of the finest silk. The gown was the true centerpiece of the artifacts. It held pride of place on a dressmaker’s mannequin in the center of the case, while the other three artifacts were housed on separate shelves to the left of the gown.

The rest of the shelves in the encasements held similar artifacts, but these four were the only items left that the old Martin cared about. It was a job of pride for him, to be responsible for housing these antiques from the house of the old Fontaine Estate. When it came down to it, though, there was really no one else for the job. Martin was the only one who remembered what had happened so many years ago, when he was just a boy.

               As he closed the glass with a soft click, he turned to the library behind him. He thought he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye, just at the door leading to the west wing of the great manse.

               “Hello,” He called out, his voice was rough with old age, and his hands curled with touches of arthritis. He walked, taking his time, toward the locked door that led to his quarters. He saw nothing out of the ordinary there.

The estate was a huge one, and only the great hall was occupied by the library and the family museum. The west wing had a small set of rooms which were kept warm by a fire he tirelessly kept stoked, and the rest was cordoned off. He heard nothing, but that wasn’t anything new. His hearing had been off for several years by now. As Martin made his way slowly to the front door to set the alarm, then slowly back to the door to his quarters, he wondered how much longer he’d be able to serve as acting caretaker. He had very little money stored up, himself. The trust that kept the estate running allowed for a meager salary and his rooms for free.

When Veronica Fontaine had set up the trust, before marrying and moving away, she had arranged for Martin to be able to stay in the house. She was quite fond of Martin, as she had been of his father before him. The two had known each other almost all of their lives, and Veronica felt it was the least she could do to keep him on as caretaker once the huge abode no longer housed the Fontaine family.

True, Veronica was loyal, but it was Claire Fontaine, Veronica’s older sister, that held Martin’s fancy. She had been beautiful, dark, and mysterious. She was no longer among the living, though, Martin sighed as he delved into the finer details of the trust budget, wondering how much longer his brain would keep up. Once more, he saw the shadow pass by, just in his periphery. This time the shadow came in conjunction with a loud bang.

Startled, blood pumping faster in his veins, he dropped his pen to the table and struggled to release the catch on the underside of the desk which held a loaded revolver. Before he was able to wrap his fingers around the trigger, the shadow rose before him. He felt a clenching in his chest, and with a gasp, he fell sideways out of his seat, metal revolver plopping to the ground, landing soundlessly on the rug beside him

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               The scarlet bird squawked loudly as Cassidy Farin walked the length of the living room once more. She had been pacing for the better part of the hour and Kairi, the bird, was uneasy.        

               “Oh, hush, Bird,” Cassidy said, though her voice was soft.

               “Oh, hush, Bird,” The birdie voice repeated, in a hurried mumble. Then she said, “Step up, step up, Cassidy, step up.”

              Cassidy couldn’t help but laugh. Step up was the command that Cassidy gave her bird when she was training her to perch on a finger. She wasn’t sure whether Kairi was saying she wanted to step up, or telling Cassidy to perch and stop disturbing her. Cassidy decided to do both. Her bird was currently perched on the playground atop her cage, so Cassidy lifted her arm and said ‘over’, and Kairi flew to the outstretched hand.

               “What are we gonna do, Kairi? “ Cassidy had lost yet another job. It wasn’t her fault, she surmised. She simply could not keep her observations to herself. This time, it was the town donut shop. She had worked there just over a month when one of the regulars came in. Cassidy groaned in frustration as she recalled pointing out to Mrs. Dover that she had seen her purchasing a dozen donuts every day for a week. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but she had also mentioned how Mrs. Dover’s husband had been buying donuts from another store… so they say. Long story short, Mrs. Dover felt that Cassidy had called her a glutton and Mr. Dover had been discovered in a year-long affair with Cris Crispy, Owner of Crispy’s Doughnut Shop down the road.

               Cassidy surmised that the owner of Glazed, the hipper and tastier doughnut shop, would not have fired her, had she not also mentioned his own prior relationship with Crispy. At this point, Cassidy knew she seemed like a busy body know it all, but she just couldn’t stop. Things were more obvious to her than to others, she imagined. How else would they have been so oblivious when she told them? She had been halted in the middle of the living room of her parents’ vacation cottage which was situated high atop a remote hill just outside of New Orleans. She began to pace again, and her heart gave a start when Kairi abandoned her hand perch and returned to her cage, wanting nothing to do with the path Cassidy was wearing in the floor.

               In either case, Cassidy had lost the job and had missed a rent payment, and now here she was, squatting in her parents’ mostly unused vacation home without permission. With resolve, she realized that nothing would be solved by staying put, and she threw on her favorite jacket, one that was fitted snugly at the waist, and flared out down to mid-thigh. She ran a brush through her hair, making the fine, copper-red ends fly up with static, and turned to Kairi.

               “Goodbye,” Kairi said, as she climbed down into her cage and waited for Cassidy to close the door.

               “Goodbye,” Cassidy responded, and with that, she left, locking up the door behind her.

              
In town, there were very few places she hadn’t already applied, but she figured she should try those that remained. There were three on her list, and the first was The Twisted Claw, a shop that sold herbs, candles, fairy figurines, and coffee of all forms. Cassidy had never met the owner, Sandra Shaw, but had heard great things about her. As she opened the door and heard the twinkle of bells ring out, she nearly ran into a black and white cat. The cat lazed past the door with an unenthused ‘meow’ and Cassidy walked up to the long wooden bar where stood an older lady with long, dark gray hair that hung down her back in curls. She wore an emerald green dress with skirt that reached her ankles in a billowing flow. She had covered that with a gray sweater with cuffed sleeves that hung just a bit longer than her wrists, making her look quite cozy. She had appeared bored, her elbows resting on the bar counter before her, hands clasped and chin resting on her knuckles.

               As Cassidy entered, Sandra stood up to full height, which was actually quite short, and pasted a smile on her face.

               “G’morning, what can I get you?” She said, a cheery air about her felt genuine to Cassidy.

               “Well, I will take a chai latte,” she ordered her favorite coffee house drink. Not a day went by when she didn’t crave chai lattes. “And I wonder if you might be hiring?” She asked, hopeful. She had only just met Sandra, but she liked her right away. Something about her clear, gray eyes had a kindness to them. Not to mention, being able to put an awesome named like “The Twisted Claw” on future resumes would be fun, once she was fired from this job.

               “Actually, my one employee was supposed to be here by now, so I might be hiring, at that.” Sandra said, a note of exasperation not quite hidden behind her kindly tones. She slid a stock application across the counter to Cassidy and set about heating the milk for her chai. As she did so, the phone rang out. Sandra smiled apologetically and raised one finger up, indicating ‘just a second’ while picking up the phone from its cradle.

               “Twisted Claw,” she said in a pleasant voice. Her expression changed from one of passive contentment, to one of anxiety, then her lips finally settled in a fine, tight line of displeasure. “Okay, Remy. I understand.” She said. A slight shake of her head and her knuckles, which were white from clenching the phone so tightly, indicated that she most certainly did not understand. She deliberately put the phone back on its cradle and turned to finish making Cassidy’s drink. When she had finished, and set the tall, shiny black, ceramic mug in front of her, Cassidy had completed the application. She had this one skill down to a science by now, and wished that filling out application forms could be a full time, paying job.

    “When can you start?” The older woman asked.

    “When was Remy supposed to get here?” Cassidy asked, putting two and two together. Sandra let a soft smile touch her lips as she reached under the counter and pulled out a starched, black apron. Handing it to Cassidy, she asked if she had ever worked as a barista before,

    “Uh, no. I make pretty good donuts though.” Cassidy said, taking stock of all of the instruments before her.

    After a morning of training, Cassidy felt like she had the basic gist down, though she would still need to check the reference list to remember how much of what ingredients to put in. She remembered how to make her chai latte, though, and had a fresh one sitting before her since there was a lull in customers.

    It was half past 3 in the afternoon when Thomas Caine entered the shop. He wore a suit that looked expensive. His dark hair was well groomed, and his smile was sparkling. Cassidy pictured a black leopard preparing to pounce as he approached Sandra.

    “Mr. Caine,” Sandra said, her voice betraying a certain distrust for the man before her.

    “Sandra, an espresso please.” He said. His voice was smooth and unhurried. His dark eyes took in Cassidy as well, and he nodded in her direction, politely. Cassidy turned to fix his order for him while Sandra rang him up. “Listen, Sandra, I do hope you’ll consider my offer on the Fontaine Estate.” He said quietly to her.

              “Mr. Caine, I had considered your offer the moment you first made it, and I am not inclined to change my mind now.” She said, tension laced through her over-polite voice.

              “My offer still stands. Let me know if you change your mind.” He said. His attention was then completely on Cassidy as she handed him his drink. “Hello,” he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I’m Thomas Caine, nice to meet you.”

              “Cassidy,” She said holding out her hand.

              “Cassidy,” he rolled the name off his tongue like it was a fine selection of wine to be savored. “Cassidy, I am new in town and wondered if you might be available to show me what there is to do here in the evenings.”

              Cassidy almost snorted with laughter, but after a keen glance from Sandra, she choked it back. She thought Mr. Thomas Caine really was too much. Still, he was attractive enough, and she had nothing better to do with her evening than sing show tunes with Kairi. “Uhm, sure.” She said. “I guess so.” It came out more like a question as she looked to Sandra for any sign of disproval. Sandra gave a slight nod, but Cassidy could see by her expression that she was thinking of something else.

              “Give me your address and I’ll pick you up at 7?” He said cheerfully. He left with espresso and a piece of paper in hand, whistling softly to himself. Immediately after he left, Cassidy went over to Sandra.

              “Ok, so what was that all about?”

              “My family owns the Fontaine Estate. He wants it. I guess he plans on building a hotel there or something.” Sandra rolled her eyes.

              “Wait, THE Fontaine Estate? Isn’t that where that witch was burned in a fire?”

              “Well, that witch would have been my aunt, Claire.” Sandra said, good humor still present in her voice.

              “Oh…” Cassidy’s eyes lit up, “Oh, you’re Veronica’s daughter!”

              “Yes, Veronica was my mom. That means the estate is technically owned by me. Really, I don’t know what to do with it myself. I almost would sell it, if it weren’t for old Sherwood. I have no idea what he’d do if the estate were sold and torn down. His life has been in taking care of the library and museum.”

              At that, a young policeman and old friend of Cassidy’s burst through the door, almost as if on cue. “Sandra, we need you down at the station,” he said, his authoritative voice booming loudly, probably to make up for his relatively young age. Cassidy and Sandra both looked at the cop, not understanding what was going on. Recognition sparked right away in Cassidy’s eyes.

              “Wylie! What on earth is this about?” She said. Wylie did an almost comical double take at Cassidy.

              “Cas! What are you doing here?” He had been pulled off course.

              “Working. I just started today. What are you doing?” Cassidy exclaimed.

              Wylie had the good sense to be nervous as he stated once more, “Well, I , er, I need to take Ms. Shaw to the station for questioning.”

              “What about?”

              “There’s been a,” Wylie’s eyes shifted nervously,” A murder, it looks like.” When both of the ladies looked at him without speaking, Wylie kept talking. “Well, Mr. Martin up at your estate had died, and it looks like he’s been murdered.”

              Sandra gasped, and she walked around the counter to sit down on one of the two plush armchairs that were placed in the center of the store. She was quite obviously surprised, Cassidy could tell that much, so when Wylie said once more that Sandra needed to go with him, Cassidy snapped at him.

              “Can’t you see she’s in shock? Leave her a minute so she can process this news.” She, not having known Sandra for too long, wasn’t sure how to help her through the loss of an old friend. She settled for making two chai lattes, they always made her feel better, and she gave one each to Wylie and Sandra.

              Pulling Wylie aside she asked for details on the murder. She discovered that they wouldn’t have suspected foul play at all, had it not been for the gun lying next to the old man. He had literally died of a heart attack which would fall under natural causes, but seeing as how he had tried to pull a gun, they figure something must have caused the heart attack. They were treating it as suspicious at the moment, for it was suspicious at best and pure murder at worst.

              “The worst thing,” Wylie said conspiratorially, “Is that my boss thinks Ms. Shaw did it to collect on insurance money. You see, some of the valuable collectibles have come up missing, and all of them belonged to her aunt.”

              “That’s ridiculous!” Cassidy exclaimed. She looked at Sandra who was currently taking a sip of her tea and staring into space. She seemed to have gathered herself together though, Cassidy thought, maybe a bit too quickly. “Well, I mean… Look at her! She couldn’t kill anybody. She may still be running this shop quite well, but murder? And, at her age? I just don’t see it.”

              “Remember how Claire died though? The sisters were real close until Veronica, Sandra’s mother, stole away Jack Shaw from her. Then the next day Claire’s been killed in a fire that magically only hit her side of the house. It’s suspicious, no? Now, All of Claire’s things go missing and Veronica’s haven’t been touched. It’s like mother like daughter, you know.” Wylie stated this case, but Cassidy thought it was flimsy at best. She still didn’t think Sandra had it in her to murder anyone, and she wasn’t convinced Veronica had killed Claire back in the day either. She had already won over Jack Shaw. There would have been no point in killing her own sister.

              “No, I don’t know. But you might as well get your questioning over with. I haven’t known Sandra long, but I am sure she’ll have an alibi. When did he die?” She asked, careful not to throw around the word murder until she was sure that’s what it was.

              “Late last night just after locking up, coroner says.”

              “I see,” said Cassidy. She then turned to Sandra. “I’ll lock up here if you’d like?” Sandra just nodded and tossed her a set of keys as she stood and followed Wylie out the door.