“A witch? Stormy the witch? That’s just ... way too much.”
He smiled. “And somehow I think it fits.” He inclined his head toward the swinging doors, to where Brad’s head poked between the opening. “I think your uncle wants you.”
I scowled as I turned my gaze in that direction. I used to think the worst thing in the world was working a shift with my grandfather. I would gladly take it today if it meant I didn’t have to listen to Brad’s nonsense. His political conspiracy theories were starting to give me indigestion. I was running on caffeine and nerves as it was. “Do you need something?”
He nodded. “I’m out of pickles.”
I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I shrugged. “So what do we do?”
“They’re in the storage building behind the restaurant,” he replied. “You need to get them.”
“Why do I need to get them?” I was feeling petulant, in no mood to be ordered around. “Why can’t you get them?”
“I’m the chef, which means I’m in charge of the kitchen today. As my underling, it’s your job to do as I say.”
I wasn’t a fan of the word “underling,” but when I turned a questioning look toward Grandpa, I found he’d already disengaged from the conversation and was again reading his newspaper. Apparently I was on my own. “Fine. I’ll get the pickles.”
I muttered a series of nasty words as I cut through the kitchen and headed for the back door. There were two exits, one close to the steps that led to my apartment and the other by the industrial-sized freezers. I sidestepped two of my cousins smoking by the steps and went out the other door.
I was lost in thought, my mind jumbled with my new reality, and made the mistake of not watching where I was going. I stepped in a puddle, skidding a good two feet before I found pavement again. The alley between the restaurant and storage building was wide enough for a semitruck to park for deliveries, but that wasn’t a benefit now as I stumbled four hard paces to keep myself upright, stopping only when I crashed into the storage building.
“Ow.” I rubbed my elbow as I turned to see where the water had come from. The first thing I realized as I studied the area was that it wasn’t water I’d slid in. It was something else. Something red.
My mouth went dry as my eyes drifted to the crumpled form resting in the puddle. The older man in mismatched socks wasn’t moving.
I opened my mouth to scream for help but I couldn’t find my voice. I tried again but nothing.
All that time I stared at the body, willing it to move. This had to be a mistake. Perhaps my uncle was explaining his political views on crime. After a good three minutes, I realized this wasn’t a joke gone awry.
It was something much, much worse.
2
Two
I stood there for a long time staring at the body. Then I forced myself to move, as if I was walking on an uneven surface because I kept stumbling as I circled the body and made my way back into the restaurant.
My fingers felt numb and I had to grasp the door handle twice before I managed to get a firm grip. I tripped on the step as I went inside, smacking into the freezer. The noise drew my uncle’s attention.
“Did you get my pickles?” he asked, giving me a long once-over. “It doesn’t look like you did.”
I pointed at the door in response.
“Yes, the pickles are that way,” he intoned. “I’m well aware. You have to get them. I’m in charge of the kitchen. You’re my subordinate. As my subordinate, you do what I say.”
“That could be taken in a really gross way,” a new voice supplied. It belonged to my cousin David. Close to my age, I’d yet to see him since I’d returned. He was one of the few cousins I would’ve been happy to see ... at least under different circumstances. “You probably shouldn’t get off on using the word ‘subordinate.’”
Brad rolled his eyes. “I’m not using it in a filthy way. Don’t be a disgusting pervert.” He flicked David’s ear and smirked. “How was your vacation? I can’t remember the last time I got two weeks off work. Do you want to know why? Because I’ve never had that much time off in one go.”
“The vacation was great,” David replied. “We went to Mexico.”
“Yes, I heard. It’s unsafe to go to Mexico these days. You know that, right? I didn’t want to tell you before your trip and ruin your fun, but it was a bad idea.”
“Says who?”
“Anyone with a brain,” Brad replied. “I heard it from Rush Limbaugh. The Republicans want to close the border.”
“Oh, geez.” David shook his head. “Can we get through one conversation without mentioning politics? That would be great.” He focused on me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. I’m sure your reintroduction to the family couldn’t have been easy. I met a girl, though.”
That was David. He always had a new girl. He went through a new one about every six months. They were all much younger than him. He was almost thirty, but his dates had rarely reached the age of twenty. I’d spent a long time thinking about it — mostly when trying to plot a hit book — but I’d come to the conclusion that he felt his life was out of control so he dated younger girls because he thought them more malleable. He simply couldn’t take a woman who knew what she wanted.
That was a discussion for another time.
“We need to call the police.” I squeaked as I tried to maintain control of my emotions.
“Because I went to Mexico?” David furrowed his brow. “I’m perfectly fine. Don’t listen to Brad. He’s always been something of an alarmist. You know as well as anyone that if he sees something on television — whether it’s fiction or news — he extrapolates it to everyday life. He’s ridiculous.”
“Not that.” My throat felt dry and I gestured toward the alley again. “We need to call the police.”
“Is this about the pickles?” Brad pinned me with a dark look. “I told you that I’m the boss. That means you have to wrangle the pickles.”
“That could be viewed as sexual harassment,” David said, starting for the door. Unlike our uncle, he seemed genuinely curious to see what had shaken me.
“She’s my niece,” Brad argued, scandalized. “I can’t sexually harass my niece.”
“You could, but then we’d have a whole other problem to deal with.” David pushed open the door and poked his head outside.
“Sexual harassment is something the left drummed up to hurt the right,” Brad said. “Of course, the right used it against political figures from the left for a time. Wait ... maybe I need to give this one more thought. There could be something here.”
It’s hell having an uncle who is a conspiracy theorist and yet can manage to side with both political parties in the same breath.
David flew through the door.
“Call the police,” he barked, causing Brad to stand up straight. “There’s a body out back.”
“A body?” Brad’s eyebrows drew together.