CHAPTER FIVE #2
She pursed her lips as she thought it over. “I might have to go snag a few of those for my own containers this year. They’re very pretty.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s this red flower in the window boxes?”
“That’s red verbena. It’s protective,” I told her.
Never content to sit and watch, Kathleen insisted on helping me carry all the finished window boxes and containers around to set them in place.
I was glad for her help. Moving the last big pot was a two-person job.
We hauled it down the porch steps and I placed it at the corner of the paver path that cut through my backyard.
While I tidied up and put away all my tools and rolled up the half empty bag of potting mix, Kathleen swept up the soil that had spilled while I worked. It didn’t matter that I told her she didn’t have to, she just gave me a look, grabbed the broom from my hands and did so anyway.
“You seem sort of wound up today, Lorna,” Kathleen said as she finished up.
“Yesterday was a tough day,” I said, stacking empty plastic plant pots.
“Anything to do with the fact that your community secretary ran off with the funds for the Witches Ball?”
I froze. “Wow. Word certainly traveled fast.”
“I’m in a garden club with Ruth Thomas,” she said. “Our kids went to high school together. We’ve been friends for years.”
“Sometimes I forget all the connections in the south side. Everyone knows everyone else it seems.”
“That being said...” Kathleen placed the broom against the house wall and took a seat in one of the patio chairs. “Joe got called in to consult the other day on a homicide case. So much for my husband being retired.”
A shiver went down my spine. “Oh?”
“Yeah, he was pretty concerned when he noticed that the gentleman who found the body showed up at your house with pizza last night.” Kathleen sighed. “I told him not to be so nosey...but he was concerned for your safety.”
I sat in the chair across from her. “I see.”
“I’m sorry, Lorna,” Kathleen said. “Joe means well.”
“Charles Montgomery and I know each other—socially, you could say—from the magickal community.”
Kathleen’s eyebrows went way up. “So, he’s a Witch too?”
That made me smile. “No, he’s not a Witch, but he is a magickal practitioner.”
“My Joe said that Montgomery is in real estate. Uptown area,” she said. “A mover and a shaker apparently.”
“Your hubby would be correct.” Thinking about what I’d learned today, I added, “It would also be fair to say that there’s a bit more to Charles Montgomery than I first assumed.”
“Joe also told me that there’s a connection between your embezzling community secretary and that poor young man who was killed.”
“They were roommates,” I said.
“And was the third roommate really an employee of Charles Montgomery?”
“Correct,” I said. “He’s missing too.”
Kathleen blew out a long breath. “That’s very concerning, Lorna.”
“I won’t argue with you about that.”
Kathleen crossed her arms. “Seems to me that after everything that has happened you need a new secretary for the Witch community business. Someone you can trust.”
Playfully, I peered at her from over the top of my glasses. “Do you have someone specific in mind?”
“Yes,” she said. “Me. I need something to get me out of the house.”
“What are your qualifications?” I asked, keeping a straight face.
“I was the church secretary for the First Presbyterian Church for over twenty years,” she told me. “I am organized and have excellent communication skills. I’m familiar with Microsoft Office Suite and have plenty of experience handling correspondence, scheduling and managing meetings.”
Nodding with approval, I said, “Maintaining discretion regarding personal information is vital. Not all of the members of the community are public Witches.”
“I understand.” She nodded in return.
“Never knew you used to work for a church,” I said, sitting back in my chair.
“Up until my diagnosis,” she admitted. “Then I took some time off and now two years out...well, it’d do me a world of good to get out occasionally. And the extra money certainly wouldn’t hurt.”
“Would you be interested in also working at the bookstore?” I asked, thinking it over. “Sometimes, I do need computer help with inputting data and maintaining the inventory.”
“I could do that.”
“Would you object to occasionally helping out on the sales floor?”
“Sounds like fun.” She waited a beat. “Dress code?”
“Office casual. Comfortable, closed toe shoes. Sneakers are fine too.”
“Can I wear nice leggings with a tunic style top?”
“Of course,” I said.
“That’s good. I don’t think I’ve worn a pair of zippered jeans in the past two years. I’m all about the leggings these days.”
“Your hired,” I told her. “Come to the store tomorrow. We’ll fill out all the forms and get you on the schedule.”
Kathleen grinned. “Awesome!”
***
A couple of days later, I had Kathleen working in the back room on my computer, inputting all the new titles and their prices into my point of sales program.
She flew through the list of titles. I’d never seen someone who typed as fast as she did and told her so.
My comment earned me a big smile and a cackle of laughter.
“Sweetie, I first learned to type on a manual Smith Corona typewriter, and it was aqua blue.”
“Really?” I asked, charmed at the idea.
“I eventually graduated to an electric typewriter,” she said, straightening her cat-eye, leopard print computer glasses. “Back in the early 80s, we all had to take typing classes in high school.”
“You are so skilled,” I said. “I bow in your general direction.”
“As well you should,” she replied. “Now, do you mind if I dive into all of the old community notes from the monthly meetings, and the information about the Witches Ball from last year?”
“Sure.” I reached over her, took the mouse, and opened up the appropriate files for her.
“Are there physical copies of these notes?” she asked, scanning the screen.
“Not that I know of,” I said. “Shelby used to email everything, and I typically saved it in one file on the computer.”
Kathleen cracked her knuckles. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll have this all organized and a report generated for you.”