Chapter 15
I’d gone back to the house, which took me not one, but two solid hours, collected Trixie and Coop and company, drove back to the store, which was not only another hour-and-a-half journey, but stuffed to the gills with people and animals piled on top of each other. And now we were all happily safe and warm at MZ’s. For the moment, this was the best I could do.
I set a plate of cold cuts and rolls on Madam Z’s reading table and gave the girls a sorrowful look. “I’m sorry I didn’t find anything today, ladies. But we’re not giving up. I just need some fuel in my belly, and then we go hard.”
“And by fuel, our lovely Stevie means food fit for a third-grader,” Win teased, trying to lift my spirits.
“Oh, you hush, International Man of Mystery. Baloney and turkey are very adult. Look, I put some Havarti cheese out. How much more grown-up do you get than that?”
Trixie giggled, passing the plate of rolls to Coop, who took three. “First, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you talking to the ceiling, and what do you mean by International Man of Mystery? Isn’t that James Bond?”
“Hah!” Win barked with sarcasm. “As if some fictional character could ever live up to the life a true spy leads.”
“You’re just jelly because Sean Connery’s so smexy,” I teased, taking a roll and a few slices of turkey.
“Really, Stephania. As if.”
I chuckled and turned to Trixie to explain. “I sort of mean like James Bond. Crispin Alistair Winterbottom was once an elite spy for MI6 before he died. But he’s also my best bet when it comes to facing off with a killer. He taught me everything I know.”
“Did he teach you how to use a sword?” Coop asked, piling some baloney on her plate.
“No swords as of yet, but I’m pretty good with a knife and a gun. I’ve learned a lot from Win and Arkady.”
Trixie popped a chip in her mouth and smiled. “He’s the other guy you talk to, right?”
“He’s a Russian spy. He and Win were rivals at one time, and now they’re BFFs, aren’t you?”
I heard Arkady chuckle. “Dah, Zero is my BFF. Wouldn’t Russian Spy Central be happy to hear that?”
“I can teach you how to use a sword, Stevie Cartwright,” Coop offered, pushing a piece of her sandwich into her mouth.
“Too roight!” Livingston confirmed, his head swiveling in my direction. “She’s the master, me darlin’! Beautiful and deadly, she is.”
Apparently, he and Belfry had spent some time bonding today, and now, as Bel happily munched on some fresh kiwi, he and Livingston laughed and joked with each other. Seeing them together made me happy.
Bel refused to hang around any of his old familiar friends due to their shunning of me, and it made me sad. He needed to be with his own kind, but he staunchly refused to even consider doing so until they all came to their senses and allowed me back into the coven.
Which was never going to happen.
“You know, I don’t know when I’ll ever have the need for a sword, but I’ll never say no to a fencing lesson. You can never have enough tricks in your arsenal, Coop. So thank you.” I reached over and gave her smooth cheek a pinch, making her almost smile.
Trixie pushed her plate away and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “So, where are we, Stevie, and how can I help? I felt like the slug of all slugs, sitting around your gorgeous house today while you were out in this horrible weather, hunting down suspects.”
Yeah. That was the part of this I wasn’t looking forward to. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt so helpless in all the time I’ve been sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I heard a bunch of conversations at Francie Levigne’s house today, some not so pleasant, and the only one that might even remotely have to do with this murder investigation is the one I overheard about Hank’s health. Apparently, he was having trouble with his breathing and heart racing, and he mentioned it at a meeting at his real estate agency. Though, I can tell you true. No way will his doctor give me any information on why he was having trouble breathing. Believe that.”
“So you think maybe his heart had something to do with his death?” Trixie asked, slumping in her chair.
She looked so tired. Heck, we were all looking pretty haggard. Except Coop. Coop looked like she should hit the runway in Paris—even in ratty jeans and an old T-shirt.
“I hope it had something to do with his death. If he was having heart problems, maybe he died because of them while he was rooting around in your storeroom. Makes sense, right?”
“It makes complete sense,” Trixie agreed. “But the police must have something else or they wouldn’t have called it a murder.”
Nodding, I felt my stomach took another nosedive, making me push my plate away, too. “Yeah. There’s that. Burt mentioned he overheard the police say something about tetra in his bloodstream, but I can’t figure out what the heck tetra is. I did a Google search and everything, but it brings up a type of fish and tetracycline, which is an antibiotic.” I sighed, circling the wood table’s knots and divots. “Maybe Burt just heard them wrong. I don’t know. But what really disturbed me was Hank’s aunt Luanne. What could she have meant by Hank was mine, too? Isn’t that a strange thing to say about your nephew? I can’t guess they were very close. I mean, Francie didn’t even want her in her house.”
Trixie pulled my laptop to her side of the table and flipped the lid open. “That is peculiar, and strangely sad. Either way, maybe I can find something you didn’t? You’re so tired, Stevie. What you need is a good night’s rest. Please, let me help. I’m pretty good at research. Just ask Coop how long I searched for some answers to the mess that stupid relic from the convent left me in.”
“Did you find an answer?”
She gave me a sheepish look. “Um, no. But! That’s not to say I can’t use my Google-Fu in other ways. Just let me take a peek. Maybe I’ll see if this Luanne has a Facebook profile while I’m at it. Got a last name for her?”
“Nope. And she’s been married three times, I think. So it could be under anything. But check some friends lists. Look at Hank’s page or even Pricilla’s. Maybe they’re Facebook friends with her?”
Trixie smiled and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. “I’m on it.”
I was happy to hand something off to Trixie. This whole case had my head spinning. Nothing was connecting for me, or even Win and Arkady. Maybe I just needed to clear my head with some fresh air. Plus, it was still snowing, and Whiskey would love a good run. His chances for snow in this part of the country were rather slim. I wanted my sweet guy to have a moment to enjoy it while he could.
“While you do that, I’m going to take Whiskey for a walk and clear my head. You’re right, Trixie. I am tired, and nothing’s coming together for me. I need to think.”
Coop frowned, leaning forward to rub Strike’s head, and revealing the most amazingly gorgeous tattoo on her shoulder of an angel, glorious and so detailed, it took my breath away. “But the weather is very bad, Stevie Cartwright. People get lost in snowstorms of this nature. I heard it today on the television.”
I smiled at her concern as I dug Whiskey’s leash from my purse and clipped it to his collar, giving Strike a stroke on the head as he rested by Coop’s side. “I’m pretty familiar with Eb Falls, Coop. I know my way around here like I know the back of my hand. Plus, I’ll stick to the sidewalk, where some people have shoveled. But Whiskey’s been cooped up all day and he really loves the snow. The opportunity for him to play in it doesn’t come up often here in Washington. I won’t be long, promise. You guys stay here and lay low, okay?”
Coop gave me the thumbs-up sign. “What do you consider low enough, Stevie Cart… Um, Stevie? Should I lie on the floor?”
Coop made me laugh. She was almost as bad as Arkady when it came to expressions but in a drier way. “Laying low’s an expression, it means staying out of sight of the police. You don’t actually lie down while you do it. Well, not unless they come knocking. Then you hide. But I think we’re safe for now. The weather’s really bad and probably hanging this whole investigation up. You guys should be good—at least for tonight. I’ll bring my phone in case I need you or in case you need me, okay?”
Coop gave me another thumbs-up sign. “Okey-dokey. I learned that ‘expression’ on the television today, too.”
“Every day you grow, Coop,” I praised.
She wrinkled her nose. “No, I do not. I’m the same size as I was yesterday.”
“I meant emotionally, Coop.” Then I shook my head. “Never mind. You’re just awesome, and that’s that.”
Trixie was too busy buried in her research to acknowledge much else but a quick “Be safe,” to me before she had her head back down, clicking away.
“Mind if I join you, Dove?” Win asked, his warm voice invading my ears.
“Not at all.”
I made my way through the front of the store, past our displays with healing crystals and postcards, smiling at how happy being here made me. I could use a little happy right now because I felt a whole lot of sorrow coming on if we didn’t get to the bottom of this.
Bundling up, I dressed in layers to keep the dropping temperatures at bay. My head still ached just a little, but overall, even with my lack of sleep, I didn’t feel too bad.
Pushing open the door of Madam Z’s, I inhaled the damp air. I’d lived in the Texas heat for a very long time, and I’d missed the change of seasons. Like Whiskey, I, too, loved the snow.
“’Tis truly beautiful, is it not, Dove? Rather Dickensian, yes?”
Sighing, I nodded my head as the first snowflakes blew at me sideways, hitting my nose when I began to walk. Whiskey anxiously tugged me along, and I tried to forget how pleading Luanne had sounded, and those words—Hank was mine, too.
There was so much emotion in them, but then, I had to wonder if Miss Luanne wasn’t a bit of a drama llama. Her entrance to Francie’s alone said as much.
I shook my head. Clearing my brain meant letting the case go for a while, so I turned my eyes to how beautiful Eb Falls was at this very moment. “It is Dickensian. I love how it blankets everything. I don’t love driving in it. But for now, we’re warm, and safe, and together, and the world is a peaceful place.”
“How are you, Dove? What can I do to make you feel better?”
Plodding along behind Whiskey, who cut through the snow with his big paws like steel blades on a sled, I shrugged. “Find me a killer for Hank that isn’t Coop or Trixie.”
“Nay, Dove. You know that’s not what I mean. You’ve been quite melancholy as of late. What troubles you so?”
Oh, no. No way was I divulging what troubled me. I wasn’t ready to voice my feelings to him. How would that make him feel when there was nothing he could do about them?
“I think it’s just the end-of-winter blues. I’m sure I’ll perk up once we start seeing some signs of spring. You know, tulips and daffodils?”
Win was silent for a moment. He knew I wasn’t being truthful, but he couldn’t figure out how to make me spill the beans. “Why don’t we talk about our plans for the gazebo out back?” he suggested. “Surely the idea of a summer project will cheer you.”
Smiling, I huffed out a breath as Whiskey pulled harder, dragging me behind him. We’d discussed his wish to have a gazebo in the back, with trailing roses and wisteria adorning the façade.
I’m not sure where Win comes up with some of his ideas, or even why. He can’t enjoy them the way I can, but even though he considered his money mine, I never turned my nose up at his desire for any item. He’d earned all of it and then some.
He’d died earning that money. Doing as he asked was the least I could do.
Fluttering my eyelashes, I giggled girlishly. “Oh, definitely. A gazebo is sure to wash away my blues. Who doesn’t want a gazebo? Every girl should have a gazebo.”
“You’re mocking me.”
I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, tugging on Whiskey’s leash as we grew closer to Trixie and Coop’s store. “Moi? Mock vous? That you would use that word in a sentence with me is just plain crazy. I would never mock you.”
He chuckled, warm and raspy. “You live to do such.”
“Do not. I live to have a gazebo,” I said on another giggle, my breath coming out in a puff of condensation.
“Are you happy, Stephania?” he asked, his warm aura embracing me and enveloping my senses.
When unsure what your conversation partner is getting at, always deflect with a question. “Are you?”
“As happy as one can be when the world is down there and I’m up here. But you didn’t answer my question. Are you happy? Would things be easier if Arkady and I weren’t always interfering in your life?”
The very idea terrified me. What if someday, I couldn’t hear Win and Arkady anymore? What if the last of my witch powers slipped away? What if they left me alone to face life’s everyday challenges without them? I couldn’t even bear to touch the subject—but I couldn’t let him know that. Because what if, one day, Win wanted to go into the light? To leave Plane Limbo and see what’s on the other side?
There isn’t a chance in H-E-double-hockey-sticks I’d keep him from that. But the very thought stung and left an empty ache in me that nothing could fill.
I strolled along the sidewalk, casting my glance into shop windows to avoid Win seeing a single tear fall, but my eyes filled up quickly anyway. “Define easier? Do you mean, would it be easier if you didn’t keep hassling me to build a gazebo?”
“Stephania, you’re not being serious—”
“Whiskey! Stop!” I ordered as, for no reason at all, in the middle of our conversation, he took off at a gallop, with me trying my best to run behind him.
Win whistled and yelled, “Whiskey, old man! Stop this instant!”
But he wasn’t stopping. He yanked so hard on his leash, I lost my grip, slipping in the hard-packed snow on the sidewalk, and I sure couldn’t run the way he could in this mess. “Win, keep as close as you can while I catch up!!”
“Whiskey! Come here, boy! No, Whiskey! No! Don’t go down there! Argh!”
I stopped for a moment, leaning against the door of the flower shop and gasping for breath. I’d been working out on the reg, and still, I was huffing as if Win The Exercise Enforcer wasn’t insisting I run on a treadmill for an hour every day.
Bracing my gloved hands on my knees, I gasped. “Don’t lose him, Win! What the heck’s gotten into him?”
“I don’t know, but he’s heading down the alleyway by Trixie and Coop’s.”
I pushed off the building and let out a ragged breath, my chest tight. “When I get my hands on him, I’m going to kill him!” I began to trot through the thick snow, crossing the street dividing each block of stores. “Whiskey, no pig knuckles for you, buddy, if you don’t get your butt back here!”
“Bah! He’s taken to the back alley, Dove!”
I growled and ran down the side of the building, making a left into the alleyway where it was pretty darn dark and scary. “Whiskey!” I shouted, not even bothering to stay quiet. Snow beat at my face and the wind whipped around my head in frigid circles.
“Whiskey!” Win bellowed again as I ran along, following his paw prints, which stopped at Trixie and Coop’s back door.
And that back door was open just enough for Whiskey to have slipped inside. I heard his big feet tromping around as though he owned the joint. A shiver slipped along my arms, making me break out in a cold sweat.
Aw, c’mon. “What the heck is he doing? He usually only takes off like that when food’s involved—or a cat. You know he loves a good cat.”
“I have no idea, Stephania, but what I’d truly like to know is why the door is open. You locked it last night. Surely the police, if they came back to collect more evidence, aren’t that careless?”
Another shiver skittered up my spine. A cold, clammy shiver. But I couldn’t just leave Whiskey in there. He’d wreak havoc. Or if someone was in there, they’d wreak havoc on him.
Poking my head in the door, I let my eyes focus on the dark hallway before the storeroom. “Whiskey!” I whisper-yelled. “Get your butt out here now!”
He barked. Yes, he did. He had the nerve to bark, and it was a playful bark, which eased my concerns someone could be in the building. He was playing a fine game of hide-and-seek with me—we did it all the time. This just happened to be the wrong time, with a blizzard raging and a crime scene that shouldn’t be mussed.
Feeling more confident no one was inside due to Whiskey’s playfulness, I stepped over the threshold and pulled my phone from my jacket pocket when it vibrated. Trixie had sent me a text that read, “I think I figured out what Hank’s aunt meant after seeing her Facebook page. I don’t think Francie is Hank’s biological mother! Finish your walk and I’ll explain when you get back.”
Francie wasn’t Hank’s mother?
Holy cats! What did this mean?
“Stephania?” Win interrupted my thoughts as they whirled out of control.
“Sorry!” I said, holding up the phone. “Just got a text from Trixie, and I think we’re onto something. No time to explain. Let’s go get our dog.”
“Whiskey, boy—come on out!” Win called as I peered into the darkness.
“Whiskey?” I called, too, but this time he didn’t bark…and that worried me. “Maybe he’s hurt?”
That thought spurred a move I’d sorely regret.
Inching down the hall just past the storeroom, I squinted into the pitch-black space but I couldn’t see my beast anywhere. “Whiskey, where are you, buddy? Okay, I take it back, you can have pig knuckles for days, if you’ll just get out here!”
There was a sudden creak, and then the back door slammed shut, probably from the gusts of wind. As I tripped forward, stumbling to find my flashlight app, I glanced upward—and that was when I saw something rather rectangular in shape and shiny coming straight for me.
“Stephania, duck!” Win ordered with an urgency I couldn’t ignore, and I reacted, dropping to my knees and covering my head—only to find Whiskey on the floor, too, unmoving.
My hands instantly went for his muzzle, stroking it to see he was still breathing. But I didn’t have time to thank the universe when I found he was, before Win was yelling another order.
“Stephania, get out of the way!”
As large feet came thundering toward me, I dove through a doorway, onto the store’s floor, sliding on my belly and grateful I’d worn a nylon jacket, enabling me to skid forward with ease.
“Roll, Stephania, roll to your back and to the left!” Win bellowed, his voice laced with panic amidst the calm he always brought me when I was in a pickle like this.
“What’s going on?” I yelled, doing as I was told and rolling to my back and to the left, only to crash into a stack of boxes.
“Get to your feet, Stephania! Do it now! Hurry, Dove!”
I exploded upward, grateful for all those stupid, gut-busting crunches Win made me do to keep my core strong, but rather than land on my feet solidly, I wobbled.
Okay, so I didn’t stick the landing, and in not sticking the landing, it gave my unknown nemesis the opportunity to come at me full steam. I heard a grunt and then a scream, low and feral, and just as my assailant came at me, I caught a glimpse of their face by the streetlight shining in through the big picture window.
And you’ll never guess who it was. I mean, clearly, I didn’t guess who it was, so why should you have all the fun?
Know who it was?
Francie Levigne!