“Nope.” Agatha followed me through the thrift store, but I refused to glance in her direction. “Nope, nope, nopety-nope.”

“You can’t nope me out of your life, girl. You signed a contract. You agreed to be my assistant.” Agatha frowned at her hands. “And your first duty is to discover who murdered me so I can get my magic back and gain access to my powers.”

I paused with my handle on the shop door. “Your magic?” I raised my eyebrows. “Your powers?” The ghost nodded and I scrunched my face up. “Yeah, we’re done here.” I lifted my hand. “Ghosts? Kinda, maybe. Talking cats? Stretching it. But magical powers?” I twisted my key in the lock and yanked the door open. “I’m out.”

I let the door slam behind me as I pounded up the stairs into the apartment, but when I slipped inside, Agatha was already waiting for me. I gritted my teeth as she followed me into the dining room and watched me haul my bags across the floor. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s disappointed with how this has turned out, young lady. You’ve got your panties all in a bunch because you’re hard done by, but think how I must feel. I’ve signed all my worldly possessions over to a cowardly custard who lets slimy, good-for-nothing men control her life and then runs off like a lamb when they tell her they’ve had enough of her. Quitter.”

Her accusation struck me like a blade and I spun to face her. “You know nothing about me!” I clenched my fists. “And I’m not running anywhere. I’m staying here and I’m turning your store into a juice bar, and you can haunt it all day and all night for all I care. I’m not a quitter.”

“That’s the spirit, Cilla.” The ghost clapped her hands and called to the cats, “We’ll make a fine witch out of her yet, boys.”

“A witch?” I shouldered the door to the master bedroom open and flung my bags on the floor in an indignant pile. “Of course, how did I not see that coming? You’re a witch. A ghost witch. And you were murdered and now I need to be your witch apprentice and uncover the truth of the dastardly crime, am I right?” The old woman nodded and I gave a snort of disbelief. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, lady. Sorry, the last train to crazy town is ready to leave the station, but I’m not getting on it. You and the cats are going to have to make that little trip alone.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re lucky I don’t have my powers, girlie. I’d be very tempted to teach you some manners, wouldn’t I, boys?” In response to her question, the cats moved closer to Agatha’s feet. The ginger cat, Muffin, purred affectionately at the ghost while the tabby cat prowled in a full circle around me, pausing briefly to run his eyes over my body before returning to Agatha. The black cat just glared. Agatha sniffed, watching me out of the corner of her eye. “Who would have thought a young lady could be so cruel to a poor, defenseless murder victim?”

I opened my mouth to tell the ghost she was the furthest thing from a defenseless victim I’d ever met, but my retort was cut short by the sound of rapping on the door downstairs. I glared at Agatha as the banging increased in volume. “This conversation isn’t over,” I insisted as I yanked the door of the apartment open and trampled down the narrow staircase. Through the frosted glass, I could make out two figures; one tall and narrow, the other short and rounded. I frowned and opened the door a crack. “Can I help you?”

“Welcome to the neighborhood, dear.” I blinked as the aroma of spiced apples and warm pastry hit my nostrils and my eyes were immediately drawn to the golden crust on the apple pie being thrust through the gap between the door and my body. I took a step back as a plump figure pushed past me, pie first, and a pretty, round face beamed in my direction. “Dot Murphy, I own the bakery and coffee shop on the corner, Bewitching Bites.”

Before I could respond, a second body slid through the half-opened doorway and stood beside Dot in the cramped base of the stairwell. The newcomer was as straight and sharp as her companion was warm and soft, and she caught my hand in a cool, firm handshake before I had even gathered my wits enough to greet the women. My gaze traveled from her hand all the way up her long slim arm until it settled on the steel gray eyes examining me from under a blunt white fringe. The woman was strikingly beautiful, despite the lines of age that wreathed her eyes and the corners of her lips. Or perhaps because of them; hers was a face that had lived a long life and emerged triumphant. Her mouth curved ever so slightly at the corners as she addressed me. “Bianca D’Arcy. Welcome to Salem.”

Bianca D’Arcy. Dot Murphy. The names stirred a memory in the corners of my mind and I realized with a start that these were the two ladies Agatha had been hurling abuse at during her memorial service the day before. Bianca and Dot, the silver socialites of Salem, according to Tracy, the friendly vet. I released Bianca’s hand and straightened my cardigan, the same one I’d been wearing the day before. “Hi, I’m Price Jones. Thanks for the welcome; I really didn’t expect anyone to visit. Thank you.”

I reached for the apple pie, but Bianca nudged Dot, causing her to move onto the staircase before I could take it. Bianca smiled sweetly and gestured for Dot to continue walking. “Dot, go ahead and bring it upstairs. Put the coffee on, too, we won’t have Price making the refreshments on her first morning as a Salem resident.” My eyebrows peaked as I watched the two old ladies make their way toward the apartment as if it were their home instead of mine. Bianca glanced at me over her shoulder. “Close the door, dear. This old building is draughty enough to freeze my bones.”

Mouth slack, I eased the door shut and followed the ladies up the stairs and into the apartment. By the time I reached the kitchen, the smell of coffee brewing filled the air. The ginger cat padded softly across the linoleum floor and stared up at Dot with bright eyes as she bustled around the room, pulling out fine bone china from the presses and cutting the apple pie. The tabby cat pounced onto the windowsill and eyed the steaming dish, licking his lips, but the black cat remained unmoving in the doorway, his blue eyes narrowed and his back arched. I felt my own spine stiffen in solidarity with the surly feline; this was far more neighborly intervention than I liked before I’d made my morning smoothie. Dot smiled at me and waved toward the table, Agatha’s table—my table—as if it were her own. “Sit down, sweetheart. Coffee is nearly ready.”

Like an obedient child, I slid into one of the hard-backed chairs and rested my hands on the table. Bianca made her way around the living area slowly, her gray eyes examining every inch of the apartment like twin laser beams. I shifted awkwardly as she paused beside the half-empty tub of oatmeal in the sink with a curl of distaste on her narrow lips. “I dropped my breakfast this morning,” I said, by way of explanation for the concealed mess. “The cats startled me.”

“Those damn cats,” Bianca said. She rested her hip against the dresser and reached for the coffee Dot offered her—black, no sugar. “Disgusting creatures, I’ve no idea what Agatha saw in them. I told her a thousand times she needed to have them put down before they mauled her in her sleep. How could anyone trust cats that size? They’re bad enough when they’re tiny, but those three?” She jerked her head toward the living area where the cats had retreated, obviously as unimpressed with Bianca as she was with them, and spat, “They’re practically feral.”

Dot giggled nervously as she poured me a cup of coffee. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I only drank decaffeinated, but I held my hand out before she could fill the cup with fresh cream from the tub she had pulled from her large, straw purse. “No cream, thank you,” I insisted. “I’m vegan.”

“Vegan?” Dot echoed as she pushed the cup of black coffee in my direction. She glanced at Bianca. “Isn’t that wonderful, Bianca? This young lady is vegan.” Dot plonked herself into the chair at the far end of the table and spooned enough sugar to make a dentist cry into her coffee, topping it off with as much whipped cream as the cup could hold. “You must be so healthy, dear, all those vegetables and fruits. I wish I could eat a little more healthily, but I have such a sweet tooth.” She gestured to the wedge of pie and cream on her plate with a rueful smile. “Occupational hazard.”

“I understand, it smells delicious,” I said. “If I could find good vegan pastries, I’d never stop eating them, either.”

Dot’s face fell as she stared at the pie. She lowered her fork onto the table. “Oh, my goodness. You can’t eat the pie, there’s butter in the crust. I’m so sorry.” She pressed a plump hand to her cheek. “What kind of ninny brings a welcome gift that a person can’t eat?”

“Don’t be silly, it was a lovely gesture, you couldn’t have known I was vegan,” I reassured Dot.

“I should have brought something else as well. I should have checked first.” Dot turned to Bianca with a frown. “I told you we should have sent a calling card first, but you wouldn’t even leave it for a day. You had to get in here and poke your—”

“Dot.” Bianca’s voice had a warning edge as she interrupted her friend, and I dropped my gaze to stare into my cup. “You can bring Priscilla some vegan bread tomorrow, okay? Don’t lose your head over pie.”

I glanced at the taller woman in surprise. “You know my name?”

Dot’s cheeks colored and she shoveled a heaped forkful of pie and cream into her mouth, chewing rapidly. Bianca didn’t bat an eyelid. “It’s a small neighborhood, dear; you’ll find everyone on the street knows your name.” She stepped away from the dresser and perched herself elegantly on the edge of a chair. “We’re all quite curious about Agatha’s mysterious beneficiary.”

“You knew Agatha?” I asked, trying to avoid Bianca’s probing stare. The black cat edged closer to the table and I wondered whether the ghost would make an appearance or whether she was sulking about the old ladies’ presence. She hadn’t seemed particularly fond of them at her funeral service.

“Yes. Agatha, Dot, and I go way back…” Dot cut another generous slice of pie for herself as Bianca began to speak, smothering it with cream and sprinkling extra sugar over the top. “We met the summer after high school. Dot’s pop worked at Thomas Kay’s woolen mill and he got us work there. Agatha had just moved to Salem to live with her aunt and she started on the line the same day as we did.”

“She was smart,” Dot said, her fork hovering halfway to her lips. The ghost of a smile passed over her pretty, plump face. “Not book smart like Bianca, but funny and clever. Even Josh Riggins was afraid to say anything in front of her in case she’d make a fool out of him.” She glanced at Bianca. “He never called me butterball again after that first day when Agatha knocked him into the creek.”

Bianca chuckled and the cats lifted their heads in surprise at the rich, warm swell of laughter. “Josh Riggins,” she murmured. “I’d forgotten all about that little booger. She got him good.”

“So you were friends since then? That’s so nice, I don’t really see any of my old friends anymore,” I said. “Agatha was very lucky to have both of you in her life. You must have been a regular trio.” My lips curved as I imagined the three old women sitting together, bickering and laughing.

Like a clam, Dot’s lips sealed around her fork and she stared at the table. Bianca folded her arms and stiffened in the chair. “We had some good times, but life changed for all of us after that summer. We all left Salem to follow our paths and it’s not all that long ago that we all ended up back in Salem again.”

“And you reconnected then?” I prompted.

Dot reached for a third helping of pie, but Bianca blocked her hand and shot her a silent reprimand. The plump lady relinquished her hold on the pie and glanced at me with flushed cheeks. “Doll making,” she said. I raised my brow. “We started a little doll making club, just the three of us. We used to meet at the café after hours. I didn’t own the shop when we first started the club, I just worked in the kitchen, but Mr. Percy decided to sell up shop unexpectedly and I bought it from him then. It was Agatha who helped me come up with the name, you know? Bewitching Bites. Everybody loved it.”

The catch in the old woman’s voice tugged at my chest, and on instinct I leaned over and squeezed Dot’s hand gently. “I’m sorry for your loss.” I turned my head to address Bianca. “Both of you.”

The tall woman stiffened in her chair and clasped her long fingers together tightly. “I’m afraid your sympathy is a little misplaced, Miss Jones. Agatha fell out with Dot and me,and we’d barely seen her in the months leading up to her death. In fact, she’d become quite the recluse, rarely left the building, and the people she did see, claimed she’d become somewhat…fanciful in her thoughts. Delusional, even.” Bianca rested her elbows on the table and shrugged her shoulder. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you found a load of old scribblings full of her crazy ideas lying around. Frankie, her assistant, said she was declaring him of all sorts of nonsense before they parted ways. Of course, after the way everything ended between those two, it’s hard to know if he’s just talking out of spite.”

I eyed the cats warily out of the corner of my eye as Bianca finished speaking. Crazy Agatha falling out with her employees and pissing everybody off; sounded pretty accurate. And now I was talking to her ghost and hearing her cats speak. A knot tightened in my gut and I pushed my chair away from the table and started to clear the empty cups. “That’s really sad, the poor lady,” I said.

Dot sprang from her seat with surprising grace and started to pack everything away, clearly as anxious for the impromptu get-together to end as I was. Only Bianca remained seated. Her gray stare was trained on my face. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wasn’t suggesting that her will could be overturned because of her mental state before her death.” My hand froze halfway to the faucet over the sink and I met her eye. She smiled sweetly, the elegant curve of her lips doing nothing to soften the sharp predatory nature of her gaze. “I’m sure nobody thinks that for a second.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” I turned my back to the sink, feeling the edge of the counter dig into my lower back. “I had no idea she was going to leave anything to me. I’m not some sort of social predator if that’s what you think. Anyone who has a problem with Mrs. Bentley’s will is more than welcome to take it up with her attorney.”

Dot shook her head so hard that her white curls bounced around her cheeks. “Oh, no, that’s not what we think at all. We don’t want any of Agatha’s money. I’ve got my shop and Bianca’s the wealthiest woman in town, and even if we weren’t, we wouldn’t want a cent from Aggy’s estate, right, Bee?”

“Of course,” Bianca replied, stretching her legs as she stood from the table.

“Bianca was just trying to warn you, is all,” Dot insisted. She grabbed hold of her purse and patted my arm gently. “There are always people who think they deserve more than they get in a neighborhood like this. Begrudgers, gossips, disgruntled employees—don’t you pay any heed to them. If you need anything at all, you’re always welcome at Bewitching Bites.”

Dot swept out of the kitchen before I could say another word and the ginger cat padded softly after her, purring. I watched as she took a final glance around the room. She pressed her hand to her lips and closed her eyes for a moment, and then she was gone. Bianca nodded to me and I followed her to the door of the apartment, glancing around anxiously for any sign of the old witch. On the doorstep, she turned and faced me—eyes sharp, lips narrow—but she didn’t say another word before she marched down the street after her friend. I noted that Bianca hadn’t told me where to find her should I ever need her help.