Chapter 10
“Unhand Stevie Cartwright or I’ll slice your head off!” Coop hollered seconds before we all screamed (my favorite ghosts included) in unison.
“No, Coop, noooo!”
Just as she was about to take a swing at my attacker, the long, thing blade arcing in the air with a whizzing sound, Trixie was right behind her, grabbing at her arm. “Coop! No!”
But Trixie’s action gave the bad guy exactly the millisecond he needed to push off me, hop to his feet and run the ten or so feet to the back door. It slammed after him, leaving a cold burst of air in his departure.
And I was ready and willing to go after him as I rolled to my side and leveraged off the floor with my hands.
But Coop put firm fingers like a vise grip on my shoulder to stop me. “No, Stevie. You’re bleeding.” She used a finger to wipe at my forehead, her eyes concerned.
I must have klunked heads with my attacker, though I don’t remember it, but it could mean he had a knot on his head, too. That would surely help in identifying him.
If it was a him, that is.
“Anyone get a look at him? Or if it was a male at all?” I asked, swiping at my head.
“I follow for a little bit, but you know Arkady Bagrov can only go so far without you. I only can go to alley. Also, it was too dark, my malutka. I could not see a tree in the park,” Arkady complained. “Did you see, Zero?”
“The forest for the trees, Arkady,” I corrected, wincing at the throb in my head.
“No, mate. It all happened so fast and I was too concerned for Stephania’s well being to attempt to follow. But Stephania, I urge you to summon as much of the experience in your mind as you can. Sight, smell, sound.”
“Oh, Stevie!” Trixie cried out, pulling her scarf off to place it at my head to staunch the bleeding. “Coop, get some ice, please.”
As Coop stormed off, Trixie pushed the hair from my eyes, peering at me while I tied the scarf around my head like a bandana. “Are you okay?”
I blew out a breath, rolling my head on my neck. “Oh, I’m fine. Believe me, I’ve been through far worse. This is nothing compared to a broken butt.”
Trixie fought a giggle, her gentle hands moving over my scalp to check for further injuries. “You broke your butt?”
“Long story. Someday I’ll tell you all about it. Forget that and my head. We need to figure out what whoever that was wanted in the storage room. Must be pretty important. I wonder if they were hiding in there the whole time we were out here or came in after. So can you think of anything?”
Trixie shook her head, straightening her cap as she stooped to grab my phone, which thankfully hadn’t cracked. “We don’t have anything important in there, Stevie. We don’t own anything worth much more than a few dollars except the tattoo equipment.”
As I shone the light on my phone into the room, I noticed the police tape was broken, so I took a step inside.
But Trixie put her hand on my arm. “Do you think you should do that, Stevie?”
“I don’t think I should. I know I should. Listen, whoever that was had already broken the crime scene tape. It’s not going to kill me to look around.”
“But what about DNA and all that stuff they convict you with? I might have missed a lot, living in a convent, but I’ve binge-watched enough Criminal Minds to know they can convict you with almost nothing. I don’t want you in trouble because of us, Stevie,” she insisted with a tremor in her voice.
Holding the phone higher, I began at the top of the shelves in the room and swept my way down, inching into the space with small steps. “My DNA, or likely my hair strands, whatever, are already in here because I was just in this room earlier today. Don’t fret, Trixie. I promise I’m just going to take a peek—” I stopped dead in my tracks and gaped at the floor.
Hank’s body was gone, of course, but in its place was something interesting—something in the exact spot where he fell. What the frack?
“Stevie?” Trixie called out. “What happened?”
I shined the light over the floor. “What was here, Trixie?” I pointed to a gaping hole in the floorboards where someone had clearly lifted them—with purpose, I might add—to search for something. It was about three feet long and a couple of feet wide. Easily big enough to hide a box or something substantial. But what? The question was, had the intruder done it or had the police?
Suddenly, Trixie was behind me, her stilted breathing in my ear. “Blessed Mother…” she muttered. “I…I don’t know. I didn’t even know the floorboards were loose, but I can assure you, we didn’t hide anything in there.”
“Stephania, take a picture. You need to hightail it out of here. Who knows if someone heard all that ruckus and called the police?”
Win was right—again. I snapped several photos, looking around the removed floorboards with a critical eye before backing away, taking Trixie’s hand to guide her out of the room with me.
“We need to blow this Popsicle stand before we get caught. Get Livingston and Coop and your things and let’s get the heck out of here,” I instructed.
But Coop was already prepared, a Ziploc bag of ice in one hand, a suitcase in the other, and Livingston on her shoulder. Oh, and that sword. That long, shiny sword, tucked into the loop of the waistband of her jeans as though it had always been there.
I closed the door to the storage room, making sure everything was as the attacker had left it. As we made our way out of the back exit, careful to set the alarm, I wondered about Coop’s sword.
I wondered where she got it, why she had it, and if she’d ever killed anyone with it.
Then I wondered if I should wonder any of those things. Because all those questions had answers I was afraid to hear.
* * * *
I took a big bite of my slice of pizza, so grateful to be home in my warm kitchen with Whiskey at my feet, and Strike safely in his bed, downloading those pictures from my phone to my laptop.
My mind whirred with questions about who’d want to kill Hank Morrison, and if he’d been killed over what was in that floor or if the missing boards had nothing to do with this at all.
We mostly ate in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts and all of us starving after going the better part of the day without food. Coop was already on her fourth slice of pizza, making me sick with jealousy at her svelte form as she gobbled all those carbs with nary a care, while I’d have to do a hundred crunches at Win’s command just to eat up one slice worth of calories.
“How’s your head, Stevie?” Trixie asked, concern riddling her voice as she wiped her mouth and set her napkin on the table.
It only throbbed a little. My back hurt more than anything else after being plowed into the wall. Turned out it was just a smallish knot on my head. No big deal in light of what I’d suffered in the past. I’d almost forgotten about it as I put my hand to my head, the scarf still tied around my skull.
“Like I said, this is nothing. Believe that. I’m more concerned for you two. How are you both? It’s been a brutally long day for you.”
Trixie punctuated my statement by covering her yawn. “I’m fine, and ready to help you figure this out. Just tell me how I can, and I’m at your service. I don’t know much about Hank, other than he was a little money-hungry. But I don’t think he should be dead because of it.”
Coop placed her palm on her sword’s ruby-red handle, tilting it toward her as she took yet another slice of pizza. “I’m ready, too, Stevie Cartwright. What can I do to help? Do you want me to sniff out the bad man who knocked you down?”
Taking a swig of my water, I tilted my head in her direction and let her comment about sniffing out the “bad man” slide. “My, what a big sword you have there, Coop. Care to explain?”
She gave me that look again, the same one she gave me when I’d told her I was a medium. “I don’t understand.”
“Why do you have an instrument of death, Coop?”
“To protect myself from my enemies.”
Well, duh, Stevie. The answer’s so obvious. “You do know not everyone has a sword, don’t you? It’s not like a laptop or a phone, Coop. And most especially not everyone has a sword as deadly looking as that one. So what’s the story behind it?”
Her gaze was a thoughtful one as she tucked her hair behind her ears, but as she stroked the handle of her sword, her eyes became possessive. “I brought it with me when I escaped Hell. It’s mine and no one else can have it.”
Trixie reached out a hand to Coop, tapping her finger. “No one wants to take it from you, Coop. I promise. But you do remember what we talked about, don’t you? You can’t slice your enemies’ heads off here on Earth. It’s against the law. That’s also why I told you threatening isn’t allowed either.”
“But he was going to hurt Stevie. No one is allowed to hurt Stevie,” Coop defended, her answer straightforward and without malice.
I rose, stretching my arms to the ceiling, fighting a smile at this new alliance I’d cultivated without really trying. “So, new rule, Coop, okay? No slicing heads off of anyone. I realize whoever that was back at the store knocked me down, and I did get hurt, and I sure appreciate you looking out for me, but I don’t think he wanted to kill me—which means you can’t kill him, okay?”
She chomped on her pizza and nodded as though I’d made a reasonable enough request. “Okay. No killing. Also, incidentally, you say ‘no’ a lot. You’re just like Trixie.”
I giggled, unable to stop myself. “I’m just trying to protect you and keep you out of prison, which is probably what Trixie’s doing, too. I do realize you’re not used to…humans and our ways. And where was that thing, anyway? How did the police miss that weapon of sharp destruction?”
Now Coop grinned, and once more, it was as though the Heavens opened up and hurled all their glowing, mystical light upon her perfect face. “I hid it in the wall behind the bed. Trixie told me I couldn’t show it to anyone or I might get into trouble. I don’t want to get into trouble, but I don’t want to lose my sword either. So I hid it.”
I grinned at her, grabbing my paper plate to take to the trash, but not before I slipped Whiskey some leftover crust. “Just keep it hidden, please. We don’t need the police finding out you have one of those. It doesn’t look good for someone under suspicion of murder.”
“I did not kill Hank Morrison. I always admit when I kill someone. I’m not a liar,” Coop chirped.
I blanched as Trixie gathered her plate, too, stopping to give Livingston—who happily chomped on some Cheetos—a pat on his round head. It turned out, he was a bird after my own heart. According to the ladies, he didn’t eat what owls ate.
There’d be no mice or squirrels for him. In fact, the very idea made him positively squeamish. He was a dyed-in-the-wool junk-food junkie, just like me. After looking up owls on the Internet while we ate, I also discovered he was of the Great Horned variety.
Bel flew around the ceiling, buzzing his way to my shoulder, where he landed to snuggle into my hair, making Trixie ask, “So what’s a familiar, Stevie? Coop says it has something to do with witches.”
Win barked a laugh. “If Coop only knew.”
I dropped my plate into the garbage and turned to smile at her. “She’s right on the money. A familiar is a witch’s guide.”
Trixie gnawed on her lower lip. “So you’re a witch?” And then she chuckled nervously. “I can’t believe I’m asking such an outrageous question, but after what’s happened to us, and finding out about Coop’s origins, nothing seems outrageous anymore. But you don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not. I’d totally understand.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’m an ex-witch who lost her powers and was booted out of her coven through no fault of my own. When this is all done, and we’re sharing a nice spaghetti dinner to welcome you to Eb Falls with the people I plan to introduce you to, I’ll tell you all about it. For now, all you need to know is my powers are mostly gone. I’ve had blips here and there, but none in quite a while.”
Which made me incredibly sad. I’d tried not to get my hopes up when my powers made minor appearances, but since the last time, I’d fizzled out—and with that, I found myself working hard to be grateful for what I did have instead of moping.
Trixie gave me a light squeeze to my shoulder. “Oh, Stevie. I’m so sorry. We have a lot more in common than I thought, huh?”
“How so?”
“I was kicked out of my convent. I know I told you I left, but that’s not the truth. Through no fault of my own, though, and if we ever get to have that spaghetti dinner, I’ll tell you all about it. For now, let’s focus on clearing Coop’s name.”
Nodding, I remembered what Luis had said. “Names… We need to get Coop a last name, pronto. We also need to create an identity for her, and it needs to say she’s been off the grid or something. Maybe she grew up in a commune setting or something?”
Trixie’s sigh was forlorn as she rested her arms on our marble island and lay her head on them. “I don’t even know where to begin,” she groaned.
“Ah, but I do. Tell Trixie to worry not,” Win exclaimed. “We’ll have Coop all settled in the matter of an hour. Bel, my good man? Come, we have work to do!”
Bel buzzed off with Win, and I decided, now that my stomach was full of gooey cheese and pepperoni, and my buzz was long gone, we needed to strike while the iron was hot.
I patted her on the back before heading back to the kitchen table and my laptop. “Win says don’t worry. Now, c’mon. Let’s take a look at those pictures and see what we can find out, okay?”
The doorbell rang then.
Usually a cheerfully welcome sound, it now came across as ominous and worrisome. It was never a good sign when the doorbell rang at almost eleven o’clock at night.
Hopping up, I pointed at the ladies and whispered, “Take Livingston and hide! Don’t make a sound. The basement door is just around the corner before the dining room, go down there and stay put. Hurry!”
The women left with nary a peep, taking Livingston with them as I rushed to the door.
Looking at the security camera, I sighed.
Dana. Shoot. I’d forgotten all about our coffee date tonight. But why wouldn’t he just text me or call instead of coming all the way out here?
Pulling the door open, I plastered a smile on my face. “Officer Nelson! How delightful you should come all the way out here to check on little old me. If I were a thinking girl, I’d say you were behaving like a friend. Were you sad I missed our coffee date?”
He eyed me with his usual skepticism as the snow poured down in large flakes behind him and his rigid form. “I texted you about our coffee date and told you I couldn’t make it because I had to work late.”
Dang. Must’ve missed that in the process of having my head bashed in. “I forgot to check my phone. Rain check?”
“That’s not why I’m here, Miss Cartwright,” he replied, his tone dripping authority as he brushed droplets of moisture from his official police-issued jacket.
Of course it wasn’t. He only called me Miss Cartwright when he was on official police biz. Yet, I played innocent. “Then why are you here on such a dark and stormy night, Officer Rigid?”
“May I come in?”
I faked a yawn and shivered. “Well, it’s pretty late, and I’m just getting ready to go to bed. Can’t whatever it is that you need wait until tomorrow?”
Just then, Whiskey drove his nose beside my legs, happily sniffing Dana’s scent and wagging his tail with a fury. He loved Dana. Dana played ball with him and brought him the bones from his porterhouse steaks.
Dana reached down a hand with a smile and scruffed the top of Whiskey’s head. “Nothing tonight, buddy. But next time, I promise. Now tell your mistress I’d like to speak to her.”
Obviously, there was no getting out of this, so I swung the door open and stepped aside. “Fine, but you’d better make it fast, Officer. I have a new facial cream I’m dying to try.”
He took one long stride inside and began to make his way toward the kitchen without even asking. He spun around once he was standing near the island and pulled out a stool to sit down. Then he pointed to the scarf on my head with one eyebrow raised. “Why do you have a scarf around your head, Miss Cartwright?”
Boy, was I ever grateful I’d kept the dang thing on, or for sure he’d see my shiner. “Because it’s cold?”
He popped his lips. “That’s not the real answer, is it?”
“Oh, fine. I was pretending to be the Karate Kid. Wax on, wax off. Remember?” I made the motion with my hands while I stood on one foot, fighting a giggle.
“I remember. I just don’t believe you.”
Putting a hand on my hip, I made a face at him. “Always coming from a place of no, aren’t you, Officer? Listen, I’m a single woman who lives with a dog and a turkey. I’m just shy of crazy by a couple of cats and some knitting needles. I have to do something to amuse myself.”
“Miss Cartwright, where are Miss Lavender and Coop?” He gazed intently at me
Uh-oh. That was his I’m-really-serious face.
Tilting my head, I gave him my best confused look. “I have no idea who you mean.”
Now his eyes narrowed right at me, glinting under the kitchen lights in their fierceness. “Sure you do, Miss Cartwright. Remember the tattoo lady and her almost freakishly pretty friend? You know, the ladies you were with this morning when we found Hank Morrison murdered?”
Scratching my head, I doubled down on my confused look, set on taking it to the next level. “Freakishly pretty friend? Hmmm. I think I’d remember a freakishly pretty friend. Now, if she were just plain-old pretty, that’d be a whole other story altogether. And did you say her name was Coop? Like Coop Deville? Coopster? Coop-Coop-Coop-ba-doop—”
“Stevie!” he almost bellowed, his eyes flashing his anger.
I gave him a blank look. “What? You don’t like Salt-N-Pepa? I should’ve known. You’re probably more—”
“Cut it out!” he barked, then straightened his spine and took a breath. “Tell me where they are. Now. Please.”
So I shrugged my shoulders, remaining unruffled by his abruptness. “I have no idea.” Less is more. Win always told me that, and I was going to utilize his advice.
He sucked in his cheeks. “Really? Care to explain their car parked outside then?”
I gasped with mock astonishment. “Their car is in my driveway? The nerve of some people, parking wherever they want like I’m running some kind of parking lot! It’s unseemly, Officer Stick Up His Butt! Give them a ticket this instant!”
Dana’s face hardened and his jaw clenched, revealing that tic that always showed up to the party when he was becoming aggravated with my shenanigans. He looked over his shoulder at the table, still littered with pizza boxes and a stray Doritos bag.
“Are you really telling me they’re not here, Miss Cartwright?”
I gave him a coy smile, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So you, little ol’ you, ate all that food? Two pizzas and a bag of Doritos?”
“Are you calling me fat?”
His glittering hazel eyes narrowed again. “I’m doing no such thing.”
“Do you have any idea the kind of appetite one can work up when they’re pretending to be the Karate Kid? All that downward-facing dog really gets the endorphins flowing.”
“Downward-facing dog is yoga and has nothing to do with the Karate Kid,” he said, straight-faced, looking as though he were ready to explode, like when a lit match and an oil tanker collide.
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Picky-picky. Does it really matter how I worked up my appetite? Isn’t it sad enough that I stuffed all those meaningless calories into my face while my dog and my turkey looked on in pity? You have to pile on by body-shaming me, too? That’s so cruel, Dana Nelson. I can’t even believe you’re capable of such a thing.”
But he ignored me and refused to be knocked off the track of his line of questioning. “And the sword?”
Oh. That. I fought a wince and curtsied. “Sometimes I like to add some spice to my Karate Kid portrayals and I pretend I’m the Karate Kid—Ninja Warrior edition.”
“Stevie?” he said, cool as a cucumber.
“Oh, now I’m Stevie, but a second ago I was Miss Cartwright? Pick a lane, Officer Nelson.”
He drummed his fingers on the counter, clearly trying to keep his patience with me. We rode the line of police officer versus civilian and friends often. “Where are Miss Lavender and Coop?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know, anyway? What difference does it make where they are as long as they don’t leave town?”
He slipped off the stool and approached me, his eyes pinning mine. “Okay, here’s the score. I’m here on official police business, Stevie. Let’s quit playing around, please.”
My heart began to race. This wasn’t good news. Not good at all. “State your case, please.”
He ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek, his eyes growing more intense by the second. “I’m here to bring Coop in as a person of interest in the murder of Hank Morrison. The detectives have more questions for her. Now where are they? Or do you want to go to be hauled in for questioning, too?”