Quit Your Witchin' (14 page)

Leaning on the edge of the reception desk, I bit the inside of my cheek. Not a chance in blazes I’d let Sandy see me with my broken butt. “The one and only. I’m in the height of renovations as we speak. The condos are really nice, but they don’t have seven bedrooms and an acre and a half of land. I like my space.”

So boom, Sandy McNally and your posh condo.

“I remember that well,” she remarked with a wink, and ran her left hand over the front of her mint-green pastel shirt.

A brilliant flash of light caught the diamond on her ring finger, which I suspect was what she wanted to happen and likely had practiced when no one was looking. I knew she wanted me to see her engagement ring, so I purposely ignored it.

Call me petty, but she was already in competitive mode, and the ache not only around my neck, but in my caboose just wasn’t up to it today.

But she wasn’t letting me off the hook. “Sooo, I’m engaged now. Nabbed myself a little sparkly-spark.” Holding up her hand, she stuck it under my nose, and it was really pretty. Big, ostentatious, a little loud. Just like Sandy.

I gave it a glance and smiled. “That’s great to hear. Many happy returns.”

“We’re so excited! Jonas and I can’t wait to tie the knot.” She paused a moment, her full peachy-colored lips pursing. “Speaking of knot-tying, I heard you were dating Forrest…”

And here we go. I shrugged, gritting my teeth. We weren’t officially dating. We’d just gotten together a time or two. But if everyone with man parts wasn’t in love with Sandy McNally, then it was her opinion something was decidedly wrong with the world.

“We’ve had coffee,” I offered in the most noncommittal way I could.

Sandy leaned over the reception desk, her eyes wide in secretive mode, and whispered, “Did you hear he was gay?”

Well, of course she soothed herself with the idea Forrest was gay. It made his lack of interest in her sting far less if she fooled herself into believing he didn’t like women.

But I nodded and whispered back, “You know, he told me he tells that to women he’s not interested in so they’ll stop calling him. But you never had to worry about that, right?”

“Oh, Stevie,” Win groaned in my ear.

Sandy’s spine went erect, her gaze glacial. “So what can I do for you, Stevie?”

“Direct her to the next available burning at the stake?” Win teased. “You’ve made her angry, Stevie. Watch your vinegar.”

Win was right. I was being petty. “I’d like to see Elias Little, please. I can’t believe he works for the paper now. I thought he’d go off and join the Philharmonic. He was such a great violinist.”

“Well, it’s like you said, things change. Who’d believe you’d be doing palm readings like some boardwalk fortune-teller for a living?”

I bristled, the back of my thigh beginning to ache. Obviously, Sandy was going to hold a grudge, but I had more important things to deal with. “Right? The world’s gone mad. Me talking to the afterlife. Who knew? Anyway, Elias? Is he in?”

She plunked down in her office chair as though I were dismissed. “I’m sorry, he’s gone for the day.”

I almost thought it was just as well, the way the whole bottom half of my body was throbbing, but I just knew I was on to something. “Do you mind if I leave him a message?”

“Of course not.” She shoved a sticky-note pad at me and went back to looking through wedding dresses on her computer.

“Stevie?”

“Hmmm?” I murmured, jotting down my name and phone number.

“Turn around, just outside at twelve o’clock. Look
now
.”

I turned around, maybe a little too fast because I had to grip the reception’s high desktop, and looked to twelve o’clock.

Would you look at that. The man of the hour.

Tito’s alleged son, getting into a beat-up old red Ford Fiesta.

I didn’t even bother to turn back around before I was heading to the door and yelling, “Great seeing you again, Sandy! Happy nuptials!”

“You’ll never catch him, Dove,” Win said.

I hobbled-ran down the sidewalk, my left leg stiff and unwilling to take the journey with me as I clumsily waved my arms at the red Fiesta. “Wait!”

But he was already pulling away, and I was obviously in no condition to chase after him.

“Fudge. Guess we’ll have to wait to talk to Eli and see if he knows anything. Did you happen to catch a plate number?” I asked Win.

“I caught the number and the state. He’s not from Washington. The plate read Idaho.”

“So Tito was a multistate kind of guy then? Sheesh. Poor Maggie. She must be so hurt.”

Win clucked his tongue. “Infidelity can be very painful.”

I began to limp toward my adorable car—a gift from Win—and wondered out loud, “You know about the kind of hurt infidelity brings?”

“Not personally, no.”

Of course Win knew nothing about infidelity. He was probably as hot as Daniel Craig with a body you could crack walnuts on. Who’d cheat on that?

“Do you, Stevie?”

Hah. Do I ever. Warren the Warlock, my ex-fiancé, cheated on me the day of my wedding and left me at the altar. I’d ridden a bull in the rodeo of infidelity just once, and that was plenty.

“Stevie could run the Cheater Hotline, she knows it so well,” Bel chirped. “Her deadbeat finance dipped his wicky-wick where it didn’t belong on the day they were gonna get married.”

I sighed as I slid in the car, my face going red, and not from the heat. From utter humiliation. I wasn’t sure I was ready for Win to know that personal detail.

“So you were engaged once then?” Win asked as I started the car.

“Yes. I was engaged.”

“To?”

“A man.”

“Well, I’m glad we sorted that out,” Win offered, his tone dry.

I put the air on full blast and pulled out of the paper’s parking lot, heading toward home. “Look, it was a couple of years ago. He was a jerk. Yes, like Bel said, he cheated on me the day of our wedding then stood me up at the altar. I’m over it. Long over it.”

“I shoulda plucked his crooked eyeballs out!” Belfry shouted.

“But you didn’t,” I soothed.

“Because you wouldn’t let me,” Bel protested. “You were all, ‘what good will being violent do?’ Oh, I dunno, if he has no eyeballs anymore, he can’t see chicks he wants to boff, maybe?”

I sputtered a laugh. It was good I could laugh about it now. Back then, there’d been no laughing. Just me and a bunch of wedding gifts in a pile of tears and my mother’s condemnation. Dita had not been happy—ironically, it was
me
she’d been unhappy with. She claimed I had to have done something wrong if I couldn’t keep my man interested.

We haven’t spoken since.

“I bet you were a beautiful bride, Stevie.”

Gripping the steering wheel, I made a face because I was just no good at accepting compliments. “I was a jilted one. But Warren moved in with the woman he cheated on me with, and then she stole all his money and his car.”

“There is justice,” Win murmured in my ear.

“So let’s get back to the problem at hand. We don’t have a name for the son yet, so he’s off the table until we can find him. Jacob’s a dead-end and in an orange jumpsuit right now, so even if he did know anything, he can’t help us, for the time being anyway. Anything from the afterlife? Any angry ghosts whisking you off to planes unknown?”

“It’s been quite pleasant here. I’ve asked around about that particularly
unpleasant
entity from the séance for Maggie, but no one seems to know what or whom I’m talking about. So no news from Plane Undecided. Though, we did get a new guy the other day.”

“Is he nice? Did you make friends?”

“He’s very nice, though a bit disoriented.”

“How’d he die?”

“A zombie killed him.”

My eyebrow rose. “Stop.”

“Swear it on the Aston Martin.”

“You mean the invisible one I haven’t seen?”

Win was always talking about his beloved Aston Martin, the one thing he didn’t leave to me along with all his money. The one and only clue to his former life. I often thought he kept the car and its whereabouts a secret because of his crazy idea he could find his way back to this plane. He actually believed there was a way.

“That very one. He was on one of those zombie runs that are so popular these days, tripped, fell and was trampled to death by the crowd. No one knew he was dead for hours.”

“How awful.”

“Terrible,” Win agreed. “Other than that, nothing else to report. So what’s left at this point?”

“The only thing left is talking to Maggie and the boys. As much as I want to help the Bustamantes, I’m afraid to approach something this sensitive.”

“Remember I said I had an idea? I’m still formulating and planning, but when I’ve put it all together, I’ll let you in on my thoughts about Maggie and her sons. Maybe we can help ease their burden until Tito’s murder is solved.”

Nodding, I turned onto Main Street in town, intending to head to the store and check in. Liza Martoni manned the gift shop area, with its small selection of postcards and T-shirts, and scheduled appointments for us when we didn’t have any readings. She was Madam Zoltar’s granddaughter, and nothing had pleased Win more than my agreeing to provide her with a generous salary and asking her to work for us.

She kept my head on straight and the fridge fully stocked with Pop-Tarts and coffee. Not to mention, she was a good kid and a hard worker and she’d refused to allow me to pay her. She’d said it was because I’d solved her grandmother’s murder.

She also was on to us—or me, specifically. Win and I thought we’d “secretly” pay her college tuition, enabling her to finish school and get her degree. But Liza figured I’d been the responsible party, and when she’d discovered her tuition was paid in full, she
really
refused to let us pay her a salary.

So, we’d opened an account in her name and deposited her paycheck in it every week, to give to her as a graduation present this coming May.

“Is it a good idea to go into the store today, Stevie? Maybe your bottom’s had enough for one day.”

Pulling into a slot by the curb, I shook Win off with the flap of my hand. “I’m fine. Plus, I want to check on Liza and see how she did on that final she was taking. Her results were due in today.”

Sliding out of the car, I grimaced. Pain meds were on my horizon, for sure.

I didn’t even make it to the door before Liza was pushing her way out of it, her pierced face full of concern. “Jeez, Stevie! Are you okay? You had me worried sick when I heard that creep Jacob attacked you. You know, if you’d have asked me, I could have told you he was bad news.” She pulled me into a light hug before ushering me into the store and planting me by the chair she’d placed next to the cash register.

Her pink hair gleamed under the lights of the store and matched her equally neon-pink hoodie. “Sit. I bought you a donut.”

Rubbing my still-full belly, I chuckled. “I couldn’t. I just ate a big late lunch courtesy of Carmella.”

“Not that kind. This kind.” She held up a round, soft-looking black cushion thing she’d pulled from behind the counter with a grin. “People use it for hemorrhoids, and after giving birth. But I figure it’ll help pillow your broken butt.”

Sighing, I shook my head. “Wow. Word travels fast, huh?”

Liza grinned. “Chester ran right over here when he heard, to see if you were okay. That’s how I found out. Now sit. I’ll make us some tea and we can catch up. I met a new boy, and I want to tell you all about him!”

“That’s my cue to hit the highway,” Win said. He thought of Liza as a sister (one he’d never meet, mind you) at this point, and he hated hearing about her “boy exploits”, as he called them—so he made himself scarce whenever we talked boys.

As I felt his aura evaporate from the room, I settled onto my donut. Which was like sitting on a dreamy cloud compared to the hard chair. “So tell me what’s new. Catch me up.”

Leaning on the counter, Liza tucked her fists under her chin. “You want school news first or boy news first?”

“School. You can have boyfriends coming out of your ears, but they won’t pay the rent. Well, they will, but then they want favors. Know what I mean? We buy our own lunches here,” I teased with a wink.

Pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket, she held it up with a shy smile. “A’s on my final exams.”

“All of them?” I squealed.

“Every last one,” Liza said, her voice full of pride and, most of all, happiness.

I grinned from ear to ear—despite my sore rump. “I’d jump up and kiss your pretty face, but you know, bad butt. I’m so proud of you, Liza! Your nana would be, too. You know she would.” Leaning over, I squeezed her hand.

Her eyes grew a bit watery. MZ hadn’t been gone for very long, but Liza was trying so hard to move forward. Just the way MZ had insisted so many of her clients do.

“I hope so,” she whispered.

“I
know
so. Now boys! Tell me about the boys. You said you met a new one. I could use some juicy gossip about boys.”

Liza’s face went from dark to light almost instantly. “Okay, so I was all in here, minding my business a couple of weeks ago while you were in Portland looking for…what was it again?”

I rolled my eyes, remembering that wild goose chase Win had sent me on. “Hinges, if you can believe it. They match the doors at the house. Very old, stupid expensive. So go on…”

“Anyway, this guy stopped in, looking for directions to a hotel—a cheap one, he said, and we got to chatting. You know, the typical stuff—school, jobs, whatever.”

Liza’s heart-shaped face said it all, she was infatuated. “So where did this boy come from? Hmm? You said he was looking for a hotel?”

The chimes on the door rang out, and if Liza’s face was bright before, now it was all doe-eyed and dreamy. “You can ask him yourself,” she said and smiled as footsteps approached. “Carlito Valasquez—meet my boss, Stevie Cartwright.”

As I fought the ache in my throat from swerving my head to get my first glimpse of the boy who made her smile so wide, I also had to fight a gasp.

The man of the hour had arrived.

The elusive Carlito, possibly Tito’s illegitimate son, had just strolled right into my store.