Witch Slapped (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 1) (23 page)

“Say that again?”

“I said—”

“Not you, Stevie. Hold on one second. I’m getting something…”

Leaning back against the sink, I took a sip of the most delicious coffee ever and waited.

Suddenly, Win’s warmth surrounded me again, only this time it came with a very different feeling. There were all sorts of emotions mingling with the gentle nudge I’d come to realize was Win’s way of comforting me.

I stood up straight, the hair at the nape of my neck standing on end. “Win? What’s going on?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s Madam Zoltar, Stevie.” His voice was thick, chock full of the usual richness, but richer, if that were possible.

“Did you tell her we did it, Win?” I asked, my own voice hitching.

“I did. She says thank you. Thank you for everything. Oh, she’s brilliantly clear now, Stevie. She sounds smashing.”

I smiled as a lone tear slipped from my eye. “Tell her I’ll check in on Liza from time to time, would you?”

“She asked if you’d do her a small favor,” he said, his words almost sounding choked.

“Anything,” I murmured.

“She has a message for Chester.”

That warmth I had come to find familiar heightened, as though someone had thrown a log on the fire, making it leap with a sudden burst of heat. This warmth encompassed not just my physical being, but settled deep within my soul, and words—words of gratitude and direction—popped into my brain as though MZ had dropped them in a mail slot.

And everything was clear—so clear.

“Tell her of course I will.” I couldn’t say anything more, words escaped me, and as I stroked Bel’s tiny head, I felt the link I’d once felt to the afterlife again. It was weak and thready, but it was still there briefly, before it evaporated and slipped away.

“She’s gone over,” Win whispered low.

I smiled and nodded as more tears fell down my face. “I know…”

And then both Win and I sighed a happy sigh—
together
.

* * * *

Two Weeks Later

I sat with Win on our newly installed front porch steps, enjoying the warmth of the sun on an unusually, unseasonably bright day in March, grateful my vision was still intact after the right hook I’d taken from Sal.

I’d been exonerated of all charges, especially since Forrest had heard Sal tell me he killed Madam Z. His statement to that effect was the final nail in Sal’s coffin and officially closed the case. Forrest was healing nicely, though he’d groused about the four stitches in his head while we shared a cup of that long-awaited coffee just yesterday.

I’d just come back from the doctor, who’d assured me my vision was still 20/20 and the fracture behind my eye was healing nicely. The sprain in my arm was almost one hundred percent, too.

I grabbed the bag from Target and pulled out a frame with a debonair man’s picture used for the insert. He had steely-blue eyes, hair the color of a starless Texas night and a chiseled jaw.

“New boyfriend?” Win asked.

“Nope. He’s you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s you. I’m tired of talking to the air, Win, and seeing as you won’t tell me anything about you and what you look like, I’ll just use this. Every time I talk to you, I’ll break out this picture frame, and this way I’ll have a face to go with all that snippy British sophistication.”

He laughed in my ear. “I’m not snippy.”

I held up the black frame with crisp edges, turning it around against the sun. “He’s cute, don’t you think? Very spy-like.”

Win scoffed. “I look nothing like that. Nothing.”

I clucked my tongue. “That’s too bad. He’s pretty cute. So show me a picture of what you really look like and let
me
decide if you look like him.”

“I told you, all in due time, Stevie.”

Yeah. He’d said that about how he was able to communicate with me, too.
All in due time, Stevie. When the time is right, Stevie.

Truthfully, I didn’t really mind him not sharing his past. Sure, I was endlessly curious about how he’d died and what he looked like, but I could wait because I liked him. He made me laugh. We’d spent a lot of time together while I recuperated, and between him and Belfry, they’d helped me begin to shape this new life of mine.

I didn’t want to rock that boat just yet, so I’d let it rest. I hadn’t scoured the Internet for information about him or the prior owner of the house out of respect.

For the immediate future, I was learning things about myself I never knew. I’d begun to take a yoga class or two when realizing how out of shape I was after my encounter with Sal, taking it slow because of my sprained arm.

I took long walks by the shores of the Sound. I sat and watched the waves from my bedroom window almost every day now. I spent my nights watching Netflix or scouring the Internet for items Win wanted for the house while Belfry gave us his opinion about them whether we wanted it or not.

When everyone in town found out what happened with Sal, as easily as they’d scorned me for allegedly killing one of their own, the flip side of it was, they’d welcomed me back into the fold with open arms. Casseroles and apologies were what Ebenezer Falls was all about, and I had plenty of the former in my shiny French-door chef’s refrigerator delivered just yesterday.

I’d been invited to several functions, bake sales, house parties, and any number of different celebrations once I recuperated, and I intended to start throwing myself back into the world again very soon.

For now, I was content to just breathe easier knowing Belfry and I had a place to hang our hats and I wasn’t going to die if I wasn’t a witch.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to hope someday, somehow, I’d find a way to rejoin my coven, but if this was my life for the moment, I’d take it.

Looking out over the wide expanse of what would eventually be the front lawn, but was now mostly mud, I smiled as Chester Sherwood waved to me from a horseshoe section he’d cordoned off with tomato plant sticks and string. He made his way to the front porch when he saw me, his stout body taking each step with forceful determination.

“He looks quite well, doesn’t he?” Win commented.

I nodded, pulling my knees to my chest and smiling fondly as Chester hiked up his signature red suspenders. “He looks great. I heard a rumor he was seeing Lavinia Stapleton, but she can’t seem to get him to commit to being her full-time boyfriend.”

“Maybe our message will help him let go?”

Smiling fondly, I bobbed my head. “I hope so.”

“Mornin’, Stevie!” Chester chirped, his eyes bright with the prospect of helping me design the front garden. “Ya look good, kiddo. Told ya that doc would fix ya right up.”

I grinned at him, tucking my hair behind my ears. “He did indeed. But forget me, how are
you
, Casanova? I hear you’ve been courting one Lavinia Stapleton.”

He blushed and tweaked my cheek with his calloused fingers. “She’s a fine old gal. Makes a helluva chicken casserole, too.”

I’d given my next words a lot of thought, about how I’d approach the subject of Violet, Chester’s deceased wife. I’d decided after his relationship with Madam Zoltar and his wish to believe in the afterlife because of his wife, he’d be okay with what I had to pass on.

“You know, Chester, I had a dream the other night. You know who was in it?”

“Better not be me. I’m too old for a pretty spry thing like you.”

Chuckling, I said, “If only I was forty years older, but you weren’t in the dream. Though, I think it had to do with you. Now, Madam Zoltar? She was in my dream. Clear as day, happy, smiling, wearing a really pretty caftan in teal blue with splashes of pink. Wanna know what she said to me in the dream? Because it was the funniest thing, and I’m not sure I understand it…”

Chester’s eyes showed interest when he nodded. “I sure like hearin’ she’s lookin’ well. What’d she say?”

I grabbed his hand and held it. “She said she wanted me to tell you that Violet is as lovely as you said she was, and maybe even prettier than you described. And then she said something I don’t understand. She said Violet told her to tell you, if she got to the lilac bush down by her father’s farm before you did, she’d wait for you.”

Chester took his white hat with the brown band around it off his head and held it at his heart, his eyes faraway. “
She really said that
?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Squeezing his hand, I nodded and smiled, swallowing hard so I wouldn’t burst into tears. “She did,” I whispered.

Chester visibly gulped, using his shoulder to wipe at his eyes. “Used to meet her down there when we were courtin’. It was our favorite spot, and it’s where I proposed. It was our little secret place…nobody knows about it but us two…” His voice hitched, thick with emotion.

And that was how I knew I’d done the right thing.

Hopping up, I hugged him hard and he hugged me back. Then he set me from him, his hands at my waist, and said, “You’re a good girl, Stevie. Don’t let anyone tell ya otherwise.”

“Told you I’d make you like me eventually,” I teased, dropping a kiss on his cheek before he wandered back down to the garden, a watery smile of wonder on his face.

Brushing the tears from my eyes with my thumb, I plopped back down on the steps and sighed.

“You’re a kind woman, Stevie Cartwright.”

“I bet you say that to all the people you’ve dumped in the middle of a murder.”

“Funny you should mention murder, because I have a question about that night with Sal. Do you think you’re up to it?”

I didn’t shrink from the subject of Sal at all; I wanted to face it head-on so I could rid myself of the terror he’d instilled in me. I wouldn’t let him haunt me. “I’m up for it.”

“Who do you suppose called him to tip him off about the change in my will? My suspicions lead me to wonder if it was someone from Paris?”

That was the one thing I still hadn’t come to terms with, but I had my suspicions, too. “I have a horrible feeling it was Adam Westfield’s wife, Ann. He might not be here on this plane, but he’s a powerful warlock, Win, with plenty of ways to reach out. Because he’s instilled such terror in her, if anyone could talk that woman into doing something like that, it’s him.”

“So powerful he could get a message to her to do something that awful?”

“Well, you’re talking to me right now, aren’t you? And I’m not even a witch anymore. If what you say is true, and this experiment you were so vague about is what helped you contact a mere mortal, it’s obviously possible. If Adam had even an inkling Sal would come after me, if he sensed evil in Sal and a way to utilize it, he’d do it just because he wants the rest of my days to suck butt. But that also means you need to watch
your
back, Win. If Adam was responsible for Sal, if he can reach out in death, he can certainly get to you in the afterlife.”

“I don’t like hearing this, Stevie. That he can manipulate people from beyond the grave in such a dire manner is reason for concern. As for me? I’d love to see him try.”

“We have no way to know for sure. Just keep your eyes and ears open and we’ll revisit if necessary. Okay?” If I lingered too long on the kind of reach Adam Westfield did or didn’t have, I’d never get out of bed again.

“Done.”

“Okay, let’s talk happier stuff. Like my visit to the doctor.”

Win’s laughter, warm and husky, echoed in my ear. “So what say the doctor? Are we fit as a fiddle again?”

Closing my eyes, I inhaled the scent of the Sound as the sun beat down on my head. “Well, we’re fit. The fiddle is questionable. My vision’s fine and the sprain in my arm from that crazy bungee jump I did from the rope on the scaffolding is all good, too. I’m healing well.”

“And how is your mental state, Stevie? How are you handling someone trying to kill you?”

I’ll admit, I’d had some rough nights since that one when Sal almost killed me, but if I woke in a cold sweat, Belfry was always there to soothe me. And all I had to do was call on Win, and he dropped the philandering he was always bragging he was doing on Plane Pick-Up, and talked me down.

All in all, I was mending in more ways than one ,and Win and I were forming a friendship I’d come to rely on…dare I say even enjoy? Unless he’s sticking his nose in swatches of paint and light fixtures. Then I wish for the old days when I could zap a pestering spirit off to another plane.

“I feel pretty good. You’ve been a big part of my healing. Thank you for that, Win.”

His warm aura surrounded me when he said, “Excellent. Then we begin spy-training camp tomorrow.”

I frowned. “Do I have to eat wheatgrass and raw eggs for breakfast to attend spy-training camp?”

“No. Nothing so extreme. Just some raw liver and pig’s feet smoothies. They make for a strong spy.”

I laughed at him, my giggle floating on the ocean breeze. “So how are
you
these days, International Man of Intrigue? I feel like everything’s been way too much about
me
lately, and I’ve forgotten to ask how you’re doing.”

“I’m right as rain.”

“So, listen, after I went to the doctor’s today, I did a little something.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t a trip to the new vintage clothing store you couldn’t quit nattering on about. You can afford to buy all those designer labels you so covet, Stevie—brand new, in fact.”

“Ah. But it’s not as much fun if there’s no hunt for your prey. No big rush at your coup. If I just buy whatever I wanted, there’d be no thrill.”

“I imagine someday I’ll find this trait of yours endearing. For now, tell me what you did? More shoes from Betsy Whoever for three bucks?”

I pulled a paper from my pocket and unfolded it, holding it up. “This is what I did after the doctor’s today.”

Win’s pause left me certain he was as stunned as I’d hoped he would be. I just hoped it was a happy stunned.

“
You bought Madam Zoltar’s?”

“Yep, lock, stock and crystal ball. I thought maybe, if you were game, I could be Madam Zoltar 2.0 or some variation, and we could help spirits the way I used to, with you as my conduit to the afterlife. This way, I’d be as legit as anyone can be without actually doing the communicating, and we’d both have a purpose—a reason to get up every day. I checked with Liza, to be sure it wouldn’t upset her, and she said she’d be thrilled to see the sign lit up again. I mean, that’s unless you’ve decided you want to cross over.”