Where There's A Witch, There's A Way (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 13) Read online

  Win held out his arm to me with a handsome smile. “Ready, soon-to-be Mrs. Fake Winningham?”

  I looped my arm through his and smiled up at him. “You bet, Mr. Cartwright.”

  Win’s laughter echoed around the backyard as we made our way to the kitchen to drop off our empty coffee cups and begin the chaotic madness of the tourist season.

  If only I’d known then how chaotic things would become, I might have gone upstairs, hopped back into bed, and pulled the covers over my head.

  Chapter 2

  “Did Bel seem like he wanted to get rid of us, or was that just me?” I asked Win as we parked his beloved Aston Martin next to the curb by the store and made our way to the front door of Madame Z’s.

  “Oh, Dove, stop looking for things that aren’t there. Belfry simply wants a day free from us. We have been home all winter long and he does treasure his space.”

  I stopped a moment to inhale the scent of the sea air before jamming the key in the lock of the door. “I’m desperate to solve a mystery is what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

  He chuckled as we pushed our way into Madame Z’s, the scent of sage and pear wafting to my nose. “I’m not saying that. I’m implying it. There’s a difference, Stephania. A distinct one. It’s been quite some time since you’ve been knickers deep in a crime. It only stands to reason you’re looking for monsters in the shadows.”

  Flapping my hand at him, I wandered past the long glass case where our register sat and headed toward the beaded curtain that partitioned off our reading room.

  “You always say that. I don’t need a crime scene to breathe, for goodness sake. Why does everyone seem to think I don’t have a purpose if I’m not being chased by a madman?”

  “Because you don’t, Dove.” Win grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, wrapping his arm around my waist with a smile. “And I say that with love in my heart. A mystery keeps your heart beating, makes your blood pump. It’s one of the things I love most about you. I thought we’d long since established this particular quirk of yours?”

  I laughed at him and gave him a quick kiss before extracting myself from his arms with reluctance. “I guess that’s true, but make no mistake, I don’t ever want to see anyone hurt. I only want to see justice served.”

  Win pulled his phone from his back pocket and nodded as he scrolled. “Of course that’s the case, Dove. I never thought any differently. Now, my schedule says we have only two appointments today. One in fifteen minutes and one after the lunch hour. Looks like a gentle reentry to our workday.”

  I nodded as I ran a quick feather duster over the table. “I did that on purpose. I realize you think you’re in tip-top shape, James Bond, but we’ve been on a long winter break and so far we haven’t broken you. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Win’s jaw twitched. That’s what happens when he’s annoyed, but fighting the urge to argue with me. He’s picking his battles and it’s adorable.

  However, no matter what he says, he still, even now, has moments where Balthazar’s body gives him trouble. I don’t know if it has to do with the merging of his soul and his brother’s husk, but they existed.

  And there was no way I’d compromise his health for a reading. For the first few months after he’d hopped into Balthazar’s body, I’d hardly slept for fear he’d relapse.

  Nowadays, I still sleep with one eye open, but I’ve mostly made my peace with the idea that nothing was impossible and Win’s reincarnation was always going to be something we had to monitor.

  “While I appreciate you looking out for my best interest, Stephania, I assure you, I’m quite well.”

  I stopped straightening our reading table and narrowed my eyes at him. “Oh no, mister, you don’t get to be Cranky McCrankerson because I’m being cautious about your health. You don’t have to like it, but you’d better get used to it after all we’ve been through. I’m never going to take your health for granted. Not ever. Now,” I said, pointing to the front of the store, “we have a bachelorette party coming in for individual readings and according to Myrna’s text—she’s one of the bartenders at the country club—they really tied one on last night. I want to mentally prepare for puke breath and grumpy bridesmaids. Don’t give me any guff. Your health isn’t open for discussion.”

  Win looked as though he might have a rebuttal, but I think the glint in my eyes told him I wasn’t to be toyed with today. I had first-day-back jitters as it was, and I didn’t want to have a disagreement that would only add stress to our plate.

  It was always best to approach readings and ghosts with a relaxed mind and heart.

  Though, I didn’t have to say anything else, the bachelorette party I’d mentioned was knocking at the door. Win excused himself and went to let them in and turn on our open sign.

  I unclenched my teeth and squared my shoulders in order to gear up for the party of four’s readings.

  But one thing was clear as I donned my Madam Z turban and slipped on my new gold and green caftan I’d nabbed at a vintage store in Oregon on one of our mini-trips—no way would I let anything come between Win and his health.

  Not even Win.

  A sullen brunette with suspicious eyes and a downturned mouth yawned as she looked at me from across the table, wearing a T-shirt and jeans and a freshly rolled-out-of-bed look.

  “So nothing, huh?” she asked, popping her purple gum and peeling it off her lips with her fingers.

  I shook my head with regret. “I’m sorry, Leslie, is it? I’m not getting anything from above about you.”

  And that was no surprise. This young woman was so surly, I’d bet even ghosts in the afterlife didn’t like her.

  She tapped the table with her chipped green-metallic-painted nail. “Yep, that’s me. They call me bridesmaid number three. And it figures. It’s all a bunch of garbage anyway.”

  Tammy Parker, the bride, reached over her bridesmaid’s arm and gripped Leslie’s hand, blowing her makeshift veil—made out of toilet paper—away from her face.

  “Oh stop, Les!” she chided in a sweet, little girl’s voice. “Are you ever going to get over seeing a number on a piece of paper? What’s a number anyway? Besides, I love you just as much as I love bridesmaid number two.”

  All the girls around the table giggled, but it was Tammy Parker’s best friend, Cleo Wallace, the matron of honor, a petite redhead with a sprinkling of freckles over her nose that made her look twelve rather that twenty-seven, who explained the bridesmaid’s number beef.

  Cleo sighed, her tired eyes red-rimmed when she addressed me. “Les’s nose is out of joint because she happened to see a list Tammy’s mother made for the wedding. Mrs. Parker couldn’t remember Leslie’s name because the rest of us grew up with Tammy and she didn’t, so she listed her as bridesmaid number three in accordance with her height, and no one has been able to pacify her since.”

  “We roomed in college together for four years,” Leslie dryly informed her, twisting her shiny dark hair around her index finger as she stared at them all with a dull gaze. “It’s not like she never met me, Tam.”

  Tammy rolled her eyes—eyes that didn’t look nearly as bleary as the rest. “She’s apologized a hundred times, Les. Let it go. It’s not funny anymore. You’re bordering on psychotic grudge and it’s ridiculous.”

  The fourth girl, Linda Prince, observant and soft-spoken, with enormous blue eyes and chestnut-brown hair, sucked in her cheeks. “Look who’s talking.”

  Er, this was growing uncomfortable. What was supposed to be a fun bridal outing as part of Tammy’s bridal shower/girls’ weekend was turning into some sort of subtext between the women I didn’t understand, nor do I think I was meant to, because they all looked at each other with hooded eyes.

  Except for Cleo, that is. She was busy fiddling on her phone. That meant it was time for us to rein in this reading and bring it back into focus.

  Whatever was happening between the women had nothing to do with us.

  I looked to Win, who was sitting a
cross from me, quietly assessing the women, when his eyes met mine and we locked gazes.

  Cocking my head, I noted Win sending me eye signals. Meaning, he heard something from the afterlife. Thank the goddesses.

  This reading couldn’t be over soon enough.

  He angled his gaze at Cleo momentarily, leaving me to wonder what I was missing, because I saw squat in the way of the afterlife.

  Trying to keep my face relaxed and placid, I cleared my throat. “So when’s the big day, Tammy?” I asked, keeping my voice light and interested.

  “This weekend,” she chirped, her eyes bright with excitement. “We’re having the ceremony in the gazebo across the way, by the water, and the reception is at the country club.”

  “Niiice,” I cooed my approval. “The Eb Falls Country Club is pretty swanky.”

  And it really was. I can remember as an elementary school student being there on a field trip and seeing a fellow classmate’s parents eating a steak for lunch, and it was one of the first times I can remember feeling the economic differences between myself and the people who could afford to have a country club membership.

  I guess at that point in my young life, I didn’t understand there was a difference until I saw them eating such an expensive item for lunch, of all things. Steak was a pricey ticket item when you typically ate Spaghetti-O’s from a can for dinner, and if it had the hot dogs in that goopy, thin sauce, you were livin’ high on the hog.

  To be able to afford a piece of fancy meat like that for lunch? In my underdeveloped mind, that meant you probably had an inground pool in your backyard and a butler named Jeeves who brought you bubbly pink drinks with Silly Straws and grilled cheese sammies on a bed of melted marshmallows.

  Tammy rolled her beautiful baby blue eyes in response to my statement, her sunshine-colored curls full and soft-looking, bobbing against her shoulders when she shrugged. “I guess the club’s nice enough. I wanted to have it in Seattle, but my parents insisted we have it here because this is where I grew up. We all did except for Leslie. She’s from Wisconsin. Anyway, I’m only getting married there because my parents insisted. It’s all so old money, you know?”

  “Only you would say that, Tammy McMoney,” Linda chided with a cluck of her tongue that almost sounded like disgust. “Count yourself among the lucky it’s any money at all. Your parents are paying for the whole shebang—and it’s a real shebang, too. How many people can say they’re having Yo-Yo Ma play the wedding march for their ceremony?”

  Oh, boy. Yo-Yo Ma? Win was going to have wedding reception envy.

  Tammy wrinkled her nose. “Don’t make me feel bad because you choose to live in some icky homeless shelter while you compost banana peels and bottle returns for cash, Ms. I’m So Green and Vegan. That’s on you. You come from plenty, just like me.”

  Linda looked outraged as she tucked her off-white sweater around her waist, her blue eyes going so wide, her eyelashes almost touched her eyebrows. “I don’t live at a homeless shelter, Tammy, and you know it! I manage one. I’m working with the community. You know, the people you call the unfortunates? The people who carry your luggage and clean your toilets? Those people? And I’m trying to do my part to save the planet by composting, you monster! If you and your kind weren’t so wasteful, the planet wouldn’t be in danger. We wouldn’t have global warming and pollution—”

  “Shut up!” Leslie yelped with a clap of her hands, her voice hoarse and sharp. “Could we just get this stupid psychic nonsense over and stop competing for gold at the Suffering Olympics? Ugh! You two are like getting my teeth pulled minus the anesthesia!”

  I think every one of us, despite Leslie’s prickly nature, wanted to kiss her smack on the lips for saying what we were all thinking.

  Both Linda and Tammy huffed, while Cleo sat mostly quiet, watching everyone.

  Regardless, we were venturing into territory I didn’t wish to venture.

  That thought prompted me to say, “First, I’m not a psychic. I see dead people. My fiancé hears them. There’s a distinct difference. Second, maybe we should reschedule for later in the week when everyone’s—”

  “Not hungover?” Leslie snarked. “Good luck with that. That’s all they’ve done is drink since we hooked up two days ago for this overpriced shindig.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Tammy retorted with a smug smile. “You were just as drunk as the rest of us, High and Mighty. Or don’t you remember the six scotch and sodas that had you hanging out of the sunroof of the limo, screaming ‘I’m king of the world!’?”

  “Both of you, knock it off!” Cleo surprised us all by slapping her hand against the table, her dark eyes flashing. “You’re taking up this nice lady’s time with your squabbling and it’s rude. Talk about entitled! And yes, I mean you, too, Linda! I don’t care about this rebellious stage of yours where you’ve decided living like a pauper is somehow more valiant than having a solid roof over your head and the occasional burger. I do know one thing for sure—being a vegan has made you mean! Now quit, and if you don’t want a reading, sit there and keep your mouths shut, because I do and I paid good money to have one!”

  Tammy and Linda looked positively livid for a moment, while Leslie shrank back in her chair. Then out of nowhere, Tammy gave everyone a pleasant smile, folding her hands in front of her on the table, her enormous diamond engagement ring flashing under the gleam of the battery-operated candles.

  “You’re absolutely right, Cleo. We’re being incredibly rude. I’m sorry, Madame Zoltar. Please continue.”

  Good Hannah, this felt like a reading for a bunch of high school girls. I might need whatever alcohol they’d been slinging back last night just to get me through this, and it was only mid-morning. I wanted this one in the bag so we could at least grab some caffeine to help me manage the rest of the day.

  However, I inhaled a long, deep breath, one I didn’t bother to hide, and plastered a smile on my face. “All right then. Let’s do this. Who’s up next?”

  “You go, Cleo,” Tammy encouraged with a nudge and a wink. “Believe me, I can wait to see if cranky old Aunt Mildred is watching over me. You deserve to talk to your nana.”

  “Okay,” she said rather meekly, her eyes darting from one girl to the next before they fell on me. “I brought something personal for the person I want to contact, just like you told me to. It’s my nana Concetta’s bracelet she left me.”

  Holding up her wrist, Cleo showed me a charm bracelet she wore. It gleamed under the dim lights of the room in silver and gold with a bunch of tiny mementos hanging from the links. She unclasped the bracelet and handed it to me with a sad smile.

  “Were you close to your nana?” I asked softly, reaching for her hand.

  Cleo smiled wider, clearly the memory of their relationship a happy one. “We were really close. She was my dad’s mother. She lived with us for most of my life. She died…” She swallowed a gulp, her voice hitching. “Nana died about six months ago. I miss her so much…”

  The sadness in Cleo’s voice made my heart soften and constrict, making me forget about the chaotic vibe these women brought to the store.

  I squeezed her hand to reassure her everything would be all right and took the bracelet, getting a close-up glimpse of the charms before I set it next to me.

  “Then let’s see if we can talk to her. Shall I refer to her as Nana Concetta?”

  Cleo smiled and nodded her burnt-copper head. “I bet she’d love that.”

  Closing my eyes, I did what I always do—hope for the best, expect the worst. Every reading is a crapshoot, of course. Most come off just fine, but there are always times when things go awry.

  Staying focused, I popped my eyes back open and cocked my head. “Nana Concetta, are you here with us? Your granddaughter, Cleo, wants to talk to you. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

  We all sat for a moment, the room filled with expectation and the holding of much breath.

  But there was nothing. The flames on the fake candles wavered a little. However, the ro
om remained silent but for Leslie’s sniffle.

  Crud.

  “Nana Concetta?” I called again, looking to Win, who I hoped was hearing something from the afterlife—because I sure wasn’t seeing anything.

  “Told you it was a scam,” Leslie groused.

  “Shhh!” Linda commanded, her eyes narrowing in Leslie’s direction.

  It was then Win coughed, catching Cleo’s attention when I’m sure he meant to grab mine. “Do you need a cough drop? I have some in my purse,” she offered sweetly as she began to reach for the bag she’d hung behind her chair.

  He smiled at her, and I noted both Linda and Tammy sighed breathy sighs. But I was used to that reaction. Win got that kind of attention wherever he went from all genders.

  “No, no. I’m quite fine, Miss Wallace. I assure you. Thank you, though. Now, shall we continue, ladies? Surely you have a million things to do for the upcoming festivities? We don’t want to keep you from your plans.”

  Tammy leaned over her friend Linda and gave Win a coy smile, patting his hand, letting her fingers drag across his skin. “How considerate. How many men do you know who would think about all it takes to plan a wedding? It’s exhausting. Aren’t you lucky to have such a present and thoughtful fiancé?”

  “He’s the most present ever,” I agreed through clenched teeth.

  Win’s eyes were smiling politely, but I knew my International Man of Mystery, and he was tense. His jaw clenched and that little vein in his forehead pulsed.

  Translation? He’d heard something.

  I crossed my fingers it was Nana Concetta so we could be done with these women and I could get a cappuccino and that lunch Win had promised.

  Cocking my head, I briefly sent him the signal with my eyes to tell us what he’d heard.

  Turning to Cleo, he asked, “Does Nana Concetta speak quite rapidly? Almost as though she’s speed reading?”

  Speed reading? What an odd description. What an odd question.