Witch Perfect (Witchless in Seattle Mysteries Book 11) Read online

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I was starved, Stephania, starved and in need of fuel so I might save the love of my life.”

  Snorting when I laughed, I flapped my hands at him and rolled my eyes. “Sure. Put it all on me and your heroism, 007. Anyway, I think I’d like to sit somewhere warm and have a delicious cup of soup.”

  “Dora’s, then? She has a lovely fireplace at the center of her establishment, a wonderful clam chowder, and she’s also one of my very favorite people in the garden club.”

  I hopped into the car, as did Win, and after he started the car and backed out of Kirkland’s driveway, he took my hand as we drove. “Shall we talk about the flogger?”

  Blanching, I tucked my purse under my free arm. “I’m not sure it’s pertinent here.”

  “I don’t know that it is either, Dove, but what if Wade was into a more diverse lifestyle than he shared with Kirkland? Certainly that’s something to consider? Everything is possible until it isn’t.” Then he looked skyward, a habit he’d picked up from me. “Arkady, old man, do you remember Mistress Milania, from the Czech Republic?”

  There was a small pause and beat of silence before Arkady spoke, and when I say he spoke, it sounded like it was with reluctance. “I do, Zero. Why are you asking about this today?”

  “Because we may have had a development. Did you see what Stephania found?”

  He cleared his throat and in my mind’s eye, I saw his happy, handsome face when he was hesitant. “I did.”

  “Mistress Milania had a flogger, did she not? A collection of them, if I’m not mistaken. Weren’t they found when that German spy was caught selling her secrets? What was his name again?”

  “Horst Wilhelm. What does this matter today?” It was clear Arkady was uncomfortable, and Win was enjoying teasing him.

  Win chuckled. “It doesn’t, old friend. I was simply recalling a fond memory—one I knew you’d remember fondly, too.”

  Arkady grumbled his discontent. “You are troublemaker, Zero!”

  My cheeks turned red, and I decided it was best I redirected this conversation back to Wade. “Okay, so let’s say Wade liked a less-than-vanilla approach to intimacy. Big deal. A flogger means what, in the scheme of him being murdered?”

  Win turned into town and paused, clearing thinking about what this could mean. “Let me preface this by simply saying in my experience, and it is vast, I’ve seen many things in my time as a spy. Some have involved a spy or two, like Horst, caught in risqué situations, if you will. In those situations, things like floggers were present. It’s a lifestyle for some.”

  “I know what they’re used for, Win. I mean, at first I didn’t know what it was, but when you told us, I recognized it. I’d just never seen one up close. I’m not terribly worldly, but I’m not exactly naïve, you know.”

  “And I would never suggest you were, but what I am saying is, maybe Wade had…” He cleared his throat. “Maybe Wade had, in his past, more adventurous experiences than with his current partner. What if someone from his adventurous past is involved in this? Someone who can explain the flogger. I’ve discovered there are those who are of the opinion they must hide their desires because they don’t meet with society’s norm. Maybe Wade didn’t tell Kirkland about it because he was afraid of being rejected.”

  My shoulders sagged. Okay. Good point. “That’s a fair question. So maybe Wade was into a lifestyle before they met each other, one that Kirkland didn’t know about. That means we have to dig deeper into Wade’s seemingly innocent past. But then again, maybe it really was part of a Halloween costume.”

  Win pulled up to Dora’s place, a cute little café with an etched glass basket of bread on its front window and a pretty white and mint green awning, and parked the car. “I get the impression you’d prefer that were the case.”

  Rolling my eyes, I tightened my scarf around my neck. “Not for my sake. For Kirkland’s. I’m all for whatever makes consenting adults happy as long as no one is harmed. But if one disapproves of an alternative lifestyle, and Kirkland is one of those people, he’ll only fret more if he knows there was another side to Wade’s life he didn’t know about. When you get married, you’re supposed to know everything about each other. Isn’t that always what the spouse of a murderer says? This isn’t the person I married?”

  Win gave a sage nod. “Fair enough, but here’s something else to consider. Do we think this has to anything do with that riding crop that appeared out of thin air last night?”

  I squinted my eyes and chewed on that a sec. “Do we know for sure that was a riding crop? Are you wondering if maybe it was a flogger? And the crop was just a symbol—a representation of the flogger?”

  “I’m saying it’s rather suspicious.”

  Pondering that for a moment, I considered the validity of the crop. “Maybe it was the only thing whoever that was holding it could find in the afterlife, and so they used it as a prop to represent the flogger so they could lead us to the real flogger? Are there floggers in the afterlife?”

  Win gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t know, Stephania, but it has to be a skilled ghost. You did once say moving objects from the afterlife was a skill born of practice, didn’t you? Maybe it wasn’t Wade at all, but someone else altogether?”

  I did say that, and it was true. If anyone knew that, Win did, because he’d tried moving things. Even Arkady, for all the time he’d been in the afterlife, was still trying to move things, without much luck. His motives were anything but pure, mind you. He wanted to scare some of his old colleagues because he thought it would be hilarious to see their shocked faces.

  But it was definitely anything but easy.

  My stomach rumbled in protest, filling the interior of the car with its gurgling. It had been a few hours since breakfast, and Win, since he’d come back with all his fancy cuisine, had my belly trained to riot if I didn’t eat three meals a day.

  So I shrugged. “Or maybe the crop has nothing to do with anything about Wade. I don’t know. I do know I’d better eat or I’m going to get hangry, and I can’t think when I’m hangry. C’mon. Let’s head in and grab a table and put some food in our stomachs. Maybe some clam chowder will help loosen up my brain.”

  As I got out of the car, I caught Chester toddling along the sidewalk, his red umbrella bobbing over his head. I ducked under the awning to Dora’s and wiggled my fingers at him.

  “There’s my girl!” he shouted with a cheerful wave. “Where ya been, kiddo?”

  I gave him a quick hug and a peck on his rounded cheek, inhaling his welcome scent mingled with the aroma of the water behind us. “Oh, you know, here and there. The winter’s always slow, so not much is going on at Madam Z’s, but we’ll pick back up soon, I’m sure. How’s things with you?”

  He smiled his pudgy-cheeked smile and pinched my jaw. “Things are good, kiddo. Real good. I see you’re still as pretty as ever. Is the fancy guy with the fancier British accent still treatin’ ya right?” Chester gave Win the once-over with his laughably stern look.

  Win bowed to him and held out his hand to shake. “As always, sir, I treat her with the greatest respect and the undying admiration she deserves.”

  Chester slapped him on the back when he took Win’s hand and grinned, tucking his chin into his puffy brown coat. “That’s what I like to hear, young man.” Then he leaned into me as though he were about to tell me a secret. “So, ya heard about poor Kirkland’s husband, I s’pose?”

  My lips thinned as I rocked back on the heels of my shoes and tucked my hands into the pockets of my light trench coat. “I was there when they found Wade,” I admitted.

  Chester reached up and chucked me under the chin. “Aw, kiddo. I’m sorry. You okay?”

  A vision of Wade’s glassy eyes staring up at me flashed through my brain again, and I clenched my eyes shut for a moment before popping them open. “I’m fine, but it’s all very sad, isn’t it? They were just newly wed.”

  Chester clucked his tongue, his white hair lifting in the col
d breeze coming off the water. “That was some beautiful wedding they had, too. Such a shame, him bein’ so young. Man, I sure hope it doesn’t have to do with whoever he was arguing with the other day. Wade was really upset. Cryin’ and carryin’ on something fierce, poor kid.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. Maybe Wade did have secrets after all.

  Chapter 9

  Win and I looked at each other before I asked, “Wade was arguing with someone? When? Where?”

  Chester bobbed his head. “Yep-yep. Real heated, too. Happened last week sometime. Can’t remember the day to save my soul, but I do remember they were angry. Real angry. I heard ’em as soon as I walked in on ’em.”

  “Who is they, Chester, and where did this happen?” Win asked.

  Chester shook his head, running his hand over his chin. “Wish I knew, young man. I didn’t see who he was arguing with. Walked in on it when they were in the bathroom at the movie theater. Went to see that double feature last week, and Wade was yelling something about the club to someone in a stall.”

  I blinked. There was that word again. The club. Wade had used that word, too. “The club? Did he say what club?”

  Chester shrugged and closed his umbrella. “I didn’t stick around to find out. I hightailed it outta there pronto and minded my beeswax. But Wade looked pretty upset. Looked like he’d been crying pretty hard.”

  My stomach tightened. “Did you see who else was at the movie theater? Anyone you knew or recognized? The afternoon matinees are pretty dead, Chester. I imagine there weren’t a whole lot of people attending.”

  “Darn right, there wasn’t,” he scoffed with a cluck of his tongue. “That’s why I go at that time, and because they were playin’ the old movies—some classics. The Maltese Falcon and Some Like It Hot. Ya gotta love Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in drag, right? The kids these days don’t like that kinda movie, where there are no car chases and none of those big metal dinosaurs or whatever the heck they call ’em. So I knew nobody’d be there, and I was right. ’Cept for Wade and whoever was in the bathroom stall, anyhow.”

  As I was about to ask my next question, which happened to be identical to my Spy Guy’s, Win asked for me. Again. “Did you happen to hear the voice of the person in the stall, Chester?”

  “I didn’t. Just heard Wade cryin’ about some club. Felt bad for the kid. Thought about talkin’ to him, but he turned his back on me, and I figured he might not want an old guy like me meddlin’ in his particulars. So I left. Though…”

  When Chester paused, I grew hopeful, tightening my grip on my purse strap. “Though?”

  He held up a chubby finger and jabbed it in the air with a wink. “I did see the shoes the person in the stall was wearin’. Or one shoe, that is. Noticed it because it was unusual. It had a buckle on the side of it. A shiny copper buckle on a black shoe. It was pretty unique. Probably means nothin’, but it caught my eye.”

  My mind was racing, of course, wondering if there was video of the comings and goings of the patrons of the movie theater, and if I could get my hands on it.

  Which wasn’t likely. I was known for my snooping—and the trouble it could bring if you gave me a helping hand. No one wanted police trouble because of interfering old me.

  “Welp, kiddo, I gotta skedaddle. Got a dentist appointment I can’t miss or my dentures are gonna fall out on the floor the next time I eat. Can’t have that happen in front of the ladies,” he said on his hearty laugh.

  I gave him another hug and smiled. “Hey, let’s have lunch next week, okay? My treat. I haven’t seen you in at least two weeks, and I need a good gabfest with my favorite senior.”

  “You bet, young lady. Now, you get inside where it’s warm. I don’t want you to catch a cold.” Then he turned to Win. “You take good care of my girl or you’ll have me to contend with, Fancy Pants. I used to wrestle back in my day,” he teased.

  Win laughed and gave Chester a pat on the back. “Always, sir. You take care as well.”

  As Chester waved goodbye to us and chugged down the sidewalk, I blew out a breath, leaving behind a puff of condensation, and looked at Win.

  “I wonder if Henry Owens would let us see the video tape of the lobby at the theater?” I mused out loud.

  Henry Owens ran the Eb Falls movie theater. He was an older gentleman who pretty much hated everyone but the people of his generation, who, according to him, knew what real hard work, patriotism, and true gratitude meant.

  “I’m betting my Aston Martin, no,” Win responded on a chuckle, cupping my elbow to guide me into Dora’s.

  “You’re probably right, but after lunch and before we speak to the Endicotts—who texted to say we can drop by later this afternoon—I say we take a swing by and see if he can remember who else was in the theater for that double feature. Chester’s right. Not many people are interested in seeing older films, and the senior citizens’ group only goes to the movies monthly. I know for sure Chester would avoid that like the plague because he doesn’t think he’s a day over twenty-two.”

  “It certainly won’t hurt to try.”

  I paused as Win held the door open for me, the warmth from the interior of Dora’s rushing to greet me. “Speaking of, are we ever going to talk about where the Aston Martin is? Am I ever going to get to see it? Dare I ask, drive it?”

  Win grinned at me and waved me in. “Never,” he replied, making me giggle as we made our way inside Dora’s.

  Some hot soup and maybe even half a grilled brie sandwich, and I’d be right as rain.

  Fingers crossed.

  “Good Glastonbury. He’s a bucketful of poppies, isn’t he?”

  I gave Win a sly grin and chuckled. “Even you couldn’t get Henry to talk, Mr. Charisma. Do you think you’re slipping?” I asked as I leaned against the glass countertop where delicious buttery popcorn popped in a big machine.

  He frowned and drove his hands inside his black trousers. “I think even the sexiest woman alive would fail when it comes to Mr. Owen. He’s one tough nut. Surely tougher than any spy I’ve ever come across.”

  We’d tried to talk to him all right, and he’d told us under no uncertain terms would he give us the video from that day, no matter how British and dashing Win became. No way was he going to win over this durn Yankee.

  Those were Henry Owen’s words, my hand to God.

  He’d also informed us he wouldn’t let us see the sales receipts from that afternoon without a warrant, and while we were free to question the employee working that day, he personally hadn’t seen anyone because he’d been in his office completing paperwork. And then he’d dismissed us with a point of a finger to his office door and a stern face.

  I playfully punched Win in the arm before I planted a kiss on his cheek, taking a modicum of pleasure at his loss. “I told you he was difficult, but no. You were all, ‘Bah, Stephania! I’ve dealt with all manner of people from kings to paupers. There isn’t anyone I can’t shake down. Just you watch me work my magic,’” I said, using my best Win accent as I puffed out my chest.

  Win grated a sigh and gave me the look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Dove?”

  I giggled. I kind of was. “For all the times I’ve had to literally beg, borrow and steal to get information for an investigation, I deserved to see you struggle instead of everything being handed to you on a silver platter while you’re fed grapes and fanned with palm fronds. I feel vindicated.”

  “No one’s ever fed me grapes, Stephania.”

  I booped his nose with my index finger. “Isn’t it you going out for a drink with my friend after we both confessed our supernatural sins, while he continues to ignore my very existence?”

  “I daresay, that isn’t the same as being fed grapes.”

  Grinning, I winked. “It was a metaphoric comparison.”

  “Grudge, grudge, grudge. Aren’t you the petty one today?”

  I bounced my head up and down with a grin. “I’m certainly not above pointing out a loss when one deserves pointing
out.”

  Win sighed, grabbing my hand to pull me over to the wall where life-size movie posters hung. “I thought we were in this together? Yet, I sense we’re in some sort of twisted competition I’m unaware of.”

  I wanted to enjoy the fact that we were solving a mystery together. I mean, how often had I wished that when he was in the afterlife and we were separated by the veil? Yet, now that he was here in the flesh, all I could do was revel in his failure? I’m not sure I totally understood what was going on.

  This was the love of my life. The man I wanted to spend forever with, and I was baiting him like a middle-schooler in a playground tussle. It had to stop.

  As I was about to try and explain all the conflicting feelings going on inside me, Serafina Jackson, fellow garden club member and our town coroner’s assistant, strolled into the theater over the red carpeting, past the lone employee taking tickets at the kiosk by the front door and heading for the snack counter.

  Now was my chance to get some preliminary answers on what had killed Wade. “Psst,” I whispered to Win. “Look who’s at the snack counter.”

  His eyes went to the snack counter, where popcorn popped and rows of candy bars lined the glass case under the registers. “Ah. Serafina. Lovely woman. Knows her way around a rhododendron like a skilled artisan.”

  I pulled him alongside of me in Serafina’s general direction. “And what else is she?”

  “A very lovely woman who brings a delicacy known as cream cheese banana bread to our meetings?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “She’s the town coroner’s assistant, silly! Let’s go see if we can get her to talk to us.” I pulled him the rest of the way across the lobby’s red carpeting and stopped short just as she was turning away from the counter, popcorn and soda in hand.

  We startled her at first, but when she laid eyes on Win, that changed. Then she was all smiles and fluttery lashes. “Win! How nice to see you. Are you and your friend catching the movie? I didn’t know you were a fan of Rock Hudson.”