Quit Your Witchin' (15 page)

“
S
he’s dating a murderer? I’ll kill him!”

“We don’t know that, Win! He’s just a suspect at this point. Pipe down, already, and let me think, would you?”

“You think. I’m going to go rattle his cage,” he snapped.

“Win, so help me, if you frighten Liza and that boy before I’ve had the chance to really talk to him—”

“You’ll what? Call me petty names? Neener, neener, neener.”

“Bah. Quit talking child’s play.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. Even though I couldn’t see Win, I knew he had to be adorable, all overprotective and riled up like he was right now about Liza—someone who didn’t even know he existed. “Then what can you do to stop me from slamming his chiseled face into the nearest brick wall?”

“Oh, I think you know what I’ll do, Crispin Alistair.”

He gasped in outrage. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wanna lay bets? I’ll put in an order for Formica countertops in every single bathroom in Mayhem Manor. That crazy mottled mess of peachy-brown colors you almost fainted about when we looked at samples. I’ll do it. Just try me.”

“You’re a cruel opponent, Stevie Cartwright. You take cheap shots. Today, I’m not your friend.”

“That’s okay by me. I’m always
your
friend, Fair-Weather Frank. You don’t have to be my friend, but you do have to let me be Liza’s, and there’s no way I’m going out there, both guns blazing, and accusing this kid of murdering Tito before we even know if he’s Tito’s son in the first place. Understood? One wrong move, and I call Enzo and turn your life into a living Formica hell.”

“Bloody hell, you’re a dirty fighter.”

I snickered into the fridge, where I tried to find the soda I’d offered to get for Carlito. “The dirtiest. Now simmer down, Spy Guy. Let me work my magic.”

“You mean the magic where everyone who has anything official or otherwise to do with this murder avoids you like you have the Bubonic Plague?”

I rolled my eyes hard, waving the can of soda in the air to make my point. “That’s not even a thing anymore and you know it. Nowadays it’s all number-and-letter viruses. H-1-N-4 or something. No one is as creative as they were back in the day. Now, stay out of my ear and let me poke around and get a feel for things. I’m pretty sure I won’t give anyone whooping cough.”

I limped my way back out to the front of the store where Carlito and Liza chatted in hushed tones. Boy, they made such a pretty couple. I sent up a silent prayer I wasn’t going to blow that to smithereens—or more importantly, Carlito wasn’t going to trash it by turning out to be a killer.

I handed the soda over to Carlito and smiled. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, Miss Cartwright,” he said, his pretty-boy face returning my smile.

“Just Stevie, please. So tell me about you, Carlito. Your plates say you’re from Idaho. What brings you all the way to Ebenezer Falls?”

“Carlito is transferring here to the University of Washington,” Liza said with a breathy sigh, two bright spots on her cheeks.

I tilted my head as though I were listening intently. “What made you decide to come to Washington? Do you have family here?”

I must have been watching him closely, maybe too closely, because his eyes went to just above my head, but not necessarily in guilt. Then he shrugged his defensive linebacker shoulders and shook off whatever was bothering him.

“I’ve just always liked the idea of the Pacific Northwest. I love the mountains and the ocean being so close by. I ski sometimes. So when a program opened up at the university, I jumped on the chance to come here for next year’s term. Now I’m glad I did.” He looked at Liza, his velvety eyes dark with admiration.

He might not look guilty, but he didn’t answer my question about family either.

“He’s lying,” Win all but shouted in my ear.

“So where are you staying?”

Taking a sip of the soda I’d given him, he made a face. “The hotel out by the cliffs. Not exactly the cleanest place ever, but it works for now until I can find housing.”

My old stomping grounds. It was where Bel and I had stayed when we first came to town, before Win had shown up and turned my nightmares around. “I know it well. Stayed there when I first came to town. Crappy microwave, bed feels like it was made with rocks.”

Carlito barked a laugh, and it was then I could see the appeal he held for Liza. He really was quite good looking and came across as warm and open. “Yeah. That’s the one. But it won’t be for long. As soon as I find some work, I’ll find something better. Nothing comes without sacrifice.”

As he leaned forward and his light jacket billowed outward, I noticed an inhaler tucked into the pocket of his denim shirt.

Hadn’t I seen an inhaler not so long ago? Where… When?

The day Tito died. That’s when. Someone had been climbing through the hole in the fence right behind Tito’s truck and they’d had an inhaler in their back pocket.

So I pointed to the pocket of his shirt. “Asthma?”

His lean fingers went directly to his pocket. “Totally forgot I had that in there. It’s not mine. It belongs to someone else. Found it in my car the other day and I don’t want to waste it. It can be expensive. I don’t have asthma, but I do have allergies. Got that from my mom. The pollen here is killing me.”

The inhaler belonged to someone else? Who?

“I smell fish, Stevie,” Win warned.

I tried to remember if Tito suffered from allergies or asthma.

As if on cue, Carlito sneezed into the arm of his jacket.

Liza ran a quick hand over his bulky biceps. “I have just the thing for that. Stevie? Do you mind if I take Carlito to the back and make him some tea? I got it the other day at The Spice Shop next door. Desi, the owner, says it’s amazing.”

I forced myself to smile at them. I didn’t get the sense Carlito was some kind of cold-blooded killer, and usually my vibes were on point, but because I no longer had my powers I worried I might be off. Could he have been the person I saw leaving the crime scene?

I just wasn’t feeling it. Not even a little. So I waved them off. “Sure. You two go ahead. I have to head out and handle some stuff at the house.”

Carlito’s gorgeous face brightened. “You own that big house just before the motel, right?”

How did he know where I lived? I was on red alert again.

He answered the question before I had the time to ask it. “Liza told me all about it, so I made a point of checking it out when I drove home the other night. It’s gonna be on fleek when it’s done.”

I exhaled a relieved breath. There I went, seeing shadows that didn’t exist. “I do own that beast of a house. I call her Mayhem Manor, and she’s nothing but trouble. But I love her. And I don’t know what ‘on fleek’ means, but I hope it means ‘didn’t successfully suck the life out of me’.”

He smiled. His white teeth flashing brilliantly, perfect and clean. Again, I saw the appeal he held for Liza. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Miss Cartwright, er, Stevie. Thanks for the soda.”

“You bet.” I turned and gave Liza a squeeze. “So proud of you, kiddo. I’ll check in later tonight before you close up. Call me if you have any problems.”

She hugged me back and waved me off. “Will do. Now take your donut and go home and rest. Or at least
try
to rest. Aren’t they starting the driveway soon?”

I threw the donut around my neck. “Yes! Thank Pete. One more day of rappelling up the side of that mini-mountain and my thighs are going to leave me for another body.”

She laughed as I waved goodbye and headed for the door, pulling it open to inhale the scent of oncoming rain.

And Bianca’s perfume.

Ugh.

“
You
,” she said, pointing at me with her perfectly manicured index finger and rolling her eyes at the donut around my neck.

As the late-afternoon sun waned, slanting over her perfect features, I tried to hate her once more but came up dry. Whatever Bianca was so angry at, be it her father’s infidelities or just everyone in general, I wanted to excuse her for behaving so poorly. She was so clearly hurting, and I was going to try to take that into consideration before I allowed my temper to get the better of me.

But this finger-under-my-nose thing? Had to go or I was going to bite it right off.

“Afternoon, Bianca. How are you?” I asked as pleasantly as I possibly could, clutching my donut and taking a step back.

“Still not over what you did the other night. You owe me an explanation.”

Okay, pleasantries officially at a screeching halt. “I owe you nothing. I tried to contact your father. Things just didn’t work out.”

She was having none of
that
explanation. Dropping her hands to her hips, her eyebrows formed a cross line. “How the hell did you know about my father’s affair? Who told you?”

Gripping the donut tighter, I forced myself to stay calm. “I didn’t know about your father’s affair, Bianca. I just repeated a word sent to me by—”

“Sent to you by what?” she bellowed in my face, flicking the donut with a sharp snap. “Your spirit guide? The kooky voices in that mixed-up head of yours?”

Man, my butt sure ached at this point. Not only that, she was burning the britches right off ’em and I’d had enough. I was tired, sore and well past annoyed.

Pulling the donut from around my neck, I hurled it to the ground as though I were throwing down some kind of metaphoric gauntlet between us and narrowed my eyes. “Okay, so here’s the score, Bianca. Obviously nothing I say is going to make you believe I can communicate with the dead. I don’t have a single ounce of energy in me to prove you wrong, because I don’t care if you believe or you don’t. The words ‘affair’ and ‘pig’ were bandied about in Spanish from someone I consider a reliable afterlife source. I agreed to meet with you so you could give your mother what she needed—or, in plainer terms, get her off your back. Which is exactly how that entire phone call with you sounded. Like you just wanted her to shut up and quit carrying on because your father was dead.

“So I’m going to say this one last time and then you’re going to move your swishy butt right out of my way so I can get to my car and go home. I know
nothing
about anything other than what was relayed to me that night. Like it or suck it. Now, please move.”

But Bianca didn’t budge. Not an inch. Instead, she moved in closer, bringing her angry eyes in line with mine. “I’m warning you, stay out of our business, Ghost Lady. I don’t know how you know what you know, but you’d better keep your nose on your face and out of our lives.”

“Did she just threaten you?”

“
Did you just threaten me
?” I asked, mirroring Win’s question. “You came to
me
, Bianca. Not the other way around. You
brought
me your business, lady, but you’d better never do it again.”

“Bianca!” someone barked from a dark blue car parked just across the street, catching my attention.

Turning from me, she held up a finger with a snarl, her long dark hair flying in the breeze. “Gimme a minute!”

Pulling my sunglasses from my head, I covered my eyes. “Your boyfriend’s calling. Better get a move on before you have to dig your broom out of storage to get you home.”

Her gorgeous white teeth clenched together momentarily before she spat, “I’ve heard all about you and how nosy you are. So you’d better watch yourself, because if I—”

The horn from the dark blue car blared before the driver yelled again, “Bianca—let’s roll!”

Bianca chose to listen to her impatient boyfriend this time, giving me the death glare before she stomped off the curb, her red heels clacking on the pavement as she headed for the car.

I couldn’t get even a glimpse of the man behind the wheel, but I sure caught a look at his license plate.

It read—Idaho.

“
F
ind anything?” Win asked, hovering in my ear as we sat in the kitchen after getting back from my encounter with Bianca.

I clicked my laptop shut and sighed. “Not a thing. It’s a rental.” I was referring to the plate on the car Bianca had driven away in.

The good news? I now had Internet as of late this afternoon. The bad? It was leading me nowhere, even after Win had helped me hack into a site where I simply typed in the plate number and voila, access to whomever owned the car.

“And nothing other than Carlito’s Facebook and his bio from the University of Idaho?”

“Did you think we’d find he had a website advertising he’s a killer?”

“Don’t be daft. I was just hoping we’d find something more than the sunshine-filled poppy field of a life he seems to have led.”

“He’s only twenty-two, Win. Give him time to rack up his killer points. Then he can beef up his portfolio with pictures of crushed beer cans at his feet while he holds up his kill for the camera.”

But Win wasn’t paying attention to me. He was still stuck on the fact that while Carlito made sense, his vibe was all wrong. “I was so sure…”

My head bounced to Win’s words. “I was, too. He did avoid the question of family here, and his mother and father are from Idaho.”

Esperanza and Miguel Valasquez were indeed from Idaho. Carlito had several pictures of himself with his parents on his Facebook page.

“Also, the inhaler he had. Carlito said he found it in his car and it was a friend’s. I meant to mention, I saw someone leave the food truck court the day Tito was murdered. You know, through that hole in the fence behind all the trucks? I saw someone with an inhaler in their back pocket. I didn’t think much of it at the time because the kids are always using that as a shortcut to avoid having to walk all the way around from the gas station behind the food court.”

“How could you forget something so important? Surely that points to Carlito?”

“It just escaped me in the heat of the moment, I guess. I was so intent on looking inside the truck…”

“Spy 101, Stevie. I’ve taught you better. Everything is suspect when you’re in the middle of a crime scene.”

Repositioning myself on the donut, I sighed. “You’re right. I blew it.”

“Did you see Carlito after you got booted from snooping around the truck by Officer Nelson?”

“Nope. By then almost everyone had dispersed and the truck owners had closed up shop.”