Read Three Witches and a Killer: Wicked Western Witches Book 1 Online
Authors: Kendra Ashe
Three Witches and a Killer: Wicked Western Witches Book 1 (13 page)
But that’s what happens when you try and bake a cake at 400F while watching a particularly horrifying episode of Ghosts R Us.
As if waving away black smoke and dealing with an obnoxious alarm wasn’t enough, someone picked that moment to ring my doorbell, repeatedly.
“Hold your … horses!” I choked out the words between coughing and hacking on smoke. “I can only deal”
cough
, “with”
cough
, “one crisis at a time!”
After I opened the sliding glass door in my tiny living room, enough of the smoke cleared that I could actually breathe again.
The doorbell was still ringing.
“Jeez Louise,” I muttered under my breath.
It was probably Mrs. Bitchy Bosley from next door.
That old lady could find something to bitch about, no matter what. If someone left a pot of gold in front of her door, she’d complain about tripping over it as she was leaving her apartment.
I opened the door, fully expecting to come face to face with Mrs. Bosley’s wrath. Instead, I came face to face with a man in a light gray suit. He was wearing a pained expression, as well as a monkey on his back, literally.
“Are you Jasmine Sweeney?” he asked, choking on the smoke that was still in the process of escaping my apartment.
“Who’s asking?” I kept my face a complete blank.
I didn’t want to give away my identity before I’d verified that he wasn’t one of those church people trying to convince me the only way to save my soul was to be in church come Sunday morning.
Not that I had anything against church, I just thought Mrs. Bosley probably needed saving far more than I did.
“My name is Jake Milan. I am your grandfather’s attorney.”
I had no idea what grandfather he was talking about, but I’d go along. I did have one more important question, though.
“Who’s the monkey?”
Letting out a screech, the monkey swung onto the man’s other shoulder.
Mr. Milan cleared his throat, as if the delay would give me enough time that I might forget my question.
After a long hesitation, he finally answered, “His name is Edward Gray.”
Suddenly, the monkey smacked the lawyer in the forehead. “Sir Edward Gray! Don’t forget the Sir part!”
My mouth fell open and I took a step back.
Did that monkey just say something?
“Can we come in, Miss Sweeney?” Jake Milan asked, obviously very uncomfortable with standing outside.
I was torn. Should I let them in and get more info on the talking monkey or run for my phone and call 911?
Since I am naturally curious, I opted for letting them in.
“I’m sorry. Of course you can come in,” I told him, stepping aside so he and the monkey could invade my apartment.
One thing was sure. The monkey probably wouldn’t make the apartment smell any worse than it already did, thanks to my failed attempt at baking a cake.
“So what can I do for you?” I asked, nervously wiping my hands on my apron.
Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead in an old-fashioned granny apron that featured images of little red apples, but my BFF and I had a bet. She didn’t think I could bake a cake, even with a
Youtube
video to demonstrate the process.
Turns out, Lyndy had been partly right, but I’d almost succeeded. I would have had a killer cake by now if it hadn’t been for those TV paranormal investigators chasing ghosts through some asylum.
There was something about those dark - abandoned asylums that I found captivating, but they still scared the crap out of me.
“As I said, I’m your grandfather’s lawyer,” he started to explain.
I couldn’t help myself; I had to interrupt. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even know any of my grandparents. I was always told that my grandparents were dead.”
Mr. Milan shook his head and his glasses slipped down his nose.
“I’m afraid you were misled,” he informed me, pushing the silver wire frames back up until the round lenses were snug against his beady - hazel eyes.
How could I argue with that?
A stranger shows up at my door and tells me that my parents lied to me my entire life, and I’m just supposed to fall for it?
“It’s true. This one isn’t as bad as most bloodsucking lawyers,” Sir Edward chattered.
Jake Milan twisted his head around to give the monkey a nasty look. “Will you get off my shoulder?”
Sir Edward jumped to the floor and began exploring my apartment.
My head was still spinning from the fact that the monkey could talk, and apparently had it in him to argue with a lawyer.
I kind of liked the monkey already.
There would be time enough later to deal with the fact that the talking monkey could actually be a symptom of a psychotic break, but at the moment, I wanted to know more about this grandfather, unless Mr. Milan was also part of that psychotic break.
That was always a possibility.
Maybe trying to bake a cake had been too much for me?
“Nathan Blackwell is your paternal grandfather … and I regret to inform you that he passed away a few days ago.”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
What does one say when they get told that they have a grandfather and that he has just passed away?
“How could Blackwell be my paternal grandfather when my father’s name was Sweeney?”
Milan gave me a half smile. “It would seem that your father changed his last name. Nathan and his son did not get on too well.”
“How did he die?” I asked, still too stunned to react.
“He fell down the stairs at his mortuary. It was an accident, at least the Medical Examiner ruled Mr. Blackwell’s death as accidental.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh … you mean the undertaker Blackwell!”
Blackwell Rest
was one of the oldest mortuaries in town, and the family had been part of the community forever. For some reason, I hadn’t made the connection when I heard the name. Probably because I was still tripping on the whole grandfather - talking monkey thing.
Milan nodded. “That’s the one.”
“You don’t sound convinced his death was an accident?”
“It probably wasn’t,” he informed me as he was placing his briefcase on the little table next to the door.
“And you are here to find out if I had something to do with the death of a grandfather I didn’t even know I had?” I asked, figuring it was a good possibility, considering it was one of those days when everything else had gone wrong.
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I’m just here to have you sign the necessary papers so you can receive your inheritance. If you want to take up your grandfather’s death with the police … that’s totally up to you, but as soon as I’m done here, I’m closing shop.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m moving my practice to sunny California.” He beamed.
Any particular reason for the move?”
Now I was really curious. What kind of lawyer stopped by to do his business on his way out of town?
Shaking his head, he gave me a tight smile. “I just want a change of climate. Blackwell was my biggest client. With him gone, there is no reason for me to stick around.”
Shoving a stack of papers at me, he pointed to the signature line. “You need to put your signature here … and your initials everywhere there is an X.”
“What exactly am I inheriting?” I tried to read as much of the text as I could, although most of it was so small, I’d probably need a magnifying glass to read it thoroughly.
“Your grandfather’s assets, Blackwell Rest, and the monkey,” he added under his breath.
“What am I going to do with a mortuary and a monkey?”
Milan shrugged. “Talk to the person appointed as the trustee … and your guardian. Maybe he’ll let you sell them.”
I froze just as the pen was ready to make contact with the paper. “What do you mean
guardian
? I’m too old for a guardian.”
I didn’t mind so much that my inheritance was in a trust, but I didn’t need a guardian.
He shrugged. “It was Mr. Blackwell’s wish that as long as you remain unmarried, that you have a guardian. It is a condition you must agree to in order to inherit.”
“Well, I suppose I don’t need my inheritance then.”
A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. “If it is of any consolation, this guardian’s power over you will be limited. He can oversee what you do with your inheritance, and he must approve any contract you enter into, including marriage, but that’s the extent of it. I believe Blackwell added this clause to keep you safe from gold diggers.”
I still wasn’t so sure I was up for a guardian of any type, but it would be nice not to go to work and flip hamburgers for Happy Days Burgers anymore.
Maybe I could work around this guardian?
“If you don’t mind?” Milan pointed to the paperwork, still awaiting my signature.
It was obvious he was in a hurry to conclude his business and be on his way.
That was okay with me. I was in a hurry to clean up the burnt cake, so I signed.
What I didn’t realize is that I was signing on for a lifelong job as the Blackwell spirit detective, AKA the Justice Reaper.
Later, I would discover there are all types of reapers.
There are those who reap the terminally ill, the accident victims, etc. A Justice Reaper is responsible for disembodied spirits with unfinished business. They also reap bad guys when it’s their time.
Another thing I would find out later was that my guardian was going to turn out to be much more than I’d bargained for.
After signing on all the places marked with an X, I handed the papers back to him. “Who exactly is this guardian?”
Milan placed the papers in his briefcase and snapped it shut.
“Oh, I suspect he will meet up with you sooner or later,” he replied with a smile on his face that was really more of a smirk.
It turned out that it would be later rather than sooner. A month passed without this mysterious guardian inserting himself into my business. At least he didn’t get directly involved.
There was a fairly large allowance deposited into my account at the first of the month, and the deeds to my grandfather’s property were dutifully changed into my name, but that was it.
I figured my so-called guardian wasn’t going to be any problem at all, but I’ve been wrong before.
Get the Undertaker series at
https://www.amazon.com/Dead-Man-Calling-UndertakerMysteriesebook/dp/B015WL4FVQ?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0#nav-subnav
Author
Kendra Ashe grew up reading stories of intrigue and mysteries of the paranormal. As a teen she discovered her love of telling stories, and naturally leans toward the kind of stories she likes to read.
You can learn more about the Kendra Ashe on the web at
http://www.kendraashe.com
Kendra Ashe Books
Izzy Cooper Series
Kissing the Werewolf
Playing With Vampires
Witches and Whatnots
The Witch of Christmas Past
Grim Grinning Ghouls
Undertaker Series
Dead Man Calling
Dead Like Ted
Dead Freaks Tell No Tales
Dreamland Junction Series
Conspiracies and Stuff
Murder, Lies, and Little Green Men
Table of Contents
