Wicked Ways: Death at the DuMond (A Cozy Witch Mystery Book 1) (19 page)

My eyes narrowed. “You don’t think there is another witch in the DuMond, do you?”

“It feels like it.”

I caught Banksy up to speed on everything that had happened. There wasn’t time to undo whatever magic was keeping Bancroft trapped in the elevator.

 “I’m sorry, Banksy. I’m going to have to deal with this when I get back,” I said. “
If
I get back.”

Bankcroft looked devastated. His hopeless eyes gazed at me with worry.  If I didn’t come back, Banksy might be stuck in this elevator for all eternity. But that wasn’t what he was worried about.

“I’m just sorry I can’t go with you. I feel I’ve let you down.”

“No. You’ve never let me down,” I said. My eyes were doing that thing again. You know, tears flowing like rivers. The lump in my throat was back, bigger than ever. What do you say when it might be the last thing you ever say to someone?

“You know—” Bancroft started. His adoring eyes gazed at me. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“—I know,” I said. I could barely get the words out over the lump in my throat. I wanted to tell him how I felt about him, but I couldn’t speak. 

“Now get out of here. And come back in one piece,” Bancroft said.

I nodded, and dashed away before I completely broke down.

It was going to take at least a half hour to get across the river. But the R train was running late. By the time I got to Dead Hook, it was well past the deadline.

CHAPTER 30

DEAD HOOK WAS an abandoned grain silo on the waterfront. There hasn’t been a freighter docked at the terminal in over sixty years. The terminal was once a marvel of modern architecture, now it was a dilapidated relic of the grain trade. Sixty circular silos towered in the air. They could store millions of bushels of grain. But they were empty now.

The terminal was an intricate labyrinth of spouts, shafts, and bins. Dingy white paint peeled from the columns within the structure. The whole place was damp and smelled of mold, rust, and dust.

It wasn’t long after I stepped inside that I was greeted by three goons with guns. The same meatheads that had chased me through the city earlier.

“Let’s see the recordings,” one of the goons said.

“Not until I see my mom.”

The goons led me deeper into the interior of the structure. Rusted spouts crisscrossed everywhere. Past rows of pillars, there were more goons. One of them was clutching my mom by her arm. Her wrists and ankles were bound and she was gagged. I was relieved to see her, but also heartbroken. Her sad eyes met mine. They sparkled for an instant, happy to see me. Then her expression turned grave. I think she’d have been happier if I didn’t come. She knew this was going to be bad for both of us.

Mr. Giovanni himself was standing amid the goons. I recognized him from his picture in the paper. He was shorter than I imagined him to be. Mr. Giovanni was impeccably dressed, wearing a designer suit, white shirt, and silk tie. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it,” he said. “That would have been tragic. Do you have the recordings?”

“Let my mom go,” I said.

“All in good time,” Giovanni said.

“Let her go,” I said, trying to sound like a bad ass. 

Mr. Giovanni nodded to one of the goons who promptly put a gun to my mother’s head.

“Stop,” I shouted. I dug into my pocket and pulled out a small USB drive. There was nothing on the drive, but they didn’t know that yet. I tossed the USB drive to Giovanni. 

The goon lowered his gun.

“And the recordings are on here?” Giovanni asked.

I nodded.

“You weren’t stupid enough to make copies, were you?”

I shook my head.

Giovanni slipped the drive into his pocket.

“So, can we go now?” I asked.

Mr. Giovanni chuckled. “Sorry, but it doesn’t work like that.”

“But you said you’d let us go.”

“I never said that. I said if you brought the recordings, she wouldn’t suffer a horrible death. I’m going to keep to my word and make it painless,” Giovanni said. “I am going to give you a choice. It’s totally up to you. Who do you want me to kill first?”

“Why don’t you do the world a favor and just kill yourself first?” I said.

Giovanni smiled. “Look, I can make it quick and painless. Or I can make it excruciating. It’s up to you.”

“I lied. I made copies. If I don’t check in with my contact everyday, one of those copies goes out to the FBI’s task force on organized crime.” I was totally lying. 

Giovanni’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been around liars and cheats long enough to spot a bluff a mile away. Nice try.” 

Suddenly, the sound of clanking metal reverberated throughout the building. Everyone’s head turned toward the sound. Giovanni ordered several of the goons to check out the suspicious noise.

“So, who goes first?” Giovanni asked.

 “You’re really asking me to choose which one of us you shoot first?” I said, incredulous.

“It makes it interesting that way, doesn’t it?” Giovanni said. “Tell you what… Since I’m a gambling man, how about we play a little roulette?” From a shoulder holster, he pulled a shiny black revolver with a walnut handle.

“.38 special,” Giovanni said, admiring the gun. “I’m old school. These kids today with their semiautomatics and machine guns, spraying bullets everywhere.”  He shook his head in disgust. “ With a six shot, you gotta make every bullet count.” 

Giovanni’s thumb pressed the release and the cylinder flopped to the side. “And you sure as hell can’t play Russian roulette with a semiautomatic.”

He took one bullet out, and spun the cylinder. He flicked his wrist, snapping the cylinder back into place. 

 “You are supposed to play Russian roulette with only one bullet,” I said. “Not five.”

“You want me to put the bullet back in?”

I shook my head. 

“Here’s the rules. Two shots—one for you, one for your mom. I’ll spin the cylinder each time. Who knows, you might get lucky. Now, all you have to do is pick who goes first.”

“I’ll go first,” I said. Then I reached in my pocket and rubbed my good luck charm. It quickly heated up.  

“Brave. I like that. It gives your mom the same or better odds,” Giovanni said. He pressed the cold steel barrel of the revolver against my temple. The hammer clicked into place as he cocked it back. His finger gripped the trigger. 

Sweat poured from my forehead. My heart galloped. The cylinder rotated and the hammer dropped with a thunderous clack. But there was no bullet in the chamber.

My shoulders dropped and I exhaled. I felt completely frazzled, but relieved. But the relief only lasted for a moment. Mom was next, and she might not be so lucky.

Giovanni raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Looks like luck is on your side.” He walked over to my mother and pressed the gun against her temple. “I don’t think she’s gonna be so lucky.” He pulled the hammer back, and wrapped his finger around the trigger.

Mom trembled. 

I freaked out. “You said you were going to spin the cylinder again.”

“I lied,” Giovanni said.

Without another spin, her odds of survival dropped to zero. The next chamber in line was fully loaded. No amount of luck was going to change that.

My eyes were fountains. I was screaming for him to stop—to shoot me instead. 

Giovanni’s finger was tightening around the trigger. The hammer was about to drop. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice shouted. 

My head spun toward the voice. Lou Falco emerged from the shadows. 

Giovanni gave him a sideways glance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Dozens of Falco’s men stepped out from behind the pillars. They surrounded Giovanni and his goons. Falco’s men were armed to the teeth. Giovanni was outnumbered and outmatched. 

“I’ve got a business proposition for you,” Falco said. He winked at me. “Let the girl and her mother go.”

“Stay out of this, Falco. It doesn’t concern you,” Giovanni said.

“If you don’t,” Falco said, “the feds are going to get enough evidence to put you and your crew away until sometime in the next century.”

Giovanni gritted his teeth. “What else do you want, Falco?”

“Pack up and leave town. Hand all of your business interests over to me.” Falco said.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me?” Giovanni said. “I ain’t doing that.”

Falco nodded to one of his men. He played a section of the recordings on a hand held device. The sound echoed in the cavernous silo terminal. Giovanni could clearly be heard ordering the murder of several federal agents. 

Giovanni lowered his gun and slumped, defeated.

Falco’s man stopped the playback. 

“Tell your boys to drop their weapons,” Falco said.

“You give me your word, Falco,” Giovanni demanded.

“On my mother’s grave,” Falco said.

Giovanni nodded to his men and set his revolver down. Weapons clattered on the concrete. 

“Now get out of here,” Falco said. “We’ll work the details out later.”

Giovanni and his men left. I raced to my mother and untied her. We hugged each other so tight I almost couldn’t breathe. I never wanted to let go. There were tears of joy and lots of runny mascara. 

After we were all hugged out, I thanked Falco. 

“Just remember, you owe me,” he said. 

I smiled, hesitantly. Unsure of what I had indebted myself to.

Falco gave us a ride back to the DuMond in his black stretch limousine. The plush leather seats felt like heaven. The bar was stocked with fine liquor and soft drinks. Falco fixed Mom a martini. I arched an eyebrow at her.

“What? After all I’ve been through, I think I deserve a drink,” she said.

“Cheers,” Falco said. The two clinked glasses and smiled at each other. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the two of them were flirting. In fact, I’m pretty sure they were. I watched Mom bat her eyelashes and giggle at everything Falco said. I practically had to pry her out of the limo when we arrived at the DuMond. 

“Stay out of trouble, kid,” Falco said. 

“How about
you
stay out of trouble,” I said, stepping onto the sidewalk.

“I’m an angel,” Falco said, with a grin. 

“That you are, Mr. Falco,” Mom said, seductively. “That you are.” She was still sipping her martini. It was her second one. It had clearly already gone to her head. 

“I’d be delighted if we could see each other again,” Falco said, laying the charm on thick.

“Oh, I can guarantee you’ll be delighted.” Her eyes twinkled at him.

“Mom!” I pulled her away from the limo and into the DuMond. 

“He’s cute,” she said, stumbling along. “And charming.” She was giddy, like a schoolgirl. 

“Mom, you are not dating a mobster.”

“You are not the boss of me. I will date whoever I like.”

I rolled my eyes. Somehow, I managed to get her back up to the apartment. Detective Gibbs was waiting inside for us.
 

The news wasn’t good.

CHAPTER 31

NEWPORT FLOPPED AROUND, writhing in agony. It was gut wrenching to watch.

“There’s nothing they can do,” Gibbs said. “No poison found in his system. Nothing physically wrong with him. Everything checks out normal.”

“Does he look normal to you?” I said, panicked.

Gibbs sighed. “Look, I can’t say that I was ever a believer in the supernatural. But do you think something could be going on here?”

It made perfect sense. Bancroft was trapped in the service elevator for no apparent reason. People were dying from cupcakes. Someone was using magic. And their effort was either going horribly wrong, or they had malicious intent. But who was it?

I reached into my purse and found Porter’s business card. I dialed his number, hoping he would have some answers.  It rang a few times and went to voicemail. I left a desperate message, then immediately called again. This time he picked up.

“Well, you’re impatient, aren’t you?” Porter said.

“It’s an emergency,” I said. “My cat is dying.”

“That’s a little out of my area.”

“He’s been poisoned with a spell.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” I said.  “I think there is another witch in the building. An evil one.”

“You need to be very careful. Dark magic can have powerful and far reaching effects.”

“Tell me about it,” I said. “How do I undue the cupcake spell?”

“Cupcake spell? It takes two witches to undue another’s spell. Sometimes three, depending.”

“How soon can you get here?”

“Whoa, I can’t,” Porter said. “I’m retired, remember?”

“Then come out of retirement.”

“To undo a spell like that, you’re talking about a lot of energy. Enough energy to get the attention of the League of Sorcery. And I have no desire to get back on their radar.”