The Old Witcheroo (13 page)

Running my fingers over the spines, I made note of several James Bond books, a couple of Tom Clancy, and even a historical romance or two. I wanted to sift through them all, hoping maybe she’d left a bookmark with something written on it or a scrap of paper, anything that would tell me who Sophia was.

But I didn’t have time right now. The memorial was in less than three hours and I still had to get back and change. So I went to work immediately on surface items, beginning in the living room. I lifted the cushions of her light beige couch with tieback covers she’d obviously handmade, if the sewing machine and bolt of fabric in the corner were any indication.

I worked my way into her tiny bathroom, where she’d hung pale pink and alabaster decorative towels. One small shelf held her toiletries, her perfume, her hand lotion and moisturizer. I scoured the cabinet beneath the sink and her medicine cabinet, where I found a prescription for Xanax and some aspirin.

“I wonder if Dana knew she was taking anxiety meds?” I muttered to myself.

“What did she have to be anxious about, ya think?” Bel muttered back.

She was always so serene. I had a hard time believing that happened via meds. “Well, the bottle’s still pretty full. I don’t have time to count them, but it doesn’t look like she took many.”

“Guess you never really know what’s happening on the inside,” Bel remarked somberly.

The bathroom connected to the bedroom, another soft, pale expression of Sophia. Muted pale pink comforter, matching throw pillows in ivory and various shades of pink, with a fuzzy white teddy bear square in the middle of it all.

“It doesn’t look like she slept in her bed the night she was murdered. So what made her leave here after Dana dropped her off, Bel? Or was she murdered here and moved, which just doesn’t seem likely, considering the sound a gunshot would make?”

“Well, there’s always a silencer, but if this guy’s a pro, he wouldn’t do it here. I think it’s like you said, she knew whoever did this, Boss.”

That pained me far greater than a stranger. A stranger killing her meant it wasn’t personal, not necessarily anyway. But if she knew her killer? It meant someone had beef with a woman who was just shy of perfect.

“I’m going to see if I can get a feel for her emotions, so hold tight, Bel,” I requested, perching on the edge of her bed. I reached for the soft white teddy bear with a pink nose and held it to my chest, closing my eyes.

Warmth flooded my chest, invading all my limbs in coursing waves of happiness. This bear had been given to her by someone she cared a great deal for—my guess would be Dana. It looked very similar to the ones the carney had been giving away at the carnival back in the spring.

But then there was a hint of trepidation tied to it, too, a quickening of my heart in fear. Was that because this bear had left her with a bad memory? Or was this memory associated with Dana, and the rapid pulse of fear was about telling him something that obviously pained her?

I squeezed it without realizing, almost as though I might wring the answers I needed out of an inanimate object—and that’s when my fingers found a small pocket on the back of the bear’s plumply stuffed body. My eyes popped open as I skimmed the ridge, slipping my index finger inside.

I’m not sure why I thought to investigate that tiny pocket, but I was grateful I had.

Inside that pocket was a picture of a woman who looked eerily like Sophia, right down to the dark hair and heart-shaped face. The only difference being, this woman’s eyes were brown and Sophia’s were blue, and the woman was maybe just a little older. She wore a puffy down jacket with a fur-trimmed hood attached, and a pair of fashionable black boots I’d swear were Chanel.

Her hands were up in the air, as though she’d been victorious at something and she was grinning from ear to ear as the cloudy skies cast a gray shadow above her. Whoever she was, she was standing in front of what I was almost sure was the Sears Tower, which was in Chicago. Right in line with what Chester saw when he found Sophia crying at the library.

A rush of adrenaline shot along my spine, tingling the entire journey until my head spun. So was Sophia from Chicago? And who was this woman? Sophia’s mother? She didn’t look old enough to be her mother, but in this day and age, everyone looked much younger than they were.

I fingered the picture, creased from having been folded and very obviously hidden. “Bel! Do you see?”

“Yep, Boss. Looks a lot like Sophia. So ya think she lied about not having any family?”

My adrenaline rush crashed. There
was
that possibility. If she’d lied to Dana about her past, I had to believe it was for good reason. Pulling out my phone, I took a picture of the photo to show Dana and tucked it back into place as I’d found it.

The rest of the search produced almost nothing. I checked every dresser drawer, every closet, every nightstand. Her fridge had lots of fruits and vegetables in it, and yogurt, along with some leftover baked ziti and bottled water. But I found nothing in her cabinets or kitchen drawers, and there were no pictures of Sophia other than one of her and Dana with the Puget behind them in a selfie.

No laptop. No phone. Nothing at all personal.

So what did that mean? Hadn’t Dana wondered why she had no pictures of herself when she was younger? Memories from New York?

Sighing, I groaned in defeat as I locked Sophia’s apartment back up and made my way down the long hallway.

“Do not sound so defeated, my little love bug.” Arkady finally chimed in his support. “Pretty girls should never have sad faces. It makes with the wrinkles.”

Remembering to press my finger to the Bluetooth, the guilt of talking to one of Win’s archenemies finally hit me with clear realization. “Listen, Arkady. I’m not sure if we should be talking at all. Weren’t you and Win…um, I mean, Zero, enemies?”

“So?” His response was clipped and short. “It does not mean we can’t be friends now, does it? Death changes this game we’ve played for so long.”

Okay, this was a tough spot. How did I know if Win didn’t hate this guy’s guts? I mean, there was talk of nuclear missiles and plastic surgery and all sorts of spy-ish betrayals.

“So, he’s my friend, Big A. I’m not a spy or anything. I just mean he’s my friend-friend. I don’t want to betray him by talking to you. I mean, if you need my help with something, I’m happy to try. But I’m not sure why you chose me to talk to in the first place. How did you even know I’d be able to hear you?”

His sigh was ragged. “Someone you know here sent me to you. He said you talk to dead people all the time. I think he was mistaken. Because I am dead and you do not want to talk to me. Maybe you only talk to Zero? This is a lonely place, my
malutka
. Sometimes, even dead spies need comrades.”

My senses went on high alert, making me stop at the staircase leading back out to the parking lot. “
Who
sent you to talk to me, Arkady?”

“Let me think on this and see if I can remember. It had to do with a direction of some kind. I’m not good with names. Ummm…”

He paused while I tried to breathe, praying to the goddess it wasn’t who I thought it might be.

“West. Yes! It was Westfield. A man named Westfield.”

I swallowed, the lump in my throat like a rock, the cold chill on my arms raising the hair on them. “Adam Westfield?” I squeaked.

“Dah!” Arkady chimed. “That was him,
malutka
. He asked me to send his regards.”

I
was still trying to breathe without panicking as I showered and dressed for Sophia’s memorial. Why was Adam Westfield taunting me like this? Was it just to let me know he was capable of watching everything I did? Did he send me a rival of Win’s to prove a point?

I needed to talk to Win. I also needed a whole lot more than concealer to hide the state of my nose. I peered into my bathroom mirror and cringed. I was purple and yellow and my nostrils were so swollen, if I managed to actually sniff, I’d suck up all the sand Whiskey leaves on the entryway throw rug after a trip to the beach.

“Ugh, Bel. Would you look at my nose? No amount of foundation’s going to cover this up.”

“I don’t think a nose replacement could cover that up, Boss,” he retorted with a giggle.

Pressing gentle fingers to the side of my face that hurt the most, I stuck my tongue out at Bel. “Ha-ha, funny cotton ball bat.”

“But you’re having a good hair day. Very shiny and sassy. Love the new cut and how it frames your face. Still think you should see the doctor. But whaddo I know?”

Leaning on the pedestal sink, I straightened the straps on my navy sundress and smoothed my hair behind my ears. “So…”

“So?” Bel buzzed back.

“Has Win talked to you?”

“Maaaybe.”

I sighed, closing my eyes to stave off the throb in my temples. “Is he angry with me?”

Bel buzzed upward to perch on the banana plant he called his playground. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? I’m not getting in the middle of this one, Boss. You’ll always come first, but Win’s my friend, too, and I can tell you when I think you’ve used your words as weapons because you forgot to turn your censor to sensitive.”

I cast my eyes to the tiled floor in guilt. “You’re right. I’m not a trained spy like Miranda and it was grossly unfair of me to make that comparison.”

“It ain’t me you should be tellin’,” Bel chirped, snuggling into the underside of his leaf.

Applying a bit of peach lip gloss, which of course was useless—considering the size of my nose, you almost couldn’t see my lips at this point anyway—I added a gold bracelet to my wrist and prepared to eat crow. I really deserved it.

Picking up my discarded caftan and slipping into my sandals, I called out, “Win? You there?”

Not a peep. I looked up at the ceiling. “C’mon, Win. Don’t be like that. I was wrong, okay? I said something in the heat of the moment because I was angry with you for agreeing with Forrest. I felt a little ganged up on at that moment. It’s not like I go and find these killers and confront them. They just find
me
. If you think about it, it’s not that different than the work I do at Madam Z’s. Ghosts get mad at me, too. I mean, just look at my nose if you need proof—or my snow globe collection. I’m not going to stop doing what I do, Win. I can’t. Though, I promise I’ll try to be more careful.”

“That’s good to hear, Dove,” Win said, his warmth seeping into my very bones.

“Yay!” Bel cheered. “Mom and Dad are back together!”

I giggled, running my finger over his wing. “You comin’ with us, buddy?”

“Wouldn’t miss celebrating the life of Sophia for all the pomegranates in Seattle. “Course I’m comin’. Just dump me in that dungeon of a purse of yours when you’re ready.”

I nodded, stroking his back. “So, Win, have you heard the latest?”

“You mean about that tosser Arkady?”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I nodded. “You know?”

“That one of my longtime nemeses has become your new BFF?”

I smiled. We were back on track. “He’s not my new BFF. But if it means anything, Adam Westfield was the one who told him to contact me. It’s not really his fault. Not that I’m sticking up for a bad guy who wanted to blow up the world or anything, but you know what I mean. He’s kind of in the middle.”

“Istanbul. He wanted to blow up Istanbul. And I’m troubled by Westfield sending him to you. I don’t like that he’s so familiar with your life.”

“You have any thoughts on how to prevent that? It’s not like you have guns for hire in the afterlife.”

“No. That’s true. But I can keep a closer eye out. Now, about Arkady…”

I smoothed some lotion over my hands and dabbed a bit of perfume behind my ears. “Are you angry I talked to him?”

“Don’t be a ninny. I suppose all is forgiven here in the afterlife. We rather had a cat-and-mouse relationship—a friendly rivalry and an admiration for one another’s spy skills, so to speak.”

“You mean the kind of rivalry where you were friends unless you had the chance to take him out?”

“That’s a fine way to put it, I suppose.”

I set the perfume bottle back on the decorative table by the claw-foot tub. “So you don’t hate me for talking to him?”

“Oooh, not at all, Dove,” Win drawled with his best uppity British accent. “Far be it from me to tell you with whom you can converse.”

My shoulders slumped. “Are you still grudging?”

“Maybe just a little. That was petty of me.”

“I did apologize.”

“You did. I accept. Let’s move on.” I wasn’t sure that meant he was totally over it, due to how clipped his words were, but Win and I were almost always honest with each other. Maybe he just needed a little more time to get past our tiff.

“Ahhh. I love when comrades settle disagreements without tear gas and grenades! You are, as you Americans say, cool with one another now?” Arkady chimed in.

Win spewed a hearty chuckle. “Arkady, my old friend! How are you?”

“Good-good! So nice to see you here, Zero! A welcome sight, indeed. You look well. Death has been good to you, eh?” Arkady clucked.

I imagined the two of them shaking hands and slapping each other on the back, which in turn made me smile.

“It’s just Winterbottom now. Or Win. And I am well, I’m pleased to say. So how did you end up here? Did that old dog Heinz finally get his crafty little German hands on you?”

“You will not believe when I tell you, old friend!” Arkady answered on a hearty guffaw.

And so it went, as I gave Whiskey a quick kiss goodbye and gathered a sweater and headed out to the rental car. The two of them chatted and ribbed one another as if they’d been separated by years since high school graduation, not terrorists and water torture.

They were still yucking it up when I pulled up to the library and looked for a place to park. I wanted to check the caches on the computers inside before it closed for the memorial.

The parking lot was already filling with cars—so much so, some had to park down by the beach to the left of the library, where a long dock took you out over the water. The dark water was calm tonight, almost as if it knew Sophia deserved a peaceful place to celebrate her life.