The Old Witcheroo (15 page)

I thought only of Sophia as the muggy breeze wafted across the crowd, remembering her smile, her kind words and gentle hands when she’d seen me struggling to get up the stairs after I’d hurt my bum, her tinkle of laughter when she was eating her lunch on the dock with Dana and he teased her about something.

I sent up a silent prayer that the goddess would lead her to the light, keeping her safe on her eternal journey, and I vowed to figure out who’d killed her.

As the music drifted toward the docks where we we’d all throw flowers out into the Sound, our candles now lit, I caught sight of Dana. A head above most in the crowd, he held a candle and a white carnation in one hand, his face a mask of grief, his eyes glittering in the setting sun as he stood at the outskirts of the gathering.

“Excuse me, Chester,” I muttered, swiping at my tears as I tried to maneuver my way through the throng to get to Dana, while everyone moved forward in the direction of the water.

I managed to reach him just as we all hit the water’s edge, and grabbed his hand, tucking it close to me.

Seagulls swooped, crying out in the orange and purple of the setting sun, the bagpipes played a mournful tune, and the gentle glow of candles with a hint of cinnamon scented the tangy air while Dana and I stood together—side by side, hand in hand.

Still at the far reaches of the crowd, my chest ached and my eyes stung while we watched as, one by one, each mourner dropped a carnation into the water, lapping in gentles swells against the docks and onto the rocky sand. As each flower was set free, a candle was snuffed out, until there was just Dana and me.

Keeping him close, I tried to maintain a steady pace as we walked to the end of the dock, Dana’s steps stilted and disjointed. When we reached the end of the rickety wooden planks, worn from water and time, I set my carnation free and blew out my candle, taking a step back so Dana could have a private moment.

His grief was palpable and thick as his almost listless hand dropped the carnation into the water, and I heard him whisper what must have been a private joke between them, “Love you more than the show
Cops
,” before he extinguished his candle and knelt to set it on the end of the dock.

My heart thrummed a mournful beat when Dana kicked off his shoes and socks and sat down at the edge to dunk his feet into the water.

So I did the same, kicking off my wedge sandals and dropping down beside him to stick my feet in the cool water. I held out my hand, palm up, and when he placed his in mine, I wrapped my fingers around his cold, shaking digits and pressed our entwined fists to my shoulder.

And so we sat, for a very long time, watching the carnations bob up and down like ducks dipping their heads into the water for fish, while the sun fell into the Puget and we held on tight to one another.

* * * *

There was a small reception afterward at the Eb Falls Diner; some people in town had donated casseroles and cakes and coffee and such so everyone could gather and mingle.

Children ran in and out the diner’s doors, the adults milled about, coffee and plates of food in hand, and we remembered one of the finest members of the community Eb Falls had ever seen.

Dana sat off by himself in a booth for the most part, nodding his thanks for those who gave him their condolences while he stared out the window at the dock.

My sorrow was rich, peppered with a fervent desire to catch the monster who’d killed Sophia, but I didn’t want to leave Dana alone. His vibe was as fragile as an eggshell, ready to crack the moment he was disturbed, and if it came to that, I didn’t want him to suffer alone.

I kept a watchful eye while I mingled and did my best to answer the awkward questions about my nose and smile at everyone—even Merrily Watson, who’d taken a wide berth where I was concerned. I’d laugh if not for how terrible I felt for Dana.

A trip to the bathroom was in order after catching a glimpse of my windblown hair in the wide picture window of the diner. I squeezed through more people, waving and nodding until I managed to push my way to the back of the room, where I eventually found the bathroom amidst a network of small hallways.

Set up like an old fishing boat, the diner’s décor was a rustic mix of old anchors, fishing nets, tons of seashells hanging from the ceiling and jagged pieces of barn wood with phrases like Home Sweet Boat painted on them.

I elbowed the door to the bathroom labeled Sea Wenches and let it swing shut then locked it, inhaling deeply. My face was almost literally on fire, and my two front teeth had begun to ache something fierce. Glancing in the mirror, where two bright bulbs sat on either side of the glass, I groaned.

My hair was a static mess, flat on top and sticking out around my chin to give me a mushroom effect. And my nose? Well that just got worse every time I looked at it. I didn’t think it was possible to add another color to my face after the initial yellow and purple, but somehow, probably because I’d been crying, my nose was now blotchy red, too.

“Dove? Are you all right?”

A sting of tears began to tickle my eyelids again as I gripped the edges of the white sink. “I just can’t seem to keep it together tonight, Win. Dana’s a mess.”

“I know, Dove. I was there,” he murmured against my ear, his afterlife way of hugging me very warm and consoling.

Peeking into my purse, I checked on Bel, running my index finger over his head. “You okay in there, buddy?”

Bel sniffled his response, rubbing up against my finger. “I’m okay. Don’t think I’ve cried like this since they took
Breaking Bad
off the air. Feelin’ pretty low tonight. You okay, Boss?”

“I’m okay, buddy. Get some sleep and we’ll touch base when we get home, okay? I’ll slice you up some kiwi and you’ll be right as rain.”

“So, Dove, where are we?”

I scrunched my eyes shut and blinked them back open, hoping to alleviate some of the graininess. “Did you see what I found, or were you and your comrade in arms yucking it up over the good times from back in the day?” I teased, running my hands under the cold water.

“Oh, I’m never very far where you’re concerned. I can do two things at once. So yes, I saw. I assume it’s going to be another long night of Googling while we hunt for a possible connection?”

I nodded with a brisk bob of my head as I smoothed my hair down and fluffed my bangs. “Yep. I’m going to figure out if Sophia was the one who was looking up Gino Fratiani. If not, I go back to the library tomorrow to check the other two computers and their histories. I ran out of time tonight.”

“Gino Fratiani, eh? Loosey Luciano’s son, right?”

I was astonished. Did spies chase mobsters, too? “You know the name?”

“I know
of
him, yes,” he answered rather evasively, if I do say so myself.

“If you tell me you were involved with the mob, Crispin Alistair Winterbottom, I’m going to put a spell on you the likes of which you’ve never seen. I have enough trouble with Fakebottom. I don’t need the mob on my back, looking to cash in, too.”

Win chuckled. “Nothing like that. There was talk of him and an arms deal some time ago, but I’ve never met him personally. Swear it on my mother’s Hummels.”

I dried my hands and turned to face the toilet. “Your mother collected Hummels?”

“Indeed. Unlike your mother and her collection of husbands, mine was quite tame, bordering on conservative in hoarding comparison.”

I snickered, thinking about how different our mothers must have been. Win’s mother was warmth and cookies and bedtime stories. Mine was all fend for yourself and which dress do you think my prey will like best?

“Someday, I want to hear all about your mother, International Man of Mystery. I bet I would have liked her. For now, I need to get back out there and check on Dana.”

As I took one last glance in the mirror, there was a bang on the door, almost as if someone had bumped into it mistakenly, startling me. “Sounds like the natives are getting restless out there. I’d better move it. See you at home?”

“Home it is,” Win said, as I unlocked the door and headed back out toward the dining area.

Though, I must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere in the myriad halls, because I landed in a room off the kitchen where there were a couple of lockers and a bench and Eleanor Brown, who’d been suspiciously absent from Sophia’s memorial. Just as I entered the dingy gray room, Eleanor Brown swung her locker door open wide, giving me a bird’s-eye view of its contents.

Pictures. Tons and tons of pictures of guess whom?

Officer Nelson.

Holy cats, there were at least thirty of them, like wallpaper, all lining the interior of her locker in collage fashion. Dana outside the police station. Dana shirtless at the beach. Dana shopping at our local grocery store. Dana giving someone a ticket. Dana, Dana, Dana.

“
Eleanor
?” I squeaked, feeling as though I’d just peeked inside a very dark room in her head. I don’t know that I realized her unrequited love was more stalkery than crushy. But if those pictures were any indication, we were bordering unhealthy.

Her round face was as blotchy red as my nose, her moon-shaped eyes a matching color of crimson and swollen. “Get out!” she screamed at me, reaching into her locker and lobbing a black boot directly at my head.

“Duck, my little June bug of love!” Arkady bellowed in my ear, with Win yelling a variation of the same order.

But I was too late. I have to chalk up my pathetic reaction time to the fact that I was emotionally drained, because even though I did duck (yay!), I didn’t put my hands up to shield my face.

Always cover your eyes, Dove. They’re the most important part of your body aside from your brain
, Win always said during our many workout sessions.

The boot cracked me in the cheek, skinning my face with the hard rubber sole and knocking me to my knees, causing me to cry out in pain.

“Eleanor!” Sandwich yelled as he came around the corner from the kitchen. “What the heck’s going on, ladies?”

I tried to rise, but instead experienced a wave of dizziness and nausea so powerful, my mouth watered. Falling to all fours, I let my head hang between my shoulders in order to catch my breath while Sandwich took hold of Eleanor’s arm.

Detective Moore plowed into the room, all
NYPD Blue
stance and eagle-eye gaze, ready to knock heads together at a moment’s notice. He tapped his booted toe in front of my line of vision. “Miss Cartwright? Care to explain?”

No. No, I didn’t care to explain. I cared to crack Eleanor Brown in the face in retaliation—which wasn’t nice, but listen, I can only take so much before I’m at my limit. I’d been knocked around plenty these days, thank you very much. Instead, I wrapped my hands around Officer Moore’s thigh and tried to haul myself upward, my stomach pitching and rolling.

Finally, he reached down and dragged me to a standing position, where I wobbled. “What happened this time?” he asked, already obviously bored with me.

I was outraged by his implication I was always the troublemaker. “Why don’t you ask Eleanor? I got lost on my way back from the bathroom and ended up here by mistake. She was opening her locker, I simply called her name, and she clocked me in the face with a boot for it!” Touching my cheek, I realized I was bleeding—again.

If I lost any more blood today, I was going to need a blood drive to keep me upright.

“You were snooping, you nosy busybody!” Eleanor finally cried out as she strained against Sandwich’s grip, her short, stout body trembling in her blue and white uniform.

My eyes flew open wide. “I was not! That’s not true at all! I got lost, Eleanor, and happened upon you and your locker!”

“What about the locker?” Detective Moore asked, his eyebrow rising as he eyed the locker door, now ajar.

Out of the blue, I felt a wave of guilt and sympathy. The pictures I’d seen of Dana weren’t taken outside his house or anything. They were taken while he was in town, on duty and such. I don’t know if there’s a law against taking someone’s picture without their permission as long as it’s not of them naked, but what if this was all a misunderstanding and Eleanor just needed help? Maybe even mental help?

I didn’t want to see her humiliated if that was the case, but I also didn’t want her running around loose if she were in any way responsible for Sophia’s death.

So I latched onto Detective Moore’s arm, turning him away from Eleanor, and muttered under my breath, “She has a bunch of pictures of Officer Nelson hanging up in her locker. I don’t know why. But please, don’t be insensitive and humiliate her about them, would you? Obviously I caught her off guard, and I don’t know if it has anything to do with Sophia’s death or not, but it’s certainly worth investigating.
Quietly
. Without making a scene.
Please
. I’m begging you. In fact, the next time you haul my butt down to the station, I won’t even call you Sipowicz if you just don’t embarrass her. Deal?”

Detective Moore leaned down and eyeballed me, his iron glare and tight jaw inches from my face. “Okay.”

I blinked. “Really?” Gosh, that was easy. Too easy. Which left me suspicious.

“You gonna question this?”

“The idea that you’re being incredibly kind and far more in touch with your feminine side than I ever considered possible?”

“Yeah,” he snarled, just shy of drool and eyeball bulges.

Instantly, I backed away, my hands in the air. “Not even a little.”

As people began to gather at the entryway to the locker room, Detective Moore took Eleanor by the hand and waved the people off, directing them back to the dining area. “Nothing to see here, looky-loos. Move along. Just a small mishap.”

He led a confused and now much calmer Eleanor to one of the hallways I’d ended up lost in, probably to question her, and she went willingly, like a lost lamb, traipsing behind him with sluggish feet.

Detective Montgomery sifted his way past the people into the locker room as everyone began to wander back to the dining room as instructed. He was casually dressed tonight, no suit and tie, just a pair of black trousers and a black shirt.

Tipping his head in my direction, he said, “Miss Cartwright? How odd to find you in the middle of things. What happened now? Another fistfight? Encounter with yet another killer? T-Rex cage fighting?”