Stuck in the Middle Witch You (A Middle Witch Mystery Book 1)

by Danielle Finch

  Koral weaved out of the crowd and stood next to Grant. “Officer, this is Grant Bateman and these women have been harassing him.” She batted her lashes at him in what I suspect was a Pavlovian response to any good-looking man she encountered.

  Grant didn’t say anything. He just crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Raine and me.

  “Is that right?” the cop asked. “Mr. Bateman, is that true? Are these ladies harassing you?”

  “We weren’t harassing him,” Raine spoke up before Grant could reply. “He’s harassing us. He said it’s my fault his brother is dead.”

  “And is it?”

  “Of course not,” I said. Was this guy an idiot?

  He turned back to Grant. “Mr. Bateman, would you like to make a formal complaint?”

  Grant didn’t answer him; instead he thrust a finger at us. “Stay away from me, and stay away from my sister.” He pushed through the crowd and stormed back to the hotel, Koral scurrying after him.

  “Mr. Bateman,” the cop called.

  Grant stopped and turned around. “What do you want?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind waiting for me in the lobby, I’d like to speak with you.”

  “Why? You’ve got your guy in jail—or did he escape already?” Grant’s lip curled into a sneer.

  “It’ll just take a few minutes, sir.” His tone was pleasant, but I could detect a firmness that made it clear that saying no was not an option. “And we can discuss that complaint, if you like.”

  Grant hesitated for a moment. “You’ve got five minutes.” He spun on his heel and headed to the hotel door.

  “Are you serious?” I said, as Grant disappeared into the hotel. “You want him to make a formal complaint? We’re the ones who should be doing that. He threatened us.”

  Raine put her hand on my arm. “Calm down, Bree. Officer…”

  “Bishop. Adam Bishop,” he supplied.

  “Officer Bishop didn’t mean it, did you?” She looked up at him and smiled like a star-struck teen. What was wrong with her?

  “Oh! I know who you are.” Raine clapped her hands together. “You’re Matt’s new supervisor. Oops, I mean Officer Spencer.”

  “I am.” He held out his hand to her. “Pleasure to meet you, and you can call him Matt, as long as you call me Adam.”

  “I’m Raine Middleton, and this is my sister Bree. It’s Breeze, actually, but we call her Bree. Our other sister’s name is Ember, but only Matt calls her Em. Our mother named us after the elements—you know; air, water, fire—but—”

  “Raine! Officer Bishop doesn’t need our life history.”

  “Adam, please,” he said, and held out his hand to me.

  I had no desire to shake it, but being rude to him wouldn’t help Matt. I stuck out my hand.

  “I like your name.” He gripped my hand firmly. Something electric shot through my fingers and up my arm, and it had nothing to do with my power.

  “Thanks,” I said, and quickly let go of his hand. The warmth lingered in my fingers.

  “Just a word of advice, steer clear of him.” He nodded in the direction of the hotel. “Officer Spencer—” He looked at Raine and smiled. “—that is, Matt filled me in on what’s happened, and from what I’ve just seen, I get the impression Grant Bateman doesn’t like you very much.”

  Ya think? Talk about stating the obvious. “Well, whatever he says about us, it isn’t true,” I said. “We had nothing to do with Seth’s death.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must have been very traumatic. And don’t worry, I only deal in facts, not opinions,” he said, smiling. “I’m sure you’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Of course we haven’t done anything wrong, and I didn’t say I was worried.” I don’t know why I felt I had to defend myself, but something about the way he was smiling—as if the whole situation amused him—was annoying me.

  “Bree, chill,” Raine said. “He’s on our side.” She looked up at Adam. “You must have talked to Matt. Is that why you’re here, to interrogate Grant?”

  Adam cocked his head at her. “You seem to know a lot about the investigation. You must—”

  I cut him off. “Get going, that’s ‘what we must.’” I looked at Raine and grimaced. If he knew Matt had shared information with us, Matt’s job could be in jeopardy.

  “Oh, right,” Raine said when she caught my look. “But you’ll have to stop by the café soon,” Raine said. “We own Aura, just down the road. Come by any time; coffee’s on the house.”

  He gave me a long look. The guy wasn’t stupid, but he let it drop and instead thanked Raine for her invitation. “Thanks, I’ll do that.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “What happened to him?”

  “Who?” Raine asked.

  “Bateman. Why was he wet?”

  I stiffened. “Cloudburst,” I replied. “It happens sometimes.”

  He looked up at the sky. Clouds were moving in, but too far away to have caused rain. “Kind of weird, don’t you think?”

  “Like I said, it happens sometimes. We get some strange weather.”

  “I believe you, but isn’t it a little odd that he’s the only one who got wet?”

  “It was a very small, very focused cloudburst,” I said, shrugging my shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance. “He just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Karma,” Raine said. “You send out bad energy into the universe and it’s going to come back to you. And Grant Bateman is full of bad energy.”

  Adam looked up at the sky again and shook his head.

  “Anyway, nice to meet you,” I said, then pinched Raine’s sleeve and pulled her toward the car.

  “Bye.” She waved.

  He lifted a hand and watched as we got in the car.

  “What is wrong with you? You were drooling over him like he’s a celebrity or something,” I said as I threw the car in reverse. I backed out of the parking spot and resisted the urge to race down the street. I could see Adam in the rearview mirror, still watching us.

  “What are you talking about? I wasn’t drooling.”

  “Come by the café, coffee’s on the house.” I repeated her words in a syrupy voice.

  “I was being friendly. What’s wrong with that?” She turned around in her seat to catch one last glimpse of him. “And he’s so nice. And hot.” She flopped back against the seat and sighed.

  “And too old for you.”

  “But not for you.”

  “Oh, please,” I groaned.

  “Come on, don’t you think it’s time you started dating? You signed the papers months ago. You’re not Breeze Walker anymore. Don’t you think it’s time for Breeze Middleton to get back in the saddle?” She put her hands out in front of her as if she were holding reins and bounced up and down in her seat

  “Breeze Middleton doesn’t like horses,” I said firmly and pushed my foot down on the gas pedal. “They throw you.”

  Chapter 21

  We drove in silence toward Breakers Beach. As we got closer to Seth’s cottage, I noticed that the clouds I had seen earlier had grown in size and moved in overhead, blocking out the warmth of the sun. I rolled up my window. I couldn’t wait for summer.

  My thoughts strayed to Lydia. I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation we were about to have. How do you tell someone that the person they were planning to spend the rest of their life with was an impostor? The poor woman had enough to deal with already. She would be upset, of course, but I’m sure she’d be grateful to find out sooner rather than later. I should have been so lucky. I didn’t find out about my ex-husband’s true motives until after we were married.

  “That guy is a real shit,” Raine said suddenly.

  I was about to agree with her, thinking she was talking about my ex, then realized she had no way of knowing. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Grant Bateman, of course.”

  “Oh, him. Yeah, you don’t need to tell me; I’m a believer. It’s
easy to see why Lydia doesn’t like him. Can you imagine growing up with him?” I shivered. Poor Lydia.

  “And I thought Ember was a pain in the ass. She’s an angel compared to him.”

  I gave Raine a sidelong glance. “Angel? Fallen angel, maybe.”

  Raine chuckled. “Yeah, that’s more like it. Hey, what if Lydia changes her mind about selling her land? Obviously she’s not getting married now. Didn’t you say that was the only reason she was going to sell her land?”

  “That’s what she told me. If she does change her mind, Grant’s going to be pretty pissed. More so than—oh crap.” I held my breath for a moment. Grant would be more than pissed if Lydia reneged on her deal. Pissed enough to do something drastic, I had no doubt.

  “What is it?” Raine asked. “What’s wrong?”

  I pressed on the gas pedal. “We need to get to Lydia. I think she was the one Grant was trying to frame.”

  “Why? She was all ready to sell, why would he want to frame her for Seth’s death?”

  “Because Grant was positive that Seth was never going to sell. That’s why he killed him, and to cover his tracks and make sure he got all the land, he was going to frame Lydia for the murder.”

  Raine leaned back in her seat and stared up at the roof as she processed what I’d just said. “We need to tell Matt.”

  “Call Ember.” I nodded at my purse. “Tell her, and she can relay it to Matt.”

  Raine nodded and dug through my purse. “Wait a sec, why don’t we tell Adam? He’s closer.”

  “No, let Matt decide what to do. Adam doesn’t need to know we’re involved. If I’m wrong about this, I could be putting Matt’s job in jeopardy. Matt trusts us, but that doesn’t mean Adam will.”

  “What about Dennis? He’s at the station. He could tell Adam.”

  “And the first thing Adam will do is ask Dennis where he got his information. No, just call Ember.”

  I listened as Raine explained everything to Ember. Raine hung up and said Ember would call Matt right away.

  “Good. Once we get to the cottage, we’ll tell Lydia about Nick and then invite her back to the house. We can keep her there until Matt gets back.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Raine said.

  I pressed my foot harder on the gas pedal. It had started to drizzle, so I flicked on the wipers.

  “Watch out!” Raine pointed to something that had suddenly appeared in the road in front of us.

  There was no time to brake, so I yanked the steering wheel and avoided it, just barely. I slowed the car and looked in the rearview mirror. The ghostly figure of a woman was standing there, shaking her fist. It was Dora Boatman.

  I let out a deep breath. “I wish she wouldn’t do that. Scares the crap out me every time.”

  “Well, you were going kind of fast,” Raine said. “She wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t speeding.”

  “What, she has a radar gun now? I was barely over the speed limit.”

  “Give her a break,” Raine said. “She was only trying to get your attention.”

  “Well, she got what she wanted, and I almost got a pair of wet pants.”

  “Wow, what a crappy place,” Raine said, as we pulled up in front of the cottage. “I guess art doesn’t pay.”

  “Not his kind of art. I don’t want to sound mean, but his paintings were pretty weird.”

  We got out of the car, walked up the porch stairs, and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Lydia called out.

  The door opened directly into the kitchen. It was tiny. On the left was a small open window covered by a filmy curtain that moved slightly in the breeze. Below the window was a sink full of dirty dishes, and on the L-shaped counter there was a plastic cutting board that looked like it had never been washed. Bits of food had dried on it. A small fridge and stove took up the opposite wall. The living room was beyond that, and a doorway in the corner led to what I assumed were the bedrooms and bathroom.

  A large window in the living room took up most of the wall. It didn’t have any window coverings, and I could see the ocean crashing against the dock. Beneath the window sat a small blue sofa that had seen better days, its fabric stained, the armrests threadbare. Paintings in various stages of completion were everywhere. Some hung on the walls; others were stacked in piles on the floor. A tall easel stood in the far corner; next to it was an old wooden desk covered in brushes, tubes of paint, and jars full of dirty water.

  Lydia sat on a barstool on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. She had a sheaf of papers in her hand and was looking through them.

  “Hi, Lydia,” I said. “You remember my sister, Raine?”

  She looked up from the papers. Her eyes were red and puffy but dry. “Yes, I do. Hello, Raine.”

  Raine flicked her hand up. “Hi.”

  Lydia held up the documents. I could see the words FINAL NOTICE on the top one.

  She pointed to more papers beside her. “I’ve been going through Seth’s things and found these. They’re all overdue notices. Why didn’t he tell me? I could have helped him.”

  “Seth was stubborn. Maybe he just couldn’t face asking for help,” I suggested.

  She tossed the papers down, and brushed her hair back off her face. “You’re right, he was stubborn, but I have the feeling you’re not here to talk about Seth.”

  I shook my head. “No, we actually have some news about Nick.”

  “He didn’t kill Seth. He only wanted me for my money, right?” She let out a deep sigh.

  I felt a tiny bit of relief. She had figured it out.

  “The signs were all there, but I didn’t want to believe them.” Lydia shook her head slowly. “I didn’t at first, but then little things started to add up. When we’d go out for dinner or a movie, I always paid. He would say he forgot his wallet, or that he was short of cash. He told me he didn’t believe in bank cards or credit cards. And all the times he disappeared for days and would say he had to consult with contractors about his house…” Lydia rubbed her forehead, then continued. “Just when I’d start to think he wasn’t being truthful, he would bring me a gift, usually something expensive like a piece of jewelry. Once he gave me a Cartier watch. It didn’t come in a box. It wasn’t even wrapped. The old saying is wrong: Love isn’t blind; it’s just plain stupid.”

  “Don’t say that.” Raine walked around the counter and placed her hand on Lydia’s back. “This guy’s a professional. He’s done this before.”

  “Is Nick even his real name?”

  “No, it’s not,” I answered. “His real name is Oren Preeper.”

  “What an odd name. Is he in jail now?”

  “Yes. Matt was able to catch him just as he reached the mainland,” I explained. “He chartered a boat.”

  “With my credit card, no doubt. I realized it was missing, along with all my cash, when I tried to pay the taxi driver today. He told me I could pay him later, when I get back to the hotel. I guess there are a few nice people left. Oh, and Nick also took the watch.” She held up her bare wrist and laughed harshly. “Probably stole that from someone, I imagine.”

  I could only nod, because it was likely true.

  “Do you know how I met him? At a seminar put on by my bank. It was called Sudden Wealth and How to Manage It Wisely. I was trying to prepare myself if this deal went through.”

  “It’s not all bad, though. You could have married him, right?” Raine said.

  “Raine!” I shot her a look.

  “It’s okay,” Lydia said and sighed deeply. “She’s right. Better to find out now, although I have a feeling he’s already married.” She looked at me and waited for a response.

  I nodded.

  “Of course he is.” She dropped her head and plucked at invisible lint on the sleeve of her coat. A tear fell from her eye and pooled on the back of her hand.

  We heard a short knock on the door, and then a voice as it opened. “Miss Bateman?”

  It was Martin. He was holding a plastic bag
in one hand; under his other arm he had a bolt of cream-colored fabric.

  “Oh, excuse me,” he said. “Am I interrupting?”

  “It’s okay,” Lydia said. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and stood up. “The girls just dropped in to see how I was doing.” She extended her hand to him. “Thank you so much for coming by.”

  “Not at all, I’m happy to be of service at such a difficult time.” He put his supplies down on the counter and shook Lydia’s hand, then looked at Raine. “I’m terribly sorry about your young man. That must have been quite a shock.”

  I shot a look at Raine, hoping she wouldn’t blurt out anything about Jason being released.

  “Yes, it was,” she replied, looking appropriately sad.

  “Martin suggested we gather up Seth’s paintings and get them into storage,” Lydia explained.

  “Yes, I thought it might be a good idea to ensure their protection,” Martin added. “I can store them at the gallery until Miss Bateman is ready to sell them.”

  “He’s worried Grant might tear down the cottage with everything still inside. I’m inclined to agree.”

  “Never hurts to prepare, I always say,” Martin said, rubbing his hands together.

  “Where should we start?” Lydia asked Martin.

  “I’ve brought some canvas,” he said, tapping the fabric on the counter. “We can wrap the finished paintings in it to protect them.” He picked up the grocery bag, pulled out a roll of packing tape and a pair of scissors, and laid them on the counter. “We’ll have to leave the incomplete ones. Unfortunately they’re not worth anything.”

  “No, they’re not, and neither are the finished ones,” a voice boomed behind us.

  We all turned to see Grant standing in the doorway.

  Chapter 22

  “Grant!” Lydia’s hand flew to her throat. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. Why are they here?” he demanded, glowering at Raine and me.

  Raine backed further into the living room.