With one last smile of sympathy, I reached for Linda’s hand and said, “I realize we don’t know each other, but if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. The shop’s online and our number’s on the website.” Then I handed her Cleo’s purse.” And would you please give this to Cleo. It has her bracelet inside. That’s why we were here. To return them.”
Linda shuddered a breath and took the purse. “Thank you, Stevie.”
“Pass on our condolences to Cleo, please.”
She nodded, her blue eyes sad. “Will do.”
As she turned to leave, Win grabbed me by the hand and led me around the other side of the motel so we could return to the shop and get the car.
“You learned much, grasshopper?” he asked as we strolled across the small parking lot.
“I learned a little, Sensei, and I promise to share with you after you feed me some lunch, but let’s wait on the ice cream. I have a sudden urge for peanut butter and jelly.”
Win stopped when we reached the car. “I think it’s my turn to check your temperature. Are you feeling well? I offered to buy you an ice cream cone, beloved. Have you lost your marbles?”
“You know, I can’t explain it, but I feel like Belfry needs me.” And I did. It was weird and sudden, but it hit me just as we’d approached the ice cream shop.
“Surely, he’d have called if something’s awry?” Win said, beeping the car open.
“I don’t mean he needs me as in he’s-in-danger needs me. I mean he needs my support. I think. I don’t know.”
“It must be that witch-familiar bond,” Win observed as he opened the door and settled me inside before walking around the car and getting into the driver’s seat.
“Or something,” I muttered.
Win took my hand, concern on his face as we sped home.
I really didn’t know why I felt as though I needed to immediately see Belfry.
I just did.
When we popped the front door open to Mayhem Mansion, we both stopped dead in our tracks.
I looked at Win. “Do I hear…?”
You’ll never find, another love like mine…
Win blinked his blue eyes, the fringe of his lashes sweeping his cheeks. “The sultry stylings of Lou Rawls? I believe it ’tis, Dove.”
“What the hecksters…?” I asked, completely bewildered. Since when was Bel a Lou Rawls fan?
True, his taste in music was incredibly eclectic. He ranged from Iron Maiden to, of all surprises, Rosemary Clooney…but Lou Rawls? That had never been in his musical repertoire.
Bel made an appearance just when I was about to go hunt him down. He swooped down the stairway as though on a fluffy white cloud to hover in front of my face.
I stared at him for a second, his tiny face as adorable as the day is long, but weird. Really weird. And sort of dreamy looking.
Huh.
“Bel?”
“Welcome home, Boss! How goes the day? What are you doing back so early? I thought you guys were gonna have lunch in town before your last appointment?”
And in that moment, I pinpointed what was weird. “Buddy?”
“Yeah?” he chirped.
“Are your cheeks flushed?”
“Are they?” he asked, all innocence and light. “Could be because I was exercising.”
They most certainly were flushed—a very light pink that stood out against his white fur.
“Exercising, huh? To Lou Rawls?”
Bel claiming he’d been exercising was almost as believable as me declaring myself an expert on the space time continuum.
He flapped his wings, creating a feathery-soft breeze against my face. “It was my cool-down song.”
Whatever was happening here, I wasn’t buyin’ this bill o’ goods. “You exercised? You?”
“Yeah. So?”
I held out my palm, where he landed and settled in, but the vibe he gave off was…twittery. Yeah. That’s the word I’d use, I suppose.
I dropped a small kiss on his head. “Belfry, is this like some kind of mid-century crisis or something? I’ve known you all my life and you’ve never once exercised or listened to anything Lou-Rawls related. So what gives? Because I’m not buying this hogwash. I can feel something’s up; I just don’t know what. Wanna talk about it?”
His eyes shifted upward toward the ceiling. “Nothing’s up, Boss.”
From the corner of my eye, as I half-watched Belfry’s expression while he tried to convince me he wasn’t hiding anything, I saw Win’s hands swatting at something. Something tiny and black.
Win pulled over the small bench we had beside the door to put shoes on and stood on it. “Stephania, do we have a fly swatter? I think we have an oversized black moth up by the doorframe.”
“A moth?” a tiny, outraged voice squealed. “A. Moth? How dare you call me a moth! I am the darkness, and you won’t soon forget it when I’m through with you!”
The dark insect or whatever it was swooped down, wings spread wide and arched high before it landed on Win’s hair, making him stumble off the bench and drop to the floor.
“What in the bloody…?” he yelped as he began to shake his head, swatting at his hair.
“Winterbutt, cut it out! You’ll hurt her!” Belfry yelled, taking flight from my hand and circling Win’s head.
Her?
I repeated the pronoun out loud as I rushed to aid Win. “Her? Bel, what’s going on and what is a her?”
“Ow!” Win hollered, clenching his teeth as Whiskey came barreling into the foyer to “help,” circling Win and barking.
I tried to grab his collar to calm him down, but he just dragged me across the floor, woofing with glee.
As I slipped and slid across the hardwood with an enthusiastic Whiskey, I yelled again, “Belfry, what the heck’s going on? Who is her?”
“She’s my girlfriend!” he squawked, seconds before Win, running around like a chicken with his head cut off, crashed into me, leaving us both in a pile of tangled limbs on the floor.
Whiskey licked my face in apology.
And Belfry, my familiar since birth, had a girlfriend.
A girlfriend who called herself The Darkness.
However, it did offer an explanation for Lou Rawls.
Wink-wink.
Chapter 7
Belfry helped his girlfriend detangle herself from Win’s luscious locks and Win helped me up off the floor while I rubbed my tailbone, still occasionally sore from a prior run-in with a killer.
Now, as Belfry and his girlfriend sat side by side on the bannister of the stairs, I’m pretty sure I gaped at her, which was incredibly rude of me, but this event—Bel having a girlfriend—was rather akin to Jason Momoa telling me he was leaving his gorgeous wife Lisa Bonet because he couldn’t go on another moment without me.
Belfry had a girlfriend. A cute little black bat who was no bigger than a minute with ears the size of satellite dishes and tiny black eyes.
Finally, I gathered my shock enough to ask, “Um, should I call you The Darkness, or Ms. Darkness?”
The tiny bat (who, by the by, up close, didn’t look at all like an oversized moth), giggled with a Tinkerbell ring to her laughter that resounded in our foyer’s high ceiling. “I was just trying to intimidate your big handsome man because he gave me a bit of a scare. My name’s Minerva, but everybody just calls me Minny. For obvious reasons, I suppose.”
“Aw, you might be tiny, Cuddlebug, but your personality’s bigger than life,” Bel cooed as he scooched closer to Minny.
He cooed. Cooed, I say.
And he’d called her Cuddlebug. And if bats could make googly eyes, Bel was making them at Minny.
What was happening?
Win and I looked at each other for a moment, astounded, before we both began talking at once.
“Do pardon my poor behavior, Minny, and accept my deepest apologies. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m—”
“He’s Christoph and I’m—”
But she cut us both off. “He’s Cri
spin Alistair Winterbottom, reincarnated in his brother Balthazar’s body, who now calls himself Christoph,” she chirped gaily. “Oh, Ms. Minny knows aaaall about hunky you, honey.”
Win cleared his throat, held out his hand for a moment, then pulled it back, clearly realizing Minny didn’t have a hand to shake. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
Minny made a clucking noise and said in a sultry voice, “I dunno about that, handsome.”
“And I’m Stevie—”
“You sure are, gorgeous. An ex-witch, engaged to this British snack. I know all about you, too.”
Well, that was nice to know, because I knew nothing about her and, if I’m honest, it hurt a little. Bel and I shared everything. Or at least I thought we did. You’d think after all this time, he’d want to share the fact that he had a relationship with this speck of a bat. He’s my familiar, for the love of spaghetti.
“Won’t you join us for some lunch, Minny? We were just about to indulge before I so crassly tried to kill you,” Win and his generous spirit offered.
Minny wiggled a little, her teeny-tiny body, if you can believe it, easily half the size of Bel’s. “Can’t today, Dumplin’. I have to head back home. I’ve got dinner to catch and a witch to touch base with. Rain check, though?”
“Of course. Any friend of Belfry’s is a friend of ours, aren’t they, Stephania?” Win pulled me to his side and gripped my waist in an awkward show of solidarity.
I, still stunned, sputtered, “Uh-huh.”
“Okay, Honeybunch, I have to fly. Same time on Thursday?” Minny asked Bel before dropping a long—an awkwardly long—kiss on his snout. Or, er, whatever bats kissed with.
It felt a little like catching my mom and dad in a compromising position.
Minny buzzed in front of Win’s face. “Open the door for me, would you, handsome? I need to skedaddle.”
“Of course,” Win blustered, crossing the foyer to open the door. “Have a lovely afternoon, Minny.”
Bel zipped alongside her, his wings a blur of motion. “I’ll fly you out, pretty lady.”
As they took off out the door into the blue skies, we looked at each other, our eyes open wide, our mouths opened wider.
“My little chap has a girlfriend,” Win finally said with a wide grin and a shake of his head. “Good on him.”
I turned to Win to search his eyes. “A girlfriend he never said a word about. You really didn’t know? He never mentioned her?”
Win pulled me in the direction of the kitchen and sat me down at our large island while he headed for the fridge. “No, Dove. Not a word.”
I looked up at the ceiling. “Arkady?”
“My malutka?”
“Did you know Bel had a girlfriend?”
Arkady chuckled. “My little wing-ed one has friend who is lady?” He wolf-whistled. “I am happy for him. I remember days of girlfriend,” he said with a wistful sigh that whistled in my ears. “They were nice.”
I watched as Win pulled out the Tupperware of his yummy chicken salad with dried cranberries and almonds and went in search of some croissants. “He does indeed, old man. Her name is Minny.”
“Is she bat like him?”
I nodded. “She is. I mean, I think she is. She’s smaller than he is, if you can believe it, but I’m pretty sure she’s a bat. She’s adorable, too, if that counts for anything.”
“She’s a bumblebee bat, and durn right she’s adorable,” Bel chirped, flying in and landing square on the island after sending his girlfriend off. He waddled over to me and nudged my hand with his tiny snout. “You mad, Boss?”
Mad? Mad wasn’t the word at all. I wouldn’t begrudge Bel happiness—not ever. I was hurt he hadn’t told me about her.
My heart melted and my expression softened. “Of course I’m not mad, buddy. I want you to be happy, and you sure look happy, but why didn’t you tell me? I don’t get the big deal?”
“It’s not a big deal, Boss. I’ve been your familiar since birth, right?”
My nod was slow. “Right.”
“I have a rule as your familiar. Unlike Dita, I never wanted strange people coming in and out of your life. I was the only stable thing you had and I kept it that way. You were never gonna catch your familiar putting anything but you first. And then, once you were an adult, I s’pose I never came across anyone I was interested in enough to seriously date until Minny.”
My cheeks warmed with shame. As you know, Dita, my mother, though quite different now, had once spent a lot of her free time with the man du jour. To realize Bel had sacrificed his happiness for my mental well-being, for my stability, left me horrified that I’d only thought of myself and how I felt about him having a love interest.
I dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m sorry, Bel. Sometimes I forget you have the same kinds of needs we all do. The need to be loved, companionship. I get it. I was just caught off guard. I mean, Lou Rawls, buddy? C’mon.”
Bel snorted. “Minny loves him, and I think we both know compromise is necessary in a relationship, don’t we?”
Win and Arkady laughed out loud. “Ah, my good man, no truer words.”
“Dah!” Arkady agreed.
I smiled at Bel, running a finger down his spine. “Well, I’m happy for you, and I love you, and she’s cute as a button. I guess I was just a little hurt that you didn’t confide in me. But forget that. All’s well. Tell me all about her,” I said as Win put a plate of his glorious chicken salad smeared on a fresh croissant in front of me and I took a healthy bite.
Bel plopped down next to my plate. “She’s a familiar, too. To a witch in Seattle. So we’re kinda long distance for now.”
“There are witches in Seattle?” Win asked as he pulled up a stool next to me, folding his cloth napkin and placing it in his lap.
“They’re everywhere,” Bel chirped. “Her witch isn’t from Stevie’s coven. So no relation per se. Anyway, we met at a familiar support group meeting a few months ago and hit it off.”
“Are you telling me you need a whole support group after dealing with me?” I teased, giving his head a stroke with my index finger.
Bel snickered, hopping to my shoulder. “I need a SWAT team of support people after dealing with you.”
Laughing, I nodded. “It’s been a hectic few years. I deserve that, and you deserve a safe place to share how it affects you.”
“It’s been a hectic buttload of years. But it’s all good, Boss. The support group is just for us familiars to have an outlet to share our fears, concerns, brainstorm ideas. No big deal, but it helps keep my head on straight so I do my job right.”
Witches had support groups, too. Especially witches who could communicate with the afterlife. I missed that comradery sometimes. The chance to share my successes and failures.
“So the lovely Minny makes you happy, chap.” Win tipped his glass of sparkling water in salute. “That’s all anyone can ask for a dear friend.”
“Aw, Winterbutt, look at ya, all sentimental.” Bel paused for a minute, and I suppose if he could smile, in that moment, he would have. “Yeah, she makes me happy. It’s good. We have fun, and I can’t wait for you to get to know her. Now, enough about me. How was the first day back at work?”
I barked a laugh as I wiped crumbs from the marble island countertop. “Hah! Do we have a story to tell you…”
“Man. Poor kid,” Bell crooned an hour later in reference to Cleo’s dead husband. “Have you talked to her yet?”
“Stephania was surprisingly reserved with Cleo,” Win remarked as I cleaned up our lunch dishes. “But then, Dana was there, and you know how he can be in a professional setting.”
“Officer Stick-Up-His-Butt rides again,” Bel said on a giggle.
I shut the dishwasher door and gave the counter a good wipe down. “But we did get tons of pictures, and we’re going to upload them on my laptop, blow ’em up, and see what we can see before we have to be back at the shop.”
“Ah, my raspberry tart, is good to see the
twinkle of crime to be solved in your eyes. You are radiant when there is evidence to sift through.”
I grimaced at that description. Yes. I admit, I did have that burn in my gut. But I prefer to think it’s in the name of serving justice—not that there was an actual murder. But hearing Arkady say it out loud made me cringe.
Grabbing my laptop, we transferred Win’s pics to it, my anticipation growing. “I admit I love the chase. I love putting the puzzle together, but I don’t love that someone’s dead. Even if he sounds like he was a real jerk.”
Win grabbed my hand and squeezed it, planting a kiss on my knuckle. “Certainly not, Dove. That’s not what Arkady means at all. Am I correct, mate?”
“Dah, Zero is right. You have good heart, malutka, but you must admit, the satisfaction of finding killer is one of your favorite things.”
“Bringing someone to justice is one of my favorite things,” I reminded him. “Now, let’s blow up some of these pics and see if we can see anything of use.”
As I zoomed in on the murder weapon, two things stood out. Head wounds sure did make a mess. The blood dripping down Doug’s arm and caked in the crevice of his elbow was a lot.
And the inscription on the cake server read Tammy and Jason with the date of their pending nuptials. I nibbled on my finger as I dissected that revelation. “Do you think Tammy hated Doug enough to kill him?”
Win clucked his tongue as he stared at the picture of the embedded cake server. “That’s quite a leap, Dove. However, you did say Linda told you none of Cleo’s friends liked Doug. Enough to murder him? I couldn’t say. Though, that dreadful cur Leslie wouldn’t surprise me.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not liking him and stabbing him in the head with a cake server aren’t the same thing, Spy Guy. Besides, what’s the motivation? Other than she didn’t like him. None of Cleo’s friends liked him. If that’s the motive, any one of them could have stabbed him.”
Win pointed to the engraving on the server. “Yet, if we’re to play devil’s advocate, it is Tammy’s cake server.”
I shook my head. “It is. But that feels too easy—too obvious, don’t you think? First, any one of them could have gotten their hands on the cake server, and if Tammy used her own cake server to whack Doug, wouldn’t she hide the murder weapon? Throw it in the water? A trash can? I mean, that’s going to lead the police right to her unless she has a solid alibi.”
Where There's A Witch, There's A Way (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 13) Page 6