A Witch Called Wanda (iWitch Mystery Book 1)

by Diana Orgain

  Maeve whimpered like a wounded animal. “There are not wall décor. These are classics. I wish I had a way to play them, but I left my record player in storage in LA.”

  Gracie smirked and glanced at the blue tarp.

  Excitement shimmied down Maeve’s spine as she followed Gracie’s gaze. “What’s that?”

  Gracie pulled the tarp off with a flourish to reveal a vintage wooden record player.

  Maeve gasped. “Does it work?”

  “I think so,” Gracie said. “Try it.”

  Maeve plucked a Santana album from the box and set it to play on the record player. When the song “Black Magic Woman” played, Wanda howled and about lost her mind. She jumped on her hind legs; her front paws stretched toward Maeve’s shoulders, straining to get face to face with Maeve.

  Gracie laughed. “I think she wants to dance with you.”

  They rocked out, listening to classic albums as they helped the crew remove broken tables and rickety chairs. In the back rooms, they sorted through old boxes, trash, and outdated furniture to reveal another layer of dust, dirt, and grime and a whole box of vintage coffee mugs with pictures of Elvis, Roy Orbison, Chuck Berry, Patti Page and other singers.

  What a perfect find for the café.

  Gracie pulled out a cleaning caddy and got busy, while Maeve made a series of calls to suppliers about stock for the café. After a long afternoon, the crew broke for a late lunch and left Gracie, Maeve and Wanda in the café.

  They women cleaned in silence, while Wanda napped off and on.

  “Sometimes, I wish I were a dog,” Gracie said. “Look at her. Not a care in the world.”

  Wanda stirred and turned toward Gracie, giving her a strange look.

  Gracie laughed and Maeve said. “I swear that dog understands everything we say. She’s incredible.” Maeve studied Gracie. “You look exhausted. I really appreciate your help, but you should take a break too.”

  Gracie grabbed a broom from the corner of the café. “I’m okay. Anyway, the lease says broom swept condition, and that’s how I intend to give the place to you.”

  Maeve stared at the broom, the innocuous object bringing the Magick book to mind. She remembered now that her flighty mother had gifted it to her before taking off to Italy to perform in the Opera. That was after she’d dumped husband number three and before Pietro, her current fling. Maeve cringed at the thought that perhaps her love life was destined to be as tumultuous as her mother’s.

  She sat down at one of the tables, surprised to find that she too was tired. Wanda curled up near her feet. Maeve pulled the Magick book from her bag. Thumbing through it, she discovered that, based on her birth date and the letters in her name, her Magickal strength was smoke or scent.

  “Hmmm. I suppose this means I should light scented candles everywhere I go,” Maeve muttered to herself.

  Gracie stopped sweeping and turned to her. “What’s that?”

  From the pages of the book, the threatening note slipped out and floated to the floor. Maeve scooped it up and held it gently between her fingers.

  “What are you looking at?” Gracie asked.

  Just then, some of the crew returned from lunch. They blew past Maeve, grabbing several more boxes and carting them out of the café. She waited until they exited through the front door toward the dumpster and she was alone with Gracie, then waved her over.

  “Yesterday, when I left here, I found this stuck on my windshield,” Maeve said.

  Gracie frowned as she looked at the note. “Jeez. Maybe you should let the police ask the questions, girl. What happened with Bobby? Do you think he left you the note?”

  Maeve shook her head. “Bobby didn’t leave me the note. I don’t think so anyway.” Maeve fingered the note and studied the slip of paper. There was a tattered strip at the top of it, so likely the piece of paper had been part of a notepad. She held up the paper to the light and noticed slight indentions in the paper as well. “What have we here?” she sang out.

  Gracie sat next to her. “What?”

  “Hold on sec,” Maeve said, digging into her bag for a pencil. She gently scribbled across the top of the note.

  “Should you do that? I say, leave it alone and take it to Joseph. Maybe he can get some fingerprints or DNA or Lord knows what—”

  Maeve ignored Gracie as she pressed harder on the paper to reveal some indentations. “There’s some more writing here.”

  “Really?” Gracie asked, excited now and trying to read over Maeve’s shoulder.

  “Something was probably written on the sheet of paper that was on top of this one,” Maeve said.

  She flashed the paper to Gracie. “What do you think?”

  Gracie squinted and read, “June 6th, 12.15, 404-474-4985”

  “Whose number is that?” Maeve asked, jumping out of her chair and startling the dog at her feet.

  Wanda yelped and growled at the paper, seeming to understand that it had upset Maeve. “Do you think I should call that phone number to see what this is about?”

  Gracie nodded emphatically and Maeve pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number.

  “What are you going to say?” Gracie asked.

  Maeve shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you should light a candle.”

  Gracie gave her a confused look, but before she could say anything else, a familiar voice came on the line. “This is Bobby.”

  Maeve smiled. What was Bobby Farley’s, aka Real Estate Hustler and nefarious finance man, phone number doing on the note he swore he hadn’t written?

  “Hi Bobby. This is Maeve O’Dare.”

  “What do you want?” Bobby grumbled.

  Maeve laughed. “Nice to talk to you again, too.”

  Wanda growled and leapt toward Maeve’s phone. Maeve batted the dog away. “Down, girl.”

  “What?” Bobby asked, annoyance thick in his voice.

  “Sorry,” Maeve said. “I was talking to my dog. Anyway, does the date June sixth mean anything to you?”

  Bobby was silent for a moment. “No. Should it?”

  “Can you tell me your whereabouts that day?” Maeve asked.

  Gracie snickered and Bobby said, “Is it Officer O’Dare now?”

  Maeve chewed on her lip, and Gracie grabbed the phone out of her hand. “Hi ya Bobby. It’s Gracie.”

  “Aw, hi there, honey. What are you up to?” Bobby asked, his tone immediately different than the one he’d used with Maeve.

  “Someone left a threatening note for Maeve, and we found your number imprinted on it.”

  “On the note?” Bobby asked. “That’s strange.”

  “Can you, please, check your calendar and tell us about June sixth?” Gracie asked, her voice sweet as sugar, and she batted her eyelashes gratuitously at Maeve, who smiled.

  “Of course. Hold on a sec, Gracie,” Bobby said.

  While they were on hold, Maeve mouthed to Gracie. “He likes you.”

  Gracie smiled and mouthed back. “I know.”

  “My mother always told me I’d burn in hell if led boys on that didn’t have a chance,” Maeve whispered.

  “Who says he doesn’t have a chance?” Gracie giggled.

  “Gracie,” Bobby’s voice came through the line. “I had a haircut that day, but that’s all that was on my calendar.”

  “What time?” Maeve asked, loud enough for Bobby to overhear her.

  “12:15,” he said, annoyance returning to his voice.

  “Where at?” Maeve pressed.

  Gracie and Maeve shared a knowing look.

  “The only place in town,” Bobby said.

  Chapter Ten

  Maeve

  As Maeve pulled away from the café, she gripped the steering wheel tightly. Nerves flooded her, and she felt like she was in over her head.

  Just because Eleanor left me a menacing message, doesn’t mean she’s a killer, Maeve thought. What exactly was she supposed to tell Officer Joseph?

  Wanda sensed Maeve’s angst and barked at her.
>
  Maeve reached over and patted the dog on the head. “You’re worried about me, aren’t you? You’re so sweet. I’m glad I found you ... or you found me, I suppose.” Maeve returned her hand to the steering wheel. The sun was starting to set, and she fortified herself by thinking that everything could be resolved by nightfall.

  Or is that wishful thinking?

  “He’s going to want evidence,” Maeve said to Wanda.

  Wanda barked and wagged her tail, and Maeve could swear that dog nodded her head.

  “So, someone left a threatening message for me at my building,” Maeve said, practicing her presentation on Wanda. “Eleanor wrote the note, I know, because of the indentions in the paper. Gracie’s my witness there. Eleanor probably pulled the paper from a notebook, and on a previous page she’d written down Bobby Farley’s contact information along with a date and time. Bobby confirmed that the date and time was for a hair appointment with Eleanor. I think that’s enough for the police to at least start looking into Eleanor as a suspect instead of me, right girl?”

  Maeve drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

  Why kill Nadine, though? Maeve wondered.

  “If the rumors about Eleanor and the mayor are true ... something changed, because obviously they aren’t together anymore. Hmmm. The mayor is more concerned about his reputation than Eleanor. Maybe that angered her? Enough to want to kill Mayor James? I mean, according to Gracie, Eleanor is known to be a bit erratic. She did intentionally get herself a speeding ticket just to have a few minutes to talk to Officer Joseph. Clearly, she’s desperate for attention.”

  Wanda wagged her tongue at Maeve.

  “You agree?” Maeve asked, quirking a brow in Wanda’s direction.

  Wanda shook her tail.

  “Okay, so, my theory is,” Maeve continued. “Eleanor was trying to kill Mayor James, but Nadine drank the poison instead when she mixed up her and Mayor James’s drinks. Sound good so far, girl?”

  Wanda yelped and sat upright only to be jolted sideways when Maeve turned into the parking lot of the police station.

  “Sorry, Wanda!” Maeve exclaimed, reaching her arm across to keep the poor dog from falling into the floorboard. “Dogs are so funny in cars,” she said softly, and Wanda seemed to almost roll her eyes at this. “You’re so funny, Wanda. You’re like a person, I swear.” The comment seemed to excite Wanda; she started barking and whining and licking Maeve.

  “Okay, easy, knock it off! We don’t have time for this.” Maeve wiped her face and neck where the dog had slobbered all over her. “Seriously, Wanda? I am about to go inside to have a serious talk with someone, and you’ve smeared my makeup all over my face!”

  She took a quick moment to redo some of her makeup and then hopped out of the car. Wanda didn’t bother waiting for her to come open the passenger’s side door; the dog hopped over to the driver’s side and jumped out.

  Something sure has gotten her excited, Maeve thought.

  The two of them walked into the police station and asked the receptionist to speak to an officer about Nadine’s case.

  The uniformed receptionist looked down her nose first at Maeve and then at Wanda.

  “No dogs. Unless they’re service dogs.”

  Wanda blinked at the woman, the woman said nothing but turned to lead Maeve down a corridor.

  Wanda followed them and Maeve grumbled at her. “Stay girl!”

  The dog ignored her, and Maeve felt a wave of panic. They emerged from the corridor into a general workroom where several officers were parked at their desks; some were chatting, others were gazing at computer screens. All stopped what they were doing and watched as the receptionist brought Maeve and Wanda over to Officer Joseph Mont’s desk.

  Maeve felt sure someone would reproach her about Wanda, but the receptionist motioned to the hard plastic chair opposite Joseph’s desk and retreated.

  Joseph smiled slightly to himself and then composed his features into a serious look. “How can I help you, Ms. O’Dare?”

  Maeve sighed as she crumpled into the seat across from him. Something in his face told her sharing the information she’d had wasn’t going to be easy. Wanda sprawled out on the floor beside her, probably enjoying the cool, tile flooring.

  The dog, though, seemed to be pouting.

  I don’t think Wanda likes Joseph very much, Maeve pondered as Joseph pulled out the file for Nadine’s case.

  “You didn’t come here to confess or anything, did you? In which case, we should probably go into the interrogation room,” Joseph said, and although he was obviously joking, it struck a nerve with Maeve.

  “No, I didn’t,” she snapped.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Stupid joke. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

  Maeve told Joseph about the past few days; talking with Mayor, Bobby and mostly about the note. Joseph scribbled away on a notebook while she talked, and he seemed quite intrigued by what she had to say.

  When Maeve finished, Joseph leaned back in his seat, his face pale.

  “Bleach powder killed Nadine,” he said. “A lot of it. When we ran her blood, she had an excessive amount of chlorine in her system, and we double checked the cup she had been drinking from and found residue of bleach powder.”

  “Is that significant to my accusing Eleanor?” Maeve asked, though she was certain she already knew his answer.

  “Bleach powder is used to dye someone’s hair blonde. Eleanor’s a beautician, so ...” Joseph shook his head. “I’ve known Eleanor a long time, but I can’t ignore this. I saw her at the event ... she was running the drink station, but I never even interviewed her as a possible suspect because, well, I knew her. I just didn’t think she could ever ...”

  Maeve dropped her head. “Easier to think ill about someone you don’t know so well.”

  Joseph’s brow furrowed, and then he wiped away the wrinkles with his hand in a fast and agitated manner. “I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

  Maeve graced him with a lopsided smile, and Wanda seemed to stir in her place. “Did you already come to a conclusion?”

  He leveled a gaze at her, then held up a finger. “Give me a minute.” He grabbed his desk phone and dialed the police chief who was home for the evening.

  Maeve sat quietly and patiently, waiting. Wanda, for her part, was less quiet, growling and whining at her feet.

  “Yes, sir. Will do. Thank you, sir,” Joseph said, hanging up the phone.

  Maeve perked up, ready for an update, but Joseph was on the phone again. He covered the mouth piece and whispered to her, “Local judge.”

  Maeve nodded at him, a feeling of pride warming her chest.

  He’s calling a judge. This is good! Maeve thought.

  “Yes, sir,” Joseph said into the phone. “We do have some evidence, but it’s fairly circumstantial. It could be enough. It’s getting late now. She’s probably home. Thank you, sir.” Joseph jumped up from his seat and ran across the room, disappearing around a corner. He returned moments later, waving a slip of paper. “I got a warrant,” he smiled at Maeve, and she felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

  “There’s one more thing,” Maeve said as she stood. “When I went to speak to Mayor James, he tried to suggest that Donnie Jacobs had been the one manning the drink station. But you say you knew it was Eleanor. Do you think Mayor James could have been trying to blame Donnie?”

  Joseph’s shoulders sagged. “Mayor James called me and tried to tell me some story about Donnie getting into it with Nadine last week, but his story sounded convoluted, and even though he’s the mayor I didn’t take it seriously. It sounds to me like Mayor James is trying to keep Eleanor from getting busted to save his own reputation.”

  “An awfully crazy idea considering that she tried to kill him,” Maeve sniped.

  “He probably thinks his reputation is worth the risk of keeping Nadine’s killer at large,” Joseph said. “If all this turns out to be true, Mayor James could be
facing charges as well.”

  “So why didn’t you believe Mayor James about Donnie?” Maeve asked.

  “Mayor James was so blasé with the accusation, and he’d been close to Nadine. My gut told me that the Mayor would have been torn up if he really suspected Donnie of killing her. And anyway, I know Donnie’s a good kid. He’s just made some mistakes.”

  Maeve looked into Joseph’s eyes. “We all make mistakes.”

  Joseph blushed, and Wanda suddenly jumped up from her seat on the floor. She wiggled her body between them and Maeve laughed.

  “So, what now?” Maeve asked.

  Joseph took a step back. “Now, I go get Eleanor. I’m going to try to get a confession out of her.”

  “Do you need anything from me?” Maeve asked.

  “I need you to give your statement again. To another officer. Can you stay here and give it one more time?” He glanced around the room and motioned for another officer to come over.

  “Sure, I think I can do that,” Maeve said.

  The other officer was older and more serious than Joseph. In one hand, he held a small electronic device that dangled a microphone.

  “I’m going to take a couple of guys with me to bring her in for questioning,” Joseph said, more to the other officer than Maeve.

  The officer patted Joseph on the back. The slightest bit of jealousy sizzled through Maeve’s belly. After all, she was the one who’d figured things out. Where was her pat on the back?

  Men!

  Wanda seemed to sense something because she barked up at Maeve, and Maeve laughed.

  As long as I know I contributed, I don’t need the pat on the back, Maeve thought.

  The officers escorted Maeve and Wanda to an interrogation room to get her official statement.

  Maeve retold the story of her investigative work again, but she didn’t mind. If it meant clearing her name, she would tell the story a hundred times more. They wanted her to stay at the station until the arrest was made, so she wound up sitting around for several hours.

  At least they have coffee, she thought as she checked her phone to see that it was close to two in the morning.