A Witch Called Wanda (iWitch Mystery Book 1)

by Diana Orgain

  The ends of his mustache turned up. “Here’s my card.”

  What did that prove? I let his card hang between his fingers. He wiggled it at me. I took it.

  “Would you like to call Mrs. Avery?” he asked. “She’ll verify that she’s hired me.”

  “Do you have a photo ID?”

  His face broke apart with laughter. Mustache going one way, bottom lip the other way.

  I tried not to be offended. “What good would it do if she says she hired ‘Galigani’ when all I have to prove that you’re Galigani is a business card?”

  “You’re right. Here you go.” He opened his wallet and shoved his driver’s license at me. “This, too.” He dug into the wallet and pulled out a worn private investigator license from the State of California issued to Albert Galigani.

  “What’s her number?”

  His face registered surprise. “You’re actually going to call her?”

  “I’m a new mom, my car’s been broken into twice, my brother-in-law is missing, and I found my friend dead yesterday. I can’t let a stranger into my house. What if you try to kill me?”

  “If I was going to kill you, I could have done it through the crack in the door. But please, by all means, call Mrs. Avery.”

  He was right. He could have already killed me.

  I shut the door in his face. He rang the bell again. I ignored him, got out the phonebook.

  Ah! Here was an instance where actually using the phonebook would be faster than an online lookup. Okay, so maybe the books were still good for something.

  I found two numbers under Avery, Michelle’s and another one. I dialed the second one.

  The doorbell rang again. Let him wait.

  I got voice mail. Of course. No one answers their phone anymore. I left a message. Why couldn’t anything be easy? The bell rang yet again. I opened the door with the chain in place.

  “Stop ringing the bell. You’re going to wake my baby.”

  He looked contrite. “Sorry. Did you reach her?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No. You’re going to have to come back after I hear from her.”

  Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, tilting his head back in a huge dramatic gesture. “Listen, lady,” he said on an exhale. “I got a job to do. People are unsafe, like you said yourself. Your friend ended up dead. If someone killed her, it sure as hell wasn’t me. I’m one of the good guys.” He opened his hands in an imploring gesture. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of this.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. I believed him. I’d believed him from the start. But the logical part of my brain told me I couldn’t just let strangers into my house.

  When had I become fraidycat Kate?

  “Don’t ring the bell again,” I warned. I shut the door. I dialed the number on Galigani’s card marked MOBILE.

  I watched him through the peephole. He stood on my doorstep and waited, ignoring his ringing cell phone.

  “Pick it up, it’s me,” I said, through the door.

  He laughed and dug his phone out of a hip pocket. “Hello?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I just need a little info. You knew Brad Avery?”

  “No. Just Michelle.”

  He pulled a little notebook from his pocket; scraps of paper flew out of the back. I watched him pick up the slips of paper from my doorstep, bunch them up, and shove them into his pocket. “Michelle, huh? The second wife.”

  There was a first? Was that Gloria?

  “You found her dead?” he continued.

  “How do you know that?”

  The ends of his mustache went up. He looked toward the peephole. “It’s my job to know. Are you going to open the door?”

  He was right. This was ridiculous. I hung up and opened the door.

  I motioned him inside. He stepped forward cautiously, eyeing me up and down.

  He visibly relaxed. “You know, I’m probably more frightened than you. You know who I am and what I’m doing here. I never know who I’m talking to. For all I know, you could be the murderer.”

  I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he raised his hand in protest. “I know! I know! You’re going to say you’re not. Everyone says that. I don’t think you are anyway. The guilty ones are never paranoid. They want you to march right in and start asking questions. They like to think they’re so smart they can fool you. Hell, sometimes they do.”

  I gestured toward the sofa, then shoved a pillow and a blanket to the side to make room for him. “Do you want coffee or anything?”

  He shook his head and sat. “How did you know Michelle?”

  “We went to high school together.”

  I recounted for him the details of my finding Michelle dead. I left every single George reference out.

  He tapped his notebook and squinted at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something, Mrs. Connolly?”

  I shrugged. If he wanted to know anything about George, let him ask me directly.

  “Do you know anything about Michelle’s investments?”

  I frowned. “Investments?”

  What exactly was he getting at?

  “I understand she and Brad owned a restaurant.”

  I pressed my lips together to remind to myself to keep my trap shut about George. “Yup, that’s about what I know, too.”

  “Ever been there before?”

  “I ate lunch there day before yesterday. My car got broken into in front. I don’t think I’ll be going back.”

  He scratched at his mustache. “You mentioned that earlier. Second time, huh?”

  What had I said earlier?

  “Something about your brother-in-law missing,” he continued.

  Big-mouth Kate. “That’s right,” was the best I could muster. I closed my eyes, willing myself to focus. How much did this guy know or need to know?

  Could he help us locate George?

  “What do you charge?” I wondered out loud.

  He squinted at me. “You want your husband followed or something?”

  I looked down at my robe. “Do I look that bad?”

  His face flushed. “Uh . . . sorry . . . that’s the most common thing people want to hire me for. Two hundred dollars an hour.”

  I gagged. Obviously, I was in the wrong profession.

  “You need help locating your brother-in-law?”

  I stared at him.

  Yes. The answer was yes. Yet I muttered, “Ummm . . . not sure . . .”

  Galigani nodded. “You mind telling me where you were on June fifteenth?”

  Was he serious? I studied his face. He studied me back.

  “I honestly can’t remember. I could look it up on my calendar.”

  “Please,” he said, not taking his eyes off me.

  “All right,” I mumbled as I made my way toward my bedroom, where I kept my appointment calendar.

  I grabbed the calendar and peeked in on Laurie. She was as still as a statue. I stood over her, waiting for any kind of movement.

  Her foot twitched, followed by some shadow boxing. She settled down after a moment, still asleep.

  I heard Galigani shuffling in the living room and quickly made my way back. I paged to June. “Ah yes!” I said. “June fifteenth. I knew it sounded familiar. Our friend Paula’s little boy, Danny, turned two. They had a party for him.”

  “You went to the party?” Galigani asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Was your husband with you?”

  My breath caught. I felt as though Galigani had hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat. “Jim and I were at the party all day. Together. Plenty of people saw us.”

  What I didn’t tell Galigani was that Jim had left the party early. He had come down with a terrible sinus headache, which he gets at least once every summer when the pollen count is at its highest in San Francisco. Although Jim didn’t like leaving me unescorted, I had insisted he go home, but there was no reason for Galigani to know that.

  “Hmmm,” Galigani mur
mured as he scratched his mustache. “Can I see that?” He gestured to my appointment book.

  “Sure.” I handed Galigani my book, trying to act nonchalant. “I’ve even got the invite somewhere.” I reached over his hands and flipped to the back of my planner. Sure enough, Paula’s invite with a picture of a smiling Danny peeked out under the flap. I pulled out the invite. “It says noon to four, but we ended up staying longer. The party probably lasted until about six or seven, then people starting leaving, we stayed. Paula’s a close friend. We ordered Thai, watched a movie, and just sort of hung out. Her little boy went to sleep early, exhausted from the excitement of the party, the toys, the people. He kept banging a drum that he got—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know how two-year-old boys can be.”

  “We probably left around eleven or so.” I was using the euphemistic “we” as in the yet unborn Laurie and me. Not a lie, exactly.

  Omission. Okay, maybe a white lie.

  His mustache twisted to the side, then he nodded. “Your alibi appears iron tight. Mind if I take down your friend’s address and number?”

  With Paula in France, even if Galigani went to her place, he wouldn’t find her home. That would buy me a little time to get to her before he did.

  I handed him the invite. “No problem. But why? I mean, Jim and I didn’t even know Brad Avery.”

  He jotted the address down. “I understand, ma’am. There are just a few things I need to check out. Your husband’s at work today?”

  I felt acid churn in my stomach. “Yes.”

  “And where’s that, ma’am?”

  “Fortena and Associates, downtown. He’s an ad executive.”

  Galigani nodded, making his way toward the front door, “Thanks for your time.”

  I stopped him with a question, “What about yesterday?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t you want to know where Jim and I were yesterday, you know, when Michelle was killed?”

  “I’m only being paid to investigate Mr. Avery’s murder.”

  “Don’t you think they’re connected?”

  He waved his hands around, palms up. “Maybe, but I’m only being paid to investigate Mr. Avery’s murder,” he repeated.

  •CHAPTER TEN•

  The Third Week—Reaching Out

  From my front window, I watched Galigani squish into his compact car. Where would he go next? To interrogate Jim, or try and find my girlfriend Paula? Maybe he could lead me to George.

  Stupid George. I couldn’t wait to find him, so I could wring his neck!

  I contemplated following Galigani.

  Yeah, right.

  With a newborn? Like I’d ever be able to get out of the house in time.

  I heard Laurie’s wake-up call. I went to my bedroom and picked her up from the bassinet.

  Cold. Wet. Hungry.

  A mother’s job is never done. I changed her, swaddled her tight, then settled down on our sofa to nurse her. Even though thirty minutes had passed since Galigani had left, I couldn’t shake the odd feeling of violation I’d had during his questioning. I absently looked out the front window again. Galigani’s gray Honda was still there. What was he doing hovering outside my house?

  Was I being staked out?

  Outraged, I gathered Laurie up and ran down my front steps. This guy was getting paid two hundred bucks an hour to sit in his stupid Honda outside my house, while I nursed my baby!

  Had I nursed Laurie anywhere near the front window?

  As I approached his car, I couldn’t resist looking back at my house. The sofa was in plain view. Talk about feeling violated.

  By the time I rapped on his window, I was fuming. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He rolled down his window. “My car won’t start. I called road side service.”

  Just then a tow truck turned the corner. Galigani jumped out of his Honda and greeted the driver.

  I slunk back into the house.

  Stupid Kate, jumping to conclusions. Where was that going to lead?

  Wait a minute. Galigani was still outside. If I hurried and got dressed, maybe I could follow him after all.

  I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and glanced out the front window. He was jabbering with the tow truck driver. With Laurie in my arms, I raced downstairs to the garage and packed her into her car seat.

  I rolled the car out of the garage and waved to Galigani as I turned the corner.

  I parked at the end of the next block, comfortably tucked in between a pickup and a UPS van. From this vantage point I could follow him in whichever direction he drove.

  I waited. Galigani’s Honda passed me. I pulled out behind him, hoping to keep a discreet distance.

  Galigani led me to an apartment house in the Haight district. I watched from my car as he rang a bell and waited. A curtain moved on the third floor. Someone peeked out the window. Galigani didn’t notice, just continued to wait without being let in.

  I counted the windows. Six from the right. Probably each apartment had two street windows. So that would make it the third apartment from the right. Third floor, third apartment. Easy to remember.

  Galigani rang the doorbell again. After a moment, he turned to leave.

  He squeezed back into his car. The car sputtered and died.

  Shoot!

  I couldn’t wait around for another visit from road side service. By the time they’d arrive, I’d have to feed Laurie again.

  The Honda turned over again and the engine revved up. Galigani pulled out of his space. The chase was on.

  I followed him to Pier 23. The pier where George’s bags had been found. Where poor Brad had been pulled from the water. I watched as Galigani paced back and forth and took notes. He stopped a couple of passersby and talked for a while. His job didn’t seem that tough. Ask questions, drive around some, and charge a lot of money. I could do that, couldn’t I?

  <><><>

  I puttered around the kitchen, getting dinner ready. Mom had left a homemade lasagna and a box wrapped in comics from the Sunday paper on my front porch. The box had a note attached.

  Must have missed you. Here’s a little something I couldn’t resist for Laurie. Not the lasagna—that’s for you. I put plenty of vegetables in it. Are you getting enough greens? Hope you are feeling better today. Call me—must see my granddaughter soon. Mom.

  Thank God for Mom. I was pressed for time and the lasagna was a Godsend. I placed it into the oven and put the gift for Laurie in front of her. She eyed the paper and drooled.

  “Grandma got you this. Want to open it?”

  Laurie reached out and batted the present.

  “I’ll help you.” I ripped open the paper. It was a colorful jack-in-the-box. It popped up with no warning. Laurie howled.

  I grabbed the cordless phone and dialed Mom. “Hi, it’s me.”

  “Darling! Where have you been?”

  “Here and there. Thanks for the lasagna.”

  Mom chuckled. “I thought you might like that. Did Laurie like her little surprise?”

  “It scared the bejeezes out of her.”

  “Oh, no! Well, maybe she’s still too little. You used to love yours.”

  I had had a jack-in-the-box? What happens to your memory? Is it the pregnancy? Postpregnancy? Or just plain hitting thirty?

  “How are you feeling?” Mom asked.

  “All right. Tired. Can you come over tomorrow and watch Laurie?”

  “Sure. Where are you going?”

  I hesitated. Better not to share my real plans with her, she’d only worry. “Oh, nowhere in particular, maybe do a little shopping. Can you be here around noon?”

  <><><>

  Jim called to say he would be home late. I took advantage of the extra time to bathe Laurie.

  I set the little green tub into our kitchen sink and ran lukewarm water into it, then laid out all the essentials: a pink hooded terry towel, a yellow ducky washcloth, and special baby body and hair wash.

  Undressing Lau
rie, I gently placed her in the tub. She curled her lips in protest, but as the warm water poured over her she cooed happily.

  I put a small drop of the baby wash on the ducky washcloth and rubbed her tiny toes.

  “You have tic-tac toes,” I said, squeezing each of them between my fingers.

  Laurie gave me what looked like a smile.

  The doctor said I wouldn’t get any real smiles until about six weeks, that any resemblance to a smile was simply Laurie practicing the use of her facial muscles.

  Hmmm!

  What did that doctor know anyway? This was really a smile. My little jelly bean was a genius.

  I tickled her toes again. “This little piggy went to market.”

  Laurie blinked up at me. Suddenly, I noticed she had grown beautiful black eyelashes. She was so fair that her eyebrows were barely visible. The same had been true about her eyelashes, until today.

  “When did you get those gorgeous long black lashes?”

  Laurie flapped a response, then turned her head and examined the side of the tub. I finished bathing her, then laid out her towel and gingerly picked her up. I patted her dry as I made my way into the nursery.

  The nursery window was open. I rushed to close it. I didn’t want Laurie to catch a cold.

  Wait.

  When had I opened the window? Had I opened it?

  Oh, how I wish I had a memory. Any memory at all would be good. My mind was a sieve.

  Maybe Jim had opened it before leaving for work. Had it been open all day? My stomach lurched as I glanced around the room. Nothing looked displaced.

  A loud beeping sounded throughout the house. The smoke detector. I had forgotten the lasagna in the oven. I ran toward the kitchen with a howling Laurie in my arms.

  “Shh, it’s okay, pinochle,” I soothed, staring at the oven.

  How do you get a burning lasagna out of the oven with an infant in your arms?

  I returned to the nursery to put Laurie down, then remembered the window. What if a stranger was in the house? After all, our cars had been broken into. My address was out there in someone’s hands. The logical part of my brain was telling me to calm down, but I looked around for a weapon anyway.

  Then I heard the footsteps.

  Someone was in the house!

  Suppressing the scream rising in my throat, I grabbed the cordless and raced with Laurie into the only hiding place I could think of. The closet.