A Witch Called Wanda (iWitch Mystery Book 1)

by Diana Orgain

  We both hobbled up the stairs and took a mini break outside the apartment to catch our breath.

  Galigani asked, “Ready?”

  I threw my shoulders back, took a deep breath, and nodded. Galigani banged on the door. The redhead opened it a few moments later. She was wrapped in a robe, her hair enveloped in a towel.

  She smiled widely to see me. “Kate Connolly! What can I do you for?”

  Galigani flashed his investigator badge. “May we come in? I don’t think this is a conversation you want to have in the hallway.” He walked past her without waiting for a response. I followed him into the living room.

  He circled around the room, then made himself comfortable on the couch. KelliAnn and I remained standing. Galigani eyed an opened box of chocolate chip cookies lying on the coffee table. He picked up one of KelliAnn’s magazines and flipped through it casually. “Can you tell us, again, about your whereabouts on the night of June fifteenth?”

  She blinked. “What are you talking about? You two need to leave or I’ll call the police.”

  I watched her fidget with the towel on her head.

  “We have reason to believe you were at El Paraiso,” Galigani said.

  KelliAnn rolled her eyes. “Come on. My stupid neighbor killed Brad. The police know all this. They arrested her.”

  “You were still in love with Brad after all these years,” I said. “You took him to the prom. You never got over him.”

  KelliAnn laughed. “That’s absurd!”

  Galigani jumped in. “You overhead Brad and Jennifer that night. You knew he was leaving your sister. You heard Jennifer reject him.”

  “Maybe you thought you’d try a last-ditch effort to get back together with him,” I said.

  The corners of her mouth twisted downward, creating a half-crazed look on her face. “This is ridiculous! You can’t come over here and accuse me of this!”

  “I have something of yours, KelliAnn,” I taunted. “Something you lost that night at El Paraiso. It must have slipped off your wrist when you reached into George’s bag to take the gun you killed Brad with.”

  Her eyes flashed. She blinked rapidly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You broke into both my cars, looking for your bracelet. Michelle saw it fall from George’s bags. She told you I had it, right? She suspected you were involved. Is that why you killed her? Because she’d figured it out?”

  KelliAnn shook her head frantically, the towel unraveling, her red hair falling to her shoulders. “You’re wrong. Michelle killed herself. And Jennifer . . . They found the gun at Jennifer’s place.”

  Galigani tsked. “That would have been easy for you to plant. What with her being your neighbor and all.”

  “The handyman in 101 must like you a lot, huh, KelliAnn?” I winked. “He let you into Jennifer’s place, didn’t he?”

  KelliAnn snarled. “Jennifer is an ungrateful bitch. She was unemployed and pitiful when she moved here. I asked Michelle to hire her, as a favor to me, thinking Jennifer would be a good little spy. I knew Michelle and Brad had a racket going on, but I didn’t know what.”

  Galigani scratched his head. “Your plan backfired. Brad fell for Jennifer.”

  KelliAnn swung her hair, trying to appear nonchalant. “Please, I didn’t care about that.”

  “You cared about him enough to lure his child into a lake.”

  KelliAnn took a step back from me, paling. Her expression told me I had hit the nail on the head.

  “You didn’t think anybody knew about that, did you?” I asked. “Svetlana confided in Jennifer that she thought someone had lured her little girl, Penny, into the lake. The way I figure it is, you ran into Svetlana and Penny, or maybe you were following them like you did George, and when you saw an opportunity, you lured Penny—”

  “Or just plain grabbed her and drowned her,” Galigani said from the couch.

  KelliAnn gasped, then abruptly covered her mouth.

  “You must be really sick, lady,” Galigani continued. “You couldn’t stand the thought of Brad being with anyone else, much less having a child with her. You get rid of the kid, hoping Brad would blame Svetlana for negligence—that’s one way to ruin a marriage. But instead of rushing into your arms, Brad finds comfort in your sister.”

  “You have no proof,” KelliAnn said, her eyes flaring.

  “George went to Svetlana for help,” I said. “He knew you were following him. You didn’t find the bracelet in my cars, so maybe you figured I had given it to George. One day at the pier, you cut me off in Michelle’s Mercedes. George saw you and ran. When he told Svetlana, she confronted you, is that right? She had it all pieced together. You killed Svetlana, her little girl, her ex-husband, and your own sister.”

  Galigani stood. “Then you pointed the police toward Jennifer. What better motive? She kills her ex-lover and his wife, then kills her boss. Everyone has a motive to kill their boss.”

  “The other day you were at Michelle’s with Rich.”

  KelliAnn’s eyes grew wide. “How do you know—”

  “This what you were looking for?” I pulled out the bracelet from my pocket.

  She impulsively reached out to grab it. I closed my fist around it and tucked it safely away into my pocket. Now it was my turn to smile. KelliAnn stared at me, her mouth pressing into a thin line.

  “I thought Rich might have been looking for the business ledgers I found. But now I get it. He’s the one who helped you get rid of Brad’s body.”

  KelliAnn’s eyes darted back and forth, landing on the side table next to Galigani. On the table was a heavy lamp and a small jade phone.

  Was she thinking of calling for help?

  “I overheard Rich say something about a fight,” I continued. “You fought with Brad. He didn’t want you romantically. You got upset, found George’s gun, and killed him. You needed help with the cleanup, right? Rich was willing to help. Why not? With Brad out of the way, he could buffalo Michelle, Svetlana, and Mrs. Avery about the business profits and pocket more money. And you, of course, would keep quiet about all of it. If he turned you in, you’d tell the police about the drug operation. Ruin his game.”

  Galigani said, “Rich probably hadn’t factored in that you’d totally lose control and kill Michelle and Svetlana, too. Who would have been next? Rich? George? Only now they’re safe behind bars.”

  “What I don’t understand is how you could kill your own sister,” I said.

  KelliAnn’s face turned as red as her hair. “My sister? Yeah, right. She didn’t care about me. My dad’s the only one who really loved me,” she said. “My mother passed away when I was fourteen. I was sent to live with Dad and that awful woman and Michelle. Michelle always wanted a sister, and I guess, at that age, she didn’t realize the implications. She didn’t . . .” KelliAnn moved toward the mantel and reflected on a ceramic vase. “I was her father’s child and we were only a few years apart. Michelle didn’t realize that that meant her father had been living with my mother while he told Michelle and her mother that he was away on business trips. He was really living a double life.”

  “Rough,” Galigani said, sidestepping the coffee table and squaring himself off with KelliAnn.

  KelliAnn closed her eyes, lost in the past. “He was a commercial airline pilot. I guess my mom and I were the ‘other port’ for him. It’s okay. I forgave him. I loved him. The bracelet was from him. He engraved it for me, with BERRY, because of my ‘berry berry red hair,’ like he used to say. I never took it off.” Tears streamed down her face. “He did his best to take care of me, even though it ruined his other marriage and, eventually, his relationship with Michelle.”

  Galigani surprised me by saying, “The other marriage was already ruined before you got there.”

  “Michelle and her mom never really accepted me. I see that now,” KelliAnn said. “At the time I didn’t. Something like that is difficult to explain to a fourteen-year-old whose mother has just passed away. Yes, I was the
red-headed stepchild, quite literally. They tried to send me to the same school as Michelle. Your school,” she spat, eyeing me contemptuously. “It was obvious that I didn’t fit in there. And wouldn’t. You know how that school was with ‘problem’ children.’ ”

  “I remember you were there only a short time.”

  “Yes,” KelliAnn said, gripping the ceramic vase. “I was sent to a ‘special needs’ school.” She let out a blood-curdling scream and hurled the vase at Galigani’s head.

  He ducked and it smashed against the back wall. I dove behind the sofa. KelliAnn continued to scream as she grabbed the lamp next, knocking the phone off the table. I’m sure she would have loved to peg me with it but decided Galigani in the open room was a better bet. She swung the lamp from its cord in a wide circle. Galigani dodged her.

  I surfaced from behind the couch long enough to grab the phone.

  No dial tone.

  The cord had fallen out the back. I jammed the cord in place as KelliAnn closed in on Galigani. “I’m not going to an institution!” she screamed. “Never again!”

  I watched in horror as KelliAnn swung the lamp again and this time hit Galigani square in the chin. He stumbled back and hit the wall dazed. She changed her grip from the cord to the base of the lamp. I dropped the phone and seized the moment to charge her. She raised the lamp above her head ready to smash Galigani just as I tackled her from behind.

  She crumpled beneath me, taking the lamp down with her. It broke in several pieces, leaving KelliAnn with an ugly jagged piece in her hand. She rolled me off her quickly and waved the piece near my face.

  Galigani regained himself and grabbed KelliAnn’s hair. This pulled her off me long enough for me to retreat to the phone. I dialed 9-1-1.

  Even though Galigani had her by the hair, KelliAnn was still swinging and, because she was on the ground, found his weak spot. She was going for his groin but missed and hit his right leg, which was still fresh from surgery. Galigani went down like a rag doll.

  The 9-1-1 operator came on the line, although it was difficult to hear because KelliAnn was laughing hysterically. To my terror, she was staring at Galigani’s exposed ankle holster.

  Adrenaline shot through my body with a force I’ve never felt before, and with what seemed like supernatural strength, I dove right for KelliAnn.

  If she got to Galigani’s gun, I was a dead woman.

  Laurie’s face flashed in my mind and I hardly realized I was screaming and crying as I descended onto KelliAnn, smashing her nose with my elbow.

  She recoiled, momentarily dazed, her hands covering her bleeding nose. I fumbled for Galigani’s gun but perhaps he mistook me for her, or maybe instinct took over, because he scissored my hand between his ankles.

  I drew back, which gave KelliAnn the opportunity to kick me in the ribs. Winded and in excruciating pain, I doubled over.

  She took advantage of this and grabbed my head, wrapping her fingers into my hair. This really pissed me off because recently it seemed my hair was falling out left and right.

  Postpartum hair loss and this bitch was going to pull out the few remaining strands!

  With a fury only a mother can know, I heaved myself up and rammed my hard head into KelliAnn’s face. As my head connected with her no doubt broken nose, she yelped and released my hair. I quickly pulled her face into my knee. She moaned and fell to the ground.

  The room was finally silent, until I heard the voice through the phone.

  I lunged to grab it, only to hear sirens down the street. I put the receiver to my ear.

  “Help is on the way, ma’am,” the operator said.

  I was shaking uncontrollably. “Thanks,” I muttered into the phone.

  Galigani stirred. He observed KelliAnn lying at his feet. “You did great, kid. Only next time, try to tackle ’em before they hit me.”

  •CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE•

  The Sixth Week—Bottom Line

  I drove home with mixed emotions. I should have felt elated that I’d finally solved the mystery. At least I could cross that off my to-do list. But I had unresolved feelings.

  People were dead, some were behind bars, and others hadn’t slept in weeks.

  Maybe it was the hormones or being overtired, or the adrenaline leaving my system; whatever the reason, I broke down and cried.

  In the morning I woke up more exhausted than ever. I showered and delighted in shaving my legs. Shaving your legs while pregnant not only feels unsafe but is next to impossible. I fussed in the closet and decided on a gray and white striped wool skirt with a very forgiving elastic waist and a cashmere sweater.

  When I got to the shoe part, I tried my best not to cry. I stuffed my feet into open-toed heels, only to find that they were so tight they made my feet look like sausages.

  Can’t anything ever be easy?

  From the back of my closet, I pulled out some open-heeled pumps. Definitely sexy, but the problem was, they were higher than what I normally wore. It had been so long since I’d worn heels, I feared I might break my neck in them.

  I had a three-hour window until the next feeding. Time to hustle.

  I kissed Jim awake.

  He raised a sleepy eyebrow. “Are you wearing a skirt?” “Yeah. I even shaved my legs.”

  “Oh my God! What’s going on that I don’t know about?”

  “I need you to watch Laurie. I have a very important meeting.”

  “Lucky guy.”

  “What makes you think it’s with a man?”

  “You wouldn’t have shaved your legs for a woman. You’d wear jeans.”

  “Ha ha! I have my six-week postpartum checkup this morning.” I winked at him. “But I’m free for lunch.”

  <><><>

  I made my way to Laurel Heights to Dr. Greene’s office. I couldn’t believe that the last time I had been there I was nine months pregnant, suffering from high blood pressure, swollen feet, carpal tunnel, and a compressed bladder.

  I took the stairs to her second-floor office. I had never done that in all the months I’d come here, because I supposed I was entitled to get fat if I was pregnant. Now I needed the exercise.

  As soon as I arrived, I was greeted by Dr. Greene’s cordial staff. No waiting, not like at the pediatrician’s. I was ushered into an examination room and told that Dr. Greene would be right with me.

  I sat on the table fully clothed, not knowing if I needed to undress or not.

  When Dr. Greene entered the room, she surprised me by wanting to reminisce about Laurie’s birth.

  After our brief walk down memory lane, she asked, “How do you feel?”

  “Tired all the time.”

  She nodded. “That’s normal.”

  “My bones hurt.”

  She laughed. “That’s normal, too.”

  “I can’t stand the thought of going back to work.”

  “My dear, you sound fully recovered.”

  <><><>

  I drove straight home. When I arrived, I found Jim vacuuming the house.

  “You’re cleaning again?”

  He was standing next to the bassinet, holding the vacuum cleaner in one place. “No. Not really. Just trying to keep Laurie quiet.”

  “What?”

  “She wouldn’t stop crying, so I did everything the same as yesterday,” Jim shouted over the noise. “The robe, the baby carrier, all of it. None of it worked. The only other thing I did was vacuum. So I figured I’d try it. Sure enough, as soon as I turned it on, she stopped crying.”

  He flicked the vacuum off. Laurie instantly woke up and howled.

  “Oh, my God!”

  “I know. She’s been like this all morning.”

  I scooped Laurie up and did a little bouncy dance with her. She continued to cry. Jim flipped on the vacuum, and after a moment Laurie settled into my chest and snoozed.

  Jim and I exchanged glances. “If she keeps this up, we’ll have the cleanest house in the neighborhood,” he said.

  I put Laurie down in the bassi
net. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the cordless phone flashing. It was ringing, only we couldn’t hear it with the vacuum cleaner on. I flipped off the vacuum. Laurie wailed.

  Jim sighed, then leaned over and grabbed the phone. After a short conversation he hung up and said, “Honey, you look beautiful, but can we do dinner instead of lunch? I just got a job interview.”

  <><><>

  I spent the rest of the day aimlessly playing with Laurie. Thoughts of calling my boss, Nora, crowded my head. We couldn’t afford to wait for Jim to land a job. Even if this interview went well, an offer would likely be weeks away. And we needed an income.

  As for my little PI business, it would have to go on hold. Sure Galigani had been impressed, but when would another client come along?

  I breathed Laurie in as tears streamed down my face. “I don’t want to leave you, little one.”

  Laurie turned her face into my shoulder. I cuddled her.

  Finally, at five to five, I picked up the phone and dialed Nora.

  What was the point of putting off the inevitable?

  Nora picked up on the first ring.

  “Nora, it’s Kate.”

  “Kate? When’s the magic day? Tell me it’s soon. We’re drowning here without you!”

  I sighed, imagining my desk piled with paperwork from the last six weeks. “My maternity leave is over tomorrow. How’s Monday sound?”

  Today was Thursday and I silently thanked God that at least I’d have the weekend.

  “Great! We’ll see you at eight A.M.,” she said, hanging up.

  I hung up, annoyed. I had wanted to ask her where I was supposed to use the breast pump. But the words hadn’t come out.

  I imagined hauling my breast pump into the ladies’ room. Didn’t the office have any place private?

  I thought about the lone little package in the freezer. Two measly ounces of breast milk. All the brochures on breastfeeding by working moms recommend having about thirty-two ounces on hand before starting work.

  I pulled out my breast pump and thought about calling Mrs. Avery.

  I knew I needed to talk to her, but I’d been putting it off. I supposed I wanted to stretch out my fantasy of being a private investigator for as long as I could.