“His father’s scum, if what you told me last night while I was digging around for some milk wasn’t all just a dream. Of course, I can’t tell for sure if this isn’t a dream, I’m so tired,” Stevie replied, tickling the heel of the baby’s foot.
Naturally, I’d told Stevie everything I knew about Inga, her father, and her wretched spouse, Gerhard Nurnberger. “Yes, that he is. And while I hate to say this out loud, he does resemble Inga’s husband. Though, I fully admit, I can’t come to terms with her having his child.”
Stevie took another sip of her coffee and yawned. “I know you think it’s inconceivable she’d have a child with him, and her leaving the baby here with us certainly could mean the reason she did it was because she didn’t want him anywhere near Gerhard, but Baby-Spy didn’t get here because the stork dropped him off, Win. Also, he’s not newly born. Why did she wait so long to bring him to you if Gerhard’s such a monster?”
Why indeed? Therein lies the crux of this whole mess. “No. Of course, he didn’t just hatch. I do realize there’s a slim possibility he could be Gerhard’s, and in that case, maybe she dropped the boy here to keep him from the maniac. Maybe she wasn’t able to leave Gerhard until this past night? I don’t know. But there’s an explanation if he’s her husband’s child, Dove. As sure as I’m dead, there’s an explanation.”
Stevie rose, draining her coffee cup and setting it down before she picked up the baby and tucked him to her side. He giggled and tugged a strand of her wayward hair. “What about the rest of the note. Do you think it’s some kind of hint? I can’t stop thinking about it.” She dug it out of her bathrobe pocket and flattened it on the island counter.
I couldn’t help but admire the ease with which my little ex-witch handled this child. She behaved as though she had a great deal of experience with infants. Also, if I’m to adhere to honesty, seeing her this way made my chest ache with an unfamiliar tug of muscle.
So I looked away. Foolish notions aside, we needed to locate Inga. This child needed his mother.
“Okay, let’s read it out loud again—My darling Winsical (remember our little joke, Crispin). Meet your beautiful baby boy! He’s the spitting image of you, don’t you think? So sorry to drop him and run. FYI, he loves long walks, spinach, and naps. Love forever, Inga.”
That brought all of us (except for Baby-Spy), to silence once more.
Finally, I sighed in aggravation. “I don’t know, Dove. I see no triggers, clues, nothing that makes me think of anything other than the obvious question of his parentage. I want to believe she was leaving me a clue, but again, the remainder of that day is fuzzy.”
Stevie bounced the baby on her hip, biting the inside of her cheek. “How odd though. He loves long walks, spinach, and naps? It’s almost as if she’s trying to find him a date, the quirks she listed are so randomly vague. This note doesn’t seem like the kind of note meant to give you instructions on care. Also, the handwriting looks like she wrote this in an awful hurry, suggesting she was on the run.”
I racked my brain, trying to put something, anything together, but what’s interesting is it’s mostly some of my memories of a personal nature that are hazy since I hit the afterlife, and none of what Inga mentioned rang any bells.
“I still have nothing, Dove.”
She sighed. “Same here. Okay, so here’s the plan today. I’m going to grab a shower. Then I’m going to ask Carmella to come babysit, and after that I’m going to go into town to pick up baby supplies and apparently, spinach. We can’t have little Brad-Chad going without formula and diapers and all the essentials crucial to a baby. Then when I get back, we hit the Internet hard and start looking for some clues as to Inga’s whereabouts. You start poking around up there and see if you can find anything out. Sound like a plan, Spy Guy?”
“Brad-Chad?”
“Is that your takeaway from what I just said?”
“It’s terribly horrible.”
“Have you thought of a better name?” she inquired in that cocky way she had when she was proving a point.
“I haven’t, but anything’s better than Brad-Chad.”
She snorted as she began to make her way toward the hall and to the stairs. “Well, it sure isn’t Fergus. Keep thinking. We’re going to need a name to give Carmella.”
“Dove, have you considered what you’ll tell her about him? What’s our cover?”
Pressing a kiss to the top of Brad-Chad’s dark head, she smiled and rubbed her cheek against his hair. “This is my cousin Winnie’s son. She’s visiting from my old stomping grounds in Paris, Texas, and she asked if I’d babysit while she took a romantic trip with her husband.”
I smiled. I’d love to meet this Winnie in person one day. Though she isn’t really Stevie’s cousin, she is a dear friend of hers. One Stevie’s been unable to see since being ousted from her coven.
“And we explain his lack of food and gadgets how?”
Stevie gave me her favorite saucy look, the one where she sucked in her cheeks and batted her eyelashes. “We lie and tell her Winnie goofed and forgot to leave me the diaper bag and his suitcase before she jetted off to Rome, of course.”
Every day, my admiration for her grew. “Well done, Mini-Spy.”
Stevie grinned a sleepy grin and curtsied on the way up the rest of the stairs then disappeared to take a shower, making me laugh.
“Zero?”
“Hmmm?”
“I think we must discuss something I do not wish my malutka to hear.”
I sat next to him on our favorite bench beneath the cherry blossom tree. I often wish Stevie could see the beautiful gardens here. A flower-lover such as herself would admire Plane Limbo’s lush beauty. “That is?”
“I think we must discuss the possibility Inga is kaput.”
Turning to look at him, I saw the worry on his usually smiling face and, in turn, it made me frown. “You think someone stole the baby from Inga and dropped him here because they want to draw me out?”
Arkady clucked his tongue with clear disapproval. “Didn’t you leave Von Krause in lurch then disappear? You cause him big, big trouble with the Chinese in that last deal, Zero. You remember? Millions of dollars gone.”
Yes. My past misdeeds coming back to haunt me. How ironic. “You mean when I swore I’d handle the drop then stole the guns so there was never a drop?”
Arkady shook a finger at me in admonishment. “You know what I mean, Zero. Maybe they make the lovely Inga tell them where you are and they take the baby and bring him here to trick you.”
“That’s rather elaborate, isn’t it? And a baby as bait?”
“You know Von Krause as well as I do, comrade. You say yourself, he would sell his mother for the rubles. Why not a baby?”
Running a hand over my jaw, I considered Arkady’s words. His input is invaluable to me, and when he speaks, I always listen. Yet, that scenario just didn’t feel right. So I nodded. “I did say that, old friend. But it doesn’t feel right. This is, for all intents and purposes, Von Krause’s grandchild. It’s beyond deplorable to think he’d hurt him. Besides, doesn’t the spy world know I’m dead? Why would he come looking for me if that’s the case?”
Arkady slapped his bulky thighs and sighed. “This I do not know. I have not seen anyone from our old life here to ask. I am just testing theories like brain tornado with you.”
“Brainstorming. We’re brainstorming, chap.”
“Da. You can call it whatever you like, but I worry for my malutka’s safety. We must keep wide eyes on her at all times. Never let her out of your sight. Everyone is enemy, Win. Everyone.”
An ominous shiver ran up my spine. A familiar trickle of cold dread I hadn’t felt since my spy days.
The one that told me trouble was surely on its way.
* * * *
“Stephania?”
Stevie turned to me, impish grin in place as she put the finishing touches on a mobile made up of colorful stars and moons to hang above the baby’s brand-new crib. “
Crispin?”
She only calls me that as a rebuttal to my using her full name with a surly tone. “Did you buy the baby store instead of the Twinkie factory?”
I wasn’t at all upset by the fact that Stevie had made purchases for the baby. Not one bit. Indeed, I myself would shower him with whatever I could get my hands on, were I still alive.
I’m worried for his safety—for Stevie’s safety—and sometimes that comes out far crankier than I’d prefer.
“He has to sleep somewhere, you curmudgeon. You didn’t think I was going to just shove him on my bed every night with some pillows and hope for the best, did you? He can crawl, Win. I thought I’d have a heart attack last night just waiting for something to happen to him. But not tonight. Little Chad-Brad is going to be safe and sound.”
“I thought it was Brad-Chad?”
She waved a dismissive hand at me as she tore open a festive comforter in primary colors accompanied by, you guessed it, pillows. Always with the pillows. “Actually, I’ve decided on Hardy, as in Tom Hardy.”
I frowned and attempted to recollect if he was the gent in that spy movie Stevie had fawned over for days, which was totally unfounded as far as I’m concerned.
That movie, and most she loved in the spy genre, was absolutely not a representation of the kind of work a true spy does (I’m looking at you, Alias).
“The fellow in all those movies who growls and makes all manner of guttural sounds instead actually using his words?”
She wiggled her eyebrows at me and took off her lavender scarf, dropping it on the bed. “Don’t be jelly. And yep, that’s the one. The very delicious one who I can understand perfectly, thank you very much.”
I think my feathers are quite ruffled. I thought Stevie’s tastes were far more refined. Certainly, I’m far more refined than someone like Tom Hardy. “You find Tom Hardy attractive?”
Tom Hardy? Bah.
Did that sound peevish?
“Did my vanilla bean just say that man with the face of a bulldog is attractive?” Arkady queried in disbelief.
She let out a breathy sigh and began setting diapers on the changing table she’d purchased, which she assured me matched the crib and had been a very good deal. “She did, and what heterosexual woman with ovaries doesn’t find him attractive? He’s smexy. Anyway, that’s what I told Carmella his name was. But most importantly, the baby seems to like it.”
The thought of the little bloke settled in Carmella’s abundant lap outside on the garden deck off the kitchen, watching her blow frothy bubbles, brought me great pleasure.
Using my most cheerful of tones, I acquiesced. “Then Hardy it is until we know otherwise. Speaking of otherwise, I’ve heard not a peep from up here about Von Krause or any of his cronies. Neither has Arkady. Maybe it’s true what they say about the bad guys? None of them end up upstairs?”
Stacking the diapers in neat rows, she nodded her head. “Which means for all your tough-guy talk, you were a good guy. So, there’s that. Now let me finish up here and I’ll hit the Internet.”
“Stevie?” Carmella called, putting Arkady and I on silent. As Carmella entered Stevie’s room, her soft cheeks red from the summer sun, little Hardy resting his head on her well-padded shoulder, I couldn’t help but warm all over again. He was quite something. Truly quite something, and to see him with Carmella, a woman who’d taken Stevie under her wing as though she were one of her own without question and nothing but love, stirred my heart.
Stevie positively glowed as she held out her arms to Hardy and he went straight into them, snuggling against her as though he’d always done so.
“You’re a natural, Stevie,” Carmella commented, her sigh wistful as she tucked her hair back into its bun at the back of her head. “I think he needs a nap, honey. Figured I’d see if the crib was ready yet.”
Stevie wrapped an arm around her friend’s neck and gave her a hug. “Oh, Carmella, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you for coming over so early and waiting for the furniture deliveries. I can’t believe the store mixed up the dates and it all wasn’t here on time. Poor Winnie was so frazzled. But it all worked out, didn’t it?”
Good heavens, my mini-spy spun quite a believable tale.
Carmella smoothed a hand over her denim skirt. “Anytime, sweetheart. You know Enzo and I are always here for you. You’re like one of the family, like it or not. Now, so’s little Hardy.” She pressed a tender kiss to the baby’s cheek. “Do you need me any more today? Happy to help if I can. Plus, those toes are delicious,” she whispered on a chuckle.
Stevie’s eyes went wide, the green orbs sparkling. “I know, right?” she squealed in girlish fashion. “He’s so tasty. You go on home to Enzo now. I think we’ll be fine.”
Carmella patted her on the back with a motherly hand. “Left some meals in the fridge for you, in case you can’t get out to grab something. Pop-Tarts are not an acceptable meal, Stevie Cartwright.”
Stevie raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Says you. I get all the nutrients I need. Pop-Tarts have fruit, you know.”
Carmella chirped a laugh. “Eat what I put in the fridge, young lady, and call me if you need me to come watch the little one again.” She grazed a hand over the baby’s round cheek before dropping a kiss on Stevie’s forehead and taking her leave.
As we all listened for the front door to close, Stevie put little Hardy into the crib, tucking him against a stuffed rabbit and pulling the blue blanket he came with up over him. She kissed her fingers and pressed them to his nose before tiptoeing out of the bedroom.
Whiskey lifted his big white and amber head, but he didn’t budge from the spot on the floor near the crib.
“Whiskey!” Stevie whisper-yelled from the bedroom doorway. “C’mon, buddy. Don’t you want your afternoon treat?”
He cocked his head, but he still didn’t move a muscle. Instead, he rooted further into the floor.
“You’re a good boy, Whiskey,” I commended him. “You watch your mate. We’ll be right downstairs.”
He sank down onto his paws and closed his eyes with his signature huff, clearly content with his choice to remain with Hardy.
Stevie shook her head and blew a kiss at Whiskey. “He’s really taken to him, huh? You’re the best boy ever, Whiskey,” she whispered, before she turned to head downstairs—then paused and tilted her head.
“Do you hear that, Win?”
“Hear what, Dove?”
Her finger shot up in the air. “That! An oink. I heard an oink and a squeal!”
“Have you been immersed in too much baby play? Old McDonald doesn’t really have a farm, Stephania,” I teased with a chuckle.
She held her breath then shook her head. “Forget it. Maybe I am too immersed and I’m hearing things—even if I’d swear on my own life I heard a pig.”
“I cannot join you in that sentiment.”
“Then it’s true. I really am losing my mind,” she said on a grin. “Anyway, c’mon, Spy Guy. We have a mean-as-a-snake German arms dealer to capture.”
This woman. If I weren’t already dead, she’d certainly have killed me by now. I took a breath before replying, hoping to keep the fear out of my voice for Stevie’s sake.
But I can assure you, I’m not looking forward to her seeing the horrors this man has wrought.
Not one bit.
* * * *
An hour later, Stevie put a hand over her mouth and gulped as she stared at her laptop screen. Though the day was still sunny and lovely, it had gone quite suddenly gloomy and morose.
“Sweet Pete, Win,” she whispered raggedly into the shoulder of her blue sleeveless shirt. “He’s a monster. An absolute monster.”
I was afraid of this. Stevie is incapable of compartmentalizing her emotions. When she loves, she loves hard. When she despises, the same applies. She’ll never see past the monster in order to find his weakness. She’ll only see the monster who is the grandfather to a child she’s falling in love with, and she’ll do everything in her power to keep Har
dy protected—even if it’s to her detriment.
“I tried to warn you, Dove. It would have been much easier on you, had you simply looked him up, rather than looked into his atrocities.”
Belfry, awake from his nap, whistled. “You were undercover with him? Was it a long mission?”
My eyes fell to the soft grass of Plane Limbo. “Too long, Bel. Too long.” Ten solid months before I was pulled. Ten horror-filled, ugly months.
Bel sat back in contemplation before he quietly asked, “How’d ya survive that, Win? How do you unsee things like that and still sleep?”
By the hair of my chinny-chin-chin. If there were ever a time I’d considered leaving the spy world forever, living, eating, working undercover beside Von Krause had been that time. “It was my duty to the queen, Belfry. I take vows seriously. I made one to protect my country. Thus, I did what I must to ensure my country’s safety.”
Belfry shook his tiny head at the ceiling (he looks upward when talking to us, just like Stevie). “Man, Winterbutt, you’re tough as nails and honorable, too. I know I could never be a spy. I don’t have that kind of grit in me.”
Stevie closed her eyes momentarily, and then she popped them open and straightened. “Okay. No more. Let’s focus on where this animal was last seen. I read one article claiming he was in Rio. A long way from Germany, don’t you think? But then another claims a sighting in, of all places, Terra Haute, Indiana. Do arms dealers travel to Hoosier country, Win?”
“If the arms being dealt are big enough, they’ll go anywhere, but I think if you read the eyewitness account, you’ll see the glaring flaws to him being in Indiana.”
Stevie squinted and sighed. “I get your meaning. I don’t suppose Von Krause would be wandering around Indiana with a ring of automatic ammo slung over his shoulder dressed like Rambo in an ice cream parlor. Okay, that’s crazy enough to be dismissed, so no one knows where he is. Let’s look up Gerhard and Inga.”
As she typed in a search for the pair, Arkady sat quietly and watched. I’m certain it was due to his fear for both Stevie and the baby that he kept his thoughts to himself. But I knew what he was thinking.
Ain't Love a Witch? (Witchless in Seattle Mysteries Book 6) Page 5