Liza gave Stevie a tentative look and asked, “May I hold him? Will he come to me?”
Stevie offered Hardy to Liza. “He’d go to Satan with a drooling smile and a wave. He’s very adaptable. I swear, once we got over the initial hump of introductions, and I learned his routine, he took to me like a duck to water.”
Instantly, Hardy, all dark hair and doe eyes, slipped into Liza’s arms, grabbing a strand of her hair and gurgling his baby talk, affectively winning her over. “Aw, man. I see why you’re so nuts about him. He’s so cuddly.”
Stevie’s smile grew as she looked through her messages with half an eye still on Hardy. “He’s the best snuggler ever, and as you can see, Whiskey’s appointed himself his security guard.”
Whiskey sat at rapt attention right at Liza’s feet, his eyes never leaving Hardy as he bounced his legs and squealed in delight when Liza snuggled his neck. She reached down and patted his head with affection. “You’re an awesome dog, Whiskey. Such a good boy.”
Pulling her Madam Zoltar caftan from the diaper bag and whisking it over her head, Stevie looked to Liza. “So has it been quiet here this morning? I know it’s still early, but you know the tourists and how antsy they get.”
Stevie had become quite an attraction here during the summer months in Eb Falls, mostly due to her skills as a medium being so accurate. Her reputation preceded her these days, pleasing me no end. Each time we sent someone away satisfied, relieved to know their loved one was well, Stevie felt like she was honoring Madam Zoltar’s mission in life—to bring comfort to the bereaved.
“It’s been pretty quiet, except there was a guy who came in, asking about your house.”
Stevie’s head popped up, and both Arkady and I leaned forward on our favorite bench. “My house? What about it?”
Liza’s eyes were fixed on Hardy, but she shrugged her slender shoulders. “He just asked who lived in the house out on the cliff on the Sound. Of course, I didn’t tell him. So don’t worry about that, Boss.”
“Huh. I wonder what that was about?”
“Well, you have to admit, your house is pretty impressive and it does attract a lot of attention.”
“You mean from the biddies who gossip incessantly about how broke Stevie Cartwright acquired such a house?” Stevie asked on a laugh.
There’d been speculation about Stevie when she’d arrived back in Eb Falls, and it continued to this day, but she never let it bother her. Not even the rumor that she’d had an elderly lover who’d left all his riches to her. She just smiled and kept right on moving.
Liza’s pretty cheeks went a bright shade of pink. “You know I don’t pay any attention to them, Stevie. I don’t care how you got the house. Well, I mean, I care. I’m glad you have somewhere so nice to live, but I don’t care how it got into your hands.”
“I know. The beauty of this is, I don’t care either. Let them talk. Anyway, what did this guy look like?” Stevie asked, her fingers trembling slightly as she pretended to rifle through some papers by the cash register. Yet, I knew she was rattled.
“He was enormous. He wouldn’t be hard to find, I’d imagine. Big guy, very rough looking, bald. Very big and very bald. The kind of bald that comes from losing your hair, not a shave, because it was so shiny.”
Stevie looked down at the papers as though she didn’t give a lick who’d come asking for her, but I knew this news frightened her. “What was he wearing?”
Liza, busily nibbling on Hardy’s fingers, paused and looked up at Stevie. “You know, he had a leather jacket on, and I remember thinking that was kind of nuts. Even so early in the morning, it’s still summer and still kind of warm for a leather jacket.”
Now Stevie stopped sorting papers altogether, and I watched as her breathing hitched before she regained her composure. “Did he leave any kind of message?”
“Nope. Just said he liked the house and wondered who owned it.”
“Good enough then. If he needs something, he can always come back when Madam Zoltar’s in the house.”
Liza planted one last kiss on Hardy’s soft cheek before she gave him back to Stevie with obvious reluctance. “I hate giving him back, but I have to dash. Are we good for today or do you need me to stay longer?”
“We’re good. Go forth. Seek knowledge. Learn. Grow. We’ll be fine,” Stevie said on a smile and a wink.
Liza was taking some summer courses to prepare for grad school, keeping her late-morning, early-afternoon hours quite busy these days, thrilling Stevie and I. She’d come a long way since her grandmother’s death, and we were quite proud of her.
She gave Hardy another wave of her fingers. “Okey-doke. I’ll see you this afternoon for closing. Have an awesome day playing in the Great Beyond!” she called as she took her leave.
“I feel like shopkeeper does not believe in medium. I think she make fun,” Arkady complained.
Stevie paused for a moment. “You know, I’ve never wondered if she really believes or not because her grandmother believed—even if the real Madam Zoltar couldn’t really communicate with the dead. But does it really matter? It wouldn’t make me like her less, I don’t suppose.”
“I concur,” I said. “Now, on to other things. Are we thinking this man who came in early this morning is the man who attacked you last night?”
Stevie held up one of Hardy’s rattles and shook it at him, making him squeal with pleasure. “How would he even find me, Win?”
“Your car, of course, Stephania. We disappeared, leaving him plenty of time to rifle. Maybe he has access to databases, allowing him to run your plates. Or maybe he just broke into it. We weren’t exactly in the best part of Seattle, Dove.”
“True enough. Bel?” She stuck her hand inside her purse and scooped him out. “Did you call the tow service?”
He sighed, his tiny head hanging. “About that, Boss. Nobody can find your car to pick it up and tow it anywhere. You’re going to have to file a police report.”
“I can’t believe someone stole my car! That’s two cars in a year!” she yelped.
“We should keep a spare for you, Dove.”
“Or you could just tell me where you parked the Aston Martin and I can use that,” she joked with her impish grin.
“Or we could just get you a bike, Dove. One is less likely to find that as appealing as one would a brand-new car,” I suggested.
“Are you ever going to tell me where that hot rod is? Are we always going to have ugly secrets tearing us apart?” she asked dramatically, throwing her hand over her forehead for effect.
“Yes.”
She began to laugh, her hearty chuckle filling my ears. “Okay, fine. No Aston Martin for the medium. Anyway, we’re getting nowhere fast with finding Inga. We need to find her or find out if anything happened to her, but I’m stumped, Win. I don’t get it at all. According to the Internet, she’s still married to that goon Gerhard, who, BTW, looks nothing like the guy who attacked me. He’s too short and thinner than that hulk of a man who gave me road rash. There’s no mention of a baby anywhere, and no new reports on the accident in her Toyota. So, what next, Spy Guy? Do we poke around town and see if this guy who came in asking about our house is the same guy from last night? Do I just walk up to him and say, “Hey! Wanna go a round?”
“Malutka! You do not approach enemy! Do. Not. Understood?” Arkady roared.
Both Stevie and I had expressions of shock on our faces. Arkady almost never raised his voice.
The baby, too, stopped bouncing against Stevie’s hip, his lower lip trembling. But she was quick to cover his face with kisses to thwart his crying. “It’s okay, snuggle bunny. The bad Russian won’t yell ever again, will he?” she asked pointedly of the ceiling.
“Bah,” he muttered. “I am sorry. This whole Von Krause mess has Arkady Bagrov in bad place. I worry for your safety. For the wee one’s safety.”
“Well, could you worry a little quieter, Russian? Remember, Hardy can hear you, and you frightened him. I didn’t say I was goi
ng to go toe-to-toe with whoever this guy is. I was just joking. Relax already, and help me find his mother.”
“Arkady Bagrov apologizes from the depths of his soul. Maybe it is better if I take moment to think, yes? I am angry bear today.”
And with that, he escaped to another part of Plane Limbo, his exit leaving behind a wisp of white smoke. You can do that much, you know. Even though our earthly connection is to Stevie, and we can’t go far from her, Plane Limbo is ours for the taking. Arkady can wander off somewhere on the plane in order to be alone. We have the most beautiful waterfalls and ponds here, with grassy knolls and fields of always-blooming wildflowers. Plenty of places where one can go in order to gather themselves.
But this wasn’t like Arkady at all. He always wanted to be a part of everything. Von Krause had gotten into his head, even from the beyond.
“Was I too harsh?” Stevie asked, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
“He only speaks so vehemently due to his fears for your safety, Dove. We both fear for your safety. Von Krause is not to be toyed with. His atrocities amongst us spies are legendary. I know you’re very confident in your skills these days, but he’s more than a formidable foe, with an army of men to back him.”
“I get it. I do. I didn’t mean to upset him. I’ll try and take this more seriously, for Arkady’s sake. Promise.”
“Very well then, let’s go back to the beginning. Maybe we’ll come up with something we’ve missed.”
Rocking from foot to foot, she asked, “You mean from the time Hardy was dropped at the door?”
“Indeed.”
As we went back over what we’d witnessed that night, I kept peeking over my shoulder in the hopes I’d catch a glimpse of Arkady.
But alas, wherever he’d gone to, it was far enough away to keep himself hidden from my prying eyes.
And this worried me. We needed Arkady to help outsmart this monster.
I hoped wherever he went off to, he wouldn’t stay away too long.
Chapter 10
Back at the house, we still hadn’t heard from Arkady, and Stevie had begun to fret. Hardy was off with Carmella for the evening so he could play with her grandchildren, and we pored over the Internet for more information on Inga and the alleged accident.
“No sign of him yet?” she asked from the kitchen table.
It was our favorite time of the day. We usually watched the boats from the windows as the sky turned a bruised purple and orange, while Stevie, Whiskey and Bel had their dinner. But tonight, she nibbled at a lone Twinkie, her eyes glued to her laptop screen.
“No, Dove. Nothing.” Even I was beginning to worry about him. However, he was a spy. If he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be found.
“I really mucked that up, didn’t I, Spy Guy?”
“Nay, Dove. He’s simply coming to grips with his worry for you and the child. He’ll be back. Of this I’m sure.”
She sighed and looked to Whiskey, who’d taken to pacing by the entrance to our kitchen. “Whiskey, bud. The baby will be back. Promise. It’s okay. Now c’mere. Mommy’s got a big, juicy bone with your name on it.”
She rose to bring Whiskey the bone she’d grabbed at the pet shop, but his look of disdain and the turn upward of his wet nose said it all. He wouldn’t be satisfied until Hardy was home where he thought he belonged.
“Buuuddy! What up?” Bel asked from above, landing on Whiskey’s back. “Are you feelin’ sad because the little dude’s on a play date without you? Wanna go play ball or somethin’?”
But Whiskey flopped down on the floor, giving both Belfry, who’d hopped to his nose, and the bone a forlorn gaze. As Belfry whispered soothing words to Whiskey, Strike clucked and pecked at his corn on a newspaper on the kitchen floor.
Stevie and I sighed in sorrowful unison before she suddenly threw her hands up in the air after another scour of the Internet.
“I don’t know where to go next, Win. We have virtually no clues. Nothing. I can’t find zip about Inga online other than the same pic I found the other day, and some very rare photos of her walking behind her father on an undisclosed beach when she was ten. There was one minute—and I do mean minute—article about her marriage to Gerhard three years ago. But that’s it. I can’t even figure out where she actually lives. So Von Krause is certainly a crafty guy about keeping their Internet footprint virtually nonexistent. What do we do now?”
“We do what spies do more often than not. We wait. Bide our time.”
“Wait? Are you kidding me?” she squealed at the ceiling. “How can we just wait around, Win? There has to be something, anything that can help us find—”
The doorbell rang just then, stopping her tirade momentarily. Believe me, I understood her frustration, but sometimes there truly are no leads and your mission goes cold. So you wait.
As she made her way to the door, a Twinkie in her hand, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood, she said, “I’m telling you, Win, I’ll go out of my mind if I have to wait around for something to happen. Inga can’t be dead. I refuse to believe she’s dead.”
Peeking at the security system’s video screen, she cocked her head. “It’s Sandwich,” she whispered, before she threw open the door with a wide smile.
Ah, Sardine. I do so enjoy him. He’s a big loveable bear who goes the extra mile every time. He fights so hard for everyone to take him seriously, but his demeanor is that of a cuddly teddy bear, from his rounded, ruddy cheeks to his shortly cropped hair and wide body, he’s just smoosh-worthy, as Stevie says. And reliable. Sandwich is very reliable.
“Sandwich! What’s up?” Stevie asked, peeking around him to look outside. Even at eight in the evening it was still quite light out, and as the sun readied itself to set, Sandwich stood in front of the glare of the colorful sky, blocking it out.
But Officer Lynne Paddington (his real name, in case you weren’t aware), obviously wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.
He plopped his hands on his belt and affected an irritated stance. “How many times do I have to tell you not to park down by the docks, Stevie?”
Jamming her hand inside the pocket of her denim shorts, she cocked her head at him, a frown appearing on her forehead. “What?” she squeaked in outrage. “I didn’t park—”
Sandwich whipped his phone from his pocket and held up a picture, thwarting Stevie’s protest. “Are you gonna tell me this isn’t your car? Who else has a license plate that reads MDMZ2.0?”
She blinked her eyes and stared at the phone, quite speechless.
“Listen here, Stevie. I know I’m still just the guy who ate a sardine, pickle, and mayo sandwich back in school, but I’m a little tired of your refusal to accept my authority as a police officer, and this time, I’m gonna put my foot down. You’re parked in a tow-away zone. I’ve caught you parking there more than once, and you know I have. I’m gonna give you a big fat ticket. The next time, I’m going to slap the Barbie car in impound. Got it?”
With flourish, he scrawled something on a pad with a pink slip of paper and held it up for Stevie to see.
“Grrr. Our Sandwich is feisty this eve, is he not, Stephania?” I chuckled the words as she flapped her hand at her ear as though I were an annoying gnat. “Now, my advice. Do choose your words wisely from here on out, Dove. Should you tell our good Sardine the car was stolen, they’ll want to investigate, and while I wholeheartedly approve of such, I don’t think you want your second car of the year, not to mention a feasible explanation for why you were in that rattrap of a pub last night, tied up with official red tape. Just a thought from me to you.”
So, Stevie held up her hand in white-flag fashion. “I’m sorry, Sand…er, Officer Paddington. Here. Give it to me. I’ll go into town tomorrow and pay it right away.”
His lips became a thin line as he put his pad away in his shirt pocket and looked down at her with a grave expression. “And why the heck is your car there if you’re here anyway, Stevie? What’s going on?”
“Yes, St
ephania. Why the heck is that?” I taunted her. I loved nothing more than these on-the-spot tales Stevie had to create when there was explaining to do. She was so innovative and alert at times like this.
She scratched her head and looked down at her bare feet, wiggling her painted toes. “Well…I…um…”
This is where the wheels begin to turn, folks. This is where it all sinks or swims.
Sandwich’s eyebrow rose as he cocked a glance at her, folding his arms over his cuddly teddy-bear chest. “You what?”
“Well… I had a lot of coffee today. I mean, a lot. So much, my eyeballs were literally sloshing around in my head. Tons of readings being the reason, and I had to do something to get me through, right? So I was a little shaky by day’s end and figured I’d better not drive. That’s all. No big deal. I don’t know what I was thinking, parking down by the docks. Never mind—I wasn’t thinking, was I? I was too jittery and edgy. But I was breaking the law. My apologies. Swear to you, it’ll never happen again.”
“Hashtag worst cover story ever,” I teased, fighting my laughter.
“So you drove over a mile to the docks by the library, in the opposite direction of your house?”
“Think fast, Stephania!” I poked, thoroughly enjoying her predicament.
I know. Shame on me, but this will strengthen her skills for future use. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself right now.
I heard her growl under her breath at me before she bounced back and said, “Well, duh, Sandwich. I already told you, I was jittery. I went the wrong way. That’s when I realized I was driving under the influence and stopped right then and there and called an Uber. Who knows where I could have ended up if I didn’t come to my senses? Guatemala, for all I know. I was only trying to do the right thing.”
Sandwich squinted down at her. “Coffee, you say?”
“Yes, sir. Coffee. A boatload of coffee. Makes me a little hinky on an empty stomach.”
“That’s not going to get you out of a ticket, you know.”
Stevie sighed and looked up at him, her eyes apologetic as she reached out a hand and squeezed his bulky forearm. “I know, and I don’t want it to. I’m happy to pay the ticket because it’s the right thing to do, and you made the right call. But Sandwich? I’m sorry if I made you feel anything less than the awesome officer of the law you are. Because you are awesome. Honest.”
Ain't Love a Witch? (Witchless in Seattle Mysteries Book 6) Page 10