She twisted the bangle bracelets on her arm and nodded with a gulp before she spoke. “You did hurt me, Win. It does hurt that you didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell me the details of the events of that night. I thought our friendship surpassed typical friendships. I mean, surpassed even some of the closest friendships. I thought the unique nature of our relationship, the fact that I can’t see you, or read your body language, or any of the things normal friends do, somehow made us closer than most anyone because we make it work even with all the barriers thrown up between us. And for a moment there, hearing you confide in Arkady, it felt like I’d been left out of the group.”
We all sat silent for a moment. Arkady huffing after his outburst and Stevie processing the words she’d spoken.
I broke the silence by asking tentatively, “So, apology accepted, Dove?”
Fingers crossed here, folks.
She sighed, and I wasn’t quite sure she was all the way there but she nodded her head, and the warm smile she reserved just for me returned. “Accepted.”
“Hah! That is better,” Arkady said. “Now you make nice and we find out about baby mama and bald man, yes?”
Stevie was just about to turn off the ignition when Officer Nelson knocked on the window. Startled, she pressed the button to lower it. “Officer Nelson?”
“Miss Cartwright,” he said, returning to his formal way of addressing her when he was in uniform. “Who are you talking to?”
“Ghosts,” she said with a teasing smile, turning the ignition off and pushing the driver’s side door open.
He fought cracking a smile. I don’t know if Officer Nelson believed in Stephania’s afterlife adventures or not. She had, at one time, given him vital information from his dead girlfriend Sophia. Yet, still, I believe he isn’t entirely there. Thus, I’d say not, by the look of uncertainty on his face anytime she’s brought it up, and to be fair, he was probably more a science chap than a Great Beyond bloke. Still, I think her talk of ghosts amused him enough that he tolerated the subject.
“Spooky,” he said.
“So, what can I do you for on this fine day, Officer Nelson?”
Now he looked quite uncomfortable, as though he wanted to ask something, but wasn’t sure which words to use. His lips began to move and then he stopped, paused, and started again. “About the other night…and your cousin Winnie…”
Ah. The parlor games. He was doing some damage control. Quite chivalrous, indeed. Just another check in the pro column for someone I’d come to admire a great deal.
But Stevie just shrugged as she exited the car. “What about her?”
He rocked back on his heels, letting his thumbs hook over his belt. “She… Well, did she mention anything about me and…Detective Kaepernick?”
Stevie cocked her head and gave him a confused glance. She was going to allow him to save face, a fine judgment call, if you ask me. “She said you were both very lovely to her while she waited, and you took good care of the baby while I was gone. Should she have said something else?” she prompted.
Instantly his handsome face, hard angles and all, went relaxed in the warm sun. “Nope. I was just hoping she wasn’t upset about strangers watching the baby, is all. She kind of took us by surprise. Almost as if she popped up out of nowhere.”
Stevie patted him on the chest with the palm of her hand. “You’re not a stranger, Officer Nelson. You’re Officer Plays By The Rules, and a member of the circle of people I’d trust with my life. Why would she be upset about that?”
He tipped an imaginary hat to her and actually chuckled. “You’re not trying to worm another IOU outta me, are you?”
Stevie made a big deal of pretending offense as her eyes went wide and she planted her hands on her hips. “Why, Officer Nelson, I can’t believe you’d even ask that. Don’t be ridiculous. Now, scoot! Don’t you have tickets to give to poor unsuspecting tourists, breaking laws like they grew up in flophouses?”
“Carry on, Miss Cartwright,” he said, still fighting another chuckle.
“You are good person not to make fuss over kissy-face, my little crumb cake,” Arkady praised.
But she just flapped a hand in her ear and locked the car, heading back toward the Moo Barn with a determined stride, weaving her way through batch after batch of tourists in beach attire, out enjoying a perfectly lovely, sunny day.
One yank on the Moo Barn’s door, and she pushed her way inside the ultra-industrial urban interior, her eyes scanning the counter area covered in concrete.
Already, it was quite packed, and a harried counter boy, standing beneath the exposed black pipes and copper pendant lights, looked at his wits’ end.
Stevie didn’t bother to get in line; rather, she positioned herself to the side of the concrete counter, where a cashier was busy ringing up orders.
“Hi there, um,” she squinted at the young woman’s nametag, “Letisha. I’m Stevie Cartwright. I own Madam Zoltar’s right down the block here.”
Letisha held up a finger to indicate Stevie should wait as she rang up an order of the Moo Barn’s famous peanut butter and jelly hamburger with seasoned curly fries for a customer. “Can you hang on just one sec?”
“I just have a very quick question and I’ll let you get right back to it. I was wondering who was working here within the last few days, maybe a week? Was that you?”
Letisha pushed a streaked blonde strand of her hair out of her hazel eyes and clearly smiled as politely as she could without exploding. “I wasn’t on shift until today, but Manny was here every day, and I think Edith was, too.”
“Any chance you might have seen a big bald guy come in today, leather jacket, easily six-foot-two, maybe even three or four, wears a lot of cologne?”
Letisha looked right at Stevie and shook her head, sticking a pencil behind her ear as she wiped her palms on her black Moo Barn T-shirt. “Can’t say as I remember anybody like that, and I like bald dudes, so I think I’d remember.”
Stevie nodded curtly and asked, “Is Manny or Edith here today?”
“Uh-huh. I think Edith’s bussing and Manny’s in the kitchen. Look, lady, I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re not buying a hamburger, I gotta get back to work. I can’t afford to lose this job.”
“I understand entirely,” Stevie agreed, letting her purse drop to the crook of her arm. “I’m just going to scoot back to the kitchen and talk to Manny. Thanks for your help, Letisha.”
Letisha nodded, and she went right back to handling customers, making no protest whatsoever when Stevie pushed her way through the swinging doors to the kitchen and headed straight for the dark-haired fellow with blond highlights threaded through his hair, busily flipping hamburgers.
“Are you Manny?”
He wasn’t at all fazed by her question. Instead, he continued shifting hamburgers with a wide spatula, his brawny arms and hands working their way toward the back of the grill. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m Stevie Cartwright. I own Madam Zoltar’s down the block. Pleasure to meet you.” She stuck out her hand, but Manny was too busy to acknowledge her.
“You mean you’re the kooky lady who thinks she sees ghosts?”
Instead of taking offense, Stevie smiled wider. “Yep. That’s me. Your local kook. Can I ask you a couple of questions?”
“Shouldn’t you already know the answers to them because you talk to ghosts?”
Stevie sigh pierced the noise of the busy kitchen. He’d made a common mistake, confusing psychics with mediums, one that annoyed her to no end. “I’m a medium, not a psychic. I can’t predict the future, Manny.”
He cracked a half smile, his pockmarked cheek rising as he rolled up the sleeve of his white T-shirt before returning to shifting burgers. “Shoot. Too bad. I was gonna ask if I should bother to ask the new girl out, but forget it. What do ya want?”
“Have you seen a big bald guy in here the last couple of days? Wears a leather jacket and a lot of cologne?”
“Aw, yeah,” he said wit
h a smile and a nod to his head. “Nice guy. Eats a lot. Had two Swiss cheese and mushroom burgers with a ton of mustard. He was here with a lady and her kid, like two or three days ago, I think. Could smell him all the way across the room. Cute kid, too, real friendly.”
Of course, I saw the alarm bells sound in Stevie’s head, it was written all over her face. Also, when she found a new clue, her whole body vibrated, as it was now beneath her sundress.
She licked her lips in nervous excitement. “He had a woman and child with him? Are you sure?”
“Couldn’t miss ’em. First, he’s huge, barely fit in the door. Second, lady sure was pretty. Had a little accent. Don’t know where from, though. Only heard her talking to the baby for a sec before I came back here.”
Stevie fairly jumped out of her skin, but she kept her cool. “Did the woman look like she was upset at all? In distress? Maybe here against her will?”
Manny blew a scoff from his lips and shrugged. “She didn’t look like she was upset, but I didn’t hang around long enough to notice. I was late for work.”
“Do you remember what day that was?” Stevie asked hopefully.
“It was three days ago for sure, because Andrew was waiting on Manny so he could take off for his vacation. I remember it clear as day. And I saw that lady, and she was definitely upset,” a tiny woman with a large tub full of dirty dishes announced.
Stevie whipped around and took in the small woman wearing a white Moo Barn apron and a hairnet covering her rich black hair. She slung the gray tub up onto the counter, the clatter almost silent compared to the chaos of the kitchen.
“She was upset?” The tremor in Stevie’s voice revealed her concern.
The woman—Edith, I’m assuming—nodded her head, her husky voice rasping out an answer. “Yup. Looked like she’d been crying, but she was puttin’ on a good face for the kid. She was overly cheerful, ya know? Like she was trying to keep the kid from hearing she was upset.”
Bloody hell. Now more than ever, I feared for Inga’s safety. But what sort of hostage taker brings his hostages to a place to dine while he holds them hostage?
“Can you describe the baby?” Stevie asked, her hand shaking ever so slightly as she brought it to her throat.
Edith threw a striped towel over her shoulder and grabbed another empty tub from the counter by the sink. “Cute as a bug in a rug, dark hair, had a blue blanket he looked pretty attached to, waving at everyone who went by. No stroller either. Just a car seat. You’d think they’d want to push the kid around instead of carry him all over the place, right? But the guy was huge. I guess he didn’t mind carrying the kid.”
Stevie wrung her hands together. “Did they seem upset with each other, or just upset in general?”
“Can’t say for sure who was what. I just know she looked like she’d been crying. Hey,” the woman said, pausing halfway to the kitchen doors. “You a cop or something? Are they in some kinda trouble?”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself. You’re Edith, right? I’m Stevie Cartwright. I own the shop down the road.” She held out her hand to the woman.
“Yeah,” Manny cackled. “She’s the lady who reads minds. You know, the kooky lady?”
Everyone in the kitchen, including Edith, laughed, but that didn’t bother Stevie at all. She’d been the recipient of much skepticism. However, she knew the truth, and with that brought a certain amount of secret confidence.
Still, Edith took her hand anyway and smiled. “Ignore these schmoes. They don’t know their butts from their elbows. Nice meeting you. Now, I gotta get back to work. You know what these tourists are like.”
“Of course. Lovely meeting you. Thank you for your time,” Stevie said as Edith hurried off. As Stevie made her way out of the kitchen, she stopped and turned back toward Manny. “Oh, and Manny? You probably shouldn’t ask that girl out. I have it on good authority she’ll say no.” And then she giggled as she exited, followed by the guffaws of the kitchen staff.
Chapter 13
Stevie sauntered out of the kitchen and back into the still-packed dining area, where a flat-screen television hung above the tables under raw wood beams running the length of the shop.
My eyes were drawn to the picture flashing across the screen. The red Toyota pickup hung on a hook behind the reporter who’d interviewed Sunflower and Whatshisname. “Stephania! Look at the telly.”
She moved closer in an attempt to hear what the reporter was saying, but as she did, she frowned and sighed simultaneously. “No bodies found,” she whispered before turning away from the television and heading for the door.
Her eyes scanned the parking lot across the street as she relocated her car and stepped off the curb, weaving her way through the busy street.
As she got back in the car once more, her cheeks red from the heat and likely disappointment, she leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment.
“I do not understand how this can be,” Arkady muttered. “Does this mean the flower and plant people were telling us lies? I will haunt them forever if they bring harm to the baby because they tell lies!”
Stevie started the car and let out a ragged sigh. “I’m just not convinced they were lying, Arkady. I think they spoke the truth. I know it’s crazy, but there you have it. What I’m beginning to believe is this was a setup. Maybe Inga set that accident up, hoping her father would think she was dead? I mean, she didn’t live with a monster without picking up a tip or two, right? And she’s married to his right-hand man. You can bet he knows how to make things look like an accident. And what about what Edith told us? If that was Inga in the Moo Barn, which I’m convinced it was, why was she so upset? Because she was being held hostage?”
“Free range in the Moo Barn, Stephania? Why would someone let their hostage wander freely—with a baby, no less?”
She hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. “We finally have a clue, one stinkin’ clue, and it leads us nowhere! Argh!” She began to pull out of the parking lot when she hit the brakes again. “Hold on, you think the Moo Barn has video cameras?”
“Do you think they’ll let you see the footage without raising suspicion from the police?”
She eased off the brake and muttered, “Ugh. Okay, you’re right. No video. Let’s go home. Carmella and Enzo said they’d bring the baby back over for a late lunch.”
As we drove the short distance from town to our house, I racked my brain, trying to remember the conversation Inga and I had shared that day when, in my grief, I’d brought her to see the house I’d bought from a dead woman—a woman I didn’t know wasn’t dead at all.
Most of the day was a blank. I do recall spending the better part of it trying to stay in character for Von Krause. I’m a method spy, I suppose, and it was a rare occurrence I ever broke character. But Inga had been a compelling reason to fall out of line with the hardened criminal I was portraying.
She’d been vulnerable, sad, distressed over her forced marriage and her deep-seated unhappiness. At that point in her life, she’d been miserable, and you know what they say about misery.
Pulling into the driveway, Stephania stopped midway to wave at little Hardy, her smile tremulous. Enzo had blown up a pool, alive with colorful ducks and fish. Hardy sat in the middle of it all, a sunhat on his head, his chubby hands throwing water about at Carmella and Enzo as they sat beside the pool and made boat motor noises.
“I don’t know what to do, Win. What do I do to keep him safe?” Stevie whispered, her voice raw and hoarse. “I won’t be able to bear it if I can’t keep him safe.”
“Oh, Dove. Please don’t give up. Please. I know we lack clues and the resources needed to get to the heart of this, but we’ll figure it out. Somehow. Some way.”
Ducking her head down, she swiped at her tears as she gathered herself together and retrieved her never-ending determination. “You’re right. Somehow. Some way.”
* * * *
Belfry’s voice was low as he sat on small Hardy’s shoulder
by his ear, singing a lullaby to him in his crib. The bright mobile Stevie had so lovingly twirled above his head leaving shadows on the wall as Hardy sighed happily, his eyes sliding closed.
He’d had a wonderful day full of sun and play, and a meal shared with people he was surely, in his own tiny way, coming to love, and now he was blissfully spent.
Bel nuzzled his ear and whispered, “Who loves you, little dude? I do. That’s who. And so does Stevie, and Whiskey, Win and Arkady. We’ll take good care of you. Promise, you’ll never be alone. Never-never.”
Stevie stood at the doorway of her bedroom, watching Belfry and Whiskey, who remained steadfastly planted at the foot of the crib. As she crossed the room, she scooped Bel up in her hand and planted a kiss on his tiny head.
“You’re a good guy, Bel. I couldn’t do this without you, you know?”
“I’ll always be here, Boss. Never you fear.”
“I love you, Bel.”
“I love you, too, Boss,” he said before he took flight and soared out of the bedroom.
Stevie leaned over the crib, placing a hand on Hardy’s back, the soft rise and fall of his breathing the only sound filling the room.
“I love this baby boy, Win,” she whispered as tears fell from her beautiful eyes.
My throat tightened, and I found I had to fight to remain strong for Stephania when she was feeling so vulnerable. “I know you do, Dove. I’m most certain he loves you back.”
“I’m afraid for him. No. I’m terrified. I don’t know who that man is, but he was asking questions about the house, and it’s not a stretch to think he’d come here. In fact, I don’t know why he hasn’t, but he knows where I am. He brought my car back, for heaven’s sake. If he came here and hurt Hardy, or took him away, I know I’m capable of killing him. But what if I don’t? What if he hurts me first and Hardy’s left alone? What if he works for Von Krause? What if that animal has sent someone to take this sweet, happy boy so he can turn him into a monster just like he is?”
Ain't Love a Witch? (Witchless in Seattle Mysteries Book 6) Page 13