Witch Doggone Killer

by Paula Lester

  “Arthur’s real estate dealings. I really think that’s the angle I need to be approaching this from. If people aren’t murdered because of love or sex, it’s always because of money.” He didn’t say for sure that I could go with him, but Crosby turned the truck in the direction of Arthur’s office. I silently fist-pumped in celebration of my small victory.

  Of course, I didn’t think the murder had anything to do with real estate, but Cheyenne was the closest person to Arthur, so talking to her could be fruitful no matter what. And I certainly wasn’t going to argue with Crosby now that I’d won the battle to be allowed to accompany him.

  Cheyenne was alone in Arthur’s office, pecking away at the computer keyboard. She looked up when we entered but only for a moment and then she was right back at it, typing away.

  “Afternoon, Cheyenne,” Crosby said.

  I bit my lower lip to remind myself not to utter a word.

  “Yes, it is afternoon time, officer.” Cheyenne didn’t look up. “What of it?”

  I couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of respect for Cheyenne’s chutzpah. The woman didn’t back down to anyone. Even the law. I had to respect her for that, at least.

  “I have a few questions for you if you don’t mind. I’m investigating Arthur’s death.” He pulled out the ever-present notebook.

  She glanced up, narrowed her eyes, and finally took gnarled fingers off the keyboard. “I’m busy. Be quick.”

  Crosby nodded and grinned at the elderly woman. I had to fight not to roll my eyes. He was giving Cheyenne his most charming, cowboy-next-door smile, complete with dimples. But Cheyenne Meyers appeared one hundred percent immune. Her eyes only got narrower behind the red glasses.

  Smile fading as his ego visibly deflated in front of my eyes, Crosby cleared his throat. “Did you notice anything unusual going on with Arthur in the days leading up to his death?”

  “No.”

  He blinked a couple of times, obviously taken aback by the woman’s quick, short answer. “Okay. So, nothing at all was different in his routine that you noticed?”

  She shook her head, lips thin as she pressed them together.

  “Did he have any new clients or business meetings that didn’t seem to go well?” Crosby’s voice was half an octave higher than normal. He was cracking under the pressure that was Cheyenne’s cold gaze when I was sure his goal was for things to be the other way around.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, no.” Her eyes moved to me, and I fought the urge to shrink back further behind Crosby and avoid her withering glare. “Like I told you, he came in like normal that morning. Did seem a bit worked-up about something, but I don’t know what it was.”

  “Did he have any meetings with Mike Gentry recently?” The words slipped out.

  Crosby whipped his neck around to glare at me.

  Oops. My lip zipper must have loosened.

  Cheyenne tipped her head to the side and seemed to be thinking. “Maybe.” She clicked some keys and looked at the computer. “Yes, he met with Mike a couple of days earlier. But that wasn’t unusual. That guy weaseled his way onto Arthur’s schedule at least once a month. Always begging to be made manager of one of Arthur’s properties. I never understood why he gave Mike the time of day. Arthur certainly never gave in to his requests.”

  Crosby scribbled furiously on his notepad.

  Since I’d already broken my promise and was surely going to hear about it from Crosby anyway, I figured I might as well go for broke and ask a follow-up. “Has Arthur’s will been made public yet? Do you know who’s going to inherit his properties?”

  She hesitated for a moment and then sighed. “I suppose it’s going to be common knowledge soon enough. Arthur left most of his buildings to the city of Superior Bay to sell off and use the money for whatever projects they see fit.”

  “He did?” Crosby’s voice held the same note of shock that I felt. Arthur hadn’t been known for his charitability.

  Cheyenne huffed. “He wasn’t such a bad guy, you know. He just liked to make money, that’s all. What’s so wrong with that?” She gave each of us a defiant scowl, as though daring us to argue. Neither of us did. “Anyway, he left me the house I rented from him for years, paid for free and clear. The rest of his properties are going to his nephew. And that’s all I have to say about it. You’ll both have to go now.”

  “His nephew? Who’s that?” Crosby put the notebook back in his pocket. “I didn’t know Arthur had any next-of-kin.”

  But Cheyenne was back to pecking at the keyboard. “That’s not my business to be sharing. You’ll have to dig somewhere else for that information.”

  Her tone made it clear we wouldn’t get anything further out of her. With mumbled goodbyes, we left. Actually, with Cheyenne’s glare boring into our backs, it felt more like an escape.

  In the truck, I braced myself for some chiding for breaking my silence and questioning Cheyenne, but Crosby seemed deep in thought and not angry with me. I decided to try and keep the boat from rocking and stay quiet for now. Maybe he’d forget to be mad at me.

  After a few minutes, he mused, “I wonder who Arthur’s next-of-kin is. The one who’s inheriting some buildings.”

  I shrugged. “Whoever it is, I hope they’re decent about rent.” I figured my clinic was one that would have been left to the nephew rather than given to the city. But I knew I could be wrong about that. I’d have to wait for some kind of notification from the court to know for sure.

  Crosby grunted. Then he seemed to pull himself out of deep thought, giving his head a shake to clear it out. “How about a stop at Stroves’? I could use some coffee.”

  I nodded. I should probably go for decaf since it was late in the day, but I’d never turn down a chance to say hi to Julia.

  Alyson was in the bakery when we arrived, sitting at a table with Julia, a plate of cookies between them. I was surprised the place wasn’t busier, given the influx of people into town for the dog show. Crosby and I got our coffees and sat with our two friends. I plucked a cookie off the plate and bit into it, marveling at the melt-in-your-mouth, buttery, sugary goodness. Around the bite, I said, “You look exhausted, Jules. How are you doing?”

  She pushed a red curl out of her face, which was mostly covered in flour, and sighed. “I am exhausted. But it’s a good exhaustion. So much baking done, and we’ve brought in a lot of money. Hopefully, Delilah will be able to catch up on back rent payments now.”

  I snapped my head up in surprise. “She rents this building?”

  Julia nodded and sipped iced tea. “Yep. She’d like to buy it, but it’s just never been in the cards. Every time she gets close, some big piece of equipment needs replacing or something and sets her back.”

  “Huh. I assumed she owned the place.” Then a thought occurred to me. “Who does own it?”

  “Mr. Wiggins does. Did, I guess.” Julia shrugged.

  I exchanged a look with Crosby, wondering whether Stroves’ Bakery was a property that would go to the city or the mysterious nephew of Arthur Wiggins.

  Aly put her head down on the table. “I’m beat too,” she said. “And my fingers are so sore from constantly getting pricked by thorns.” She held up one hand to show us the four Band Aids on it.

  We all made sympathetic noises, and the conversation turned toward the dog show. My friends both expressed their excitement about having the week over with and getting back to normal degrees of busyness at their jobs.

  When Crosby and I left, he offered to give me a ride to the clinic, but I declined, deciding a walk would be good for me. “What are you going to do now?” I asked him.

  He raised one eyebrow. “Head to the courthouse and see if I can dig up the identity of Arthur’s nephew. I’ll keep you posted.” He started toward his truck but then stopped and turned back toward me. “I think we’re getting closer to the killer, Will,” he said. “Keep your eyes open. Watch your back.” He looked around as though someone may jump out at us right then, and a cool feeling s
lithered up my spine.

  I watched him pull away and rubbed my arms, regretting that I hadn’t let him give me a ride.

  Chapter 14

  The chill that Crosby’s words had given me evaporated a bit as I walked along the sunny boardwalk. Before I knew it, I wasn’t heading toward my clinic anymore. Jeremy could handle the few appointments that were on the books, and I hadn’t yet decided whether to accept his date invitation, so I didn’t feel like seeing him.

  I wasn’t sure where I was going—it just felt nice to walk in the sun, breathe in the crisp fresh air, and listen to the waves on Lake Superior. I found a secluded area on the shoreline and left the boardwalk to pick my way out onto the beach where I found a big rock to sit on.

  I intended to do some meditation and clear my head, but before I knew it, I was going over information about the investigation instead. That was anything but head-clearing. Thoughts swirled around like mist I couldn’t quite grab.

  But at least I had some new stuff from Mrs. Gentry and Cheyenne to add to what I already knew.

  No matter what angle I examined the problem from, Mike Gentry was always at the end of my thought process. He had the motive—he wanted some Superior Bay properties but couldn’t afford them. He hadn’t been able to weasel in on them by convincing Arthur to let him manage some when Arthur was alive. Mike had a pretty girlfriend he wanted to impress, but without Arthur’s properties, he was unlikely to get to the financial spot he wanted to be in.

  And what about Angelique? It sure seemed like she was helping Mike with whatever plan he was working to get control of some of Arthur’s buildings. And she was good at chemistry back in the day. Had the two of them plotted to poison Arthur in the hopes they could somehow get control of a few of his buildings once he was gone?

  It was the best theory I had.

  Then, another thought made me straighten on the rock. If they’d killed Arthur, would they do the same thing to his nephew? His buildings would be the next obvious choice for Mike to get somehow, since the ones left to the city would likely go up for sale for way too much for him to afford.

  It seemed likely that Arthur’s poor nephew was in immediate danger.

  I hurried back onto the boardwalk, anxiety like a ball in my stomach. But when I got there, I realized I had no idea what to do. I pulled out my phone, thinking about texting Crosby. But he’d probably only just gotten to the courthouse—it wasn’t likely he’d managed to uncover the nephew’s identity yet. He probably wouldn’t like to be interrupted.

  My thoughts turned toward Angelique and hovered there. It was time to do some more digging into what she was up to. I stood uncertainly for a moment, wondering where to find her. She’d told Korbin she wanted to get rid of Jeremy so she could live with Jackson. Was it possible she may be at Jackson and Jeremy’s apartment building?

  I didn’t have anywhere else to try, so I turned toward the harbor. I knew my associate veterinarian lived in the big, new apartment building there. Of course, I had no idea which apartment number was his or how I’d find it, but I figured doing something was better than standing around.

  I couldn’t believe my luck when I rounded the corner of Jeremy’s apartment building and caught sight of shiny blonde hair on a bench by the water. I stopped short and plastered myself against the building’s beige siding, peeking around the corner toward Angelique. She sat on the bench with Jackson. I recognized him from the ill-fitting sport coat that I figured must be super uncomfortable in the heat of the sun.

  The couple had their heads bent close together, and then Angelique tipped hers back and laughed, the tinkle of it reaching my ear drums and reminding me of a set of Aunt Dru’s wooden wind chimes on our front porch. Angelique used a hand to ruffle the back of Jackson’s hair, and he leaned into her palm.

  The two were certainly cozy. I wondered if Jackson knew how much time his girlfriend was spending with Mike Gentry. I’d seen the two of them together everywhere from the dog show arena to Mike’s house in Red River.

  I thought about inching closer so I could hear better, but there was no cover between me and them besides the building I was currently hiding next to. So, I did the next best thing and focused on my hearing. I tried to touch the source of magic in my mind and draw on it to enhance my ability to hear, but nothing happened.

  Frustrated, I slammed a fist into my thigh. I really needed to hurry along on those magic lessons with Aunt Dru.

  No. I could do this. I’d done it by accident before, when I was a kid and saw the guy I had a crush on talking to the homecoming queen. I’d wanted to know what they were talking about so badly, and suddenly, I could just hear them. Like they were right next to me even though there were fifty noisy people on the bleachers between us at the football game.

  Maybe that was it. I focused on my desire to hear what Angelique and Jackson were saying. I tried not to think about my magic at all, just my wish . . . no, my need to know what they were saying.

  “It’s a beautiful day.”

  The male voice was so close I jumped and jerked my head around to look behind me. There was no one there.

  “Yeah.” The female voice sounded a lot like a purr. I realized with a start that I was hearing Angelique clearly. “It’s a perfect day.”

  Jackson leaned in and kissed his girlfriend on the forehead. I rolled my eyes, wishing they’d do more talking and less smooching. When he pulled back, he smiled at her. “It’s nice to be alone with you. I feel like you’ve been awfully busy lately.”

  She shrugged. “Just working on our future, baby. That’s all.”

  He nodded. “I know. I’m trying to be patient. But you know how much red tape there can be.” He winced. “I just want this to be settled, so we can move on.”

  “Soon. We’re almost there. I promise.” It was Angelique’s turn to lean in and kiss Jackson.

  “They’re awfully cozy, eh?”

  I jumped again, but this time, when I whipped around to look behind me, someone was actually there. “Crosby,” I breathed. “You scared me to death.”

  He nodded toward the couple on the bench. “You here to watch them or just happened to be strolling by and stopped to lean on the building for a rest?” He was whispering, but he managed to convey a lecturey tone anyway.

  “I’m watching them,” I admitted. “We haven’t done any digging on Angelique yet, and I think she, along with Mike Gentry, should be a prime suspect. I think they’re working together.”

  “You should have waited for me. We could have questioned her together,” he admonished. “It’s too dangerous for you to go gallivanting off alone on this. I told you—you could be the killer’s next target.”

  “That’s why I can’t sit around and do nothing,” I hissed. “I have to do something to protect myself.” I glanced at the couple again, still canoodling on the bench. “And to protect Jeremy. I think Angelique wants him dead too.”

  Crosby’s eyebrows shot up, but before he could say anything, we both caught sight of a man approaching Jackson and Angelique.

  “There’s Mike,” I said, tensing.

  Mike stopped in front of the couple. I knew Crosby couldn’t hear them, but I still could. “What are you two doing? Don’t you have something better to do than this?” Mike’s mouth twisted into a sneer.

  Angelique shrugged. “Nothing to do now but wait.”

  Mike balled his fists. “Are you kidding me? There’s all kinds of things you could be doing.” He bent down to look them both in the eye. “Get me those buildings.”

  “We’re working on it,” Jackson said between clenched teeth. “Just back off, will you? It takes time.”

  Suddenly, Mike reached out and grabbed Jackson’s coat lapels, yanking him to his feet. He gave a little shake, and Jackson looked like a rag doll in Mike’s fists. “I don’t have time. And neither do you.”

  Angelique gave a little cry and surged to her feet. I felt something rustle past me. Crosby shot across the grass. He shoved Mike and Jackson away from e
ach other. I picked my way across the lawn, avoiding goose droppings, until I stood behind the bench. No one seemed to notice I was there.

  “What’s going on here?” Crosby demanded.

  “Nothing. I was just having a discussion with my friend.” Mike gestured to Jackson.

  “Is that true?” Crosby asked.

  Jackson hesitated for a minute and then his shoulders slumped. He nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

  “Everything didn’t look fine to me.” Four necks swiveled and four gazes landed on me. I had to work not to shrink back. I really needed to learn to bite my tongue. Oh, well, there was no going back now. “It looked like you two men were having a disagreement.”

  Mike glared at me. “Hey, aren’t you the vet from the dog show? What are you doing here?”

  Angelique looked me up and down, her cool blue-eyed gaze seeming to make a thousand calculations as she did. Oh, this woman was definitely smarter—and more dangerous—than Mike.

  “I was just walking past.” I stood as tall as possible, which was still a full head shorter than the blonde woman.

  Crosby sighed. “Listen, there’s no fighting in public. If you both state that you’re fine and there will be no further physical contact between you, then you’re free to go.” He looked at Jackson. “He grabbed you first. You want to press charges?”

  Jackson shook his head.

  Frustration flowed through me as Crosby took a step back. He was just going to walk away from all these suspects without learning a single thing from them? Well, I wasn’t. “Angelique, how well did you know Arthur Wiggins?”

  Crosby’s chin dropped to his chest and his shoulders slumped. He was clearly not happy with me for opening my big mouth. Oh, well. He had his chance.

  Angelique blinked long, mascara-laden eyelashes. “Not that well. Mostly just through Jack.” She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand. “Arthur was his landlord.”

  “And he was always raising the rent, right?”

  Jackson nodded. He looked miserable.

  “And you didn’t like that, did you?” I pinned Angelique with what I hoped was a piercing gaze. “You wanted Arthur to let up on your poor boyfriend, didn’t you?”