by Paula Lester
Zoey nodded, and Maria patted her hand. “Listen to me, prattling on about nothing. You and Steve don’t have jealousy problems, so you didn’t need my old lady lecture.”
“I always need your stories, Maria. And I think this one will help me.”
“Oh, look! Another handsome guy.”
Zoey followed Maria’s gaze and stood up when she saw Doug approaching. Maria rose from her spot and wandered off, probably to give them some privacy.
Zoey hugged her boyfriend. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, taking the paper bag he offered her. She smiled into his face, thinking how right Maria was. He was handsome, with a solid build, broad shoulders, and dark blond hair and goatee.
He kissed her cheek. “I went to Wing Lauk’s for lunch and got you some fried rice takeout.”
Zoey squealed. “My favorite! Thank you. How’s your day going?”
Doug shrugged and watched Jerry, a resident who had salt-and-pepper hair that fell to his shoulders, staring into a pine tree with binoculars. “Same old, same old,” he said. “Slow day at work. Now that I’ve had a big lunch, I’ll probably fall asleep at my desk all afternoon.”
Zoey tried to look like she completely understood what he was talking about. But she didn’t actually know what Doug’s job was. He’d probably told her on one of their first dates, but she either hadn’t understood or had missed it entirely. As time had gone on and she hadn’t asked for clarification, it had gotten to that awkward point where asking him now would be totally ridiculous. So she had to play along like she knew what he did all day while desperately trying to catch small clues during their conversations.
She thought it was something with finances. Or taxes. Possibly procurement. She shook the thoughts away. She had fewer leads on the mystery of Doug’s job than she did on Demi’s murder.
“Do you have time to sit with me while I eat this?” She moved back toward the patio table.
Doug nodded. “I can hang for a few minutes.”
They chatted a little, and then he said, “How’s your investigation going? By the way, I’ve had cereal jingles stuck in my head ever since you told me about it.”
She smiled and then sighed. “I really need to sit down with Hope and hash out everything we know. See if we can get onto the same page about things.”
Doug nodded. “I’m sure you can win her over to your way of thinking.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re very convincing.”
“I convinced you to date me, didn’t I?” Zoey winked at him.
“That didn’t take any convincing. You’re cute.”
“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” Zoey took a big bite of fried rice, closed her eyes, and moaned. “This is so good.”
“I’m glad you like it. So when am I going to have a chance to take my girlfriend out on the town again? We haven’t had a nice date in a while.”
She gave him an apologetic look. “I know. I’m really sorry. Things have been kind of crazy here and now I have the investigation. I don’t think I’m going to have much time until that’s over.”
Doug nodded and stood. “I’d better get going. My boss won’t like it if I’m late getting back from lunch.”
“Okay.” Zoey stood up too, grabbing the remainder of her lunch. “I’ll walk you out.”
They chatted as they crossed the yard and went into the building and then to the lobby. Doug gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later.”
Zoey put the takeout bag on an end table and pulled her phone out. She scrolled through her contacts looking for Hope’s number, thinking about Maria’s story and Doug’s date request. It was time for her and Hope to put their issues to rest and work together to get Demi’s murder solved.
But before she could find the number and tap it, the phone in her hand buzzed. The screen showed her it was Luke calling, and she tapped it to answer.
The detective’s voice was gruff and tense. “There’s a new crime scene. I need you to come right away.”
“Where is it?” Zoey grabbed a pen off the end table and held it poised over a pad of paper, ready to write down the address.
When he answered, Luke’s voice was full of frustration and a touch of something else. Confusion, maybe? “Demi Hill’s house again.”
Chapter 6
Parking behind Hope’s Camaro, Zoey jumped out of her old Chevy and hurried over to the sidewalk in front of Demi’s house. The whole scene seemed like déjà vu, complete with the same officers guarding caution tape and all the same neighbors, plus a few more, talking excitedly in a group just outside of it. Zoey nodded to Jeb, Chrissy, Nellie, and Ed and give them a little wave before the officer lifted the tape for her to duck underneath.
When she got into the house, it was more déjà vu. The area rug was rumpled again, and one of the chairs was completely tipped over. There was no longer a coffee table to be shattered, but everything else looked much as it had the last time Zoey had been there. Officers were all over the place, including Luke, who stood in the hall doorway. When he saw Zoey, he motioned her over. As she got to him, Hope emerged from the hallway, where she must have been looking into the bedrooms.
“All’s quiet back there again, just like it was the other day.” Hope glanced at Zoey but didn’t say hello. “I assume the body was found out here in the living room again?”
Luke nodded. “We already took it to the coroner’s office, but yes, it was. And he seems to have died the same way—the front of his body was full of slashes, either from some type of weapon or maybe claws.”
Hope’s eyes slid over to Zoey, and she dipped her head a little bit. “It’s starting to seem like maybe you were right,” Hope said grudgingly. “Maybe this was something more than a simple hex.” She drew herself up a little taller and jutted out her chin. “But I still think there’s a witch involved somehow.”
Zoey couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. It wasn’t too often she got the upper hand over Hope, and she couldn’t help but indulge in a little internal self-congratulation. But suddenly, she remembered what Maria had told her. It wasn’t going to do any good for their working relationship to gloat. She and Hope needed to get along and fast. The body count was piling up.
“There goes our primary suspect,” Luke said. He rested a hand on his side-arm. “Not just our primary suspect, but really our only one. I don’t have any idea where to go from here. Maybe once forensics is done with Grant’s body, we’ll have some more clues. Have either of you dug anything up since I talked to you last?”
“Well, I have a line that I’ve been looking into a little bit.” Zoey shifted her feet and glanced at Hope, who looked genuinely interested in what she was going to say. Gaining courage, she continued, “Demi Hill and a guy named Peter Lynchmin, another paranormal investigator who actually worked for Demi about a decade ago, had both written books recently. Demi’s was doing better, and Peter had made quite a show among fellow authors about claiming that she copied his work. I don’t know how he fits into all this yet, but I think he’s involved.”
Suddenly, Hope’s jaw dropped open and a faraway look came into her eyes. She tapped a pump-clad foot a few times on the floor and then nodded. “I think I know what our murder weapon could have been,” she said slowly.
Luke looked sharply at the shop owner. “What?”
Hope met his gaze and grinned a little. “A ghost.”
Zoey felt her eyebrows bunch together. “How could a ghost be a murder weapon?”
“Well, it would be a poltergeist,” Hope explained. “They can do some actual physical damage in the world if they have enough energy—usually rage over how they died—behind them. Demi and Peter probably both came into contact with poltergeists in their work, and maybe they made one mad. That doesn’t explain how it got in here and killed Demi and Grant, but it gives us a trail to follow.”
“Okay, well, we don’t have anything else to chase, so why don’t you guys go ahead and do some work on this line of thought while I keep working on the physi
cal evidence. Call me right away if you find anything concrete.”
Luke turned away, heading toward one of his officers, but Zoey couldn’t resist saying, “Hopefully, the next time you call me, it isn’t to visit another murder scene.”
The detective glanced over his shoulder, winced, and continued on. The two women stood eyeing each other. Finally, Zoey said, “I have to get back to the retirement home. Do you want to meet me there and we can look into Peter and his business, Thin the Veil, LLC, more together?” She held her breath, expecting Hope to give some excuse about needing to get a manicure or having a bunch of work at the shop to attend to. She was pleasantly surprised when the other woman nodded.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I’ll meet you over there.” Hope strode across the room and out the door before Zoey could say anything else. She stood there awkwardly for a moment, pretending that she hadn’t just been left by all her companions but had actually meant to remain standing in the middle of a crime scene alone. But no one was looking at her anyway, so she finally just hurried out of the house herself.
When she got to the end of the sidewalk and under the caution tape, Zoey stopped to chat with the neighbors for a few minutes. This time, no one had seen or heard anything unusual during the time the officers thought Grant had been killed. She reminded them again to call her or Luke if they thought of anything and got into her car. She was a little nervous about working with Hope, but Maria’s story rang in her ears. Maybe they would make better partners than enemies after all.
When Zoey arrived back at the Sunnyside Retired Witches Community, she found Hope perched on the arm of a living room chair talking to Steve. She was batting her long eyelashes, and her face looked animated. Zoey felt a flash of irritation and then caught herself. What was that about? What did she care if Hope wanted to flirt with Steve? Still, she hurried over to the two of them, experiencing a strong urge to break up their conversation. It made her feel a little better that Steve appeared to have no idea what Hope was doing. He had the same pleasant look on his face as always.
“Hey, sorry I’m a little late. I stopped to talk to Demi’s neighbors.” Zoey tried to sound as cheerful as possible. Hope glanced at her, and Zoey thought she looked disappointed at being interrupted. She ignored the look and hurried on. “Do you want to go to my office and see what we can dig up about Peter’s business? Steve’s been helping me with it—he’s really a much better online researcher than I am.”
“Oh, that sounds great. It would be wonderful to have Steve’s help.” Hope stood up from the arm of the chair and gave her hair a little flip. Zoey had to fight with her own eyeballs to keep them from rolling upward.
As they walked past the kitchen to the end of the hallway where Zoey’s large office sat, the two women filled Steve in on Grant’s murder scene and how Hope now believed the murder weapon might have been a poltergeist. He looked shocked and impressed, and when they got to Zoey’s office, he set his ever-present laptop on the small round table there, opened it up, sat down, and got right to work pecking away at the keyboard.
Zoey put her purse on the large mahogany desk and offered Hope some water out of the mini fridge in the corner. Hope flipped her hair again and accepted the bottle with a soft thank you.
Zoey loved her office. It was huge and lined with bookshelves on which she kept not only books on human resources, elder care, and psychology but also rows and rows of fiction novels. Whenever she had a few minutes, she’d grab one and read a few passages. Because she had read them all before, it didn’t matter if she didn’t have time to read a whole book or even a chapter. It was nice to have them to loan to the residents too, many of whom enjoyed a good mystery or romance novel in the evening.
On the opposite wall as the bookshelves, a huge picture window looked out onto the perfectly manicured landscaping in the center of the looped driveway at the front of the building. As Hope and Zoey stood gazing out, she saw Cyrus the gardener clipping away at some hedges with a long-handled pruning instrument that wasn’t actually in his hands. It floated above his head where he couldn’t reach, while he mumbled an incantation. “It’s a nice day,” she said and then winced internally at how awkward she sounded.
For once, the occult shop owner didn’t roll her eyes. She simply said, “Yes, we’ve had a run of beautiful days lately.”
“Here we go,” Steve said, and Zoey was glad she didn’t have to make more small talk with Hope. The two women pulled chairs close to Steve’s so they could peer past his shoulders at the laptop’s screen. “His business started about nine years ago. That’s about a year after he went to work for Demi.”
“So, he learned what he could from her and then struck out on his own?” Hope suggested.
Zoey nodded. “Sure seems like it, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I’d say that’s definitely what happened. In fact, earlier today, I was able to hack my way into a message group that people in the paranormal investigation community use to share ideas. I found some threads when I searched Demi and Peter’s names together. People telling stories about their rivalry. It looks like he disagreed with her investigation methods and wanted more drama in his own ghost-hunting adventures. Seems like he was really quite a showman.”
“Probably wanted to be famous,” Zoey said. “Angling for his own TV show or something?”
“If that’s the case, it would explain why he would have been really upset if Demi’s book was doing better than his. After all, television executives might have had their attention drawn to her instead of him.”
“I guess that could definitely be a motive for murder if someone was really serious enough about being in the spotlight,” Zoey said thoughtfully. She and Hope exchanged glances. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Hope nodded, took a sip of water, and said, “It’s time to go talk to Peter Lynchmin.”
Chapter 7
As they headed out of the building together, Zoey’s mind worked furiously. Should she offer to drive? The thought of having Hope in her old beater car almost caused physical pain. As they stepped into the sunshine, Hope said, “Do you want to ride with me?”
Relieved, Zoey jumped at the chance to get into the beautiful red car. It was as pristine inside as out. There were no food wrappers, old magazines, wayward hairbrushes, or half-empty bottles of lotion, all of which could be found in abundance in Zoey’s car. In fact, Hope’s car was so perfect that Zoey worried about leaving dirt from her shoes on the mat or somehow injuring the leather seats.
Hope drove like one would expect a beautiful woman with a red Camaro to drive—fast and just a touch on the reckless side. Zoey held onto the door handle and held her breath most of the way.
Peter’s business was based in an office building downtown, so the ride was short. Zoey and Hope entered the tall brick building and rode the elevator to the third floor. They went down a long hallway to where it dead-ended at a big office suite. A receptionist sat behind a big desk in a simply decorated lobby. She flipped through a magazine and looked bored. Lifting her eyes to them, she smacked her gum a few times and said, “How can I help you? Got a ghost problem we can solve for you?”
Zoey shook her head. “We’d like to talk to Peter Lynchmin if he’s here.”
Without responding to her, the receptionist reached out, hit a button on the phone in front of her, and spoke toward it. “There are two women here to talk to you, sir. Not about ghosts.” She released the button and went back to flipping pages. Zoey glanced at Hope, whose eyebrows had risen about two inches.
They wandered around the lobby, looking at pictures of old buildings that brought to mind stories of haunted houses for about ten minutes before a man hurried in. He smiled brightly, and the round glasses on the bridge of his nose slid down to the end. He pushed them up, ran a hand through brown hair that needed a trim, and said, “I’m Peter Lynchmin. How can I help you?”
Zoey stepped forward to shake his hand and had to look down an inch or two to meet his gaze.
It felt strange to her since, at five feet five inches, she was used to looking up at most people. “I’m Zoey Rivers, and this is Hope Vega. We’re working with the Sunnyside Police Department investigating the murders of Demi Hill and Grant Simons. We know you used to work for Demi, and we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Peter’s eyes shifted from Zoey to Hope. He had to look up even more to meet the tall blond shop owner’s eyes. “Sure, come on back,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I don’t have much time because my team is heading to an investigation, but I’ll try to answer as many of your questions as I can before we have to leave.” He turned and headed toward the hallway he’d emerged from, stopping to say to the receptionist, “Please hold my calls, Daphne.”
The woman smacked her gum and didn’t answer.
Peter led them to a tiny conference room. They had to slide into chairs without pulling them away from the table because there wasn’t enough room between them and the walls. Zoey felt a wave of claustrophobia. Hope didn’t appear bothered, and she jumped right in, questioning Peter. “How well did you know Demi Hill?”
Peter squeezed into a chair across from them. “I worked for her briefly ten years ago. She wasn’t a very good boss, though, and I didn’t stay long.”
“How was she a bad boss?” Hope leaned forward on her elbows, and Peter responded by leaning back as far as he could in his own chair.
“She was a micromanager. Didn’t want me spreading my wings and doing things a different way.”
“You didn’t like how she did things?” Zoey swallowed her uncomfortable feelings about the small room and tried to focus on the conversation.
