by N. M. Howell
I levelled a punch at Finn’s defined bicep, flashing him a self-satisfied grin when he rubbed his arm in surprise. “Watch your filthy mouth, young man. I wasn’t even trying to hurt you that time.”
“Okay, point taken, no more pussy talk.” Finn ducked my punch and skittered out of the bathroom, gesturing to the tub. “You better turn the faucets off before you flood the apartment. I’d hate to see Pussy come in here and get all wet.”
I slung my hair elastic at him, just narrowly missed his denim-covered butt as he slipped into the corridor. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?” I called after him. He grinned over his broad shoulder at me like he knew he was really funny, and I let my face collapse into a smile. “Hey, Finn, what’s his real name, anyways?”
Finn shrugged and twisted his perfect body so that he was walking backwards into the living area. He spread his hands and gave me a lopsided smirk. “No can do, Price. Not my name to tell. You’re going to have to find a way to get that little tidbit out of Pussy yourself.” His grin broadened. “And I bet he’d going to make you work for it.”
I leaned my weight against the doorframe and watched Finn disappear into the living area. I laughed softly to myself. “Yeah, I bet he is.”
Chapter Sixteen
The hot bath was exactly what I needed to rinse away the stresses of the day before, and I stepped out of the bathroom a new woman. I walked into the main living space to find the three men lounging casually, all dressed in the most ludicrous attire imaginable. I gaped at them each in turn, their outfits ranging from 1920s dapper-wear to ridiculous sequined numbers from the 90s. “You look ridiculous, all of you. Where did you find this stuff?”
Pussy gave me a slow turn, a wide smile across his face. “You do live above a thrift shop, you realize?”
Tom’s voice was a low grumble. “You own a thrift shop, actually.”
I eyed him and crossed my arms. “So, what you’re saying is that you stole from me, then?” I forced a look of mock rage on my face, which slowly turned to a smile when I saw the amusement glint in his eyes. Hallelujah, praise the lord, the black cat had a sense of humor after all. I turned away from him, suddenly flustered.
“Is she blushing again?” Pussy asked, looking from Finn to Tom. He stared at me. “Stop blushing, princess, you need to conserve your energy if you’re going to figure out who killed our Agatha.”
“Did someone say my name?” The old witch swept through the wall and into the center of the room with a flourish. “You guys planning a party or something?” She floated over to the couch beside Pussy and sat down next to him in her frilly nightgown and fuzzy slippers, looking equally as ridiculous as the rest of them. “My, my, don’t you scrub up nicely, boys. If I was a few years younger—”
“And not a ghost?” I suggested. “And they weren’t your cats?”
“Semantics, semantics.” Agatha gave me a sly look. “Besides, they don’t look very catty right now, do they? They look positively delectable.”
I stood and stared at the men for a long minute, the shadow of a thought niggling at the base of my skull. When it finally dawned on me, I pursed my lips and turned on Pussy and Tom. “You guys are back in human form.” I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.
Tom shrugged. “Good observation, Sherlock.” He glanced at the ghost. “Your mystery is in good hands, Aggy, this one is a genius.”
“Hardy-har, smart ass,” I snapped, pointing a finger in his direction. “You guys turn into human form when you touch me, right?” I narrowed my eyes. “So, when exactly, pray tell, did you touch me without my knowledge?”
Tom looked the other way, refusing to meet my eye, so I turned my attention to Pussy. He simply shrugged and whistled as he stared up to the ceiling. I looked back to Finn, who also offered a shrug. “Don’t ask me, I was in bed with you.”
Agatha feigned an overly dramatic gasp. “Jumping into bed with my pets already? Somebody knows how to take the ‘V’ out of vegan, that’s for sure.”
I leaned forward and wagged my finger at her like a mother scolding a young child. “You mind your manners, Agatha Bentley. No slut shaming.” I crossed my arms. “Besides, I didn’t get up to anything with anyone. We simply fell asleep beside each other. That’s it. End of story, nothing to see here.” Even if Finn did have a stomach I could lick, and if Pussy’s hands did feel like silk on my bare skin, and if what I’d spied under Tom’s towel had made me squirm in the most unexpected way. All of that was beside the point. Agatha gave me a look that suggested she knew exactly which three points were on my mind and I turned my face away and channelled Dr. Lee. Peace and zen, peace and zen. I’m in control of my own body. I’m in control of my own mind.
“You look like you need breakfast,” Finn said. He jumped up from the couch and marched into the kitchen. After a few seconds I heard him shout back, “What do you want? We have eggs, cheese…”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m a vegan, remember?”
“Okay, so, bacon?” His voice called back, teasingly.
I snickered as I made my way into the kitchen to join him. Jerk. “Do you have any fruit?”
I stood beside him at the fridge, but he nudged me away. “We have avocado. Does that work? And toast?” Before I could open my mouth, he held up his hand. “Dot left it on the doorstep this morning and her vegan bread is good—no whey, no eggs, no filler. The woman makes great food.” His voice softened and he gave me a lopsided smile. “I used to sit on her windowsill at the coffee shop and watch her bake most mornings.”
I bit my lip, something catching in my throat at the expression on his face. “Okay, avocado toast it is.” I let him prod me toward the table, squeezing his fingers before he returned to his preparation. “Thank you, Finn.”
Finn held my gaze, but the moment was ruined by Agatha flinging herself onto the chair beside me with a groan. “Avocado toast,” she scoffed. “What a flaming hipster. If I looked up the definition of hipster in the dictionary, there would be a picture of you, skinny minny.”
“I’ll have you know, I’m strong, not skinny,” I lectured her, and she mimicked my angry expression. I let out an indignant sigh and turned away from her, scowling.
The ghost muttered under her breath. “You’re skinny, and you have no boobs.”
“Well, you’re rude and bad-mannered and probably used your big breasts and your magic to get everything you wanted in life. At least, I can say I work hard for what I have,” I retorted, stung by her words and fighting the urge not to cover my chest. Gerard’s voice rang in the back of my mind, suggesting the name of a plastic surgeon who could help me with my ‘issue.’ I’d damn well send him and Agatha to hell if I had half a chance.
“Whatever,” Agatha spat. “I’m not the one batting my eyelashes and simpering at my own little harem.”
My mouth fell open. “I do not have a harem! I just told you I didn’t sleep with any of them.” I turned back to the two men lounging casually on the furniture. “And I still want to know how you both turned back into human form.”
“Harem hussy,” Agatha coughed.
“I quite like the sound of that,” Tom said, grinning slowly.
“Only, it wouldn’t be a harem,” Pussy added. “Maybe like a backwards harem or something.”
I pressed my hands to my ears as my eyes nearly bugged out of my face. “What is my life even right now?”
Tom smirked. “A reverse harem?”
This conversation wasn’t happening. “Who in their right mind would want to be involved with multiple men at once, huh?” I snapped, suppressing the curious surge that twisted through my core. An image of the last time I’d attempted to seduce Gerard slithered across my mind, souring the excitement in my stomach, and I cringed inwardly. I crossed my arms. “One man was bad enough, and three is far too many at this point in my life, thank you very much.”
“Oh, come on, what girl wouldn’t want to be surrounded by a ton of perfectly intelligent, strong, sexy men su
ch as ourselves?” Pussy winked.
Tom’s mouth lifted on one side and he flexed a tattooed arm. “Sexy shifters for the win.”
I folded my arms. “Yeah, you’re talking paranormal romance, and I’ve read that. Usually the heroes are some sort of strong, appealing beast like a lion or a bear. You guys are literally fluffy house cats.”
Pussy grinned, clearly enjoying this conversation far more than I was. “Sexy, sexy house cats.”
“Get over yourselves,” I snapped.
“You’re basically living the dream of any woman who has read one of those books,” Pussy drawled. “A naughty little living dream.”
“I’m going to wake up tomorrow in a psych ward and this is all going to be a dream,” I groaned. “I just know it.”
“Besides,” Pussy added as if I hadn’t spoken a word. “You’re getting three cats for the price of one. You should feel privileged.”
I muttered, “I’m more of a dog person.”
Agatha sneered. “Whiney little hipster hussy.”
“Aggravating crass-mouthed granny ghost,” I sniped.
“Did someone order avocado toast?” Finn chimed in as he stepped in between us with a plate of food in his hand and a rather satisfied grin on his face.
“Just what the reverse harem ordered,” Pussy teased. I grabbed the plate from Finn with whispered thanks and took a bite of the damn toast, ignoring the rest of them while I chewed, and pretending not to notice the glaring irony that I was standing in front of them eating the one food that was the root of all hipster jokes. And it was absolutely delicious.
I swallowed a bite of wholesome goodness and pointed a finger at Agatha. “Listen, do you want me to solve your murder or not?” Agatha sighed but raised her hands in surrender. “Right, that's what I thought,” I said. “So, what can you tell me about your cousin and his real estate empire?”
Chapter Seventeen
“That slimy geezer?” Agatha scoffed, but her exasperated expression quickly fell into one of resignation. “What exactly would you like to know?” Agatha settled herself next to Tom on the couch, slinking back into the cushion, and for the first time since I arrived, looked like she was willing to have a decent conversation.
Interesting. “So, you’re not on good terms with him, then?”
“Harlow is nothing more than a bag of beans. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of him and in a business deal,” Agatha snarled. I opened my mouth to ask her to elaborate, but her voice softened. “He’s not all bad, though. The chubby little gollum has his mother’s heart, even if he does everything in his power to hide it behind that thick hide of his.”
Finn settled himself on the arm of my chair and I leaned into him, resting my elbow on his knee. “Dot said you came to Salem to live with your aunt, was that Harlem’s mother? Where did you live before Salem?”
Agatha’s eyes were narrow slits. “I was born in New York City, but I got bounced around a bit before Harlem’s mother took me in and brought me to live with her and Harlow in Salem. I was sixteen.”
I hesitated, aware I was on shaky ground. “Did your parents come with you to live with Harlow and your aunt?”
Agatha’s nostrils flared. “Dorothy Murphy has no right to spread my personal business all over town.” She sprang to her feet and began pacing the floor, muttering to nobody in particular. “Doughy little busybody, poking her nose in where it’s not wanted. I can do whatever I want with my life, it’s no concern of hers or Bianca’s or damn Harlow’s, they can all go to hell.” She spun to face the window and glared into the street. “I should have never come back to this one horse town. Should have stayed in New York and raised hell like I could’ve.”
Agatha’s head twisted at a sickening angle as she twisted to look at me, and for the first time since I’d arrived in Salem, I saw Agatha for what she was. A ghost. A woman without a life or a full memory or the peace to move on. Finn’s arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me against his side. Tom and Pussy both eased off their chairs and moved forward a little, standing somewhere between Agatha and me. The ghost’s lips curled back. “I could have been the baddest witch this country has ever seen. I could have brought the world to its knees.”
I felt Finn’s fingers tighten on my waist and pressed myself against his side, grateful for the comfort of his warmth as I steeled myself to continue. I inhaled. “So, why didn’t you do it? Why come back to quiet little Salem and your store and your doll-making friends?”
Agatha glared at me for the longest moment until the rage seemed to seep from her body, leaving her deflated and bowed. She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she muttered, turning back toward the window. “I don’t know. I guess a spider just follows that silvery thread home, doesn’t it?”
Tom’s eyes met mine and I held his stare for a moment before nodding. He walked across the room and stood beside the old lady. Agatha was dwarfed by his large, lean frame, and despite the weight in the air, my lips twisted at the sight of them together; him in his dapper suit with his hair waves combed to one side like a gangster in twentieth century Chicago, and her in her fuzzy slippers and robe. His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it before. I squeezed my lips together as I watched him bend his head to meet her eye. “Aggy, we’re trying to help you, girl. If resolution is what you need to find your peace, you got to let Price help you find those answers. You’ve got to work with us, Ag.” He raised one hand to her cheek, as if he could stroke her wrinkled skin. “We want to make the pain go away.”
I turned my face away and pressed it against Finns shirt. Life was a shit-show when it came down to it, but in that moment, I prayed all the people I loved would find a way to make their peace before they died. Before it was too late and they had to live with their regrets for all of eternity, because that was a torture very few people deserved. Pussy’s voice dragged me from my reverie, his tone sincere for once. He gestured for Agatha to sit on the couch. “Harlow?”
Agatha nodded gently and hobbled back across the room, suddenly less wicked spectre and more broken woman. She sank onto the sofa. “Yes, Harlow is my cousin. Yes, I moved in with his mother and him when I was sixteen. Harlow was only fourteen at the time, but he had ambition, even then. His mother was a widow and she’d had to work hard for every nickel and dime, and Harlow wasn’t going to spend his life like that, no matter what. I left Salem for London when I was eighteen.” My eyebrows peaked, but Agatha shushed me with her hand. “Another story, another time. Harlow left Salem two years later to find his fortune. Worked his way from sales clerk, to sales manager, to realtor, to property developer. He was a wealthy man by the time he settled in Salem, Massachusetts, and once aunt Sissy was gone, he only came back once or twice a year to check on her old house and make sure the tenants were keeping it right. He had no interest in this little city once he’d found the real Salem.”
“The real Salem,” Finn huffed. “What a swizz.”
I patted his hand, surprised by his town pride, and reminded myself to tease him about it later. “If he loved Massachusetts so much, why is back in Oregon?” I asked. “Why leave?”
Agatha frowned. “Oh, he had some cockamamie excuse about wanting to come home and reconnect with his old haunts, but I’m pretty certain there were some business shenanigans involved. He probably swindled the wrong buyer and had to scoot out of Massachusetts with his tail between his legs.”
I glanced at Finn over my shoulder before I asked the next question. “Finn and Muffin thought you guys might have had a little falling out over something? Maybe he wanted you to move out of town?” I paused. “Said you were playing with fire in Salem?”
Agatha made a face. “Typical Harlem; trying to boss me around like I’m the kid cousin, ha. He was always on my case to move out of town and into some village for old fogeys. Thought Salem had become too dangerous for me.”
I stared out the window onto the quiet, peaceful, pretty street and raised my eyebrows. “Salem? Dangerous? What made him think that?”
“I guess…” Agatha snapped her mouth shut and opened it again like a goldfish. “I don’t know,” she said eventually.
I shared a look with the three guys. Another hole in Agatha’s memory. Interesting. I threaded my fingers together. “Do you know where I could find Harlow, Aggy? I’d like to talk to him, see if he has anything to tell us that might help.” Or if he murdered you in cold blood hoping to inherit your home, I added silently. The look on the men’s faces told me I wasn’t the only one thinking the worst about good old Harlow.
“He bought the big Green Victorian, right in the middle of Mission Street. Can’t miss it, the fool painted it bright pink,” Agatha said. She heaved herself off the couch, her usual energy beginning to surface. “He bought another place, too, couple of hours out of town in Newport. Wanted a sea view. Address is in my notebook in the hall table.” She gave me a sly grin. “You’ll find it easy, little miss snoopy pants.” And without so much as a goodbye, she was gone, vanished into thin air. Charming.
I huffed a loud sigh and crossed my arms, turning my attention back toward the three men who seemed far more amused than anyone had any right to be. “Okay, Mission Street and Newport. I’m guessing I should try Mission Street first. Anyone have any idea where that is?”
Finn smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it’s about three miles from here, and if you want to get to Newport and back today, you’ll definitely need a car.”
Pussy grinned lazily. “Why don’t you just take Agatha’s car?”
“Agatha has a car?” I asked before I turned to face the far side of the room where Agatha had vanished. “You have a damn car?”
Agatha appeared in the doorway, looking smug. “Of course, I have a car. What do you take me for, a peasant?”
“Well, thank you for failing to mention that before I hauled that heavy-ass crate all the way to the vet’s. You’re a sweetheart.” I turned back to the three men and glared at them. “And why didn’t any of you mention anything, either?”
