Witchy Possessions (Witchy Fingers Book 3)

by Nic Saint

  “The guy you saw was probably a lookalike,” he said with a careless shrug. “As they say, we all have a lookalike running around somewhere, and sometimes even more than one. That must have been one of mine.”

  “But what was he doing in Safflower House?” asked Sam.

  “I have no idea,” he said. “Have you talked to Cassie Beadsmore?”

  “We did. She thought you were… you, actually. And so did the triplets.”

  ‘That’s so weird,” he said breezily, taking another bite from his donut and a sip of coffee.

  “This stuff is great,” said Pierre, holding up the donut appreciatively.

  “Bell’s Bakery,” he said proudly. Even though his mom and dad told him he was a traitor for working for the competition, he’d come to appreciate Bell’s owners and their products. They were even better than Brown’s, if possible.

  “So…” said Sam. “I guess now that we established beyond a reasonable doubt that you’re not dead, we have to find your lookalike… and his body.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The body of your lookalike,” said Pierre helpfully.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, it disappeared.”

  “It got misplaced somehow,” said Sam with a grimace.

  “Oh, dear,” he said. “That’s not good, right?” Though he didn’t really care. A man who’s had hundreds of clones come and go in a matter of minutes is beyond caring for the one stray clone who’s now gone missing.

  “No,” said Sam, with a suspicious look at him. Levity, it was obvious, wasn’t something this police detective particularly appreciated.

  When the officers finally stood, he asked, “Are you guys returning to New York?”

  “Yes, we are,” confirmed Sam. “We got another report to file.”

  “Do you know the famous rock star Petunia Hudson?” asked Pierre, placidly tucking a few donuts in a baggie for the road.

  “I never met her if that’s what you mean,” he said guardedly. Had she also gone missing?

  “She just committed suicide,” said Pierre.

  His eyebrows rose, and now he remembered seeing something about this new drama in his employers’ myriad messages. “Huh. Is that a fact?”

  “Yeah, jumped from her penthouse suite’s balcony.”

  “Right in front of the Flummox sisters,” grunted Sam. “Those three gals have had quite a morning.”

  He thought about the blimp that had nearly destroyed all life in Central Park and vicinity, and the army of clones they’d produced. “You can say that again,” he said. But then the triplets always had busy mornings, and busy afternoons and busy nights, too. In fact things were never boring with those three around, which was one of the things he liked so much about them.

  “They were devastated,” said Pierre, aiming another donut in his baggie.

  “Uh-huh. Look, mind if I hitch a ride?” he asked. “I probably need to get back to work.” Cassie might not want him around, but he wasn’t working for her but for Edie, Strel and Stien, and he needed to get back to his post. Things were apparently heating up back in New York, and he wanted to be part of it. Besides, he probably should pop in at Brown’s, and tell his mom and dad that he was fine, and not dead, as the police seemed to think.

  “Sure,” said Pierre, who seemed glad for the company.

  “You can ride in the back,” said Sam tersely. He seemed less happy. But then he’d just been sent on a wild goose chase looking for a dead Skip Brown and finding a live specimen in its stead. A detective worth his salt doesn’t like it when murder victims suddenly turn out to be alive. It’s bad for business, not to mention performance statistics.

  Ten minutes later they were cruising along the Long Island Expressway, en route back to New York, and chatting amicably about the Flummoxes, a topic the two cops seemed very eager to discuss. Sam, in particular, brought the conversation back to Edelie every time Skip strayed from her, and he was starting to think the stalwart cop had a special place in his heart for her.

  And then he remembered that Edie had gone out with Sam once, before the summer. It seemed unlikely for the cop to have a heart, for he was one of those gruff, no-nonsense types who didn’t seem to possess any of the finer feelings, but then he could be wrong, of course. And since he was a romantic at heart, he decided to help things along by extolling Edelie’s virtues and painting a portrait of her as the perfect woman for any policeman to have by his side.

  He might have overdone things, for when he finally stopped talking, Sam was glowering at him in the rearview mirror, probably thinking he himself had a crush on Edelie, which was simply laughable. He had a slight crush on Estrella, perhaps, but then that was only natural, as she was the most wonderful woman he’d ever met, and real pretty, too.

  Too late now, though, for Sam growled, “So you like Edie, huh?”

  “Well, as much as an employee can like an employer,” he prevaricated.

  “And does she feel the same way about you?” he snarled.

  “Oh, no,” he assured the cop. “Not at all, sir.”

  “I see,” said Sam, obviously not believing a word.

  Skip swallowed, for he didn’t want to be on this cop’s bad side.

  “I actually think she likes you. Sir.”

  Sam’s frown deepened at this, which was odd, for he would have thought his words would have brought a smile to the man’s lips. But then again, Sam’s face probably wasn’t outfitted for smiling. Some people’s faces just aren’t.

  “She does?” he grumbled, as if he’d just told him the worst news possible.

  “Oh, yes. She told me so on more than one occasion,” he said. As it was, Edelie had never even mentioned this cop to him, though he’d picked up some rumors that she was thoroughly smitten with the man.

  “Smitten was the word she used, in fact,” he now said, and then sat back and watched with satisfaction how Sam’s face turned a nice shade of crimson.

  Pierre nudged his colleague. “You see? I told you, Sam. Edie likes you.”

  But Sam merely grumbled something under his breath, which may or may not have been an acknowledgment that he was pleased to discover that Edelie Flummox had feelings for him.

  His good deed for the day done, Skip settled back, and the rest of the journey kept his tongue. It was, after all, his first ride-along, and he wanted to enjoy every minute of it. Who knew when this experience might come in handy? He was, after all, working for a private security company now, and every moment was a learning experience. He just hoped the sisters wouldn’t turn him into a clone again, and then decide to kill him off again.

  Chapter 17

  “Oh, my God, am I glad to see you!”

  Rupert welcomed us into his home with open arms, and we could see that the tragedy had already left its marks on his face, which was now a great deal less rosy and plump than it was when we last met him at Petunia’s.

  Petunia, who was tagging along, exclaimed, “Oh, Rupie! Rupie, darling!” and streaked into his arms… and then straight through her friend.

  Instead of acknowledging her presence, ‘Rupie’ simply kept on walking and grasped my hand and pressed it warmly, before repeating the procedure with my sisters.

  “Rupie!” cried Petunia, greatly dismayed. “Why are you ignoring me?!”

  “He can’t see you,” I muttered while Rupert led us into his living room.

  “What do you mean he can’t see me?” Petunia asked, greatly dismayed.

  “Not everyone can see a ghost,” I explained as I dawdled a bit. I didn’t want to spook Rupert, and I certainly didn’t want to have to explain to him that the ghost of his beloved Petunia was still hanging around. After the shock of her sudden death this might be an even greater shock.

  “Just tell him, then!” cried Petunia, never one for seeing her demands spurned. “Just tell him I’m here and repeat exactly what I’m telling you!”

  “It’s not that simple!” I hissed. “Not only can’t most peopl
e see ghosts, but they also don’t want to have anything to do with them! Telling Rupert about you might make things worse!”

  “Rupert is my greatest friend,” she pointed out, hands on hips. “And I want you to tell him right now that I’m here and I want a word with him.”

  “And I’m telling you that this is not a good time to reveal yourself!”

  Never in my life had I thought I’d be arguing about metaphysical issues with the likes of Petunia Hudson, but then again, this is what you probably got when you went into the security business: demanding clients and, even worse, dead celebrities. Petunia had been a handful when she was still alive, and she was proving an even bigger nuisance now that she was dead.

  I joined the others in Sir Rupert’s living room and took a seat on his plush burgundy sofa. The entire room was like something Queen Elizabeth would have approved of, with its striped wallpaper, its gilded chairs and its antique furnishings. Sir Rupert lived well and he lived rich, that much was obvious.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Sir Rupert,” Edelie began.

  “Well, it’s as much a loss to you as it is to me,” he said somberly.

  “How are you coping, sir?” asked Estrella.

  “Just call me Rupie,” he said, then shook his head forlornly. “Petunia wasn’t just my client, she was my dearest friend. I have nothing left to live for now. Nothing to fill my empty days. We used to spend every minute of every day together. Either she would come down to my little pad, or I would be up there.” His three chins waggled morosely. “And now she’s gone.”

  He sniffled, and it was obvious he’d been crying before we arrived.

  “Poor, poor Rupie,” muttered Petunia, who’d taken a seat next to me on the edge of the sofa, her sneakered foot rocking back and forth nervously. “Tell him I’m right here and that I’ll be here for as long as he lives. And if he turns into a ghost like me even longer! We’ll be together for all eternity!”

  I shook my head. Now was not the time to introduce Rupert to the world of the beyond. He wouldn’t be able to handle it and it just might tip him over the edge. My sisters obviously felt the same, for they simply ignored Petunia.

  “What’s going to happen to the apartment?” asked Estrella. “And all those wonderful things? The grand piano, her collection of platinum records…”

  Rupert heaved a sigh. “Everything was put in a trust, with me as sole trustee. Petunia’s will is clear: her family gets nothing, and neither do her former bandmates The Blackguards. Though now that she’s actually dead, and not fake-dead, I suppose it would be best to include her daughter in the inheritance. After all, Petunia was thinking about changing her will again.”

  “Daughter?” I asked. “I didn’t even know Petunia had a daughter.”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, missy,” said Petunia.

  “Oh, yes. The fact wasn’t widely known, of course. Her daughter chose a life out of the limelight. She even had her name changed several years ago.”

  “Yeah, she couldn’t handle the pressure,” said Petunia moodily.

  “They had a falling-out, at which point Petunia removed her name from the will. Recently, she expressed the wish to include her again, though as yet hadn’t taken the formal steps to do so. I guess I should honor her final wish.”

  That was so nice of him, I thought. He could have kept Petunia’s entire inheritance, but instead chose to hand it over to Petunia’s daughter.

  “Who is she?” asked Estrella, curious as always.

  “She goes by the name of Valerie Gabby these days,” said Rupert. “Though I would have to get in touch with her. It’s been a while for me, too.”

  I gasped in shock, and so did my sisters.

  “What? What?!” asked Petunia, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s in jail,” I said before I could stop myself, and as much in answer to Petunia’s question as to Rupert’s questioning look.

  “In jail?” Rupert and Petunia cried in pretty synchronicity.

  I nodded. “She was arrested this morning. She murdered our associate.” Or rather his clone, but that was a part of the story I decided to keep to myself for now, so as not to complicate matters needlessly.

  “She did what?!” cried Petunia, balling her hands into fists.

  “Yes, she attacked him in the garden of our house.”

  “Your house?” asked Rupert. “What was Valerie doing in your house?”

  “She’s our client,” said Edelie simply, and this rendered both Rupert and Petunia speechless for a moment.

  “But that can’t be,” said Petunia with an incredulous laugh.

  “What are the odds?” marveled Rupert.

  “The odds are… rather small,” Estrella had to admit.

  “And yet… she is our client,” I said.

  “And she is in jail right now,” said Edelie.

  Sir Rupert frowned. “But that means she can’t inherit. What is she being accused of, exactly?”

  “She killed a man, and she did it in front of two policemen, who witnessed the crime. So I guess her chances of being acquitted are pretty slim,” I said.

  “Who would have thought?” mused Petunia, visibly stunned.

  “The police haven’t told me about Valerie,” said Rupert thoughtfully. “Which probably means they haven’t made the connection with Petunia.”

  “What will happen to the baby?” Estrella asked.

  “What baby?” asked Rupert.

  “Yeah, what baby?” asked Petunia.

  “Valerie’s baby. Now that she’s in prison Sofia will probably be placed with the father, even though Valerie was dead set against that,” said Edelie.

  We all looked up when Petunia heaved a startled cry that wouldn’t have been out of place on one of her rock records. It sounded more like a long, protracted scream. “A baby?! I’m a grandmother?! And she didn’t tell me?!”

  “The police placed Sofia with social services for now,” I explained, “but in all likelihood she’ll be returned to the care of Alex Knuckles, her father.”

  “Knuckles! When Valerie married that idiot I told her she was crazy!” said Petunia through gritted teeth. “I warned her about the man but she wouldn’t listen, and then she simply stopped returning my calls! That man is the main reason we haven’t spoken in years.”

  “I guess that means Sofia will be the sole beneficiary of the estate once she reaches the age of consent,” mused Rupert. “At least as long as Valerie is in prison.”

  I stared at the man. “Sofia is only a baby, so that means…”

  “The bulk of the estate will remain in trust for the next eighteen years,” said Rupert, nodding seriously.

  “Good thing Rupie is here to take care of these matters,” said Petunia. “He’ll make certain that my fortune isn’t squandered and my legacy abused.”

  “We would like to continue the investigation,” I said. “As the police are treating this as suicide, they won’t be investigating Petunia’s death.”

  “And you don’t think it’s suicide?” asked Rupert, drawing up his brows in surprise.

  I exchanged a quick glance with my sisters. “We… we think there might be foul play involved,” I said.

  “We think someone else might be responsible for Petunia’s death,” said Estrella.

  “But you were there when she went over the edge,” Rupert interrupted. “According to the detectives who interviewed me you actually saw her jump.”

  “Yes, we did see her jump but…” I wondered how much we should tell Rupie. He was Petunia’s closest confidante, but the story of the ghouls might not sit well with him. So I decided not to divulge that part of the story. “We think Petunia might have been under the influence of some… substance.”

  “She wasn’t herself,” explained Estrella.

  Rupert frowned. “She never took drugs. She swore them off years ago.”

  “I did,” confirmed Petunia. “Drugs make you crazy and they rot your brain. Besides
, they make you do stuff that you will later regret. Like crashing the mayor’s party in the nude. And peeing on his Persian rug.”

  She seemed to know what she was talking about, I thought.

  “Perhaps it wasn’t drugs, but she was on something,” Estrella said.

  Rupert hesitated, but then said, “All right. By all means, please investigate Petunia’s unfortunate demise. I, too, have my suspicions, I have to admit.”

  “You have?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he acknowledged.

  “See? Rupie is no fool,” said Petunia.

  “Petunia wasn’t suicidal. She had everything to live for! She was planning a bright future and was full of ideas. She would never jump to her death.”

  “We would like to talk to The Blackguards,” I said, “and to Joanna Hudson, of course, and any other possible suspects.”

  “All right,” he said, “but please be discreet. I will set up the interviews. They will listen to me.” He shook his head, his face contorted in agony again. “It’s such a great tragedy.” Then he looked at us pleadingly. “If you think someone is responsible for this, please find them and bring them to justice.”

  “We will, Rupie,” said Petunia softly, obviously touched by this display of affection and sadness on the part of her dearest and oldest friend. “We have to figure out who did this to me, girls,” she added. “Who planted this ghoul inside me.” Then her eyes narrowed. “I for one think it’s one of The Blackguards. Corina. She was always fond of dark magic. It must be her.”

  “The Blackguards it is, then,” I said.

  Rupert looked up. “Mh?”

  “We’ll talk to The Blackguards first,” I quickly explained.

  He nodded. “I’ll set it up. And I’ll arrange a lawyer for poor Valerie and also arrange for little Sofia to be placed in my care, and not that of this vicious Alex Knuckles.” He shook his head in dismay. “That little girl has suddenly become one of the richest and most famous babies in the country.”