“Now, if I remember correctly, if we go through the kitchen, there’s a back staircase we can go up while Sally comes back down. Hopefully, Chicken Man wasn’t too hard on her. But I promise to make it up to her if he is. A year’s worth of cat food should do it.”
Heading for the archway, I poked my head into the swinging door of the kitchen, making sure all was clear before scooting across the long expanse and raising a fist of triumph when I located the stairs.
Slipping off my shoes to keep my entrance quiet, I slid along the stairs until I reached the top, flattening myself against the wall just as Sally was heading back down the other set of steps toward the reception area.
“Coast is clear,” Win called.
Blowing out a breath, I ran toward the Monet Room and threw my shoes back on then tapped on the door, wincing when it echoed along the wood-floored hallway.
“I thought I told you, I didn’t want to be disturbed again and I have no assistant named Steven Whatever!” a voice bellowed from behind the door just as it popped open.
An angry man in an expensive Burberry polo sweater threw open the door, his hard face nothing short of enraged. He was all angles and chiseled and rock hard like a male model.
And then something clicked as he stood there, aghast someone else had the audacity to disturb him. He was wearing Burberry—just like the trench coat I’d seen at MZ’s before the end of my love affair with Tito.
Wouldn’t a guy like this own a Montblanc, too?
Was I in the presence of a killer? Was this Hendrick Von Adams the man who’d forced MZ to call off the Senior Alert people and then strangled her to death? Over some fried chicken?
“Who are you and what the hell do you want?” he all but howled in my face as he used his elbows to lean on the doorframe, looming over me like some Calvin Klein Gigantor.
“Stevie?” Win queried.
“Hmmm?” I murmured, leaning back away from the door as I fought to put a sentence together in my head.
“Very large, very angry man. Suggest new strategy. Copy?”
“Copy,” I croaked before I turned to make a break for it.
But Hendrick grabbed me and whirled me around, his grip like a steel band on my arm. “What do you want?”
Wow, he was strong. Like, Godzilla strong. My instinct to zap him one came and went when, in that brief second, I realized I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Keeping my purse and Belfry close to my chest, I went limp as a wet noodle when he began to drag me into his room. Then when he least expected it, I stomped my very pointy heel on the bridge of his foot, grinding the spike into his flesh with a warrior cry.
I also noted, not only was he strong, but he had some set of lungs.
“Owwww!” he hollered, making my eardrums rattle, but he lost his grip on my arm.
With an opportunity to escape present, my heart pounding, my pulse racing, I made a break for the door, skidding around the corner and flying toward the stairs on the slippery polished floor.
“Stevie?”
The burly figure calling my name at the end of the hallway was like manna from heaven. “Sandwich! Help!” I screamed, barreling toward him, my ankles wobbling in my ridiculously high heels.
My feet somehow moved faster than my legs and I knew I was going to lose my footing before I did, but there was no stopping me as I tilted forward and rammed straight into Sandwich.
His enormous arms went around me just as the velocity of my body impacted his, making him lose his footing, too.
We fumbled and fell down the shallow stairs, me clinging to Sandwich’s big frame, my mouth wide open and screaming with each tread we hit.
Landing with a thud, I flipped over him in an awkward somersault of limbs, where I landed sprawled out in a very unladylike manner, on the ceramic tile of the kitchen floor.
Win almost sounded exhilarated when he cheered, “Way to stick the landing! Good show!”
Chapter 13
Officer Nelson, with his disapproving glare and ultra-shiny shoes, was the first to offer me a hand up. “Miss Cartwright,” he drawled in cool tones.
I allowed him to pull me upward, yanking my hand back and running it over my denim shrug, which was currently somewhere up around my ears. I straightened my clothing with an achy groan and caught my first glimpse of Sandwich’s tangled limbs.
“Oh no!” I ran to the bottom of the steps where he was crumpled up, his head at an awkward angle against the wall. “Sandwich! Aw, sweet Pete! I’m so sorry! I was running from that deranged madman and I saw you too late! Let me get you a cold pack for your head.”
I rose to go to the fridge to search for an icepack, but Sandwich grabbed my hand with a groan and pulled me to him. “Please. Just let me die in peace, Stevie.”
“You’re not going to die, silly. If you didn’t die when you ate a sardine, mayo and sweet-pickle sandwich, you won’t die from a little fall. Promise. Just let me get you some ice for your head, and we’ll fix you right up.”
I patted his wide chest as reassurance, but then old sourpuss Nelson was there, giving me the “could you be any more annoying” stare.
“Miss Cartwright? I suggest you let Officer Paddington have some room to breathe. Why don’t you come with me and explain what you were doing upstairs at Mr. Von Adams’s room?”
Instantly, I was indignant and huffy when I pointed toward the staircase. “Did you see what that deranged lunatic did to me? He attacked me for doing nothing more than knocking on his door! I’m going to file assault charges!”
“Attacked you?” Hendrick was suddenly in the kitchen with us, his expression still outraged, but mixed with some seriously obvious smug. He glared at me so hard, I thought surely my face would melt right off and slide to a puddle on the floor.
Jamming his hands into his equally expensive trousers, he narrowed his gaze in my direction.
But I narrowed mine in return. Right back at ya, Chicken Man. “You have some temper, don’t you, Mr. Von Adams? Care to explain to the officers why you grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me into your room?”
“I did no such thing!” he openly lied.
Now I was livid. Like, so furious my eyeballs rolled so far to the back of my head, I was sure someone would have to knock my noggin to jar them back into place. “You did too!” I accused, shrugging off my denim jacket to show the imprint of his fingers on my upper arm. “I didn’t do that to myself, did I?”
But Hendrick wasn’t so easily intimidated. He came right back at me, his scowl cold and furious. “I told that pesky woman downstairs I didn’t want to be disturbed! How dare you show up at my door unannounced?”
“Why so private, Mr. Von Adams? Just what are you hiding? Could it be the fact that you had something to do with Madam Zoltar’s death?” I yelped, sarcasm seething in my tone.
“Oh, Stevie,” Win groaned. “You’ve cocked it up now.”
But I waved Win off like a fly circling a peach pie on the windowsill. “Care to explain this?” I yanked the Montblanc from my purse, still wrapped in the tissue like it was the Holy Grail, and held it up under his nose in ta-da-like fashion. “Does this belong to you, Mr. Chicken-Opolis-Moneybags?”
But Hendrick’s face was completely blank. Which meant he was a good faker. I hoped. I mean, I had just accused him of murder.
Officer Nelson held up his hand, all calm and like a cucumber. “Now, Miss Cartwright, I’m going to have to ask you to take a deep breath and settle down.”
“Settle down my eye! He certainly had motive to harm Madam Zoltar. Did you ask him about how he was trying to pressure her son into getting his mother to sell the store to him? Did you?”
Officer Nelson closed his eyes, likely asking whoever was in charge up there for patience, before he popped them back open and pointed to the parlor. “I’ll ask one more time, Miss Cartwright. Please wait for me in the other room, or I’ll be forced to cuff you.”
“Cuff this!” I shouted up at him, but I inched my way out toward
the parlor. Handcuffs weren’t a part of my plans today. They’d mess up my date with Forrest.
I left the room with a squinty-eyed glare at Officer Nelson and Hendrick Von Jerk, just to let them know I meant business.
Huffing, I stopped at the reception desk, where Sally gave me stink-eye.
I openly sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. I tricked you and I suck for doing it, but I really needed to talk to him. I just want to know who’d hurt Madam Zoltar. I just want to help.”
I don’t know why I was telling Sally my tale of woe—if it was a way of explaining my desperation or if I just needed a “poor baby.”
“You don’t have a paralyzed dog named Belfry, do you?”
My eyes fell to the floor in guilt. Sometimes, when I’m in the zone, I do whatever it takes to get the answer I want to hear, and collateral damage is inevitable. “No. No dog. But I’ve been accused of murder. So there’s that hanging over my head.”
Sally tapped my arm, her gaze softer. “Oh yeah. You’re the lady everyone’s calling a murderer.”
Yeah. That’s me. “I did not hurt Madam Zoltar.”
Sally nodded her sandy-blonde head. “Oh, I totally believe you. I’d believe that creep did it before I’d ever consider you a suspect. He’s so rude. Treats us all like we’re his indentured slaves, barking orders, demanding we do all sorts of stuff.”
Grrr. If I could only use my power one more time, I’d use it to whack that Hendrick so hard, his brain would spill out of his ears. But then a thought occurred to me.
“Do you know where he was when Madam Zoltar was killed? Was he here at the inn?”
She paused in thought then her eyes shone with disappointment. “You know, as much as I’d like him to spend a few centuries in jail, he really was here that morning. Up early, too. I remember because he was aggravated I’d spent so much time talking to the man who was checking out. But gosh, he smelled so good and he was so cute. He was chatting with me and looking for a place to grab some fish and chips, and I was recommending that amazing food truck next to Tito’s, The Deep Sea Diver, all while Mr. Von Adams rolled his eyes and huffed at me.”
Fish and chips…
“Fish and chips!” Win barked.
I tried to contain my excitement. This had to mean something. No way could fish and chips come up this often without it meaning something.
“Fish and chips? Yum! One of my favorites. There’s a truck that serves them next to Tito’s? How did I miss that?”
“He kind of comes and goes to avoid permit-violation fines. Guy who owns the truck’s name is Jacob. He doesn’t want to pay for the permit to have the truck parked. Sort of a rage-against-the-man kinda hipster dude. But if you know Marvin Wexler, from the town inspections office, you know what a by-the-book kind of guy he is. He’s a total stickler for the rules. It’s sorta become a joke to see how long Jacob can avoid Marvin before he catches him.”
“Do you remember who the guy was that wanted the fish and chips? What his name was?”
Now she rolled her eyes at me. “Aw, c’mon. I think you know I can’t tell you that. I’m already in enough trouble, don’t you think?” She hitched her jaw toward the kitchen, where the police were still talking with Hendrick The Horror. “I can’t afford to get fired, Miss Cartwright. I need this job, and Coraline’s a great boss, but she’s going to get some serious flack for what I did for you because you can bet your cute purse, that monster in there will make her miserable.”
I gave her my best sad-panda face. “I get it. I just hope he wasn’t the one to hurt Madam Zoltar, because that would be just awful. And the way things are going for me, I need all the suspects I can get. I figure it couldn’t hurt to ask him a few questions, you know? Anyway, speaking of, you must be Liza’s friend, right? She mentioned you worked here…”
Guilt shone brightly in Sally’s eyes. “It’s so awful what happened to her nana. She really was tight with her. Super close. Mrs. Martoni was a great lady. I feel so horrible”
“So do I. I had tea with Liza earlier and she was a total wreck.” I sighed forlornly. “Anyway, it’s fine. I understand your position. I just hope that guy had nothing to do with this. Whoever he is…”
Sally popped her lips then pulled me in, cupping her hand over her mouth. “Okay, listen. I can’t tell you his name, but I think he said something about heading somewhere warmer with less rain. Oh, and he dressed really nice. The kind of guy who wears a fancy trench coat.”
My spine tingled. A Burberry trench coat, perhaps?
I gripped her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Sally. You’ve been a huge help. I promise to make getting into hot water because of me worth your while.”
For now, my head was swollen with whirring thoughts and theories. I needed to get back to the car and talk them out with Win.
Whirling around, I went for the door, but Officer Nelson, wet blanket award winner of the year, stopped me. “Miss Cartwright? In a rush to get somewhere?”
I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming. Turning, I pointed to my wrist as though I wore a watch. “Killing spree. I don’t want to be late. Gotta run and set up the sacrificial table. It’s tedious work to get everything right. Can we exchange pleasantries later?”
Officer Nelson actually smirked as though he were fighting a smile. Go figure. “I’ll need to ask you about your side of the events with Mr. Von Adams.”
“I’ve got an appointment with you guys at three today anyway. So it’s a date. Gotta run, the chicken sacrifice waits for no one!”
I ran out the door to the tune of a low chuckle that definitely didn’t belong to Win.
Jumping in my car, I threw the key in the ignition and headed toward the area of Jacob’s fish-and-chips truck.
“And they say spies are manipulative,” Win teased.
“Don’t pile on. I’ll already hate myself in the morning. Belfry? Do me a favor, take this down: Send Sally a year’s worth of cat food and kitty litter.”
“Got it, Boss.”
Win chuckled. “So let’s discuss. I assume we’re on our way to the fish-and-chips food truck?”
“You bet we are. Maybe he’ll remember the guy. I mean, maybe MZ was trying to tell us that this guy was staying with that Von Asshat at the inn? I still don’t know what that has to do with her son Dan and what he supposedly knows, but I have this tingle in my gut we’re on to something, Win. I don’t know what, but it leads somewhere.”
“I’d agree.”
The rush of adrenaline I always felt when I was close to figuring something out coursed through my veins. “Oh! Something else, didn’t Sally say he smelled really good? Belfry, remember you said whoever went into Madam Z’s store while we were there smelled good, too? But we skedaddled because we thought it might be the police?”
Belfry hopped out of my purse and onto the seat. “Oh yeah. Whoever it was did smell good. Really good.”
“And holy total recall!” I yelped, hitting my hand on the steering wheel. “I just remembered something else! When we went into Madam Z’s the first time, I remember smelling perfume or cologne or something. It’s what made me think she was somewhere in the store, but I didn’t smell it anymore when we were near her body. I know there’s a connection here. I just know it!”
Pulling up to the sidewalk where the food truck vendors were located, I put the car in park and jumped out in search of The Deep Sea Diver.
Tito was outside, under one of the tents set up to keep you dry as you ate, wiping down a table. I forgot all about our tiff and waved to him. “Tito!”
His glossy ebony head popped up, and then he realized it was me and his chubby, innocent face turned into a scowl. “Oh, no, no, no, senorita—ju no come to my truck! Ju bad, bad lady!”
Tito began to back away, but I held up my hand. “Tito, c’mon. Do I look like someone who’d murder a nice little old lady?”
His finger shot upward. “Ju might no look like bad lady, but bad ladies come in goat’s clothes!”
I stopp
ed advancing on him and frowned, letting my arms fall to my sides in defeat. “That’s sheep’s clothing, and okay. I understand. But can I ask you one small thing?”
He looked affronted, his eyes wide as he slapped the inside of his forearm. “Ju wanna know what kinda blood type I got?”
Okay, this murder accusation stuff was really getting out of hand. “Where’s the guy with the fish and chips? Is he here today?”
Tito shooed me away, wiping his hands on his dirty white apron. “No! He bad like ju. Well, no as bad. He don’ kill me. But he no like rules! Now go!”
I’m usually not so easily defeated, but if I haven’t mentioned, I normally don’t deal with the living when I help a spirit other than to pass on a message. I’d never been this personally involved or had this much hate thrown my way my entire time as a witch.
And it was beginning to get to me. Tears began to well in my eyes as I skirted the food truck patrons and headed back to my car, defeat a sharp pang in my gut.
I slid inside and turned the key in the ignition, gnawing the inside of my cheek to keep from crying as I pulled away, leaving Tito and his heated scowl in my rearview mirror.
“Aw, Stevie. Don’t cry. I can’t deal with you crying more than once a year at Christmas, when you make me watch all those stupid Hallmark movies. C’mon, Buckaroo, chin up,” Belfry said softly, crawling from my purse to shimmy along my arm and settle on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Stevie. But I promise you, Tito will rue the day.”
Sniffling, I shook my head. “I know I’m letting it get to me. But it’s Tito…” My voice cracked. “He’s the nicest man on the planet and he thinks I’m a hardcore killer. I don’t know why that hurts so much, but it sure stings. I think I need to regroup. Just give me a few minutes at home to catch my breath before we have to meet Mr. Lipton at the police station, and I promise I’ll be rarin’ to go.”
Win cleared his throat, his warm aura somehow warmer. “Take all the time you need, Stevie. You’ve had a rough morning.”
As I drove down the road that took me to the house, I smiled my gratitude. Flying past the Sound, which normally brought me such joy, I all but ignored it, so caught up in what to do next.
Witch Slapped (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 1) Page 14
