by A. M. King
“From where?”
He scratched his head. “I think it was from a pizza place.”
“Okay good. Which one?”
“All that information’s in the apartment. You know I wrote everything down, right?”
“Right, I remember.”
“And what’s wrong with his memory? He has short term memory problems?”
“Aunt Trixie!”
“Well, that would explain why he forgot he was engaged to you while he started frolicking around with every pair of legs in the office.”
“Aunt Trixie!”
“Sorry dear.”
Jonathan looked embarrassed.
Febe knew what she had to do. She glanced at the clock. “I need to get into your condo, Jonathan.”
“You what?” Janvier spurted out the tea in her mouth.
“Have you taken leave of your senses, young lady?” Aunt Trixie said, her hands on her hips.
“No. But I need to help Jonathan by finding out whatever I can at the apartment.”
“Why can’t he go there?”
“That’s a good question,” he answered. “I tried to go back, but I just can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Someone’s placed a tape measure there.”
“A what?”
“My roommate.”
“You have a roommate?”
“Actually,” Febe answered for him. “The condo is in his aunt’s name. He didn’t tell his aunt that he also worked undercover. She’s out of town most of the time. She lives in Florida.”
“So he has an auntie who lives in Florida?”
“Yes. She’s a snowbird and spends six months of the year in Florida and six months in Toronto. She’s back in town. She owns a few properties,” he said, “When I showed up there after the...after what happened to me, she got spooked and couldn’t see me. She could only see a shadow, so she started placing all kinds of weird stuff around the apartment. Like a crucifix, tape measures on all the doors. Garlic. Coconuts.”
Aunt Trixie laughed. “Seems like she was trying to keep out a demon, not ghost.”
“Aunt Trixie!” Febe called out.
“Sorry, dear.” Aunt Trixie still couldn’t resist stifling a giggle.
“Okay, well, I’ll show up there. She wouldn’t be there now, right? She has another house in the city.”
“Yes, that’s right. I guess the police should have removed the caution tape already.”
“Do you still keep the spare key under your mat?
“He keeps the spare key under his mat?” Aunt Trixie asked, incredulously. “Who does that nowadays? This isn’t the 1950s.”
“Not the brightest bulb in the shed that’s for sure,” Aunt Vanity chimed in, filing her fingernails.
“Aunties, please!” Febe said. She then turned her attention back to Jonathan. “I’ll need you to follow me so that you can show me where you keep...”
“I’m not going back there.”
“But Jonathan.”
“Sorry. I just can’t go back there. It’s like I get a pulling sensation when I try to enter there.”
“Oh, great. Janvier, I’ll need you to follow me.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Fine. There’s no way I’m letting you go there alone.”
“Aren’t you going to ask us, dear?” Aunt Trixie said.
“I think it would be a bit conspicuous, don’t you think? Several women going to his apartment like a tour group?”
“Fine. You two go ahead. But remember, darling niece. Be very careful. There’s a cold-blooded killer on the loose.”
* * *
“Nice place,” Janvier said when they arrived in the grand lobby of the Marble Apartments.
“Yeah, it’s one of those luxury condo buildings. They have a million dollar gym facility, sauna, pool and a tennis court.”
“And a concierge desk, I see.”
“Yes, that too.” Febe walked past the concierge desk with her sister, hoping that Conrad, the part-time concierge wouldn’t recognize her. She’d only seen him a few times, after all.
It was risky coming back there, but Jonathan seemed to think that clues would be at his residence as to what happened on his last night and why he took off to Blackshore Bay.
As they walked to the elevators past the concierge desk, Janvier said, “The place is overflowing with security cameras.”
“I know.”
“Which brings another question to mind...”
“Wouldn’t the would-be killer be caught on surveillance camera?” Febe finished her sister’s sentence. “Yes, I thought about that, too. But I don’t want to go to the concierge yet. I don’t want him to know what I’m doing here. Let’s see if I can find anything in Jonathan’s apartment.”
“But the cops would have known that you couldn’t have done it, right?”
“Right. Except, there was a blackout that night.”
“Oh, right.”
“I checked the weather forecast for Toronto before I left the Bay just to make sure. And sure enough, there was power outage to several buildings in the area.”
“Including the Marble Apartments. Damn! Talk about a bad break.”
“I know.”
“That was lucky for the alleged killer who might have taken Jonathan to Blackshore Bay though. Looks like he might have gotten away with it.”
“Or she,” Janvier said, arching a brow.
“That’s true, Sis. It might have been a woman.” Febe could picture smooth-talking Jonathan getting into trouble with the opposite sex and picking up the wrong woman to bring to his apartment. The thought made her stomach churn. They were supposed to have been an item, an engaged couple. Boy, did she know how to pick ‘em.
Febe got into the elevator and pressed the button for Jonathan’s floor. Then she got out.
“What’s wrong?”
“Let’s take the stairs.”
“Why?”
“I need the exercise.”
“You mean you need the anonymity.” Janvier grinned. “Elevators have security cameras in them.”
“Exactly. I don’t want the concierge watching which floor we get off on.”
“True. Good call.”
They made their way up the steps to the floor, flying up the steps as quickly as possible. It was a good thing Febe had done a bit of hiking and other outdoor activities. Taking steps and using the Stairmaster at the gym really paid off now. Janvier was fit as a fiddle and slim to boot. Febe had more curves, but could hold her own when it came to exercising.
When they got to Jonathan’s floor, though, Febe was panting and out of breath. Janvier seemed okay.
“What are you made of, Jan?”
“Sugar and spice and all things nice.”
“Yeah, dream on.”
“I can’t believe he actually leaves his key under the mat. Who does that?” Janvier said when they got to the door and Febe began fidgeting with the welcome mat at the door.
“It’s not here,” Febe said.
“What do you mean it’s not here? He said it was, didn’t he?”
“No. I asked him if he still left the key under the mat. He said it should be there, but he wasn’t sure.”
“Do you think that means the killer could have taken it?”
“You know something? That is a thought. He was expecting someone at his home. Maybe he was surprised. Maybe he was in the shower or something and he didn’t hear the door open. The killer could have dumped his cell phone in Blackshore Bay.”
“You’ve got a point.”
“Oh, great. So now what do we do?” Febe said, feeling dejected. “We’ve just wasted our time, coming here.”
Febe got up on her tiptoes and tried to reach the top frame of the door. She slid her fingertips across the dusty top of the door frame. “Doesn’t look like it’s up there either.”
Just then she heard a click and the door unlock.
She jolted and almost los
t her balance falling back.
Her sister Janvier stood there with her eyes closed and was whispering something underneath her breath.
“Oh, my God! Janvier! You’re not...chanting a spell, are you?”
“Commanderio Openerio Prente.” Janvier opened her eyes and breathed out deeply.
Febe felt a weird energy zoom past them.
“Janvier!”
The door flung open.
“What?”
“We’re not supposed to be practicing magic in public, remember?”
“Only in emergencies and we’re not exactly in public now are we? We’re in the private corridors of a high rise condo.”
“What if one of the resident’s is looking out through their peep hole?”
“I seriously doubt it.”
“But how do you...?”
“Shh,” Janvier said. “Someone’s here.”
Febe felt her stomach lurch.
“We’re not alone.”
Janvier pointed to the bedroom light that was on. The door was partially opened.
Febe could feel her heartbeat pounding hard and fast in her throat.
“This was a bad idea. We shouldn’t be here,” Febe whispered.
“He gave us permission to be in his apartment, remember?” Janvier whispered.
Slowly the girls inched closer to the bedroom. “Is someone there?” Janvier called out.
Febe heard movement in the room and a shuffling sound.
What was going on? Who was in there?
Febe had the urge to just turn back and run out fast, but she couldn’t. Jonathan had been murdered and she was the prime suspect. She had to clear her name and find out what happened to him.
A thought struck her.
What if that was the killer in Jonathan’s bedroom?
What would she do then?
Should she call the police? Or call security? Then again, they would ask her what she was doing in Jonathan’s apartment, wouldn’t they?
What would she do then? She was caught between a rock and a hard place.
Then she thought about the fact that she came from a very powerful bloodline of magic. She was a witch, darn it. She shouldn’t be afraid of anything or anyone. It should be the other way around.
Febe didn’t know what came over her but she went over to the bedroom and kicked the door open wider.
She was stunned at what she saw.
Good grief!
* * *
A tall, thin older woman with long, jet black hair and a ghoulish look stood hovered over a desk in Jonathan’s room. She held some documents in her hand.
She spun around, an angry expression on her face.
“Who are you?” she shrieked. Her lips were pinched thin.
“Who are you?” Febe asked, her heart pounding in her chest.
The woman squared her shoulders. “I asked you first.” The woman’s tone was sharp and piercing.
“I asked you second,” Febe said, trying to steady her nerves. She felt guilty for breaking into the apartment, but then again she did get permission from Jonathan.
“This is my...ex’s apartment,” Febe continued trying to remain calm, despite the sweat invading her forehead.
“Your ex?” The woman sounded surprised.
“Y-yes.”
Okay, Febe realized this sounded very strange. What on earth would she be doing in her ex’s apartment, right?
“Oh, you’re Jonathan’s ex-girlfriend? That advertising chick,” she said, and tilted her head back with a throaty laugh. It seemed so inappropriate given the circumstance.
“And you are?”
The woman held some documents tightly in her hands. “I’m Ericka.”
“You’re Jonathan’s aunt?” Febe said, surprised.
Febe had heard a bit about the woman but she’d never met her in person.
“Yes. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“Oh, nothing. Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, albeit under sad circumstances.”
“Sad circumstances?”
“Yes,” Febe was stunned at her reaction. “I’m really sorry about Jonathan being missing. How awful.”
“Oh, that.” Her voice was unreadable.
Oh, that?
“I thought you two were close,” Febe continued. “I mean, he looked after your condo for you while you were living in Florida.”
“Oh, right. Yes, of course. That was nice of him,” she said, looking around the room, sighing. “Though he could have used a bit of time cleaning up the place. It was a dump when I got back.”
“Maybe someone trashed the place.”
“Oh, no. It was a dump since he moved in here. He kept this place as some sort of bachelor pad where he’d...oh, never mind.”
Febe tried to hide the disappointment inside her. His aunt was probably going to say that the place was a bachelor pad where he wined and dined a lot of women—not just Febe. But she tried to push that to the back of her head. Jonathan was dead now. There was nothing she could do about that.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Febe asked, her eyes fixed on the sheets of paper in Ericka’s hands.
“Oh these?” she said, hurriedly shoving them into her handbag. “Oh, nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Just some papers I forgot here.”
Febe was very curious about what was contained on those documents. She had a feeling Ericka was hiding something. But what?
“What did you come back here for?” Ericka asked again.
“Oh, um...well, I forgot some things. I’m here to just pick up a few things.”
Ericka looked dubious at first but by the way she clutched her handbag with the secret documents inside, she looked as if she wanted to rush out of there.
“I’d better be going now. Make sure you lock up when you leave.”
Febe wanted to stop her but she couldn’t. It was her place after all. Febe was the ex-fiancée. She really had no right to be there.
The woman jetted out of the apartment after she got what she obviously wanted and left Febe and Janvier hanging, wondering just what in heaven’s name was going on.
Talk about a strange encounter.
Chapter 7
The next morning, Febe made her way to the Blackshore Bay Police station off Main Street. Janvier had agreed to open up the Summer Café in her place.
Her heart pulsed hard in her chest. She still couldn’t get over last night. What was Jonathan’s auntie doing at his apartment with those documents? Did she follow him to Blackshore Bay?
Unfortunately, Febe didn’t have time to search for what they were looking for at the apartment, as the concierge, who acted as security staff for the building, suspected something and came to the apartment to check if everything was all right. He must have caught them on camera and decided to investigate.
Right now she had to focus on getting to that cell phone hoping it could reveal what happened to Jonathan.
She couldn’t tell her aunties what she was planning to do or they’d have a fit. Janvier had told Febe to let Jonathan wander forever in the go-between instead of helping him, but she just couldn’t. She was compelled to do the right thing. Funny though, Jonathan had been absent since the day before. Of course, he probably couldn’t help it, given his weird situation and not being able to move on to the light.
“Morning. Can I help you?” the officer at the desk asked Febe after she walked through the glass doors of the police station.
“Good morning. I’m here to see Sergeant Heart.”
Sergeant Heart walked to the front desk at that moment. It was as if he had impeccable super hearing. “You want to see me?” he said, his lips thinned with annoyance. Didn’t his nephew tell him she was coming to see him today? Or perhaps his nephew did tell him and that was why he was annoyed.
“Yes. I’m here to speak to you about the...phone you found a couple days ago.�
��
He eyed her skeptically. “Come this way, Ms. Summer.” His tone was hard.
The other officers around the reception desk looked terrified. They were young officers, probably newbies. Trey had said the station had been short-staffed and were recruiting like crazy as the population of the town, not to mention the crime, increased. She was willing to bet Sergeant Heart wasn’t easy to work with and put fear into his officers.
There was something terrifying about Sergeant Heart. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, though. He rarely smiled and he often had this hardness in his gaze. Such a contrast to his sweet nephew. Well, that apple fell far from the tree.
Once Febe walked into his office, she sat down.
The man just glared at her with suspicion in his eyes.
“So you want to see your ex-boyfriend’s cell phone?” he said.
“My ex-fiancé’s cell phone.” Okay, that probably sounded worse. But it was the truth.
“Why?”
“Why?”
“The question is quite straightforward Ms. Summer. Are you going to answer my question with a question? I have no time for this. What are you up to?”
“Nothing, sir. Nothing. I just. Well, you know, I have an instinct about these things. I just want to find out what happened to Jonathan. He never separated from his cell phone.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re one of those fake psychic wannabes. You think you can get a vibe about what happened, huh?” He leaned back in his chair surveying her with narrowed eyes.
Fake psychics?
Okay, well, at least he understood the concept of psychics. Still, that was much better than witches. He’d never understand that. He had no idea that witches and demons and probably other creatures lived amongst them, hiding in plain sight, but that was another story altogether. She had to get to that phone and soon. Was he going to play games with her all morning? Was he going to brush her off? She needed to get back to work at the café. She had no time for cat and mouse games with the sergeant right now.
She wished she could use a spell on him, but something told her not to even try it. Witches were not allowed to use spells for personal gain, though this was about solving a crime. Still, she wasn’t experienced enough to try it on a human. Right now, she could work with objects. That was safe enough until she advanced in her abilities.
He got up from his desk and went over to the cabinet and pulled out a clear plastic bag with a silver smartphone. It looked badly cracked. Her heart pulsed harder.
