The Witch's Blood: (A Cozy Witch Mystery) (One Part Witch Book 7)

by Iris Kincaid

  Susan gestured for Nikki to come over. “I’ll order one for you right now.”

  “Yeah! I’ll bet Chef Linus can really do barbecue well,” Gabriel enthused.

  “I appreciate that,” Zoey said, “but that’s not a barbecue. Barbecues don’t have anything to do with fancy hotels and chefs. They happen in back yards. And you invite a bunch of people. And someone says, ‘I’ll bring the potato salad.’ And they buy potatoes, and onions, and celery, and they mix it with mayo and maybe mustard and maybe hard-boiled eggs.

  “Does any of this ring a bell? I know some of you had to grow up in normal families. Small towns? Suburbs? You know what a barbecue is. And someone brings the baked beans. And someone brings the paper plates and the drinks and the watermelon. Well, I’ve got a back yard. What do you say?”

  “Sounds like work,” Boris said suspiciously.

  “Yes, my little Hollywood snowflakes. It’s a bit of work. But like I said, it’s the kind of work that was the stuff of my prison dreams for many, many years.”

  How could they turn her down? This pampered, clueless bunch was going to have to pitch in and put on a barbecue.

  On her way out of the hotel, Zoey spotted Sherman Baretta going through the lobby. He was such a devoted fan of Susan’s. He’d get a real kick out of being invited to the barbecue.

  “Susan and all of her people will be there, and she’s so friendly with her fans. I’m sure she’d be happy for you to come.”

  “Oh, man. I wish I could. My grandfather in Nevada is spending his one hundredth birthday in the hospital, and it’s turning into a big Skype birthday party, family reunion kind of thing, also tomorrow afternoon, during your barbecue. Believe me, I would so much rather be at Susan’s party, but the old man won’t be around for long.”

  “Of course. Just thought I’d ask. I hope your party’s great.”

  Zoey turned around to find herself about to bump into Esmeralda.

  “A barbecue? I can’t imagine how you managed to get such an invitation. And from Susan Sidwell, of all people. Hmm. Barbecue. Food is exquisite here, but it’s not really the place for barbecue, is it?”

  Gosh darn it. Esmeralda looked downright forlorn. Not unlike the unpopular kid who knows she didn’t get invited to the party.

  “Susan didn’t really invite me. I’m the one throwing the party. And you’re welcome to attend. It starts at three o’clock, tomorrow afternoon. Here’s my address. I’m going to invite Delphine to it as well, so I hope you two get along.”

  Esmeralda grinned triumphantly. “What should I bring?”

  Oddly, even Esmeralda was more hip to the workings of a barbecue than Zoey’s new Hollywood friends. And if there’s one thing that Zoey had learned in prison, it was best to have scary ex-cons on your side.

  *****

  It was a glorious day for an outdoor party. Zoey’s cooking skills weren’t that impressive, but she did remember a crowd-pleasing marinade that worked really well with barbecued chicken thighs—soy sauce, curry powder, and garlic powder. Add a few slabs of ribs and a few salmon steaks, and the grilling was good to go.

  The Hollywood crowd was the first to arrive, since they were assigned a multitude of cooking and food prep duties, which they took on valiantly, if not expertly. It took three different people to coordinate the mac & cheese, but miraculously, they pulled it off, and the party was off and running.

  Boris helped Justine to set up a music system to blast into the back yard, and Justine immediately gave the bodyguard twerking lessons. Zoey could only shake her head. Ex-cons. You can’t take them anywhere!

  Slowly, everyone that Zoey knew in Oyster Cove had arrived—Wanda and her fiancé Jeremy, Delphine, Esmeralda, and lastly and most importantly, Camille, accompanied by Melody, Dr. Svenson, and his assistant, Ruby. All in all, it was an odd mix of people that somehow worked. It was a loud, noisy, sociable group. Margo and Finn had been invited, but Margo had a big day-long movie festival at her theater and Finn was apparently chasing down a hot new lead in the Churchill murder case.

  Esmeralda was tickled pink to be meeting both the great Susan Sidwell and Mayor Wanda Macomber on the same day. Delphine nodded toward them while speaking to Zoey.

  “I told you, Esmeralda loves to be in the same circles as the VIPs. She’s quite status-conscious.”

  “And she loves a good meal. I thought it best to get on her good side.”

  “Very wise, my dear.”

  “You and I could learn a thing or two from these young ladies, Lilith. There’s a nice humility with these transplant heirs of yours—a graciousness and generosity that is often missing in our kind.”

  “I do not see how this can benefit me,” Lilith groused. “Particularly if Esmeralda had anything to do with my death.”

  “She speaks candidly to Zoey Proctor. That is most certainly to your benefit.”

  “She wanted to make the day of my death a national holiday!”

  “Crass, but not exactly a confession. No, let Zoey draw in the flies with her honey and see what she uncovers. Hmm. I really ought to do more entertaining myself. It’s been a while since I shared my crab cakes with anyone, and they were always such a big hit.”

  “Will you stop speaking of food? You know I can no longer partake.”

  “I’m sorry Lilith. That was thoughtless. You’re actually a reminder for me to enjoy such little pleasures while I am still here, and I’m grateful to you for that.”

  “Hmmph!”

  Later, Justine was recounting her prison life to a very interested audience of Susan, Boris, and the designer siblings. Ajax was sweetly trying to endear himself to Camille. As Zoey approached, she could hear them talking about Camille’s recent trip to a local aquarium.

  “Have you ever seen a shark up close, Mommy?” Camille asked.

  Mommy! It was such a thrill to hear that coming from Camille.

  “Only the human kind,” Zoey said. “But ocean sharks, no.”

  “I want to go on record and say that aquariums are the best possible place to see a shark face-to-face,” Ajax said. “But for most other kinds of fish, nothing beats snorkeling. Have either of you been snorkeling? No? Oh, you are missing out. The equipment is easy to rent. I can show you how to do everything. Camille, can you swim? Great. We should go soon. Really, really soon.”

  It was actually touching that Ajax wanted to go on an outing with the two of them. But he would be leaving soon, and Zoey hoped that Camille wouldn’t get too attached.

  “Mommy, are you going to show everybody your magic tricks today?”

  Ajax reacted with amazement. “Magic tricks? Magic tricks?”

  “Mommy’s a magician.”

  “Oh, you’ve been holding out on us. We absolutely need to see some magic tricks today.”

  The word spread around quickly, and soon, a loud, demanding chant echoed around the back yard. “Magic! Magic! Magic! We want magic!”

  At this point, Zoey’s show was almost completely planned out. Maybe it would actually be good for her to do a dress rehearsal in front of a friendly audience. She told the crowd that she would give them just a small sampling of her show and went inside to gather her equipment. By the time she came back, everyone had settled down around the porch “stage.”

  Watching with particular amusement were the people who knew about her witch powers, Delphine, Esmeralda, Wanda, Jeremy, Dr. Svenson, and Ruby.

  Zoey had studied magic quite earnestly and actually had quite a good grip on conventional tricks. With the right equipment, she could easily have sawn someone in half. As it was, she stuck to the smaller but still flashier sleight-of-hand fare. Card tricks. Guessing games. And her specialty, making things move, bend, grow, shrink, and otherwise respond to her to her telepathic abilities. But nothing too flashy. She still managed to impress, though. Camille and Ajax, in particular, were wildly enthusiastic.

  Everyone loved her ability to get out of handcuffs in a multitude of confounding situations. And her final trick, which ha
d Rocky disappearing into a hat, reappearing, and then floating in a levitated hat, much as Zoey had earlier demonstrated to Camille—that one got huge applause.

  With that final trick, though, she finally noticed that Finn Cochran had joined the party and had brought a friend, a good-natured fellow in his mid-thirties. What could this mean? She ended the show with a flourish and told everyone to go on and get their dessert. Finn and his buddy walked up to her as she watched Ajax lead Camille over to the dessert table.

  “This is my old partner, Martin from the FBI. We had a little bit of a breakthrough in the case and thought we’d come over to celebrate. Smells great.” He waved cheerfully at Wanda, Jeremy, Delphine, and Dr. Svenson. “Geez, the gang’s all here.”

  “Help yourself, but . . . what did you find out?” Zoey asked impatiently.

  “Franklin Churchill was really Aaron Gabler. He was a major witness against the Vegas crime family he worked for, and his testimony resulted in eight incarcerations. He was allowed to keep his money, and they put him in witness protection. Which is how he wound up here in Oyster Cove, trying to stay alive. It didn’t work.”

  *****

  Had anyone in Oyster Cove known about Franklin Churchill’s true identity? Mr. Frost seemed the most likely candidate, and with their mutual dislike of Dalton Spitz, Zoey felt she and the concierge had established at least a small rapport.

  In the hotel, she was about to head down the hallway to the back office when it opened and she heard women’s voices coming out. She quickly backed away and hid out of sight, watching as Whitney and Autumn Blair, each holding large duffel bags, exited the hotel. The office door closed behind them. Presumably, Mr. Frost had stayed behind.

  Zoey waited a full minute and then cautiously followed behind them. They walked out to the hotel’s ground-level parking lot, opened the trunk of their car, and threw the bags in and slammed the trunk shut. They got back into their car and turned on the ignition. Zoey could not let this opportunity be lost. She wanted to see inside those bags.

  The trunk opened at her bidding, and the bags flew out to meet her. Instinctively, she started running in the opposite direction, with the bags floating close behind her. She could hear the Blairs screaming their heads off as they leapt out of their car and gave chase. Zoey ran down along a street lined with stores and finally ducked inside one, with the bags close behind. She crouched down to the floor, cautioning the puzzled clerk not to give her away, and waited until the hysterical Blairs had run past.

  Then it was time to take a quick look into the bags. It was a jaw-dropping sight. Bundles of cash and bundles of bonds—and plenty of each. This was something that Finn Cochran was definitely going to want to have a look at.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Zoey and Finn had brought the bags back to Mr. Frost to demand an explanation and were sitting in the swanky back office formerly owned by Franklin Churchill. Frost seemed genuinely surprised that his ex-employer had ever had any other name, and he seemed completely unaware of Churchill’s witness protection status.

  But he had better provide some good intel on the Blairs, or Finn was going to haul him down to the station. Frost was nervous and distraught, but ultimately relieved to unburden himself with the truth.

  “The Blairs had been trying to get money out of Mr. Churchill for quite some time. I know that it sounds heartless of me, but I’m certain that Whitney Blair’s suicide attempt this past year was staged to extract sympathy and money from Mr. Churchill. And he suspected it as well, which is why he never went to visit her. I did, though. I went to the hospital and was told by her doctors that she hadn’t needed a single stitch. Not a single stitch. They speculated that she had used a butter knife.

  “Now that Mr. Churchill is gone, I had thought that these despicable money schemes would be over. But they had photographs—unsavory, explicit, kinky photographs that Mr. Churchill and Ms. Blair took while they were together. Photographs that were never meant to be seen by anyone and would completely sully and degrade the reputation of this wonderful hotel. I couldn’t allow it. It was worth any amount of money to protect The Grand. So, I agreed to give them what they wanted, the contents of Franklin Churchill’s safe in exchange for the only copies of these photos.”

  “How can you be sure they were the only copies?”

  “I hired someone to confirm—to check their cell phones, their computers, their home. I was satisfied that these were the only copies.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In the safe. I don’t know why. I should have destroyed them immediately. I suppose you’ll take them away now, won’t you? And I’ll never know when they might surface again.”

  “The dirty pictures of a middle-aged man? No, thank you. Not really my kind of thing,” Finn said.

  “But . . . what will be the consequences for my actions?” Mr. Frost worried wretchedly.

  “I think you’re in luck, Mr. Frost. Right now, you’ve got the money back to return to the safe and to eventually be included in Churchill’s estate, and you have the photos which you’re free to destroy. The Blairs have lost their leverage. Sounds to me like you’re in the catbird seat.”

  Mr. Frost’s face transformed from a drowning man to one who has just spotted a ship headed in his direction. “I’m not in trouble?”

  “No, we’re cool. If the Blairs show up to cause any more trouble, you give me a call,” Finn ordered.

  He left the happy concierge dragging a heavy shredder out of the corner. Those pictures would soon be history.

  Zoey and Finn were about to leave the hotel together when she got a call from Susan upstairs.

  “I’m right here at the hotel, as a matter of fact. I’ll be right up.”

  “All right, Fancy Pants. Go and hang out with your bigshot friends. I still have a murder to solve,” Finn said.

  Fancy Pants? That was an improvement over Sticky Fingers.

  *****

  Everyone was all smiles inside Susan’s suite. They looked as if they were in the middle of a celebration.

  “We have lots to fill you in on. I guess you could call it good news/bad news,” Susan said.

  “I think it was more like bad news–bad news–good news–good news,” Ajax corrected.

  “Okay, why don’t you start with the bad news?” Zoey said.

  “We found a hidden camera in my room,” Susan said. “Looked at the film on it and found out who put it there. Nikki. Yeah, my assistant, Nikki. Know why? You remember Cory Wyatt, the tabloid photographer? She’s his girlfriend. He talked her into applying for a job with me, hoping that she could help him uncover a little dirt. Told her that she should find out who I’m sleeping with. Oh, yes. In return for not pressing charges, she told us everything.

  “So, then I fired her. I can’t decide if that’s good news or bad news. And now, I don’t have an assistant. That’s definitely kind of bad news since I’m incompetent in the social media and computer research stuff. I probably couldn’t even figure out how to book my own flights. I need a new assistant, pronto.”

  “What . . . uh . . . what do they need to be able to do?” Zoey asked.

  “Keep my calendar, send out correspondence, make my reservations—”

  “Justine can do that. You met her at the barbecue.”

  “The ex-con?” Gabrielle asked.

  “She trained for all of that stuff in prison. Word. Excel. She’s terrific. And she has always wanted to be based in LA. Though she would also probably have a blast being on location.”

  “You know, I liked her. And she had great stories,” Susan remembered. “Hey, can you imagine me taking on this role and everyone in town knowing I had the inside scoop because my assistant is an ex-con and, no offense to you, but a true, actually guilty ex-con?”

  “You . . . you taking on this role? Does that mean . . . does that mean . . . ?”

  “Ah, that would be the next bit of good news. I got the role,” Susan said nonchalantly but unable to hide her glee.

 
“You got the role! You got the role!”

  This was followed by squeals and hugs and champagne. It was wonderful for Zoey to see her new friend so excited.

  “There can’t possibly be any more good news,” Zoey said.

  “There sure is.” Susan grinned. “I fired my manager.”

  What? What! Ajax was her manager.

  “You did not fire me. I quit!” Ajax said.

  “You did not quit. I fired you.”

  “Not a chance. I quit.”

  “You can’t quit. You’re fired,” Susan returned.

  Everyone seemed to think this was hysterically funny, but Zoey was completely confused. Ajax came and sat beside her.

  “Susan’s going to be great. This role is going to put her back on the map. I know that she’ll be fine without me. I really wanted to give Oyster Cove a try. I wanted to stay.”

  “Hmm. Can’t imagine why,” Susan deadpanned, looking in Zoey’s direction.

  He was staying. Ajax was staying. But he still didn’t know her biggest secret. He didn’t know what she really was. And she couldn’t let him throw his old life away until he did.

  *****

  Zoey and Ajax were walking back to her place.

  “So, are you going to just give up your managing career?” Zoey wondered.

  “I’m going to transition my career. Small towns need entertainment too. I can see managing some promising local talent. Bands. Standup comics. And the brilliant magicians. I’m serious. You have some amazing talent, and there’s no other big-name female magician on the national scene. But that could be you. Add a little glitz, glam, and sparkle to your act, and you could turn into a household name.”

  No, no, no, no. It was a shame that no woman had gained national prominence the way that David Copperfield or David Blaine had. But it wouldn’t be her. It shouldn’t be her. Being a top magician required years of hard work and practice, and that honor should belong to someone who had worked hard for it. Not herself, indulging in her witch tricks.

  They arrived at home. Justine was out, thankfully. It was time for that incredibly difficult conversation.