Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 3

by Angela Pepper

  Chapter 31

  Five Days Later

  Friday, July 22

  5:25 pm

  Five days after Ishmael Greyson’s ghost gave me the key to solving his homicide, I was wandering around the DWM’s underground headquarters by myself.

  As I walked by an open office door, I muttered under my breath, “Where is that hallway? It’s like a maze down here.”

  The person inside the office must have heard me, because he looked up from his desk.

  “Steve,” I said, my voice cheerful at my apparent relief in seeing a familiar face. “How do you find your way around this maze? Do you drop breadcrumbs to make a trail?”

  His round face broke into a bright grin. “Oh, no. Management frowns on that. It attracts ants.”

  I stood hesitantly in the doorway and glanced around the lawyer’s office. “You sure have a lot of candy on your desk. I notice it’s all red candy.”

  “As you can see, some stereotypes are based on truth. We iguammits love our red candy.” He waved for me to come into his office. “Would you like a piece, or would you rather not spoil your dinner?”

  I came in, set down my heavy tote bag, and lifted the lid off a jar of red jawbreakers. “Don’t make me laugh. Mr. Adebayo, you don’t have enough candy here to spoil my appetite.”

  “Call me Steve,” he said. “I insist.”

  “Thanks, Steve.” I dug into the jawbreakers.

  He opened the jar of red licorice, selected one, and gently tapped it against my jawbreaker in a toast gesture. “To pre-dinner candy,” he said.

  I made short work of the jawbreaker and immediately started the next one. He pushed up his tortoiseshell glasses and watched me. He was curious about what I was doing down there at the underground headquarters, but I didn’t volunteer any information. You first, I thought.

  “It’s a shame they haven’t made any progress on Ishmael’s case,” he said. “Are you... still working on that?”

  “No need.” I flicked one hand through the air. “It’s all but wrapped up.”

  “They’re closing the case, unsolved?”

  I waggled my eyebrows. “The opposite.” I leaned forward and whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”

  He sniffed and grew taller in his chair. “I’m a lawyer.”

  “But you’re not my lawyer.”

  He looked me steadily in the eyes. “Zara, I can keep a secret. What’s going on?”

  I reached for another jawbreaker but changed my mind and went for the jelly beans instead. “I can talk better around jelly beans than jawbreakers,” I explained.

  “Yes, yes,” he said impatiently.

  “So, here’s the thing.” I looked behind me. “Should we close the door?”

  “I don’t know. Should we?”

  I shrugged. “You never know.” I was closest, so I leaned back and pushed the door shut without getting up from my chair. I couldn’t use magic, since Codex’s dampening field was still in effect.

  Once the door was closed, the interior of Steve’s office felt eerily still and soundproof. The fake window behind him, showing a view of a wheat field, didn’t do much to help me forget we were several stories beneath the surface.

  “So, here’s the thing,” I said, using the juicy-gossip voice that always got my coworker Frank riled up. “It turns out there’s a good reason those high-tech movie projectors weren’t allowed off the department’s premises.”

  “Oh?” Steve looked both surprised and interested.

  “They’re spy devices. They might have been broadcasting images, but they were actually sucking up way more than they ever sent out.”

  “What? Are you talking about,” he lowered his voice in spite of the closed door, “surveillance?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh.” He leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers. “Oh!” He leaned forward and grasped the edge of his desk as though steadying himself. “Oh,” he said a third time, and leaned back, both hands curled into hooks against his chest. “Well, they can’t do that,” he said. “It’s an invasion of privacy.”

  “It sure is. I’m surprised the news hasn’t traveled down here to your department. I bet it’s a real legal can of worms.”

  Steven hunched into his chair while his face went through a dozen variations on upset. “So many worms,” he said.

  “People are probably scrambling to cover their butts right now, but at least one good thing has come out of this. Ishmael Greyson had one of the units in his apartment. There’s a very good chance it captured footage of his killer.” I nodded down at my tote bag. “Assuming the killer wasn’t another ghost, or someone invisible.”

  Steve said nothing. His glasses slid down his nose slowly.

  “That’s why I’m down here.” I leaned over, picked up the tote bag, and placed it on my lap. “The box from Ishmael’s was buried in red tape at the police station evidence locker. Bentley finally got it out today.” I puffed up my chest with pride. “He deputized little ol’ me to bring it here to the tech department for footage retrieval. According to the techies Bentley talked to on the phone, it’s going to take a few days. We’re not holding our breath or anything, but we might have our killer by Monday.” I grabbed another handful of jelly beans and stuffed my mouth. “These beans are the perfect amount of stale, by the way. Nice and chewy.”

  “You’re taking the box that was at Ishmael’s apartment to the tech floor for data retrieval?”

  I pointed a finger at the lawyer. “You got it.” I turned my head toward the closed door. “That is, if I can find the techies in this maze.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh! I could take you there. No. Even better. I could take the box. I’m heading there shortly. It’s on my way.”

  “I don’t know. Bentley told me not to dilly-dally.”

  “I’ll take it straight there.” He got up from his chair. “Right away.”

  I nodded, unzipped the tote bag, pulled out the plastic evidence bag containing the box, and set it on the desk between us. “Sure, why not? If you can’t trust a lawyer, who can you trust?”

  As Steve reached for the box, there was a series of urgent beeps coming from his computer.

  “That sounds important,” I said, nodding at the desktop machine.

  He slowly turned and leaned down to read his computer monitor screen. “There’s a memo here about undocumented surveillance and possible legal issues.”

  “Hah!” I pointed at my chest. “You heard it from me first.”

  He moaned. “It’s just one mess after another.”

  “I guess that’s why they pay you guys the big bucks.” I got to my feet. “Not me, of course. I’m just a librarian.” I opened the door. “Promise you’ll take that box to the tech department right away? I don’t mean to be dramatic, but being haunted by Ishmael’s ghost is getting old. It’s time for our buddy to move on.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Steve clicked off his computer monitor, picked up the evidence bag, and clasped the box to his chest. “I’m heading down there right now.”

  “Then what? Are you working late today or heading home?”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “Come stop by the cafeteria in,” I checked the time, “exactly one hour.”

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m somewhat busy.”

  I wagged a finger at him. “You can’t say no to me. Not today. It’s my birthday.”

  He sucked in air audibly. “It is? Happy birthday.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay, it’s kind of a big deal. The cafeteria made a special cherry cheesecake. A few of my other DWM friends will be there, too. They’ll probably make me blow out an embarrassing number of candles. You have to join us.” I stamped one foot. “You have to!”

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “One hour. Cheesecake in the cafeteria. I’ll be there.”

  Chapter 32

  One Hour Later

  Light from the artificial windows fil
led the cafeteria with a golden glow that passed for summer sunshine.

  The DWM’s working-through-dinner crowd had cleared out, leaving only our group of five and our massive dessert. It was a football field of cherry cheesecake, dotted with candles. Too many candles, if you ask me, but I hadn’t been in charge of that detail.

  Seated around one rectangular table were a few of my friends who worked in or above the building: Charlize, Rob, Knox, and Bentley. Respectively, they were a gorgon, a bird shifter, another bird shifter, and a human.

  Charlize was extremely powerful, able to turn living creatures into stone and back again. To the outside observer she was just a pretty blonde in a flashy silver catsuit. She looked about as menacing as an aerobics instructor. Our path to friendship had taken some twists and turns. When Charlize and I first met, she’d pranked me by pretending I’d been in a coma for years. It wasn’t funny at the time, but we laughed about it now. I had originally been jealous of her easy friendship with my shifter neighbor, Chet Moore, but as my crush on him faded, my appreciation of Charlize had grown. We became friends. It didn’t hurt that I’d saved her sister’s life, and then Charlize had saved mine, bringing me back from the brink of death with her gorgon powers. Sure, she’d also betrayed my trust at least twice, but we were moving past it. Our friendship had its ups and downs, but what relationship doesn’t? It certainly wasn’t boring.

  Sitting next to Charlize was Agent Rob. In his human form, Rob looked like a guy who worked in an office, at a desk. You’d never guess by his small frame and slim arms that he could transform into an enormous black bird. His shifted form was similar to a crow, but much larger, and with supernatural strength.

  Next to Rob was his best friend, Knox. Out of the three DWM agents, Knox was the only one who looked tough in his human form. He was tall, broad, and roped with muscle. He had dark-brown skin, large facial features, and a smooth-shaved head. His shifted form of a giant eagle was intimidating, but his human form came pretty close—unless he was smiling. If Knox had a grin on his face, which he often did, thanks to his wisecracking sidekick Rob, it gave away his nature as a gentle giant.

  Sitting to my right, on the birthday girl’s side of the table, was Detective Theodore Bentley. I’d teased him about dressing up special for the occasion, though he wore his usual gray suit. Bentley didn’t know the other three agents well, but he’d been talking to them over the week to arrange the evening’s very special birthday party.

  “I have eaten too much cheesecake,” Knox said, puffing out his six-pack abs. He patted his belly, pretending the wall of muscle was actually body fat. “I should be at the gym right now.”

  His best friend, Rob, laughed and clapped him on the back. “You just came from the gym, big guy! Have another piece of cheesecake. Pretend you’re doing digestion reps. Give that stomach a workout.”

  Knox gave Rob a wary look. “I will have one more small piece... if you promise to meet me at the gym in the morning.”

  “Let me think about it,” Rob said.

  “You can sit in the hot tub after you lift weights for forty-five minutes.”

  Rob wriggled in his seat. “How about I lift weights for twenty minutes, then we sit in the hot tub?”

  Knox reluctantly agreed to the terms.

  Charlize chimed in. “Can anyone join you for the weights plus hot tub, or is it boys only?”

  “You should come,” Knox said. “The gym is good for everyone, men and women. I would be happy to have some company. A sweaty workout with friends is the best way to start your day.”

  “Sounds fun,” Charlize said. “I’ll be there.” The blonde gorgon caught my eye across the cheesecake. “Assuming we are all still in one piece when the sun comes up.” She glanced upward, then quickly back at me.

  I held up my hands to show her my fingers were crossed.

  She cleared her throat and flashed her powerful blue-gray eyes as she glanced at the cafeteria’s entryway.

  Steve Adebayo walked in, buttoning the single button on his fashionable, body-hugging suit jacket.

  “Abeda-yooo,” Charlize called out in a friendly greeting, as though cheering on a favorite member of a sports team.

  “Lookin’ good, my man,” Rob said to the newcomer. “You got here just in time to get some cheesecake before it disappears. Knox is going to show us how fast he can eat the rest of it.”

  Knox frowned. “I could not eat that much of any kind of food in human form.”

  Charlize and Rob slid their chairs apart, freeing space around an empty seat for the lawyer. Steve looked at the seat, but then chose a spot next to me, at the end of the table.

  “I can’t stay long,” Steve said, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up his low-profile nose. “Happy birthday, Zara. Any special plans to mark the occasion?”

  I laughed lightly. “Besides seeing how much cheesecake we can get into Knox? Not really.” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “But I should do something special for myself. What do you think of me getting a tattoo from your girlfriend?”

  “From Carrot?” Steve looked down as he served himself a small wedge of cheesecake. “If you do have your heart set on getting a tattoo, it should be from her. She’s the best artist around. And she could use the business. People have been avoiding her since her brother died. It’s a shame when people don’t know what to say to someone in grief so they choose instead to avoid them.”

  “How’s she doing?” I asked.

  “Fine, considering.” Steve took a bite of cake. “What sort of tattoo are you thinking about getting?”

  “A broomstick would be too obvious, right?” Nobody laughed. I shot the others a look. Act jovial, I thought. Act jovial or Steve’s going to know something’s up.

  Charlize seemed to receive my nonverbal message. “Zara, I know what you should get,” she said, grinning. “A beautiful snake!”

  The others murmured in an almost jovial way.

  “Or you could get a crow,” Rob said.

  “Or an eagle,” Knox said.

  We all turned to Bentley. “Get whatever you want,” he said grumpily. “Don’t look at me. I’m not really a tattoo guy.”

  “Big shocker,” I said, which got a chuckle from Charlize.

  Bentley frowned and touched his faux bullet pendant through his shirt.

  I turned back to Steve, who was already pushing the final bite of cheesecake into his mouth.

  “Look at you put that cake away,” I said. “You do get hungry when you’ve been working all day.”

  He gave the group a bashful look. “It’s worse when I’m in my chimera form. I’ll eat anything.” He licked his lips. “As you may have heard.”

  I had heard. There was a lot more to the shifter chimera than met the eye.

  In a casual tone, I said to him, “Speaking of chimeras, I have a question to ask you.”

  He pushed his chair back. “Another time. I really should get back to my work.”

  I leaned over, dropped my hand on his wrist, and squeezed, stopping him from getting up. “Not so fast,” I said. “It’s Friday afternoon, Steve. I’m sure that whatever you’re working on can wait.”

  Steve glanced around the table at the others then down at his lap. “Very well, then. I can stay for a few of these questions of yours, as long as they’re not too personal.”

  “Great. There are props, too. Hang on.” I reached into my big tote bag and pulled out the karambit I’d borrowed from Maisy Nix. The blade was wrapped in a burlap coffee sack, tied with twine. I pulled off the makeshift sheaf and placed the weapon on the table. The glinting blade curled around Steve’s empty dessert plate.

  Steve’s chair scraped on the cafeteria floor as he recoiled, shifting back another inch. “What’s that doing here?” He cast an angry glare around the table. “What’s going on?”

  “Dr. Lund says the blade wasn’t affixed to the bone handle by any man,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “He says the blade and bone appear to have grown together.” I picked i
t up by the handle. I held the handle between two knuckles as I curled my hand like a cat’s paw. “Meow.”

  The table was utterly silent. At the edge of the cafeteria, a lone janitor was mopping near the buffet station. The slip slop of the mop over the floor was the only sound. Slip slop. Slip slop.

  I pawed the air with my single sharp blade again. “Check this out,” I said. “I’ve got one tenth of a Wolverine costume.”

  Steve pushed his glasses up his nose. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat. In a low, gritty voice, he said, “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Zara. Halloween isn’t for a few months.”

  I flipped the blade so I had a secure grip on the bone handle, brought it down on the table, and scraped the surface, leaving a deep, clean groove.

  Nobody else was cutting in, so I continued, as per our plan.

  “Dr. Lund believes this knife is a hunting souvenir. It’s made from the claw of a chimera,” I said. “Specifically, a large iguammit.”

  Steve took in a deep breath, then let it out audibly. His glasses slipped down and he didn’t push them up. “And I suppose you want me to change form so you can check that I still have all my claws?” He forced a laugh. “That’s ridiculous. The iguammit this came from must have been two or three times my size. My own claws are tiny by comparison.” He looked around the group. “That... That atrocity is not mine. It isn’t.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bentley nod. We almost had him.

  I pressed on. “But you agree with Dr. Lund’s assessment that it did come from an iguammit?”

  Steve leaned forward, looked at the blade, then straightened up. “Sure. It could be. The curve is right.”

  Bentley spoke up. “It’s a shame you didn’t mention that observation to us the first time you saw the blade.” He leaned back so he could look directly at Steve without me in the way. “Mr. Adebayo, you must remember the time I’m referring to. It was here, in the cafeteria, last week. We showed you the blade and you nearly vomited. I would imagine that to someone such as yourself, it would be like me seeing the severed hand of another man.”

  Steve whipped off his sliding glasses and stuffed them in his suit pocket. “I, uh... Perhaps I didn’t make the connection on a conscious level.”