Some Like It Witchy - Some Like It Witchy Part 32
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Some Like It Witchy Part 32

Chapter Twenty-five.

Later that morning, the house was quiet. Ve had gone out, and I assumed Andreus left at the same time.

Again, I shuddered at the thought of them together even if it was just to run an errand, never mind . . . other things.

This witch's mind really didn't need to go there.

Ever.

I showered, put on a pair of jammie pants and a vintage Mighty Mouse T-shirt, and sat with my laptop at the counter in the kitchen, waiting for my hair to dry and the coffee to finish perking.

Fighting a yawn, I typed in Scott Whiting's name plus the TV network he supposedly worked for. Was he really a TV producer? It reeked of a ruse to me now that I knew who he was.

A fancy webpage for the house-hunting show popped up, and sure enough his name was listed as a producer.

Hmm. I went back to the SEARCH box and clicked the images option.

Dozens of Scott Whiting photos popped up, and unsurprisingly, not a single man resembled the Scott I knew.

Missy snoozed on her dog bed by the door, and Tilda sat next to her full food bowl, clearly displeased by the morning's breakfast selection.

My phone rang as I typed in the name Scott Abramson. I checked the screen. Cherise.

"Good morning, Darcy," she practically sang. "I have a favor to ask."

Someone was especially chipper this morning. Undoubtedly she'd heard the news about Ve's breakup. "Shoot."

"I've been thinking of that house on Maypole. I want to see it again. I've called Calliope, and I'm to meet her there at noon. Can you come with me?"

I wanted to say no, I really did. But she'd hired me through As You Wish to see her through her house-hunt, and I always finished my jobs. "I can, but-"

"What?" she asked. "Are you thinking it's not a good fit after all?"

"It's not that," I said, trying to find the right words. I didn't know how to ask about her relationship with Terry. "It's a perfect fit. You've just been saying that you'd like to be closer to the village center."

"I'm a fickle creature, Darcy."

Her and Ve. Two peas in a pod.

"I'm tired of always waiting, waiting, waiting, Darcy. Blah, blah, blah. I'd like to be settled. It's time to take action. The worst that could happen is that down the road I find something better, and I've bought an investment property. I don't think that's a bad thing."

Hmm. I had the feeling there was a story about Terry in her words as well. "Take action. I like it."

Offensive not defensive.

"Me, too, Darcy. Me, too."

We set a time to meet up, and I hung up, turning my attention back to my computer screen and the search for Scott Abramson.

Plenty of pages popped up, ranging from doctors to teachers to CPAs. Who knew it was such a common name? I tried the image option and scrolled and scrolled.

No photo matched.

I typed in Jane Abramson's name plus Eleta's.

There were a ton of hits on the names, but none of the articles mentioned them together.

How had they known each other? Because Jane hadn't ended up in Eleta's wall for no reason.

Hopefully, once I confronted Scott with his true identity he would open up.

Switching tracks, I loaded the obituary database and typed in Zara's name.

No matches.

I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.

I checked the time in the corner of my screen. Ten oh two.

Nick was going to be here soon, and I'd barely gotten any work done.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it nearly to the top. I added a teaspoon of sugar-I was cutting back-and a splash of milk and took a fortifying sip.

Sitting back down, I set my laptop aside and opened the folder of vital records Harper had given me to study them a little closer.

Zara's death and birth records revealed nothing I didn't already know. I flipped to Andreus's birth certificate. Andreus Felix Woodshall.

My gaze fixated on the name Felix, my subconscious nagging me that it was important. Why?

Closing my eyes, I searched the recesses of my brain, but I couldn't find the connection. I'd had only three hours of sleep, so I hoped the link would come to me once I woke up a little bit more.

I picked up Sebastian's death certificate, and cringed when I saw that he'd died of multiple gunshot wounds. Recalling the look I'd seen on thirteen-year-old Andreus's face at his father's funeral, I once again felt a pang for him. My mother's death had been accidental, which in this case seemed like a blessing. I couldn't imagine if she'd been murdered.

With thoughts of her fresh in my mind, I turned back to my computer and typed in What does Deryn mean?

I'd been curious ever since Glinda mentioned it.

The search led me to a baby name site. After x-ing out a half dozen pop-up ads, I scanned the page.

Deryn. Der-yn. English/Welsh. It was derived from the word aderyn, meaning bird.

It made me like the name even more, considering that my mother had loved birds. Her feeders in the backyard were always full.

For kicks, and because I was in full-on procrastination mode, I looked up the meaning of Darcy (it was either Gaelic for dark one or English for someone hailing from Arcy), Harper (one who played harps), and Velma (depending on the site, it was either from the Greek for strong-willed warrior; a form of Wilhelmina; or a feminine form of William). I liked the warrior description. It fit her. She was as strong-willed as they came. When she made up her mind that she wanted something, she went after it. Whether it was to run for village council chairwoman . . . or to date Andreus.

When I found myself typing in Starla's name, I gave myself a good mental shake. There was procrastination; then there was procrastination.

Turning my attention back to the vital records, I scoured them for more information, but came up empty at every turn for anything useful.

Sipping my coffee, I held the warm mug tightly between my hands. My mind was cluttered-too much to think about right now. Between the case and Ve and Nick . . . It was all a little fuzzy.

My phone arrroooed, almost making me spill my coffee.

"Are you still sleeping?" Harper asked after I answered. "You sound sleepy."

"My brain hurts. Too much to figure out."

"Take two aspirin."

Harper's answer to any ailment, mental or physical, was aspirin. "What do you want?" It was something, I was sure of it.

"I want to know what you found out about that skeleton. Word in the air is that you stopped by to see Pepe last night to get some info."

In the air. I knew of only one someone who took flight. "I take it you've seen Archie this morning."

"He swooped by a little while ago."

"He's got a big beak."

"I know. Isn't it great? Now tell me what you found out."

"I'd rather tell you in person. It's a long story. And oh! I have more news, too." I'd tell her about Ve and Andreus in person so I could see her face.

"What kind of news? Good news? Bad news?"

"Humorous yet horrifying."

"You've intrigued me. When can you stop by?"

"I'm not sure," I said. "I'm meeting Cherise in a little bit. Maybe afterward?"

"I'll be here. Humorous and horrifying, you say? More humorous or more horrifying?"

I laughed. "I can't pick."

"So intrigued," she said, hanging up.

Missy perked up at the sound of someone on the front porch and took off running. I thought it was the mailman until I heard a knock. I closed my laptop and went to see who it was and hoped I didn't scare them away with my attire.

As I passed through the front room, the space Ve and I used to meet with clients, I threw a glance toward the painting above the fireplace. The image of the magic wand had captivated me since the day I moved in. The colors, the glimmer, the illusion of movement . . . The whimsical piece represented the business perfectly. Represented Wishcrafters perfectly.

I slid the lock on the front door, nudged Missy aside, and opened the door. No one was outside. I was about to close the door when I looked down.

A single daisy lay on the front porch. But then I noticed another on the front step, and another on the walkway.

Nick.

My heart fluttered, and I smiled at Missy. "What's he up to?"

She turned in a circle, barking.

I soaked in the warmth of the spring morning as I followed the trail, scooping daisies as I went. The grass was still damp from last night's rain, and my feet were soaked by the time the daisy path led me through the side gate. As I looked down at the bits of grass stuck to my bare feet, I smiled, because the heebie-jeebie feeling from stepping in Raina's blood was finally gone.

When I looked up again, I stopped short when I saw Nick sitting on the porch swing.

"What is this?" I asked, holding up my bouquet.

"Can't a guy surprise his girl with flowers once in a while?"

I was a puddle of mush and gush as I picked up the rest of the daisies and climbed the steps. "I have no objections to that."

"I like your shirt," he said, coming toward me.

"I like your flowers." I leaned up and kissed him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I motioned for him to follow me in. "You're early. Coffee?"

He nodded. "Sure."

Missy followed me inside and went to her doggy bed. Tilda was still sitting by her bowl. I set the armful of daisies on the counter and took a mug out of the cabinet. Since he liked his coffee black, I filled the mug to the tippy top and slid it across the counter to him.

He was dressed in his uniform of khakis and a polo shirt, and I noticed he needed a haircut-the ends were starting to curl, which I loved but he didn't care for. It didn't look like he'd slept too well, considering the bags under his eyes.

No rest for the weary.

"How was your morning?" he asked. "Productive?"

"Oh, you know." Grabbing a vase, I filled it halfway, then stuck the flowers in it. "I broke Andreus Woodshall's nose. That was kind of productive."

He slowly lowered the mug. "You what?"

"Broke his nose. Blammo," I said, borrowing Harper's word. I reenacted slamming the heel of my hand into his nose. "Your self-defense moves came in handy. Thanks."

His jaw jutted. "Why were self-defense moves necessary?"

I fussed with the flowers, arranging them just so. "Long story short, I thought he was breaking in, but he was . . ."

One of Nick's eyebrows rose in question as he took a sip of coffee.

"Spending the night. With Ve. Here. Upstairs." I shuddered and wondered how long it would take before I could talk about it without a shiver running through me.