Some Like It Witchy (20 page)

Suddenly Nick's voice rose up, and though somewhat muted, I could still hear him clearly say, “Stop! Police!”

“Get ready,” Harper whispered, craning her neck to look up the steps. She held the poker like a baseball bat.

The sawing continued.

Harper looked at me.

I shrugged.

“Maybe he didn't hear the noise outside because of the saw?” she speculated.

“Maybe.” The rain on the roof would be loud, too.

“I'm going up.” She neatly pivoted and started climbing the steps.

I reached for her sleeve through the spindles but she evaded me.

“Come on, Darcy,” she whispered.

Yep, Nick was going to kill me. Her, too.

I crept up behind her and snatched the poker out of her hand.

She turned, her face full of outrage.

I gave her my best don't-even-think-about-arguing-with-me look. I mouthed, “I'm going first.”

No way was I going to let her be first in the line of fire.

Frowning, she swept her arm out, motioning for me to go ahead of her.

And I had to admit, I liked being on the offensive instead of the defensive. Taking control felt good.

At the top of the steps, I followed the sound of the saw. It was coming from the master bathroom. A flashlight sat on the bedroom floor, aimed into the space. Someone was sawing away at the wainscoting next to the tub. Piles of mauled boards were scattered everywhere. Cussing filled the air as the intruder yanked at a panel.

A male voice.

But that's all I could tell. He was dressed in black, head to toe. His back was to us. I wasn't quite sure what to do now.

Harper, on the other hand, had no qualms. She shouted, “Don't move, dirtbag!”

My first thought was that Archie would be proud of her for using a movie quote. My second was disbelief as a
sudden puff of sparkly bright light filled the bathroom, blinding in its brilliance. When it cleared, the man was gone.

Harper rubbed her eyes and blinked. “What in the hell just happened?”

I'd seen it before, so I knew. “A Vaporcrafter.”

“A Vap—” She cut herself off and gathered her thoughts. “But, isn't Mrs. P the last one?”

“Yes.” Mrs. P was the only Vapor around. Because Crafts were hereditary, it was possible for certain Crafts to die out.

“Then how . . .” Harper pointed toward the bathroom, then made a mushroom shape with her hands, mimicking the vapor cloud, then wiggled her fingers, imitating the falling sparkles.

She was excellent at charades.

“Vapors must not be as extinct as we thought.” There was no mistaking what I'd seen, that sparkly cloud.

Voices rose from downstairs. Footsteps sounded.

“Darcy!” Nick yelled.

“Up here,” I called. To Harper, I added, “He's going to kill me.”

“I'll miss you,” she said as she stepped over the debris on the floor. The flashlight still illuminated the space. “I hope the new owners have insurance. The guy did a number in here.”

A small matter to worry about as Nick's footsteps pounded the stairs. I could feel his hard stare as he came into the room, and I braced myself as I turned around.

He was drenched, his hair slicked back as though he'd just run a hand through it. His shirt clung to the hard muscles of his chest.

It reminded me so much of a day right after we met for the first time. We'd been caught in the rain, and I'd roped him into breaking into Lotions and Potions with me. At the time, I never thought I'd seen a more gorgeous man.

Until now.

Well, except for the fury that blazed in his eyes. I could do without that.

Okay, even with the fury . . .

“I love you,” I said quickly, flashing my best smile. Even though I'd said it to try to soften him up, I meant it. I loved him more than I could ever explain.

“That's not fair,” he said, rolling his neck. “You scared the life out of me when I couldn't find you outside.”

“Sorry,” I said. “We heard sawing. . . .”

He didn't need to know that we heard the sawing after we were already in the house. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Harper stuck her head out of the bathroom. Her eyes were lit like a little kid's on Christmas morning who'd just found a spiffy bike beneath the tree complete with a bell on the handlebars. “It's all my fault. I talked Darcy into checking it out.”

“You”—he pointed at her—“are a bad influence.”

“You're probably not surprised to learn that I've heard that before.”

The corner of his lip twitched.

“But save my admonishment for later,” she said. “We got ourselves a skeleton in here. My first body! So cool. Come see! I wish I had my camera. Darcy, give me your phone.”

“Do not give her your phone.” Nick brushed past me and stepped into the bathroom. I followed, watching carefully for nails sticking out of the ravaged paneling.

“But it's my first live skeleton.” Her face scrunched. “Dead skeleton. You know what I mean.”

“No photos,” he said to her.

She huffed. “Fine.”

I peeked over Nick's shoulder. Sure enough, a skeletal hand poked out from the wall space where the wainscoting had once been. Leaning in a little closer, I could see a skull, too.

I shuddered.

“Who do you think it is?” Harper asked. “Do you think one of the treasure hunters managed to get past the curse Eleta put on the house? And this is how he ended up? If so, that's a hard-core curse.”

I had no answers. It was impossible to even tell how old the skeleton was. It could have been here one year . . . or twenty.

Nick herded Harper and me back into the bedroom. He dragged a hand down his face and mumbled something about a crime scene. “I've got to make some calls. You two should go home. It's going to be a late night here.”

Another late night. I felt for him. My snoop job rarely required all-nighters.

Harper said to Nick, “We know what happened to
our
intruder, but what happened to the other one? Did you catch him?”

“Got away in the woods,” Nick said.

“Was it Andreus?” I asked.

“I don't think so,” he said. “Too short. What happened to your guy? By your question, I'm guessing it wasn't Andreus up here sawing away.”

“Poof!” Harper exclaimed. “Gone.”

She was all worked up. I doubted she'd sleep a wink tonight.

Nick looked at me for explanation.

I looked over my shoulder, then whispered, “A Vaporcrafter.”

His jaw jutted. “I thought only Mrs. P. . . .”

“Us, too. We were obviously wrong.”

He sighed. “I'm glad it was you two that came across him and not one of my officers. It would be hard to explain the glittery cloud.”

“Memory cleanses, all around,” I said, grabbing Harper's arm and pulling her toward the doorway.

“You'll let us know if you find out who the stiff is?” Harper pressed her hands together in front of her chest in a begging stance. “Pretty please?”

“It's doubtful we'll know much tonight unless there's a wallet hiding behind the wall, too.”

“I can stay and help you look,” Harper said.

“Get out,” he said playfully.

“Grumpy,” she said, heading to the stairs.

At the doorway, I held on to the jamb and looked back at him. He had his back to me, his hands on his hips. He was muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “I hate this house.”

I tried not to take that one personally.

As if sensing he wasn't alone, he turned. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking about the week we met, rainstorms, and Vaporcrafters.”

In two strides, he was in front of me. “One of the best weeks of my life.”

Smiling, I said, “Mine, too.”

Gently cupping my face, he gave me a kiss.

“Do you want me to wait up for you?” I asked.

“You don't have to . . . But yeah, I'd like that.”

Feeling like the biggest mushiest sap, I kissed him back and said, “Don't say you hate the house.” I patted the door jamb. “You'll hurt its feelings.”

Tipping his head back, he laughed and gave me a little push. “Get out of here.”

I was still smiling like a fool as Harper and I walked back outside, past the flashing police car lights and the curious stares of villagers. Harper said, “This was the best night ever.”

“You're warped, you know that?”

“You might not be surprised to learn that this is not the first time I've heard that.”

“Nope, not surprised at all.”

We said our good-byes at the bookshop, and I waited until I saw her lights come on in the upstairs apartment before banging a U-ey. I wasn't quite ready to head back to Nick's yet. . . .

I had a mouse to see.

M
rs. P. sat on the edge of the sewing table, her eyes heavy with sleep, the fur between her ears limp. “What's this about, doll?” She wore a pink silk robe trimmed in tiny feathers.

Pepe paced behind her, dressed in a nightshirt that reminded me of something out of a Dickens book.

Although it was barely ten, I'd apparently dragged them out of bed.

Getting into Bewitching Boutique hadn't been an issue, considering Godfrey had been one of the villagers outside the Tavistock house. I'd doubled back to find him after seeing Harper home. She was eager to call Marcus to tell him about her big find.

I was eager to see Mrs. P to find out what in the world was going on. If anyone knew of another possible Vaporcrafter, it was her.

Godfrey had taken one look at my face and didn't even remark about my choice of outfit.

He wasn't a fan of denim.

Instead, he'd taken my arm and fast-walked me to the shop. He took extra glee in banging on Pepe's door.

I sat on a swivel stool. “There was another break-in at the Tavistock house tonight.”

“Andreus again no doubt,” Godfrey exclaimed. “The man has such gall. And impeccable taste in clothing, I might add.”

I glanced up at him.

Scratching his snowy beard, he said simply, “I cannot help if I notice such things.”

Pepe twisted his mustache. “What else is there, ma chère?”

He knew me well. “The intruder was hard at work pulling paneling from the bathroom wall when Harper and I surprised him. There was a skeleton behind the wall.”

Mrs. P jumped to her feet and did a little jig. “Shut the front door! Harper finally found herself a body? Hot diggety, I bet she's excited.”

I had to smile at Mrs. P's response. She'd truly become one of the family over the past year. Only someone so close to Harper would understand her strange obsession with finding a corpse.

“Ecstatic,” I said. “The big weirdo.”

Mrs. P cackled.

“Whose skeleton is it?” Godfrey asked. “Was there any identification?”

“Not that I saw, but I admittedly didn't see much. I imagine a team from the medical examiner's office is on its way. Hopefully they'll find something more behind the wall. An ID would be really nice, but even knowing how long the skeleton was there would be good.”

Godfrey shook a finger. “That Eleta Tavistock was not one with whom to trifle.”

I swiveled and rubbed a piece of velvet left on the table. “Harper suspects that it might have been a treasure hunter who somehow made it past the charmed door.”

“Entirely possible,” he said. “Eleta was engaged to Sebastian Woodshall. She knew the Roving Stones well. There are some dangerous charms out there if you know whom to ask.”

Although the Craft motto was to do no harm, charms weren't included in that. They could be beneficial or harmful.

“You said you confronted the intruder.” Pepe sat next to Mrs. P “Who was it?”

His tiny feet dangled and I resisted the urge to reach out
and tickle them. “I don't know. That's why I'm here. I'm hoping Mrs. P knows.”

She pushed tiny paws to her heart. “Me?”

“The intruder was a Vaporcrafter,” I said.

There was a moment of silence as my words sank in. Finally Mrs. P said, “There must be some mistake. Other than my family, there was only one other Vaporcrafter family in the village, and they've been gone many years now. Twenty at least. They were dear friends.”

“Yes, yes.” Godfrey's bushy eyebrows dropped. “The Abramsons. A lovely couple. They died in the late nineties as I recall, a drunk driver.” He
tsk
ed.

My head snapped up and my skin prickled. I knew that name. Jane Abramson. I'd seen her photo in the
Toil and Trouble
microfilm. “Did they have a daughter who went missing right around the time of the diamond heist?”

A missing young woman, a Vaporcrafter. A skeleton in the Tavistock house . . .

Mrs. P's eyes grew wide as she nodded. “You don't think . . .”

A chill went down my spine. “It has to be. It's too coincidental. But why? What's her connection to Eleta? Were they friends?”

“I have no recollection of ever seeing them together,” Mrs. P said. “This makes no sense.”

Pepe said, “It also does not explain what happened tonight. Jim and Susan are long since dead and buried.”

“What about their son? I saw a picture of him in the
Toil and Trouble
that was taken right after Jane's disappearance,” I said. “Where's he?”

Mrs. P said, “I have no clue. I lost touch after his parents died. But, doll, it couldn't have been him in that house tonight.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He was adopted,” she said. “Susan had infertility
troubles, so when an opportunity came along to adopt a newborn, they jumped at it. They couldn't have been happier.”

Adopted. That certainly threw a wrench into my theory. “We have to be missing something obvious. Because there was a Vaporcrafter in that house tonight.”

Pepe examined his nails nonchalantly. “I do recall a bit of gossip from back in the day that perhaps relates to what has happened tonight.”

“What kind of gossip?” I asked.

“This makes me most uncomfortable,” he said.

“This is not the time to stand on high moral ground, my pudgy friend,” Godfrey said. “Speak up.”

“One who lives in glass houses, butterball, should not throw stones,” Pepe retorted.

“How dare you,” Godfrey bellowed.

Pepe stood up, handed his glasses to Mrs. P and started jabbing tiny fists at nothing in particular. “Put them up!”

Next to him, Mrs. P put her fists up, too, mimicking his movements. I expected a “Two-four-six-eight-who-do-we-appreciate” out of her at any moment.

Godfrey shuffled his feet and threw a left hook. “I'm ready when you are.”

Arguments about their weight was a common occurrence between the two. They usually ended with one of them bleeding. Even though Godfrey was about a zillion times bigger than Pepe, it was usually Pepe who emerged the victor.

“Stop that now,” I said, stretching my arms out to keep them separated. “I've got to get back to Mimi and don't have time to watch you two do battle. Plus, you know how I feel about blood.”

Pepe took back his glasses. “To be continued,” he said, shaking a fist at Godfrey.

Godfrey huffed. “I look forward to it.”

Families. Sheesh.

“Now, what were you saying, Pepe?” I asked. “A rumor?”

He sat, adjusting his nightshirt. “Yes. I recalled hearing gossip after the boy was adopted . . . A rumor that perhaps Jane hadn't gone off to a semester abroad in high school as her parents had the village believe. That she, possibly, had gone off and had a child.”

Mrs. P tipped her head, scratched her chin, and said, “They were often evasive about the whole adoption process.”

Excited, I said, “That means the boy was Jane's son. A Crafter.”

“Non,”
Pepe said, correcting me. “A Vaporcrafter.”

I had to find that man.

Godfrey said, “I am still in denial that it is sweet Jane in that house. A more wonderful girl you've never met. A sweetheart.”

“Oui,”
Pepe added in a rare moment of agreement.

Mrs. P wiped her eyes. “Poor, poor girl. I'll always remember her smile. And when she and her brother visited with me, she was so thoughtful, bringing me the most wonderful lemon cookies. They were delightful.”

I nearly fell off my stool. Lemon cookies.

Lemon. Cookies.

“Darcy? What's wrong?” Godfrey asked.

Standing up, I looked at Mrs. P. “The Abramson boy? Was his name Scott by any chance?”

I just wish I knew where she was. Peace of mind, you know.

“Yes,” she said. “How'd you know?”

“My dog has a crush on him.”