“Stevie, go!”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming and pushed myself out, stretching my body and straightening my arms so they cleared the window.
Eyes closed, I prepared for impact, wondering if I’d break a leg or maybe something far worse, like my back.
The dull thud of my work boots on the wet concrete and the spray of slimy mud, spattering my face and lips when I crumpled like a deflated plastic beach ball, made my eyes pop open to see how far I’d fallen.
I looked up from my puddle, frowning as the rain beat at my face.
“Well, well, Mini-Spy, don’t be surprised if the people from the stunt double association call you up and hire you sight unseen,” Win teased in that rich timbre of his.
Win’s taunting laughter echoed in my ears because, as it turned out, my death-defying leap to freedom was only about a five-foot drop into the tiny, very muddy courtyard separating Madam Z’s from the spice shop on the other side of her store.
I held up a finger and hissed under my breath, “If you say a single word, I’ll turn that monstrosity of yours into a palace of pink and ruffles with glitter everywhere!”
Chapter 10
I hauled myself upward and dabbed at the mud on my face with my Hermes scarf, moving from the open window as quickly as I could before whoever was inside realized I was right beneath it.
I skedaddled around the corner and stood in front of the spice shop, turning my back to the street. Spitting the mud from my mouth, I opened my purse and whispered, “Belfry!”
His tiny white body came into view in seconds, swooping down against the wind until he was on my shoulder with a shake and a shiver before hopping inside my purse.
“What was the five-alarm fire about, Bel? Was it the police? Or a detective?” I asked him, still wondering about the guy in the trench coat I’d seen yesterday before Tito the Taco Vendor broke up with me.
“I dunno, Boss. But it was some guy who smelled real good. Didn’t get a decent look at him because he had his head down and a slicker on. Dark suit and nice shoes, though.”
“Maybe we should try and see who it was?” I peered toward Madam Zoltar’s shop, the flashing sign no longer blinking cheerfully at me.
“He’s already gone. He probably heard you carrying on about jumping out of a window and got spooked. Seeing as we have to wait to speak to Liza and her father, shall we continue this conversation back at the house before you catch your death?” Win suggested.
Ah, the house. I’d forgotten that was where I’d hang my hat tonight. “Because it’s so warm and toasty there with no heat and no windows?”
Win chuckled that hearty gurgle of laughter. “You don’t give my man enough credit. You’ll see, naysayer.”
I was almost afraid to put any credence in Win’s words, but I was freezing and exhausted, so I played along as I waved down a cab and climbed in. My head was full of thoughts and a list of suspects as we left the main part of town and drove through the winding road leading to my new abode.
When we pulled up to the house, the cab driver turned around and hitched his jaw at the house. “Quite a project you’re takin’ on there.”
I hooted a sarcastic laugh, handing him money. “Is that subtext for disaster?”
He grinned at me over his shoulder. “You know the lady who lived here? You a relative?”
I shook my head, interested in what he had to offer in the way of information about the house’s prior owner. “No idea who she was. I sort of inherited it.”
“Let’s go, Stevie,” Win muttered impatiently.
Clamping my fingers together behind my head, I gave him the universal sign for shut it and asked the cab driver, “Who lived here?”
“Some lady named Melinda. Don’t know her last name or much about her. She died about five years ago, just a week after she bought the place. Fell off the cliff out there right into the Sound. It was for sale forever. Can’t believe someone actually bought the dump. Thought she might be your relative.”
“Nope. I had no idea who owned it. This was left to me by a really annoying uncle. You know, the kind who’s a total know-it-all about every subject ever, but still loveable enough to tolerate over a turkey and a lot of whiskey on Thanksgiving?”
“You’re despicable, Stevie Cartwright,” Win murmured.
The cab driver winked a green eye. “I know the one. Got one myself. You have a good night now, and good luck with the reno.”
I slid out and waved him off, picking my way up the steep incline to the steps. My feet sank into the soft mud almost up to my ankles. “First order of business, Spy Guy? A paved driveway.”
“But it’s so good for your abundant backside. Can you feel the burn, Stevie?” he ribbed.