Witch Slapped (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 1)

I grinned, hugging a pillow to my chest. “You were pretty sure I was going to take that deal, huh?”


“I was pretty certain I could talk you into it.”

“I’m breathless. It’s like you’ve thought of everything. Thank you, Win. This was just what I needed to put the wind back in my sails.”

“You rest for a bit now. I’ll make myself scarce,” he said, and then his warm aura was gone.

Just as I lie back on the bed, there was a loud pounding on the front door.

Crap. Maybe it was someone helping Enzo?

I looked out the beautiful window to see who it was and my heart stopped. Why were the Ebenezer police here? I told Officer Nelson I’d answer all his questions about that stupidhead Hendrick when I went into the station for my interview.

Racing out of the room, I flew down the steps and threw open the door. “Didn’t I tell you I’d answer your questions when I came in for my interview? You bunch are pushy, huh?”

Officer Nelson stood there, along with Officer Gorton, two other officers and some official-looking guy, who held up a piece of paper. “Miss Cartwright? We have a search warrant. Please step aside,” Official Dude said.

But I wasn’t budging. Enough was enough with the murder accusation. “For what?”

The official-looking guy gave me a hard glare, his bald head shiny under the light in the entryway. “Miss Cartwright, if you don’t step aside, we’ll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

I flung open the door and motioned them in. “Fine. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but have at it, boys. I wish you luck finding anything in this mess of sheetrock and rotted wood.”

I stepped aside just as Enzo came wandering out of the kitchen, something shiny and oval dangling from between his fingers.

“Afternoon, Miss Cartwright. Found this on the kitchen counter by the microwave. Thought you mighta misplaced…”

Necklace? I hadn’t even unpacked my jewelry.

Everyone stopped to look at what Enzo was holding, as did I.

And then everyone looked at me, their gazes hawk-eyed and hard.

Oh yay. Bet five bucks that was Madam Zoltar’s Senior Alert necklace.

And right here in my own house, too.

Who’da thunk?





Chapter 14


“You have two choices, Stevie?” Win whispered in my ear as I stood by the staircase.

“Hmmm-mmm?” I muttered as the police milled about my house, yelling instructions to each other, tearing into walls and floors, searching with flashlights for something they refused to share with me.

“You’ll need to use your thighs,” he warned, his tone grave.

“Oh, good. Not a problem. I’ll invoke the Gods of Pilates. I’m sure they’d be happy to help. Hang on just one sec while I dial them up. Oh, wait. I can’t. Know why I can’t? Because my hands are tied behind my back with zip ties, Win!”

“Then pay close attention,” he ordered, excitement riddling his voice. “Here’s what you do. Deep knee bend while you use your arms like a jump rope. Get your arms in front of you, lift them high, and bring them down as hard as you can, as quickly as you can. That should break the restraints. Then head for the windows in the parlor. Tuck just as you do a running launch against them; when you hear the glass shatter, roll. You’ll have about twenty, maybe thirty seconds to do this before they take note and come after you.”

“Is that all? Bah. That should be cake. I can’t believe you don’t want me to swing from the scaffolding into a half-gainer off the entryway wall as I somersault through the air, taking out cops like bowling pins as I go.”

“Good point. Definitely a more solid stab at freedom. Do you think you can handle that? I’m not sure that’s a level of escape you’re ready for.”

“Win?”

“Yes, Stevie?”

“Shut up,” I warned, trying to keep my voice low. “I’m no more capable of making a jump rope of my arms than I am of winning the Kentucky Derby.”

“No. I’d think you’re too tall to be a jockey.”

“Win!” I hissed. “Knock it off! We have a problem. How the heck did Madam Z’s necklace get here inside the house? I’ve been framed, Winterbottom. Framed but good.”

“Just like Roger Rabbit.”

I grimaced as a cop raced past me up the stairs. “Not laughing, Win. I’m going to jail, pal. You’d better hope this Luis Lipton guy is good at what he does because I think bail’s going to be involved.”

“They have nothing to hold you on, Stevie. Nothing. It’s going to take a lot more than a necklace to prove you killed Madam Z. If she was strangled, it certainly wasn’t from something as flimsy as the chain on that necklace. And fret not; Luis will take meticulous care of you. I’ve made sure of it.”