Witchy Riches (Witchy Fingers Book 4) Read online

  “Yes, we were,” said Skip after a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t seem to have fond memories of that brief sojourn in the pen.

  “See? I never forget a face!” exclaimed Johnny, fondly clapping Skip on the back. “Put it there, brother,” he added, holding up his hand.

  Skip gave the ex-con an unenthusiastic high five.

  “Just cut the crap, all right?” growled Sam now. “I don’t trust you, you or you,” he said, pointing at Spear, Johnny and Jerry respectively. Then his finger pointed at Skip. “Or you, for that matter. I’m pretty sure that if you lay your hands on that treasure you’re going to keep it for yourselves.”

  “Hey, I’m reformed!” cried Jerry. “I don’t do that kind of stuff anymore.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Sam skeptically. “Look, if anyone is going to retrieve that treasure it’s me. I’m the only one you can trust,” he added, and he was looking intently at Edelie now. “I want what’s best for you,” he continued, and I had the distinct impression he wasn’t talking about the treasure anymore but about something a lot more personal. “I will always have your best interests at heart, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

  Edelie stared at him now, and I thought I could see something flicker in her eyes that may or may not have been sudden remorse. “One month, Sam,” she said a little hoarsely. “One month is a long time.”

  “It is,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry, Edie. I didn’t know it was a thing.”

  “It’s our thing, Sam. How could you forget?”

  No one spoke, as they all seemed to feel they were present at a momentous occasion. One of those moments when history is made.

  But then Johnny said, “Have you been looking for this treasure for one month already? That is a long time! No wonder you called us in!”

  Sam sat back at this, a frown on his face, but Edelie didn’t look away.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam repeated, seeming to feel it was hard to state his case when he was being interrupted all the time by morons like Johnny Carew.

  “You still owe me a present, Sam,” Edelie said, and Sam’s face lit up.

  “You got it, honey,” he said eagerly. “Anything you want. Anything.”

  She smiled for the first time in days. “Why don’t you fetch me this treasure? And we’ll forget this whole stupid fight. Like it never happened.”

  “I’m on it,” he said. “I’ll dive up this treasure for you, Edie. No question.”

  “Hey, I want to dive up this treasure,” said Johnny.

  “And me,” echoed Jerry.

  “And I want to be there to make certain nothing untoward happens,” added Spear sharply, “and to defend the rights of our esteemed client.”

  “And I want to see if there is anything left of the bodies,” said Skip, striking the morbid note. “I’ll bet it’s full of skeletons down there!”

  “We’ll all dive for treasure,” I said now, well pleased as I shared a quick grin with Edelie and Ernestine. “Tonight, at the witching hour, we’ll all go out and dive for treasure. And tomorrow we’ll hand that treasure chest over to our client,” I added for Spear and Sam’s sake. I didn’t mention that we hadn’t even ascertained if Lord Dockland had any descendants left in the world, or what their names were. We could deal with those minutiae at a later date.

  Finally, we were all in agreement, even though Sam still didn’t seem anxious to share this expedition with two reformed crooks, a lawyer, and a pimpled ex-baker. But for the sake of Edie he was willing to put his principles aside for just one night and leave his NYPD badge at home.

  The power of love can melt even the toughest cop’s heart.

  And a good thing, too, or else we were in big trouble here.

  Chapter 13

  Cassie was in her greenhouse, instructing Gresham where to put two potted plants she got at the florist, when two newcomers strode in. One was a voluminous and powerfully built female, the other a slovenly dressed male with a ratty beard and a scruffy cap which he now took off in greeting.

  “Ah, you must be the gardener,” she said, well pleased, “and you are…”

  “Karie Nelson,” the woman said with a nod of the head. She looked a little serious, but then anyone would look serious after their employer had passed away that morning, and murdered, no less.

  “And you’re looking for employment now, is that correct?”

  The twosome nodded. They'd made an appointment over the phone and she'd agreed to meet them, as she couldn't possibly keep taking care of both Hartford Manor and Safflower House. She'd had this nebulous idea that she could manage with witchcraft alone, but too much of that would freak out the neighbors and Happy Baysians, who were now already in a tizzy about the arrival of Cassie and her granddaughters, rumors swirling they were witches. She wanted to keep a low profile and not attract unwanted attention.

  “I understand you worked for Mr. Brevity for quite a long time?”

  “Going on ten years, ma’am,” said Karie.

  “Same here,” grumbled the gardener, who looked like any gardener worth his salt should: grumpy and scruffy.

  She stared at the man’s hands and knew she had a good thing here. He just might be God’s gift to gardening, whereas the woman, though a little haughty, was a great housekeeper. How she knew these things, she couldn’t say. It was like a knack: she could read people at a glance.

  “You’re both hired,” she said promptly and much to their surprise. “The girls and I will often be staying here during the weekends, mostly, spending weekdays in the city. Summers, of course, will be spent here as well, so we would like to have the house ready when we arrive. And the garden,” she added with a nod to Orrick.

  “That’s perfectly fine, Mrs. Beadsmore,” said Karie, a smile lighting up her features now. This was obviously more than she’d expected.

  “Um, what about, um, remuneration?” asked the gardener.

  When she named her figure, she saw they were both surprised at the amount. They shared a quick glance and nodded eagerly.

  “That’ll be all right, Mrs. Beadsmore,” said Orrick. “That’ll be quite all right.”

  She’d never thought one day to need staff to maintain her houses, but it was a sign of success, she supposed, and with great success came a responsibility to share the wealth she’d acquired and not hoard it like a miser.

  Gresham, who’d followed the proceedings with a twinkle in his eye, now spoke. “And if you’re ever in need of some extra work, you can always come over to my place. I live next door to Cassie, and even though I have my people, I’m sure they can always use an extra hand.”

  “Thank you, Gresham,” she said warmly. She was beginning to like this man more and more. He might not be marriage material—but then no man ever was, of course—but she was becoming awfully fond of him.

  As they made their way back to the house, she explained a few of the ins and outs of Hartford Manor to her two new staff members. It was fun, she thought, to be able to boss people around again. She hadn’t done so ever since she’d sold Flor et Bloom, and now found she was slipping back into her role with remarkable ease.

  “I trust you will be discreet about the things that are discussed in this household and the things you see?” She asked this with raised eyebrows, and wasn’t surprised to find that both Karie and Orrick instantly agreed to keep anything that went on at Hartford Manor strictly at Hartford Manor. She’d known they would. “Terrible thing about Mr. Brevity,” she now said.

  “Yes, we’re very upset about it,” said Karie, and Cassie could see she was.

  “Have the police found the murderer?”

  “Not yet, ma’am,” said Karie. “But I’m sure they’ll find the culprit soon enough.”

  “Let’s certainly hope so,” she said. And as she led them into the house to show them their rooms, Sam stepped out onto the patio, along with Pierre, and seemed surprised to see Karie and Orrick.

  “Hello, Detective Barkley—Sam,” said Karie, almos
t cooing like a dove.

  “I was just showing Karie and Orrick their rooms,” said Cassie. “They’ll be working for me from now on.”

  Sam’s eyebrows rose. “That’s quick.” But then he added, “Good for you.”

  “Thank you, Sam,” breathed Karie wistfully. “I’d hoped to offer you my services, but Orrick convinced me that you probably weren’t looking for a housekeeper at this time.”

  “Or a gardener,” grunted Orrick.

  Sam smiled, as if he found the idea of hiring a housekeeper—or a gardener, for that matter—highly amusing. “No, I wasn’t, actually.”

  “Orrick told me cops don’t live like they do on CSI,” she explained. “He said real cops live in small dingy apartments. They sleep on their couches surrounded by empty beer bottles and fast food wrappers and practically spend their whole lives in their cars,” Karie added with a questioning look.

  Orrick flashed Sam an apologetic smile. “Just a notion I picked up from the movies. Cops in the movies always seem to be boozy, filthy bums, kicked out by their wives and tempted to kill themselves with their service weapon.”

  “No, that’s all right, Fibril,” said Sam. “In a way I guess you’re right. I do live in a small and dingy apartment, don’t I, Pierre? Though the thought of killing myself with my own gun has never occurred to me… until now.”

  “Trust me, Miss Nelson,” Pierre said, “no housekeeper could ever straighten out this man’s mess, nor should anyone be forced to try.”

  “I’m certainly willing to give it a try,” said Karie, a look of devotion on her face as she surveyed Sam.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I couldn’t afford a housekeeper on my salary.”

  It was obvious Karie was about to offer Sam she’d work for him gratis, but Cassie intervened. “Have you made any progress with the case, Sam?”

  Sam’s smile instantly vanished. “No, we haven’t, actually. We’ve talked to pretty much everyone who might have known Mr. Brevity but so far no luck. The man was well-liked, even though he rarely set foot in town.”

  Karie’s eyes shot full of tears. “He was such a sweet man.”

  Whoever had killed Yehudi Brevity, it certainly wasn’t Karie Nelson.

  “There, there,” said Orrick gruffly, awkwardly patting her shoulder. “He’s with the angels now, dear.”

  “Yes, he certainly is,” said Karie. “He was a saintly man, and with the saints he now rests in peace.”

  Cassie nodded, and led Karie and Orrick into the house. Sad though this entire affair was, at least one good thing had come of it: she’d gained a very capable housekeeper and a very talented gardener, Cassie thought.

  Chapter 14

  As Cassie returned indoors with Karie and Orrick, Sam stared after them. “Fast work,” he said.

  “What was?” asked Pierre.

  “Those two,” he said, gesturing with his head. “This morning they were still working for Brevity and now they’re here, ready to work for Cassie.”

  “Can’t afford to wait,” said Pierre. “I honestly don’t think there are that many great opportunities for housekeepers or gardeners at any given time.”

  “I guess you’re right. Do you think they might be involved?”

  “In the murder? I don’t think so. No motive,” Pierre pointed out. “Why would they kill their employer and lose a great position?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, musingly. “But I don’t like the look of that Orrick Fibril. He looks like he’s got something to hide.”

  “All gardeners look like that, Sam. That doesn’t mean they’re murderers.”

  “I know, but… has the sweep of the house yielded any clues? Or the grounds?”

  “Now that you mention it, there was one curious thing they found.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A haphazard attempt at putting down a slab of cement near the perimeter of the domain. Where it runs down to the river. When they asked Fibril about it he said Brevity had plans to build a pavilion there, and the slab was poured as a foundation.”

  “So? What’s so strange about that? It was his place. He could do whatever he wanted.”

  “The strange thing is that the cement appears to have been poured as recently as this morning, at least according to Fred Wilkins, one of the officers who moonlights as a builder.”

  He stared at Pierre. “That is odd.”

  “And like I said, the slab was poured a little haphazardly, in bits and pieces, almost as if someone let a child play around with a cement mixer. Fibril said he and Nelson did it, as Brevity didn’t like to waste money.”

  “Odder and odder.”

  “So Wilkins and some of the guys dug out the pieces to see if there was anything buried underneath. But they didn’t find a thing. Just more cement.”

  “Yes, well, I guess it’s just one of those things,” said Sam. He stared at the house. “Does Karie Nelson strike you as dumb?”

  “Not exactly. Though her taste in men is horrible,” he added with a grin.

  He ignored the barb. “No housekeeper would be fooled by this Tom, Dick and Harry nonsense. So why was she? Acting as if she believed it, I mean?”

  “She must know more than she’s letting on,” said Pierre, nodding.

  “Let’s dig a little deeper into that business,” he suggested.

  “What to make of this diving affair?” Pierre asked, darting a look at Spear Boodle, who’d now appeared on the patio with Ernestine.

  Sam’s lips tightened at the sight of the lawyer. “I don’t like it,” he confessed.

  “Just a harmless little treasure hunt,” said Pierre. “I’m sure the girls know what they’re doing.”

  “I doubt that very much,” he said. “I doubt they ever know what they’re doing. I’m starting to think that when they do get results, it’s just dumb luck.”

  Pierre grinned. “Luck is also a strategy. Just ask any lottery player.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s just humor them, shall we?” he said, thinking of Edie. “Besides, I don’t believe for one moment there is treasure to be found off the coast of Happy Bays. Any treasure that was there is long gone by now.”

  “I don’t know, Sam. I saw a documentary the other day on the Discovery Channel. It seems everyone and his grandmother is out looking for treasure these days, and they’re still finding stuff. Buried in fields, or down in old shipwrecks like the Albion.”

  He shrugged. “I doubt we’ll find anything, but like I said, let’s humor them.” He shut up when Edie walked out onto the patio, and Pierre chuckled lightly.

  “Let’s humor Edie, you mean.”

  “That’s right, buddy,” he said. “I messed up, so the least I can do is dig up a little treasure. If treasure is what the lady wants, treasure is what she gets.”

  Edie had walked up, and Pierre excused himself.

  “Hello, Edie,” he said softly.

  “Hello, Sam,” she said, gazing up into his eyes.

  “Forgive me?”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “I forgive you, as long as you don’t forget our next anniversary.”

  He gulped a little. He really had no clue about these dating conventions, never having dated all that much in his life. “When is it?” he asked.

  She smiled. “In two months.”

  “Good.” That gave him some time to figure out what to buy her. And this time he’d make a note in his calendar. And tell Pierre to remind him, too.

  And he was just about to plant a tender kiss on her lips when Estrella joined them and clapped her hands. “All right, folks! This is it. Let’s roll!”

  Sam rolled his eyes. When civilians started borrowing police vernacular, things were getting really weird.

  Chapter 15

  “So…” said Sam. “Let’s roll… now? Shouldn’t we wait until dark?”

  I studied him pensively, then pointed a finger at him. “That might not be such a bad idea,” I agreed. “We’ll go under the cover of darkness, people!” />
  “It’s your call… boss,” said Sam with a grin. “But if we go now, with the beach full of people, they might wonder what we’re up to and call the cops.”

  “Our colleagues,” muttered Pierre meaningfully.

  “They won’t see us,” said Edelie. “We’ll be too far from shore.”

  “But the coast guard might, or other boats in the area,” said Ernestine. “Not to mention water skiers and kiteboarders. No, Sam is right. We should wait until dark.”

  “But… isn’t it a lot harder to dive when it’s dark?” I asked. “I mean, don’t you need, like, light? To see what you’re doing? And locate the treasure?”

  “That’s why God invented the flashlight, honey,” said Ernestine.

  “Did God invent the flashlight?” asked Johnny.

  “It’s just an expression, you dumbbell,” muttered Jerry.

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Judging from my limited experience it definitely is easier to dive during the day,” said Spear, studying his fingernails. He was seated on the low wall dividing the patio from the garden, and looked like a young prince, his curly hair gently moving in the breeze, his costume snugly hugging his athletic frame. “Though of course it depends how deep this shipwreck is located.”

  “Well, it’s three hundred yards out,” I said, remembering Captain Suggur’s words, “in about thirty feet of water.”

  “And where exactly is the wreck located?” asked Jerry.

  “Nice try, Jer,” said Johnny when I merely shook my head.

  “Thirty feet is not too deep,” said Spear, nodding knowledgeably. “We should be fine if we go now. And if the coast guard happens to drop by we’ll just tell them we’re a party of friends out fishing and diving for leisure.”

  “So what boat did you charter?” asked Pierre.

  “Yeah, please tell me it’s big enough for all of us,” said Sam.

  I stared at him, and opened my mouth to respond when Pierre asked, “And where did you rent the equipment? The diving gear,” he added helpfully when I shifted my gaze from Pierre to Sam and back again.