Dewitched (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 3) by Dakota Cassidy Page B

sheet wrapped around his neck and he’s a crumpled mess on the floor.”
    “I thought you said maybe it was suicide?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Stop trying to catch me in a lie that doesn’t exist. I was theorizing, is all.” Out loud. With my big mouth.
    Moore leaned back against the wall and smiled like a Cheshire Cat. “I hear you do that a lot.”
    “Well, to be fair, I have solved two murders, haven’t I?”
    “Testy, testy tonight, aren’t you?”
    You bet I was. There was a dead man in my parlor and I didn’t even know his last name. I couldn’t very well continue to blame my mother for not being involved in my life if I didn’t even try to get involved in hers. Do unto others, Stevie Cartwright .
    She’d been married to Bart for over a year now and I’d made no effort to contact her, other than perfunctory congratulations when she texted to tell me they’d tied the knot.
    But I decided I was better off staying on the defensive. “Sure I’m testy. Wouldn’t you be testy if someone died at your housewarming party? You know, I wish you guys were as diligent about those jerky kids who keep ding-dong-ditching me because I stole their favorite drinking spot.”
    I’d been ding-dong-ditched five times since I’d moved in, and when I’d mentioned it to Sandwich, he’d given me that boys-will-be-boys speech.
    He appeared to digest my words before his face relaxed just a bit, his posture going from rigid to loose. “I’m just doing my job. My job is to ask you questions. You do want me to do my job, don’t you? So we can figure out what happened to your stepfather?”
    He was right, and I was still holding a grudge about my interrogation after Madam Zoltar’s death, when he’d also just been doing his job. “Fair enough. Keep asking.”
    “Did you see Bart with anyone else tonight? Notice anything unusual?”
    I didn’t know Bart well enough to know what was unusual. “I saw him here and there tonight. He was mingling with the other guests, talking, eating and doing what people do at parties. We chatted for a bit and then he had to take a phone call.”
    “A phone call? Do you know from who?”
    As I crossed my legs, I forced myself to remember this was for the greater good. “I have no idea. He just said he had to take it. He was a rather successful businessman, maybe it was some hot stock tip.”
    Detective Moore just grunted and scribbled on his pad. “Anything else you can add? Any suspicious activity? Anything out of the ordinary with anyone else at the party?”
    “Nothing that I can think of.”
    Flipping the small notepad closed, he glared down at me in bad cop mode. “That’s all for now then. We’ll be in touch.”
    Just as I rose to go check on my mother, one of the troupe members who’d been a part of the champagne glass act rushed in from outside and took a towel from another male acrobat.
    Her slight frame trembled as she dried herself and smiled at the man who’d handed her the towel. Unlike K, in a very American accent, she asked, “Where’s CC?”
    Huh. A two-letter name? Definitely a rage-against-the-machine move on CC’s part.
    “Out talking to that cop with the poker face,” he said, hitching his thumb over his shoulder.
    Her blue eyes, enormous in her tiny heart-shaped face, widened. “Is she telling him what happened with the dead guy earlier?”
    I slowed my exit from the dining room and turned my back to the couple, trying to melt into the wall so I could eavesdrop.
    “You mean that she slapped him for being a pig?”
    My eyes widened. Bart? A pig?
    “He was disgusting, making comments about her breasts. He deserved to have his face slapped!”
    “Well, now the guy’s dead. That doesn’t look so good for CC.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Al. She didn’t kill him. She slapped him for being inappropriate,” the tiny woman said with disgust in her tone, her teeth chattering with every word.
    “Well, the cops asked her where she was at the time, and she was