Witch Confidential Read online

  He lowered his voice. “A witch feeling?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to leave that part out of the report. Whatever I say when the coroner gets here, you just go with it. I’m the one who put that hole in the wall if anyone asks.”

  She understood what he was saying. There was a killer out there — maybe a very bad one — and he had to keep the integrity of his case intact. “I’ve got it.”

  “Good.” He blew out a sigh. “This is not how I saw this night going.”

  She was rueful. “That makes two of us.”

  Three

  The coroner they sent was young, barely in her thirties. Dressed in polyester-blend pants, a matching blazer, and a crisp white shirt, she almost looked as if she’d stepped out of a movie. Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun, which only served to offset her high cheekbones, and the glasses she wore — Ofelia was convinced they would look ridiculous on anybody else — somehow managed to complete the look.

  “Okay, she is totally hot,” Felix offered, moving away from Daisy and toward the coroner. “I mean ... like totally hot.”

  Ofelia shot him a sidelong look. “I thought you were hitting on the real estate chick.”

  “I can hit on multiple people at once. I’m gifted.”

  “Good for you.” Ofelia rolled her eyes as the woman approached Sully.

  “I’m Cindy Watkins.” She extended her hand. “You must be Detective Sully.”

  “I am.” He flashed a tight smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “There’s the fresh victim.”

  “I’ve seen her.” Cindy circled the body. “Wait ... does that mean there’s more than one victim?”

  Sully gestured toward the hole in the wall. “Just a few more.”

  Cindy poked her head inside, using the phone he provided as a flashlight, and when she pulled back, her expression was exactly the same. “I count at least four more bodies in there, although they’ve been entombed for a number of years.”

  “Six,” Ofelia automatically corrected.

  “What?” Cindy’s expression reflected puzzlement as she turned her attention to Ofelia for the first time.

  “There are six more bodies in there.”

  Sully shot Ofelia a quelling look and then blanked his face when Cindy turned back. “She owns the bar downstairs. I was in her establishment when we heard the scream and she and her brother offered backup in case it was a situation where I might be outnumbered.” The lie rolled off his tongue smoothly.

  Cindy drew her eyebrows together. “I’m confused. Why would a bartender and her brother be proper backup?”

  “I ... .”

  “We didn’t ask his permission to serve as backup,” Ofelia volunteered. “We chased after him. He’s trying to cover for us.”

  “Ah.” Cindy bobbed her head in a perfunctory manner. “Just for future reference, that’s probably not a good idea. You should leave police work to the professionals. Not just anyone can serve a proper drink, correct? In that vein, not just anyone can solve the problem when someone is screaming.”

  Ofelia had to bite back a hot retort. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Sully shot her an amused look behind the coroner’s back before turning serious. “We’re going to need an entire team.”

  “We are,” Cindy agreed. “That means any outsiders are going to have to go. I need this space for my workers.”

  “I guess that means we’re going,” Felix noted, offering the coroner a wink, which she promptly ignored. “And I think I might be okay with that.”

  Ofelia smirked at the lessening of her brother’s bravado. “Come on.” She patted his arm. “I’ll get you those appetizers you wanted.” She paused as they crossed in front of Sully. She felt as if she should say something but had no idea what. “Um ... good luck.”

  His lips quirked. “I’ll see you soon.”

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, SULLY LET HIMSELF in through the open front door of Krewe early the next morning. He knew the bar wouldn’t be open, but Ofelia was lackadaisical about locking it once she was up because her father came and went at his own discretion.

  He’d been up late into the night, watching from the corner as the team Cindy assembled ripped apart the wall and retrieved the bodies. Even though there was little for him to do, he was interested in watching them work. They were professionals, each and every one of them, and they knew exactly what they were doing. It was almost three before they knocked off.

  Then, like clockwork, he got a report from Cindy’s assistant at eight o’clock (which was essentially the middle of the night by New Orleans standards) and he was back on the job. He had a name for the newest victim ... and a few other things to discuss with Ofelia.

  She was there and she hadn’t heard him come in. She stood behind the counter, poring through receipts from the previous day, and didn’t look up. Sully took a moment to study her when she was unguarded, and it only made his heart ping all the harder.

  She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, although she didn’t know it. Well, maybe she knew it, he internally rationalized. How could she miss it? If she knew it, she didn’t act like it, though. She acted like a normal woman who had unbelievable power at her fingertips. She was funny, warm when she wanted, and intelligent. She made his heart go pitter-patter, which wasn’t easy for a man like him to admit.

  “Are you going to just stand there and stare at me?” she asked finally, never looking up.

  He was sheepish when he realized he’d been caught. “I didn’t think you realized I was here.”

  Finally, she met his gaze.

  Zing. The air sometimes sizzled when it was just the two of them.

  “You have a certain presence,” she said after a beat. “It’s hard to miss.”

  He shuffled closer to her, rustling the bag of carryout breakfast he’d brought so they could share a meal. “Would a normal woman feel the same way?”

  She shrugged and sipped the mug of coffee that had been steaming at her elbow. “I don’t know. I can’t speak for all of womankind.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I brought biscuits and gravy.” He lifted the bag. “I thought maybe we could eat ... and talk.”

  She didn’t miss the way he tacked on the last part. “I take it the food is a way to soften me up for bad news, huh?”

  “Not really. I wouldn’t call the news bad. It’s just ... it’s a lot.”

  “Then let’s eat.” She gestured toward one of the tables. The chairs, which had been put up so the floors could dry the previous evening, were already down.

  “Your father?” Sully asked as he eyed the discarded newspaper at one of the seats.

  She nodded. “He was here early this morning. Everybody is buzzing about the bodies being discovered so close to the bar. He wanted to know if I had gossip for him to share at his weekly card game. I didn’t ... so basically, I was useless.”

  Sully frowned. “Did he say that to you?”

  “What? No.” She shook her head, understanding why his expression suddenly turned dark. “He was having a good day. I added the last part.”

  “That’s good. I guess.” Sully hesitated as he sat, internally telling himself it was none of his business how she interacted with her father. Ultimately, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to protect her. “He hasn’t gone after you since that last time, right? The time I witnessed.”

  Ofelia wanted to be annoyed with him — really, her relationship with her father was not for public consumption — but she knew he was speaking from a place of concern. He wasn’t being vindictive, or particularly overbearing. He was just being him. “No. You don’t have to worry about that, though.”

  “Well, I’m worried anyway.” He opened the bag and reached inside. “The way he treated you was ... not okay.”

  “It’s not his fault.”

  “I don’t actually believe that.”

  “No, he honestly has no control over his actions. When he gets like that, it’s best not
to engage. Most of the time I can talk him off the ledge.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. As your father, he should be willing to accept that he’s out of control and hurting you and seek proper treatment.”

  “Yeah, well, he doesn’t trust doctors.”

  “I don’t always trust newscasters, but I still watch the news.”

  His blasé response was enough to elicit a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When she opened the container, the heavenly scent of thick gravy and fresh biscuits assailed her olfactory senses. She leaned over and took a big whiff, sighing in pleasure. “Oceana.”

  Sully looked at the bag to see if the restaurant’s name was emblazoned on it but there was nothing. “How did you know that?”

  “Because Oceana biscuits and gravy are pretty much my favorite. I particularly like how they serve it in a big pasta bowl when you dine in, so it’s like eating a huge bowl of gravy soup.”

  He laughed at the picture she painted. “I’ve never really thought about it, but you’re right. I like that, too.”

  They lapsed into amicable silence for a few minutes, both focused on their food. It wasn’t until Sully felt a warm sensation by his legs that he realized somehow — and he honestly had no idea why he’d done it — he’d managed to place his legs on either side of hers under the table. Not only were they touching, but they were basically overlapping.

  He was considering how he was going to extricate himself from the situation when a voice in the back of his head admonished him. Pull away from her, and I’ll kill you. He almost laughed at the way his subconscious threatened him and then managed to recover. He had no intention of moving his legs. It was time to talk about a few things, though.

  “They’ve identified the dead woman.”

  Ofelia lifted her head. “Which one?”

  “The fresh one. The ones in the wall ... well ... that might take a bit more time. We’re not even sure how long they’ve been in there, although I have questions about the property. I’m hoping you can help figure out where to look for potential victims there. First things first, though. The dead woman’s name is Gilly Fields.”

  He watched to see if the name meant anything to Ofelia. It didn’t.

  “I don’t think I knew her.”

  “Probably not,” he said. “She was a street performer, although her roots are in Baton Rouge. Her family had money, which explains the clothes, but she moved here because she thought she would be discovered. Her dream was to become an actress. I’m going to ask your brother about her when I see him again. I know he hangs with that group.”

  “It’s not really a group,” Ofelia countered. “I mean ... some of them hang out, but they mostly keep to themselves. That’s part of that artistic mystique thing they all believe in.”

  Sully was lost. “I don’t think I’m following.”

  “It’s a thing.” She shook her head. “A lot of the people we see playing on the street picked this life deliberately, which it sounds like Gilly did. Don’t get me wrong, a lot are victims of circumstance. Some, though, believe you have to suffer for your art. That means they don’t really socialize with the others ... because that’s not suffering.”

  “I think that depends on how you feel about socializing.”

  Ofelia giggled ... and then made a face. She didn’t really consider herself a giggler and yet ... . “I’m just saying they’re not known for being social. Felix is an anomaly. Of course, he’s not really a street performer at heart. He just hates the mundane.”

  “Is that what having a regular nine-to-five job is to him? Mundane, I mean.”

  She nodded. “My father always tried to direct him toward things when he was a kid. Felix was told at a young age that he would be inheriting Krewe and he was expected to run it. Dad was hard on him. As a result, he balked at a young age and refuses to even consider running the bar.”

  “Is that how it fell to you?”

  “No. I’ve always loved this place. I feel at home here. It was different for Felix. As for me, I’m right where I want to be.”

  Sully pressed his legs tighter against hers, enjoying the way her cheeks colored. She’d obviously noticed their proximity, too. “I’m glad.”

  They stared at each other for several beats. Ultimately, Ofelia was the one who cleared her throat. “So ... Gilly Fields.”

  “Right.” Sully bobbed his head. There was a time and place for bonding. This clearly wasn’t it. “Like I said, she’s from Baton Rouge. She was eighteen and moved to New Orleans a year ago.”

  Ofelia did the math in her head. “That means she was on the street as a minor.”

  “Yes, but only by a few months. I talked to her mother, a delightful woman who couldn’t recall the last time she talked to her daughter. She didn’t seem all that surprised. She also asked if I could call back once she’d had a chance to wake up.”

  Disgust rolled through Ofelia. “Well, that’s lovely.”

  “I’m going to spend the day tracking her movements. I think that means hitting Jackson Square. I know she was issued a citation for accosting tourists there two months ago.”

  “Accosting them how?”

  “Basically she told them they were cursed and she was willing to take the curse off them for five bucks. Then she threw chicken feet at them. She had a whole psychic thing going for her, wanted to be a psychic to the stars or something. When that didn’t work, she posed in a bikini.”

  “Of course.” Ofelia heaved out a sigh. She’d heard horror stories from the ranks of the street performers before. They were an at-risk group, which was one of the reasons she hated when her brother decided that was his calling on any given week. “What about the other girls?”

  Sully wasn’t so enraptured by their proximity that he could miss the nuance of the question. “How do you know it was girls?”

  “Because I ... felt ... them.”

  “Is that what drew you to the wall?”

  She nodded and used one of the provided napkins to wipe the corners of her mouth. “I thought I could hear them whispering when we first got there, but then we found Daisy ... and the body. I figured the whispers were coming from the body. Once I settled and the voices continued, though ... .”

  “Does that happen to you often?”

  “What?”

  “The dead whispering to you.”

  “Oh, I guess it’s happened a time or two. I think I could only hear them this time because there were so many of them and they were talking over each other. Do we know anything about them?”

  “No names. I honestly can’t even begin tracking them down until I have a timeframe to deal with. All I know is that we’re dealing with young women, probably between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two.”

  Ofelia wrinkled her nose as she digested the news. “That indicates a preferential offender.”

  “It does, although ... how do you know that?”

  “Criminal Minds.”

  He smirked. “You know those shows aren’t real, right? They basically make up whatever is necessary to keep the audience engaged.”

  “And they do a good job of it. Obviously we’re dealing with one killer here, right? It can’t possibly be a coincidence.”

  “I can’t say. I believe all the women found inside the wall were killed by the same person. I’m going to be tracking previous owners moving forward ... just as soon as I get a time of death from the very prickly coroner.”

  “My brother thinks she’s hot.”

  “Your brother has issues.”

  “My brother likes naughty librarians and the like. She fit that mold and he was gone the second he saw her. Still, she seemed capable.”

  “She’s a little cold for my taste but as long as she does her job, I don’t care. I need dates to work with, though. Basically, until she provides them, I’m stuck focusing on Gilly.”

  “Well, things could be worse. At least there is something to focus on.”

  “True.” He was thoughtful as he leaned back in his c
hair. There was one other thing he’d yet to bring up and it left him feeling nervous.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?” she surmised.

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “You have an expressive face.”

  “Or you’re just incredibly intuitive. For the record, there is something else.” He reached into his pocket and removed a baggie. Inside was a distinct drawstring pouch with a rune symbol emblazoned on it.

  Ofelia snagged the bag from him and flipped it over, her eyes going wide when she realized what she was holding. “This is a hex bag.”

  “It is.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “Behind the wall, with the girls.”

  “Was there only one?”

  “No, there were six.” He rested his elbows on the table. “How did you know to ask that?”

  “Because it’s a death bag,” she replied simply. “There were six bodies. It would stand to reason there were six bags. Did you find a bag for Gilly?”

  “No.”

  “So ... maybe it really was two killers after all. That’s a heckuva coincidence.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “The hex bags add a new element. I would like you to help me research that element. I mean ... if you’re open to it.”

  She responded without giving it a moment of thought. “I’m definitely interested. What’s our first step?”

  Her enthusiasm made him chuckle. “We finish breakfast.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then we play it by ear. This isn’t going to be solved in five minutes. We’re talking about deaths that could’ve happened a decade ago. We’re going to have to put in hard work on this one.”

  “I’m more than ready.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.”

  Four

  Oscar was walking into Krewe as Ofelia and Sully were preparing to head out. He seemed surprised to find them together and didn’t hide his distaste.

  “Why are you here so early?”

  Sully was well aware that Oscar had ... difficulties ... when dealing with the rigors of life. He’d seen the man react to absolutely nothing with a rage that would’ve made a cinematic serial killer jealous. He also knew that Ofelia loved her father and he was determined to pretend to like the man ... at least for the time being.