The Old Witcheroo by Dakota Cassidy Read Free Book Online Page B

grieve before she’s sticking her face in the middle of things because she loves a good mystery.”
    “No-no-no. I didn’t bring him here, Sandwich. Give me some credit, would you? How’d I get such a bad rap with you? Yeah, I’m nosy. Yes, I’m pushy, but I’m not some insensitive ogre, eating the flesh from the bones of my victims. Officer Nelson came to me .”
    Sandwich didn’t look like he believed me, but he looked at Dana and gave him a brief smile of sympathy. “Why don’t you let me take you home when we finish eating, D? We’ll get you a shower, maybe a beer, yeah?”
    But Dana shook his mussed head full of hair. “I don’t want a shower or a beer, and I don’t want to go home, Lyn. I need Stevie.”
    How I’d suddenly become the object of his fixation was beyond me. Clearly he wasn’t thinking rationally. “You mean me , Stevie? Stevie Cartwright, the woman who drives you up the proverbial wall with all her questions and her amateur, bumbling, dare I say, full-blown chaotic sleuthing, Stevie? Surely you’re flush with fever,” I teased, because I needed to lighten up this conversation. I didn’t understand where he was going with this.
    “But I do mean you, Miss Cartwright,” he reiterated with a hint of determination to his voice, sounding more like the Officer Nelson I knew and had grown to maybe not love, but appreciate.
    I looked to Sandwich as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and lifted his shoulders. Obviously, he had no answers either.
    I decided to change the subject. “Dana? Would you like to stay here tonight? You’re welcome to one of the eighty million rooms upstairs. Lordy knows, there are plenty—all freshly renovated. Maybe get a good night’s sleep and then we’ll have breakfast together in the morning. Carmella always brings over some of her breakfast casserole. Even if Enzo’s not working here at the house. I’ll share.”
    “What would people say if I spent the night at your house without the benefit of a chaperone, Miss Cartwright?”
    Okay. That sounded even more like the Officer Nelson of old, all propriety and manners. “Like I give a flip what people say? I’m a medium, for Pete’s sake, Dana. If that doesn’t say all my fields of giving a flip are dried up, then I don’t know what does. People talk about me all the time, I’m sure.”
    Sandwich nodded his head in the affirmative. “That’s true, D. They’re always speculatin’ about how she got all this money and how she’s the nicest nut they know because she’s always talking to herself.”
    “See? What he said,” I pointed out, then frowned, suddenly affronted. “Wait. People call me nuts? That’s so mean. I’m not talking to myself. I’m talking to my virtual assistant. You know, the guy who called you tonight, Sandwich?”
    “Aw, jeez. I didn’t say I thought that. Though, they do kinda have a point. I caught you a coupla times, yakking away, but you didn’t have that Bluetooth in your ear. I just figure everybody’s got their quirks is all. I don’t care if you don’t care.”
    I rolled my eyes in aggravation. Sure, I’d heard the gossip, and I admit, some of it was too funny to take seriously.
    Like the rumor I’d gotten all this money from a Bulgarian viscount for nursing him back to health after a car racing injury. I couldn’t tell you where Bulgaria was on a map if you paid me, not to mention, does Bulgaria even have viscounts?
    “Obviously, I don’t care, Sandwich. If people want to know, they should just ask me, for gravy’s sake.”
    Sandwich dropped his napkin on an empty plate. “But that’s rude, Stevie.”
    “Ruder than calling me a nut behind my back?”
    “Nobody called you a nut. Just eccentric.”
    I was indignant. “At thirty-three?”
    “Is there an age limit on eccentricity, Stevie? You can be kooky and ten. Listen, you know what folks are like in this town. They like to have a good gab. No harm intended, and you have to admit, the way you showed back