Wicked Ways: Death at the DuMond (A Cozy Witch Mystery Book 1) by Ava Collins Read Free Book Online

“Alright, conversation’s over.” He glared at me. “You’re no attorney. Get out of here.” He yanked me up by the arm and pulled me out of the room. “I ought to arrest you for impersonating a lawyer.”
    “I don’t think that’s illegal,” I said.
    “How about practicing law without a license?”
    “Technically, I wasn’t practicing law. I was just having a conversation.”
    “Don’t get wise with me, missy. You wouldn’t last five minutes in lockup.” The officer escorted me out to the street. “You pull a stunt like that again, I’ll find something to arrest you for.”
    I headed back to the DuMond to start my investigation. Jake was doomed to go down for murder, and I was the only one who could help him.

CHAPTER 8
    I SAW MRS. Abbott in the lobby of the DuMond. She was about to take her poodle for a walk. Mr. DuMond had always been fond of animals, but once he passed, Mrs. DuMond instigated a no pets policy. Existing residents could keep their pets. But they would have to pay an exorbitant pet deposit. New residents would not be allowed to have pets at all. 
    “Thank you so much for the cupcakes, Mrs. Abbott,” I said.
    “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad you enjoyed them,” Mrs. Abbott said.
    “Have you heard the news?”
    “Yes, it’s such a tragedy. To think, we’ve had a murderer living among us all along,” she said. “I always liked Jake. It just goes to show you.”
    I shrugged and smiled.
    “If you’ll excuse me, dear, Mr. Biggs needs to get his exercise,” Mrs. Abbott said. She started toward the door. 
    “Do you mind if I walk with you?”
    Mrs. Abbott looked annoyed for a microsecond, then smiled. “No, not at all. I’d love the company.” She was lying.
    We walked several blocks, with Mr. Biggs leading the way on his leash. His name tag jingled with each step. The sidewalk was filled with the sounds of the city. Traffic and car horns. The occasional messenger bike whizzed by us. And the air was filled with diesel exhaust from the city buses.
    Mrs. Abbott was guarded. She knew I was up to something and didn’t much want to talk about the situation at hand.
    “That was very nice of you to give Mrs. DuMond cupcakes,” I said.
    “Well, as they say, kill them with kindness,” Mrs. Abbott said. Then she instantly corrected herself. “I guess that was a bad thing to say, given the circumstances.”
    “Don’t worry, Mrs. Abbot,” I said. “I don’t think you killed Mrs. DuMond.” Now I was the one who was lying. I didn’t really think she killed Mrs. DuMond. But I couldn’t rule it out as a possibility.
    She laughed. The kind of desperate laugh that’s a little overly enthusiastic. “Well, of course not. The notion that I would kill anyone is preposterous. I’m just a little old lady who likes to bake,” she said, innocently. 
    “So, you liked Mrs. DuMond?”
    Mrs. Abbott stammered. “Um, of course I liked her. We didn’t always see eye to eye. But that’s no reason to kill her,” she said.
    “I’m not saying you killed her, Mrs. Abbott. I mean, I think it’s pretty open and shut against Jake.” She seemed to relax a bit after I said that. “They found bloodstains on his clothes and boots. His fingerprints were on the murder weapon. And he doesn’t have an alibi. What more do you want?” I said, playing devil’s advocate.
    “Exactly. Open and shut,” Mrs. Abbott said.
    “Where were   you last night at the time of the murder?”
    Mrs. Abbott seem to get a little flustered at the question. “To tell you the truth, I was with Zoe Alexander,” she stammered.
    “But I thought Zoe was passed out in her apartment?”
    “Well, she was. But I got worried about her. You hear all those awful stories about people getting drunk and dying from choking on their own vomit. I just had to go and check on her. I think I was knocking on her door for 15 minutes before she answered. She let me inside, and we had a long conversation about all kinds of