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

things.”
    Never in all my life have I seen Mrs. Abbott and Zoe Alexander have a conversation. This struck me as very odd.
    “What did you guys talk about?” I asked.
    “Oh, you know. Girl stuff. Life, love. Hopes and dreams.”
    “How long did you two talk for?”
    “I’d say a good hour, or so,” Mrs. Abbott said. “I went down to check on her about 10 o’clock.”
    I could tell she was totally lying. She must have talked to someone and learned about the time of the murder. Her alibi seemed just a little too convenient. I needed to talk to Zoe Alexander and get her story. 
    We walked several blocks, circling back around to the DuMond. In the lobby, Otto was hanging a new painting. I said goodbye to Mrs. Abbott and took a closer look at the painting. It was a modern cubist type work. 
    “What do you think?” Otto asked. 
    “I like it,” I said. “I’ve always been a fan of cubism. Who is the artist?”
    Otto smiled. “This is one of mine.”
    “I didn’t know you were a painter. I thought you just dealt in art.”
    “I’m afraid I’m not very good, but I love to paint. It’s relaxing.”
    “Your work looks good to me,” I said.
    “You are very kind,” Otto said. “But it is nothing compared to the great masters.”
    “I’d like to see more of your work sometime.”
    “I’d be happy to show you.”
    Otto finished hanging the painting, then we strolled to his apartment. I was a bit nervous going to his apartment alone. But it was the middle of the day, and I figured Otto was relatively harmless. Still, I was milling over the timeline from the night of the murder. 
    It was almost 10:30pm when I spoke with Otto in the hallway. He was retrieving his coat from the lobby. He could have easily slipped down to the basement and whacked Mrs. DuMond. 
    What if he escorted Isabella up to her apartment with Charlotte? Then dashed back down to the lobby and changed in the maintenance closet? He could have put on Jake’s overalls and shoes, gone to the parking garage, and killed Mrs. DuMond. Then returned to the lobby and changed. That would definitely cause him to appear flushed and out of breath when I saw him. He wouldn’t have wanted to put on his coat—he’d have been too hot.
    All these thoughts were racing through my mind, but they seemed a little far fetched. Besides, I couldn’t think of a good reason that Otto would want to kill Mrs. DuMond. A rent increase just didn’t seem to warrant that dramatic of an action.
    Otto’s apartment was like a small museum. Priceless works of art were everywhere. Paintings, sculptures, and artifacts. He had a work-in-progress on an easel. The painting was muted blues, greens, and grays. It was very reminiscent of Picasso.
    My eyes kept darting around the room looking for signs of the real Picasso that Otto was rumored to own. Otto asked me what I thought of his work-in-progress.
    “I like it,” I said. “But then again, Picasso is one of my favorites.” I was hoping to inspire more conversation on the subject. But he seemed to gloss over my statement.
    “Do you think it’s finished?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. That’s not really for me to say, now is it?”
    “I think it needs something more.” Otto picked up a paintbrush with his left hand and loaded the brush from a pallet. He painted a few strokes onto the canvas. “Ah, there. I think that does it.”
    My heart fluttered. I had never noticed before that Otto was left-handed. According to the medical examiner, the fatal blow to Mrs. DuMond appeared to be from a left-hander.
    I began to panic a little. I could feel a thin mist of sweat forming in the small of my back. My legs went a little shaky. Was I alone in an apartment with a murderer?

CHAPTER 9
    “WELL, I GUESS I should be going,” I said.
    “Nonsense,” Otto said. “We’ve only scratched the surface of my collection. And I’m afraid I’ve been a terrible host. I haven’t offered you anything to eat or drink. I’ll fix