Free Witch Slapped (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 1) by Dakota Cassidy

them thank you for the sterling references.”
    I would smile at the trust and friendships I’d built over the years with many a spirit, but the loss was still so fresh, it felt wrong to feel anything but sorrow because it was just a memory and no longer my reality.
    Still, Win wasn’t giving up. “I have money.”
    Grabbing my purse, I began to make my way toward the front door, fully intending to take myself back to the hotel and come up with a plan B. Because this was on par with ludicrous. Who signed over all their money and possessions on the word of dead people to someone they didn’t even know?
    “So you said. But I can’t access money from a man who essentially claims he doesn’t exist anywhere but in his head.”
    “I didn’t say I didn’t exist. I said London would tell you they’d never heard of me. It doesn’t mean I can’t prove to you I have a bank account, Stevie, or that I didn’t see to it that all my money becomes yours.”
    I reached for the rusty doorknob, only to watch it turn and seize up. Ah. I knew this sort of ghost. The kind who liked to play rough and dazzle me with his otherworldly powers.
    I narrowed my eyes at the room. “You know, Winterbutt, under normal circumstances, I’d break out my wand and zap you right into plane eleven for even considering holding me hostage in this heap of a dump.”
    “Scary, Stevie. What’s plane eleven?”
    I smiled smugly. “The plane where anyone who’s willfully taken a life spends their eternity. Serial killers, mass murderers. You know; the typical types.”
    “Then it’s a good thing for me petulant ex-witch’s wand is out of service.”
    “I’m not petulant. I’m skeptical. I’ve only just met you and so far I’ve found a dead body, been questioned in a possible murder investigation, slandered at my favorite taco truck, told I’m going to inherit a house straight out of American Horror Story and a buttload of money, and now you’ve threatened me. Forgive my hesitance to jump into your pool with both feet.”
    “I did not threaten you. I was just trying to keep you from making an unwise decision and at the same time, flexing my newbie ghost muscles, if you will.”
    I let go of the doorknob. “An unwise decision?”
    “Stevie?”
    “Winterbutt?”
    “The time, please?”
    My sigh of impatience rang in the wide entryway as I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone without disturbing Belfry. “It’s five-fifteen. Do you have a hot afterlife date?”
    “Check your bank account, please. The one at Paris Spells Savings and Loan, and tell me the balance.”
    I flicked my finger over the app to access my pathetic savings account, preparing to see the last of my miniscule thousand dollars depleting rapidly. I fully intended to hold the phone up to his faceless voice and prove to him he was crazy as a bedbug.
    Oh. Hold that thought. How in the world…?
    I knew I was openly gaping, but I couldn’t help it.
    “Do tell, what does your bank balance say, Stevie?” Win asked, a playful hint to his tone.
    “Uh…a lot. It says…a lot of those lunches you mentioned,” I muttered, unable to believe my eyes. “How did you…?
    “I told you, Madam Zoltar and I had a deal of sorts. I talked to the dead for her; she helped me change my will.”
    But then a very nefarious thought hit me in the gut.
    My hand went directly to my hip in righteous indignation. “How do I know it’s not drug money, or laundered money, or just plain old dirty money?”
    “Because I have immaculate tax records that are a testament otherwise.”
    “How do I know they’re not forged or fakes? What if you made Madam Zoltar do something illegal and she didn’t think to question you because she was so blown away by finally contacting the dead and your spiffy British accent?”
    “Stevie…”
    I sucked in my cheeks. “Am I trying your patience?”
    “I didn’t think anyone could match my irritation after the last jewel thief I apprehended in Monte