Free The Old Witcheroo by Dakota Cassidy Page B

marry a bloke, Stevie.”
    “No. I mean, maybe she was hiding something? Everyone I know, even Chester, has a Facebook page. She’s young. She grew up in the era of social media just like me. Maybe there was a reason she didn’t have one.”
    “A valid point, indeed. One certainly worth looking into.”
    “When we’re done with Merrily, maybe we should pay a visit to Sophia’s apartment? I’m sure the police have searched it, but I just feel like if I can absorb some of her vibe, get a feel for who she was privately, maybe I’ll be able to find some answers.”
    “That’s those witch powers comin’ back, Boss,” Bel encouraged. “Told ya that farthead wasn’t gonna win.”
    Whiskey barked his approval.
    I chuckled. The farthead Bel was referring to was Adam Westfield, the man responsible for stealing my powers in the first place. A dead but still powerful warlock, who also took a run at taking me out just a couple of months ago.
    If not for my mother, Dita, he’d have succeeded. I still can’t believe my mom saved me, but she had. Worse, I can’t believe I underestimated Adam Westfield’s wish to see me vanquished. He was playing for keeps. I shuddered to think what would happen to me if he managed to get me into the afterlife.
    But he hadn’t totally won. I’d been having spurts of my old powers flash in and out, and one of those powers, the ability to feel a person’s emotions, all part of being a good medium, had popped back up recently. It was hit or miss, but it was worth a shot.
    The chimes on the front door jangled, indicating Merrily Watson must have arrived, but instead I found Liza, the amazing recent college graduate who ran my store, smiling down at me.
    I love Liza. She’s colorful and cheerful and her heart is made of pure gold. She’s who keeps this place running, especially during a busy summer like we’d had this year.
    Liza is Madam Zoltar’s granddaughter, and remains one of my favorite people in the whole world.
    She cocked her red, spiky head and patted my hand. “You look exhausted, Stevie,” she sympathized, pulling out a chair next to me to sit down. “I can cancel with Merrily, if you want to sneak out the back.”
    But I dismissed her notion I was tired. “Nah. I’m fine. Listen, quick question about Sophia.”
    Her eyes instantly went watery beneath her blue eyeliner. “Dang, sorry,” she apologized, swiping her thumb under her eye. “I really loved Sophia. I can’t even begin to tell you the kind of help she was when I was studying for my degree. As you know, I was really stressed when my grandmother died, and she was always ready to help find books I needed for a paper I was working on. I can’t believe someone would…”
    “Me either, kiddo. So did you know much about her? Like where she came from, stuff like that?”
    Liza chuckled. “Are you sleuthing again, lady? Haven’t you had enough being roughed up? The last time looked like you’d been part of a gang initiation. Don’t you have enough to do with this place to keep you busy?”
    I gave her a weary grin. “You know I can’t help myself, Liza. But this is a valued member of our community. I won’t sleep until they catch whoever did this. I can’t bear the idea that Sophia’s killer is on the loose, and if I can help in some way then I will.”
    “Nobody knows better than me,” Liza said on a smile. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about the details about Sophia since yesterday, and it’s the darnedest thing, but I don’t ever remember her saying where she was from. And we had lots of conversations, too. But now that I look back, I guess they were mostly about me and my struggle to get through school, or we talked about whatever I was studying at the time. Geez. This should teach me to be less self-absorbed, huh?”
    “I’m positive Sophia didn’t feel that way, Liza. She loved her patrons and she loved chatting with them. So one more question before I let you go. Did she buy a postcard here