Page 3 of The Accidental Witch

Mrs. Campisi’s fishwaspretty gross, but she was a sweet old lady who’d welcomed her to the hell of her new life with open arms and, for some reason, a need to nurture them. She was the one person who’d shared all the ins and outs of her new apartment community willingly, rather than look at her as though she had leprosy.

For instance, when Blonda and Mick the Tic, the couple who lived in the apartment between them, fought with each other (dear Heaven, did they fight), Mrs. Campisi had been the one to suggest a headset—to block out the poor language and the intermittent smash of glassware.

The headset also helped for the moments after the fight was over, the walls being as paper thin as they were and all. Suffice it to say, Blonda and Mick the Tic lived out loud—no matter what they were doing.

Also, had it not been for Mrs. C, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis would have been dog food for Mr. Shazinski’s big ol’ pit/lab mix, Augustus—Auggie for short.

Auggie was a sweetheart of a hundred-pound Pitbull baby. Loving, gentle, enormous, and Mr. Shazinski was a great guy. Maybe a shower from time to time wouldn’t be the worst thinghe could fall into, but he was a sweet retired man, and she liked him very much.

But he was also a man who couldn’t control his dog.

When the old Augster had gotten a whiff of her babies, it was a snarling, drooling, knock the door down, drag his master by the leash to the almost death match.

Good thing Augie liked Mrs. Campisi’s fish just fine. It was the only thing that had gotten him out of her apartment and Robbie’s cats off the ceiling.

Still, Robbie shook a finger at Tottington. One from her left hand, so as not to set him on fire, too. “You leave Mrs. Campisi alone. How else would we have known to keep the window by the fire escape closed between the hours of five and six at night, when Joey Diamotto’s being chased down by the cops for selling extasy to the seniors when they get off the bus from the center? We’d have been accused of aiding and abetting.”

Tottington brushed the sleeves of his suit jacket in disgust, as though Joey Diamotto had brushed against him and left his ick all over T’s flawless suit. “Heaven forbid we should aid and abet a common criminal looking for an escape route, Miss. Nonetheless, it still does not excuse that aberration Mrs. Campisi deems fish.”

“She calls itblackenedfish, and we’re going to keep right on accepting her goodwill because that’s what a good neighbor does, and I don’t want her feelings hurt. Besides, the cats kinda like it. So, quit being such a snobbity-snob. Was it you who grew up with a silver spoon in their mouth? I don’t think so.” Robbie paused, looking around and really seeing where they were for the first time. “Now, back to the sitch at hand, buddy. Are we really in a castle?”

When they’d pulled up in the Uber, she almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Looming in the purple-bruised sky of chilly late October was a castle. A real live castle, with arched windows anda big heavy door. Robbie was sure she’d spotted a hedge maze toward the back, but as the skies grew dark, she couldn’t be sure.

“It would appear so, Miss. A quite drafty one, for certain.”

“Sorry about that. Nina insists the windows stay open down here so she doesn’t have to smell the paint fumes.” A beautiful blonde tapped her pert nose, pushing her way out of the plastic sheet. “Sensitive olfactory and all.” She stuck out her hand with a warm smile, paying no attention to the fact that Robbie cringed and refused to take it for fear she’d set this woman’s amazing, very meticulously dyed blonde mane on fire. “Marty Flaherty. One third of the OOPS gang. We’re in the middle of a renovation right now. Please forgive. We’re in the process of turning Dracula’s castle dungeons into a murder basement.”

Before Robbie had the chance to pick her jaw up off the floor, another equally gorgeous but exceptionally understated woman floated into the room, her scent floral, her eyes kind, her outfit harkening to an era when Grace Kelly reigned.

“What Marty means to say is, this area was, indeed, once a dungeon. However, since we’ve decided to open a detective agency of sorts, this basement is in the process of being converted into the room where we’ll meet clients. Some of whom…” She cleared her throat. “Some of whom will need a murder solved. We jokingly dubbed it the murder basement. In poor taste, certainly. My apologies. Anyway, I’m Wanda Schwartz-Jefferson. Pleasure to meet you, Robbie.”

“Stop being a fucking weenie,” groused the most beautiful creature Robbie had ever seen in her life, clomping out of the room where all the noise came from in work boots, a pair of jeans, a hoodie, a T-shirt that read:You’re Dry Humping My Last Nerve, and hair so long and glossy black, she could almost see her reflection in it. She poked Wanda in the arm. “It was GD funny, Wanda, and we all laughed. Christ knows, starting up another fucking time suck like a detective agency needs a goodlaugh. I won’t apologize for it.” Then she eyeballed Robbie with a pair of coal-black narrowed eyes. “Roberta, right? Nina Statleon. Greetings, or whatever the fuck.” She didn’t offer her hand, but she did flick a strand of Robbie’s crispy-fried locks. “Curling iron incident?”

Clearing her throat, she nodded as she looked up at these three gorgeous women with flawless skin and hair straight from a salon, swallowing hard. “Robbie. You can call me Robbie, and this…” She shot a glance at T. “This is Tottington…my, um,friend.”

“You’re friend or your fucking sugar daddy? Don’t be shy. We don’t knock a chick for a good side hustle, do we Blondie?” Nina asked Marty.

Tottington bristled, but inside, Robbie knew he wanted to faint from the horror. “I am absolutely not herside hustle, Mrs. Statleon.”

Marty rolled her eyes. “Ignore Nina. She’s rude, she swears all the time for no apparent reason, has a big, opinionated mouth and doesn’t know the first thing about common decency.”

“But we keep her around because no one packs a punch like our girl Nina. Trust me, she’s handy when we have to square off with the devil,” Wanda said on a snort. Immediately, she obviously noticed Robbie had paled. She shot her a sympathetic look. “Too much too soon, I’m afraid. My apologies again.”

Marty held out her hand to Robbie to encourage her to come into the murder basement, but she shrank back in the cushy chair. “I can’t…” How did she explain why she couldn’t take her hand?

Nina squinted, peering at her with prying, beautiful, almond-shaped coal eyes. “You a fucking germaphobe? Got a disgusting rash? No biggie. It’s just better we know now. You know, for when shit gets real.”

Robbie gulped.Real?Was any of this real?

“Nina!” Marty yelped, swatting her on the arm. “Why must you always be so crude? She’s barely been here two minutes and already you want her health history. Dear God, you’re out of control, Mistress of the Night.”

Mistress of the Night…what an interesting choice of words.

Nina flicked Marty’s hair, leaving the gold strands to catch the light. “Fuck off, Ass Sniffer. You were the one who said I had to be more goddamn sensitive to people’s shit. I’m tryin’ to be squishier and this is the flack I get? Isn’t it better we know if she has shit going on so we don’t offend her? Freak her out? Catch her fungus infection? Isn’t that what you two rambled the fuck on about while we were setting up the murder basement?” Nina cupped her hand beside her mouth and gave Robbie a conspiratorial look. “BT dubs, officially the dumbest idea on the planet.”

Robbie held up a hand to thwart this gorgeous creature’s rant, but she had other ideas.

Nina planted her hands on her hips in a defensive stance—yet, Robbie couldn’t help but note that, even angry, she was still, without exception, the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. “So what do I do? I try and be sensitive, but it’s never good enough for you two damn shrieking banshees, is it? What the fuck do you want me to do? Bake her cookies, tuck her in for the night while I ask if she has any issues we need to know about? Offer her antifungal cream? I’m lookin’ out for the client’s best interests is all, and this is the thanks I get. Fuck you. Fuck you both. Am I clear?”

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