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

know?”
    “Well, it seems that Mrs. DuMond had a bit of dirt on Jake.”
    “What kind of dirt?” I asked.
    “Prior felony conviction.”
    “What?” I exclaimed.
    “All I know is what I overheard in the office. Jake was standing up for Isabella, and Mrs. DuMond was threatening him. She told him that he should be very careful, and mind his own business. That he was lucky to have this job, since no one else was likely to hire a convicted felon.”
    “What did he get convicted of?”
    “I don’t know. But apparently Roger DuMond saw fit to give Jake a second chance and hire him on. Mrs. DuMond, however, was less altruistic. She cut Jake’s pay.”
    “Do you think he killed her?” I asked.
    “He was steaming mad when he left the office,” Bancroft said.
    “Have you killed everyone you were ever mad at?”
    “He knows Mrs. DuMond's routine. He could have easily waited for her in the parking garage. Bashed her over the head with the tool and changed shoes in the maintenance closet.”
     “Why? Why throw the wrench in the trashcan? Why leave the bloody shoes in the maintenance closet?”
    “Maybe he thought he would clear everything out in the morning,” Bancroft said. “I don’t think it was well thought out.”
     “Something doesn’t fit,” I said. “He would have blood spattered on his clothes. But they didn’t find any clothes in the maintenance closet.”
    “Maybe he changed in his apartment.”
    “Why change shoes in one place and your clothes in another?”
    Bancroft shrugged.
    “We need to search his apartment,” I said.
    “You mean, I need to search his apartment.”
     I followed Bancroft to Jake’s apartment and watched him pass through the door. I waited a few minutes in the hallway. 
    “Well, what do you see in there?” I whispered through the door.
    “A normal guy’s messy apartment,” Bancroft said. “He seriously needs to do some dishes.”
    “Let me in,” I said.
    Bancroft poked is head through the door. “It’s not like I can turn knobs. Takes too much force. Have you checked to see if it’s even locked?”
    I twisted the knob, and the door lurched open. I snuck inside and closed the door behind me. 
    “Congratulations. You are now breaking and entering,” Bancroft said.
    “I didn’t break anything.”
    I rummaged through the drawers, closets, and dirty clothes on the floor. I couldn’t find anything with bloodstains. Then I gasped in horror, suddenly remembering. “I still need to write my paper.”
    “Whoops,” Bancroft said.
    “Will you walk with me down to the parking garage to get my book?”
    “Of course, my dear. But it’s a false sense of security. It’s not like I can do anything anyway if something were to happen.”
    “Yes, Banksy,” I said. “But it makes me feel better having you around.”
    We left Jake’s apartment and took the elevator down to the parking garage. I grabbed my forensic science book from my car. Walking back to the elevator, we paused at the crime scene. The bloodstains on the concrete were a grim reminder of what had happened.
    “You know, whoever killed Mrs. DuMond had to have a key to the maintenance closet,” I said.
    “Not necessarily. The maintenance closet is usually unlocked during the day.”
    “But it was locked when Detective Gibbs tried to open it,” I said.
    “Anyone could have locked it from the inside,” Bancroft said.
    I really didn’t want to think that Jake had committed this crime. 
    We walked back to my apartment, and I said goodnight to Bancroft. He drifted away, gliding down the hall. I’m not really sure what he did all night, since he didn’t need sleep. Mostly, I think he tried to amuse himself with little haunts. Thumping on walls, unscrewing light bulbs. That kind of thing.  
    Mom was already in bed. Newport was lying on the couch, still watching TV. I went to my desk to start writing my paper and promptly passed out. 
    A phone call woke me up at around 9:30 the next morning. It was