Witch School Dropout: A Witch Squad Cozy Mystery #7 by M.Z. Andrews

Author:M.Z. Andrews [Andrews, M.Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-18T22:00:00+00:00

18

“Explain to me how we’re going to pull this off without Detective Whitman getting suspicious,” I asked Alba as I put a hand up to shield my eyes from the bright glare of the mid-day sun.

“Easy, Red. Leave your phone on the table during the interview. I’ll be on the other end of the line with the dog,” she began carefully outlining the way we were going to make the conversation between Detective Whitman and Mr. Bailey work.

Seated on the pavement under the cool shade of a red oak tree, Mr. Bailey cleared his throat. “Uh-hum, excuse me. Before we go too much further, I’d prefer not to be referred to as the dog, if you don’t mind.”

Alba winced as she glanced back at him. She almost forgotten that he was even there. “Oh, right. Sorry, Mr. Bailey.” She looked back at me. “When we hear what Detective Whitman wants to know, Mr. Bailey will tell me the answer, and I’ll text it to this phone,” she said and held up Jax’s phone.

“Okay, so my phone is on the table, and Jax’s phone is under the table in my lap.”

“Right. Easy peasy. Are we ready?”

I let out a ragged breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Can we get into trouble for this?” I asked, wrinkling my forehead.

Alba laughed. “The only thing we’ll get in trouble for is putting Mr. Bailey’s ghost into that dog. You just keep the detective in the dark about that, and we should be fine.”

“I’ll do my best. Come on, let’s go.” It was later in the day, and we were loitering in front of Habernackle’s, trying to work out the final plan for the meeting between Detective Whitman, Mr. Bailey’s ghost, and myself. Sweets, who had come down earlier to meet with Char to go over the menu for the reception, was already inside.

My eyes swung down towards Mr. Bailey and I felt a pang of pity and of guilt. He was sitting properly as a dog with his rear end glued to the concrete and his front end propped up on his two front paws, but I could see the hollow vacantness in his eyes as he stared off beyond us. He wasn’t a man and he wasn’t a ghost. He was a dog now. What did that mean for him? How was he supposed to feel about that?

Aside from sitting properly, Mr. Bailey didn’t act like a dog. At least not like Char’s dog. Char’s dog was a high-strung Chihuahua with so much pep in his step that Char had given him to Sweets to mind for a few days because she couldn’t handle his energy at a time like this. Funny enough, if Regis had a human counterpoint, Char would be that person because she was as equally high-strung and energetic as her pet.

The new “Regis” as we would be forced to call him in public, was this depressed, slow moving, jittery version of his old self. He had no mannerisms

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