2
Scrambled Cupid Brains
After several more agonizing minutes on the phone with Anton, I gathered the following facts.
Three witches had died in as many days.
Three witches, and I hadn’t heard a peep.
Wembley needed to get his newly tanned butt cheeks back to Austin, otherwise I was going to miss all of the important stuff. He also needed to stop oversharing in his emails. I didn’t need to know that he and my mother had been nude bathing on most of their shore visits. Didn’t most people just shop on those stopovers?
Alex, Anton, and Francis had each been assigned one of the cases, as there was no definitive evidence that the three murders were tied. Each witch had met her end in a different way. (Anton wouldn’t say how.) The only link was the close proximity in time.
A big link, in
