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

around a pillar. I just knew someone was hiding behind it—but no one was there. I sighed with relief, spun around, and walked back to the crime scene.
    I figured the first thing I needed to do was secure the area. It wouldn’t be a good thing if someone accidentally walked through a puddle of blood. Stepped on a footprint. Or otherwise contaminated the evidence. 
    It took almost a half hour for the police to arrive. I guess they figured there was no rush, since Mrs. DuMond was already dead. A detective arrived along with two uniformed officers and a pair of EMTs.
    The detective was a gruff sort of man, wearing a sport jacket and a badge on his belt. Late 40s, balding, weathered looking. Round face, puffy eyes. Looked like he’d been on the job for a long time and was tired of it. 
    “You the one that called this in?” he said, strolling up to the scene.
    “Yes, sir,” I said.
    The two uniformed officers began securing the area and taping off the scene.
    “Detective Gibbs. Homicide,” he said, pulling his coat back to reveal the gold shield. “What’s your name?”
    “Hannah Hazel,” I said.
    “Any relation to the deceased?”
    “No, sir.”
    Gibbs jotted notes down in a small pad. “You touch anything?”
    “Oh, no. I know better than to do that,” I said. “I’m majoring in criminology.”
    Gibbs looked at me, thoroughly unimpressed.
    “Looks like she took a blow to the head. Blunt force trauma. There are footprints leading off toward the elevator over there,” I said. My finger curled out in their direction. “And she still has that massive diamond ring on her finger, so this clearly wasn’t a robbery gone bad.”
    “Why don’t you let me do the investigating?” Gibbs said.
    “Oh, of course,” I said. “I just want to help.” I smiled.
    “Who is she?”
    “That’s Mrs. DuMond. She owns the building,” I said.
    “She have any next of kin?”
    “Her step son, Elliot DuMond.”
    “Don’t go anywhere,” Gibbs said. “I’ve got more questions for you.” Gibbs strolled over to the other officers and conferred with them. I could still smell his musky cologne lingering in the air after he walked away.
     “I’m surprised it took this long,” Mr. Bancroft said.
    His voice startled me, and I gasped. Detective Gibbs and the officers glanced at me, then went back about their business.
    “I told you to stop sneaking up on me,” I whispered.
    “My dear, you know I can’t resist a cheap scare,” said Bancroft.
    “Do you know who did this?” I asked.
    “I’m not psychic, sweetheart,” Bancroft said.
    We watched the officers buzz about. There was nothing for the EMTs to do, so they left. Soon, a crime scene photographer and a blood spatter technician showed up. Gibbs and the other officers processed the scene and collected all the evidence. 
    Afterword, Gibbs asked me more questions. I told him about the holiday party and what I had been doing up until the point I had discovered the body. He jotted everything down in his pad.
    “Well, it appears that we have an apparent homicide. The victim has a wound to the back of her head that is consistent with the blow from a solid object,” Gibbs said.
    “Right. Blunt force trauma to the head,” I said.
    Gibbs scowled at me. “Do you know of anyone that would have reason to kill Mrs. DuMond?”
    “I can think of quite a few,” Bancroft muttered. He strolled in for a closer look at the body.
    “Mrs. DuMond wasn’t particularly admired. But I can’t imagine any of the residents would kill her,” I said.
    “So, you think it’s one of the residents?” Gibbs asked.
    “I just said, I didn’t think any of the residents would go to the extreme length of killing her.”
    “Most people are killed by someone they know,” Gibbs said. “My officers are securing the building. I’m going to need to interview everyone.”
    “That would be proper procedure,” I said.
    Gibbs’s eyes narrowed at me. I figured I should stop telling