Witch Perfect (Witchless in Seattle Mysteries Book 11)

by Dakota Cassidy

  Wow. You’d have thought Win himself was the man signing Santini’s paychecks by the way he scrambled forward, turning on a small desk lamp to reveal what he looked like.

  He looked at Win with eager eyes, tiny little darting black orbs that seemed to inhale Win’s good looks. He wore a manbun, pulled high and tight on the top of his head, his lips were thin, and I noted he had no shirt on beneath his very fitted suit. He also wore a collar around his neck and a small earpiece and microphone.

  “Oh, certainly, sir. We take the utmost care in keeping our clients’ privacy. And of course, as you know, we require—”

  “Surely you don’t think I’m new to this rodeo, do you, Santini?” Win pulled his credit card from his suit jacket—a black Amex with no limit—and dropped it casually on the wood podium while he looked around as though this were all a bore.

  This was a different Win. I suspect this was the Win who’d gone on many a mission, playing the role of someone with authority. His posture was rigid, his eyes hard, his jaw tight.

  This Win was Zero. Ex-international spy for MI6, and it was a little sexy, if I’m honest. Sexy and intimidating. And I wasn’t sure how to play my part. So I stayed quiet and let him do his thing.

  Santini busied himself running the card before he looked back at Win, his eyes admiring. “Mr. Winningham, the pleasure is mine.”

  “Right, then,” Win addressed him in a dismissive way. “Shall we?”

  Santini moved to the far wall on other side of the room and pressed a button on a small pad, the button opened up the wall to reveal a long hallway with smoky, muted lighting. The walls, also a deep purple, swirled with some sort of painting technique that made them almost look like they were made of clouds and smoke.

  He held his arm out as though he were the assistant in a magic act, sweeping across the width of the opening with more pomp and circumstance than the queen herself.

  “Mr. Winningham, right this way. As we walk, if you’d be so kind as to indulge your needs so that I might better assist you and Miss…”

  I was about to answer, but Win must have sensed it, because he gave my arm a light tweak with his fingers before he said, “You may address her as Miss Dove, and surely you have a profile you’d like for me to fill out to address my needs, Santini. This isn’t run by amateurs, is it?”

  Santini smiled in satisfaction, lifting his chin and eyeballing me. “Miss Dove. And I assure you, sir, Miss Divinia is anything but. Now come, please.” He clapped his hands and another person appeared almost out of thin air with a platter holding two full champagne glasses.

  Taking them both, Win held up one before he took a sniff. “Ah, lovely. Krug…1928, I trust, Santini?”

  Santini’s face burst into a wide smile. “Well done, sir. It is indeed.”

  Win handed me a glass, his offering regal and pretentious, and it was all I could do not to bust a gut.

  “To you, my darling,” he whispered with a small, confident smile. “Let the adventure begin.”

  We each took a sip, and I have to tell you, whoever Krug is, he made a fine champagne back in 1928. I’m not much for the bubbly, but this was pretty darn good.

  As Santini led us down the hall, Arkady whispered a reminder to me, “My tart cherry pie? Do not speak. Zero has taken on the dominant role, and you must take the role of submissive. Speak only when spoken to directly. Do you understand this? Blink once so Arkady Bagrov can see you understand.”

  I did as I was told, disappointed I wasn’t going to be able to ask anyone any questions because man, as we passed some of these rooms, dark and mysterious with sounds coming from them I would describe as something you don’t hear every day, I had a million. Still, I kept my lips shut tight and my eyes wide open.

  We passed many different rooms, all rooms to which Win gave a silent shake of his head, signifying they were unacceptable—and with each room we passed, my dress appeared to grow tighter and my heels higher.

  Did this hallway never end?

  As we wandered down the hall, ornate Chinese lanterns hanging from the ceiling to light our way and purple velvet curtains tied to the pillars bracketing each door, we paused by one unoccupied room in ruby red, with velvet walls and a rack holding a variety of what I now knew were floggers.

  Win said, “Would this be the legendary…”

  “The Scarlett Room, Zero,” Arkady provided once more.

  Oh, yippee. I couldn’t wait to stand ten more minutes in this stupid life-force-depleting dress while we inspected another room.

  “Scarlett Room Wade spoke so highly of?” Win asked, cocking his head as he entered and deposited me by the enormous bed in the middle of the room, so he could wander the space freely.

  “It is!” Santini nearly squealed. “You’ve heard of it, then?”

  “I have. Wade gave it high marks. All the best accoutrement for play, I shall assume?” Win asked as he lifted a set of handcuffs from another rack and pretended to inspect them.

  The more I looked around, the paler I got. You’d think my cheeks would go bright red, but instead, I paled, unsure what to make of this enormous bed with a canopy frame made of wood and painted black.

  It had a bunch of eyehooks screwed into it and a couple of chains hanging down on the silky red comforter, and the more I stared, the curiouser I became.

  Santini sucked in his lean cheeks and nodded. “Always, sir. Nothing but the best for your enjoyment, of course.”

  Win came back and collected me, wrapping his arm about my waist after he’d assessed the room, giving each rack of “toys” the once over, paying particular attention to a red leather contraption of a chair with belt buckles attached to it.

  “So, I’m sure you’re positively dying to ask how Wade is, aren’t you, Santini?”

  Win asked a question, but I can assure you, it was almost as if he were telling Santini how he should feel, and our boy was buying it hook, line, and sinker.

  I’m not sure I understood why Santini wouldn’t simply ask, but Arkady explained that for me.

  “I see your question, malutka, and it is not for Santini to ask. It is a sign of respect that he wait until Zero offers the information. Zero must play the role correctly.”

  The role…

  There was some research on my to-do list when this was all over.

  He gave Win a coy look, but he nodded. “May I inquire?”

  “You may, Santini. As to the answer? He’s well. Married now after that disastrous affair with…whatserface?”

  Man oh man, Win was good at this, and as I held my breath, hoping Santini didn’t know Wade was dead, I silently gave my Spy Guy props. He sure knew what he was doing.

  Santini looked at Win with sheepish eyes. “Oh, sir, you do know I can’t reveal that, don’t you?”

  Win jabbed his finger in the air with a wink and a grin. “Good catch, Santini. That was a test of your discretion. Anyway, Wade is wonderful, and happier without Whatserface. I wish I could remember the name he mentioned. Yet, I can’t for the life of me recall. Still, it truly was awful. Money turns some of us into terrible snobs, does it not?”

  Santini let his eyes fall to the floor. “Might I be so bold as to ask a question of you, sir?”

  “Certainly,” Win said, his tone extra arrogant.

  “Did Wade tell you about his relationship with…er, Whatserface? He does know that isn’t allowed, doesn’t he? He had many clients, both male and female here at the club, but he signed an NDA. Miss Divinia will be livid.”

  I kept half an ear on their conversation as I wandered around the bed, my eyes trying to take in all of the gadgets without my mouth hanging open.

  Win puffed out his chest. “He’d long since left the lifestyle by the time I met him. We happened to be chatting at a corporate party one evening and struck up a friendship. Which was the very thing that led him to recommend your club. He never shared details, real names, etc. He simply said he’d broken a rule by becoming involved outside of the club, and things became quit
e messy.”

  Santini fairly snorted, letting his façade of proper submissive drop for a moment. “I’ll say things got messy. Especially when he found out Whatserface lived in the same town he moved to in order to get away from their messy affair.”

  Okay, listen, I realize I was supposed to be the quiet little church mouse here, but even quiet little church mice trip from time to time and get caught up in the bondage bed.

  Don’t they?

  Arkady and Win were both still howling with laughter as we drove back to Eb Falls, my face on fire with humiliation.

  I have to admit, it was a little funny. Not as funny as they were making it out to be, but funny.

  Arkady gasped for air as he tried to speak between fits of hysterical laughter. “Did you see her fancy high heel caught up in chain, Zero? I think she is going to be hanging upside down forever.”

  So, sure. That was a little funny. “Hey! Those heels were ginormous, and when Santini said the person Wade had been involved with lived in the same town, I lost my balance, I was so shocked. I didn’t mean to fall over on the big red bed of contraptions, but I did, and it swallowed me up whole. I was fighting my way out of it and trying to keep my dress covering my respectables—which, might I remind you—is almost impossible when it’s so tight you need two pair of SPANX to wear it, and, well…let the comedy of errors begin.”

  Somehow, the heel of my shoe got caught up in those heckin’ chains hanging down (which, as a by the by, are on a pulley, thank you very much) over the bed and, well, you know the rest. I ended up almost upside down, the blood rushing to my head as I dangled.

  Thankfully, Win was there to make Santini feel inadequate enough that, by the time we left, you’d have thought he’d strung me up there himself.

  “And the look on poor Santini’s face when I all but accused him of faulty equipment?” Win said before he began to giggle like a hyena. “When all’s said and done, my good man, I must go back and make my apologies.”

  Poor Santini. Not only did he think he’d displeased Win, but he also thought he’d lost a client—one who had a boatload of money.

  “Okay, chuckleheads, enough making fun of the cautiously adventurous but curious newb. I was so surprised by what Santini said, and how easily he handed you the information, that I tripped, okay? Call me Miss Clumsy Dove.”

  Win snorted and reached over to grab my hand. “I’m sorry, Dove, I was so deep in character that I almost lost myself. When I realized your predicament, it snapped me back to reality. And lest you forget, I did help untangle you,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah, yeah. After poor Santini ran around like a chicken with his head cut off, apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault.”

  Win snickered again. “I was trying to stay in keeping with my character, which was a dominant figure. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on him what role he played at Divinia’s. But that aside, even you have to admit, you all tangled up in that Gordian knot of chains was a gut-buster, Dove.”

  “It’ll be funnier once I get this dress off and I can breathe. So now we know this Divinia’s is a club where rich people explore their darker fantasies. I still can’t believe how easily you got in there.”

  “Well, it wasn’t all my doing. Having Arkady direct me from above helped, Stephania. I had no idea what the man’s name was or his position at the club.”

  “Dah, I see his name on his phone on his tiny desk. He is on Facebook when we arrive.”

  “But how did you know he’d be the one to give us a tour of the club, Arkady?”

  His answer was quite stoic. “Because I know things, my tulip. I know many things.”

  Rolling my eyes, I should have known that would be the answer. “And the room? How did you know it was called The Scarlett Room?”

  “Because I read skinny Santini’s lips when he talk into his earpiece to give his location to person who take over for him at front desk.”

  These two never failed to surprise me, but I sure was glad they were on my side. “You can read lips, Arkady?”

  “Dah, lemon Jell-O. I also speak several languages and can do backflip.”

  “But what if Arkady hadn’t been able to see all that information? How did you know Santini hadn’t heard about Wade’s death?” I shivered at the thought. “We’d have been sunk.”

  Win tapped the wheel with the palm of his hand. “Hah! It’s the risk you take when you do a cold call like that. I just took a chance he mightn’t have heard about Wade’s death yet. That’s all part of the game, Stephania—it’s the thrill of discovery that fuels my fire. Am I wrong, old man?”

  “Dah, Zero. Was like old days! We had some wonderful times, did we not?”

  I shook my head in admonishment at the two of them and redirected them away from their glory days. “Yeah, yeah. You were both aces back there and you work well as a team. Now, back to the problem at hand. Let’s talk about the club and its patrons. Obviously, the people who frequent it sometimes step out of their marriages and pay a hefty price to do so. Thus, privacy is of the utmost concern, so I have to doubt, even if we could find this Divinia, short of a court order, we’re not getting names from her.”

  “If we could have hung on for a few moments longer, I might have been able to weasel a name or two out of Santini,” Win said with a cocky lift of his eyebrow.

  “Do you mean before I pulled my Flying Wallenda act? Before we had to leave because I’d embarrassed us in a bondage setting?”

  Both Win and Arkady began to laugh again, but stopped short when I shot Win “the look.” He clamped his mouth tight. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he muttered before zipping his lip and throwing away the key.

  Tucking my purse under my arm, I hunkered down in my seat. “Okay, so you heard Santini—the person Wade was involved with at Divinia’s lives in our town. I’ll say it once again, I’m betting whoever he was arguing with in the theater bathrooms, that person with the copper buckle on his shoe, is the same person who started out as his customer at Divinia’s. It must be a man, right? I mean, Chester heard Wade arguing with someone in the men’s bathroom.”

  “That’s quite true, but Santini said he had male and female clients at the club, and I’ve known plenty of women who’d used the men’s bathroom in a pinch. The theater was likely deserted, after all. Maybe that person followed Wade into the bathroom because he wouldn’t talk to them? It could easily have been a woman.”

  “So the question is has Wade been living alongside this person the entire time he’s lived in Eb Falls? Because that would have been awful for him. You did hear Mikala say she thought Wade was moving on in a heathy way, didn’t you? He obviously didn’t want Kirkland to know about his past. How awful to run into the very person you ran away from.”

  “I did, Dove,” Win said as he pulled off the highway onto the dark road that led to our house. “But is this the person who killed Wade? We don’t have any proof of that.”

  “I have that feeling in my gut, Win. I’m betting they’re one and the same. And what does Lida have to do with any of this?” Then a thought rushed into my brain. “Maybe she knows the person Wade had the affair with and she knew they were threatening him? I mean, she seems pretty fond of Kirkland. It stands to reason she keeps her ears open in that mausoleum in order to protect him, right? Maybe she heard Wade on the phone with someone or saw him meet someone she considered suspicious? We desperately need to talk to her.”

  “It certainly would help,” Win agreed.

  Then I thought of something else. “Also, that collar around Santini’s neck—it is called a collar, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “Wade had a collar around his neck, too,” I reminded him.

  “But Wade was a dominant. They don’t wear collars, Stephania. Only submissives do.”

  I puffed my cheeks out as I blew out a breath of frustration.

  My phone beeped a text, and I held up my finger to stop our conversation so I could read it.

  As I read,
I mumbled, “Ummm… Oh, man alive.”

  “Stephania?”

  “Loretta just texted to tell me Lida needs blood. When they tested her and Kirkland, they discovered Lida has a rare blood type, and Kirkland’s matches hers. He’s AB negative, and so is Lida.”

  “I feel a but coming on…” Win retorted.

  “A big one. You ready for this? Loretta is O positive. A very common blood type.”

  Win cocked his head. “And?”

  “And…both Rosemary and Harris are O positive, too…”

  Oh, dear.

  Chapter 16

  When we pulled into the hospital parking lot, it was well past eleven o’clock. My eyes were grainy, my head pounding, probably from the blood being squeezed to my brain from my stupid dress.

  But there was no time to go home and change. Loretta was distraught, as was Kirkland, and I worried level heads wouldn’t prevail.

  So I’d offered to come and support them while Kirkland waited to give blood to help Lida.

  As Win parked the car, he looked at me, his handsome face full of worry. “You look exhausted, Dove. I worry about your health.”

  I ran my knuckles down his cheek and ran my thumb over his lower lip. “You know what you should worry about? You should worry about the constriction of my blood flow in this dress. Brain cells are being suffocated as we speak. I don’t know how people do it, but I’ve decided it’s sweatpants and big tees from here on out.”

  Win laughed, revealing the deep grooves on either side of his face. “If nothing else, we’re in the right place should you faint from lack of proper circulation.”

  I reached up and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen to his forehead, then cupped his jaw. “I’m fine. I promise. You don’t have to wait if you’re tired. I can manage on my own.”

  “Not on your life, lovely lady. That won’t happen again. The last time I took a nap, someone shot at you. I only fall asleep at the bloody wheel once. From now on, when danger is imminent, you go nowhere without me.”