Gone With the Witch

by Heather Blake

  I’d been taking phone numbers all morning.

  Natasha most definitely was not happy with the crowd around my table, even though she’d also had a solid stream of visitors.

  But I supposed they weren’t the type of people she’d intended to attract.

  I’d never seen so many giggling teenagers in all my life.

  Even now, a gaggle of them sashayed past the faux Egyptians, who didn’t seem to mind the attention, as underage as it might be.

  One of those teenagers peeled off from the flock and headed my way, barely taking her gaze from the men keeping guard over Titania.

  “Is Missy feeling any better?” Mimi asked me for at least the sixth time today as she crouched next to Missy’s pen to say hello to the dog.

  Mimi Sawyer had turned thirteen a few months ago, and though she was an inquisitive bookworm by nature, even she couldn’t resist the lure of barely dressed attractive men.

  “Still the same,” I said, suppressing a smile.

  “That’s good,” she said absently, her attention focused across the aisle.

  I almost laughed at her transparent behavior. “How’s Higgins doing?”

  She glanced at me with her big dark brown eyes. “Not winning any votes with his drooling.”

  I’d been on the receiving end of his drool many times. Laughing, I asked, “Are you handing out wet wipes?”

  “And hand sanitizer.”

  There wasn’t enough sanitizer in the world for Higgins’ drool, in my opinion.

  Mimi stood. “Dad sent me over to ask if you wanted to go to lunch soon.”

  I could barely see the far corner of the showroom floor where Higgins’ booth was located, and certainly couldn’t spot Nick from so far away. I eyed Mimi. “He sent you over, did he?”

  A blush crept up her neck. “Okay, I might have volunteered.” She shrugged. “Okay, begged. Same difference.”

  Smiling, I resisted teasing her, and glanced at my watch. “Tell him half an hour is good with me.” I’d ask Harper to watch my booth—and Natasha—while I was away. Right now I was manning Harper’s booth while she was at lunch with Aunt Ve. Watching over Pie was easy, as it seemed his preferred method of dealing with the crowds was to nap.

  Mimi gave me a halfhearted wave as she wandered off, and as I watched her thread through the crowd, I noticed the judges finally on the move. The crowd around Lady Catherine’s booth remained.

  “Danish?” someone said from nearby.

  I jumped, not having heard Vivienne approach.

  She held up a glass platter. “Seems Baz and I overestimated how many pastries we needed, and I really don’t want to take them home.”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m headed to lunch soon.”

  “How about you, Natasha?” Vivienne asked. “Would you like a Danish?”

  Disgust filled Natasha’s eyes. “No, thanks. A moment on the lips, forever on the hips,” she said, her gaze flicking downward to my thighs. She lifted a smug eyebrow.

  Vivienne rolled her eyes.

  I glanced down the aisle toward the Lucases’ booth, wondering just how many pastries remained. There were still a dozen pink Gingerbread Shack boxes stacked behind their display. That was a lot of leftovers.

  Natasha had turned her back on us and pulled a mirror from her bag to check her lipstick. I could have sworn I saw her eyeing the Danish in her reflection.

  Biting back a smile, I faced Vivienne and found her frowning at the plate in her hand. “I’m not looking forward to hearing from Baz about how it was my idea to order extra.”

  “Is he on his lunch break?” I asked, not seeing him—or Audrey. Was he at all concerned about getting food poisoning again this year?

  “Nature called. He took Audrey outside to the dog play yard.”

  I looked at Missy—she’d be due to go out soon as well, and I hoped the fresh air would perk her up a little before the judges made their rounds. I knew we weren’t eligible to win, but I rather hoped she wouldn’t look so morose when they stopped by.

  A young couple with two little kids wandered over to Vivienne’s booth, and she said, “Ooh, gotta go.” She dashed over to foist Danish on them.

  A moment later, I spotted Evan Sullivan and Twink headed this way. He walked slowly, his lips pursed as though whistling a quiet tune. As he neared, I heard the song.

  “It’s Raining Men.”

  The color was high in his freckled fair cheeks as he pulled to a stop in front of my display. He set Twink down inside the pen, and he bounced over to say hello to Missy. She eyed the little dog with what looked like pity. The Evel Knievel outfit was a bit over-the-top.

  Evan said, “Just, uh, taking Twink out for a quick walk.” He smoothed his short ginger-blond hair and picked an imaginary piece of lint off his perfectly pressed light blue button-down shirt.

  “Et tu, Brute?” I said with a broad smile. “Mimi’s been by half a dozen times already.”

  Theatrically, his body sagged and he tipped his head back and groaned. In a whisper, he said, “Come on, Darcy. Can you blame us?”

  I leaned around Evan to take another look at the scantily clad men.

  Chip, aka Mr. Blinky, was dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief, Mr. Tambourine Man was fighting a yawn, and Mr. Nipples wiggled his pectorals at me.

  Have mercy, as Ve would say.

  Evan whistled low. “They’re gorgeous. Especially Chip, the one on the right.”

  “Not my type,” I said, meeting Evan’s sky blue eyes. “And you’re in a relationship, remember?”

  He’d recently started seeing FBI agent Scott Abramson.

  “A casual relationship.” He tossed a surreptitious glance over his shoulder. “Besides, just because I enjoy man candy doesn’t mean I’m going to sample it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless an offer presents itself. . . .”

  I smacked his shoulder and he laughed.

  “You don’t have to worry,” he said. “Chip Goldman is an actor who’s hopelessly devoted to only two people. Himself and Natasha. They’ve been seeing each other off and on for years. It’s mostly on during theater season, since they work together.” He dropped his voice. “Natasha toys with him, and he happily lets her, the dimwit.”

  Once again, I glanced across the aisle. Chip was still dabbing his eyes. Now that I knew he and Natasha were seeing each other, it made much more sense as to why he’d put himself through the torture of guarding a cat he was allergic to.

  Evan might have proclaimed the trio of men gorgeous, but I didn’t see the appeal of any of the male models. Sure, they were buff and handsome, but they did nothing for me.

  Then I realized why.

  Nick.

  He’d ruined me for all other men. In my eyes, my heart, no one could compare.

  And I didn’t mind one little bit.

  “What’s that goofy smile all about?” Evan asked, eyeing me.

  “Noth—oh my God!” I quickly looked left, looked right.

  “What?” Evan asked, following my frantic gaze.

  I looked around again and saw the judges had dispersed, fanning out in several directions, apparently taking a quick break.

  What I didn’t see was any sign of Natasha.

  Ivy was not going to be happy about this. I had to find Natasha. Fast.

  “What’s going on?” Evan asked.

  “I lost Natasha.”

  His eyes widened—he knew that I’d been hired to keep an eye on her . . . and why. “Well, go find her!”

  I rushed over to her booth and approached Mr. Nipples, figuring I had a better chance at getting answers out of him, since he’d waved at me. Kind of. “Uh, excuse me, do you know where Natasha went?”

  Titania, I noticed, was still sitting on her fluffy pillow. She blinked at me, and the majestic look I’d seen earlier was go
ne now, replaced with what looked like embarrassment. She meowed pitifully. I didn’t blame her. Tilda would throw a hissy fit if she’d been dolled up in such a manner. I reached out to pet the cat and she tried to push her face into the palm of my hand, but the headdress stopped her. Instead I scratched her chin, and she purred loudly.

  And just like that she stole my vote for the grand-prize winner.

  “Restroom,” said Mr. Nipples, who was apparently a man of few words.

  “Thanks.” I gave Titania one last scratch. Hurrying back to my booth, I grabbed my spy pen and said to Evan, “Can you watch my booth for a couple of minutes?”

  He grinned and leaned against the table as if settling in for a long stay. “Take as long as you want, Darcy.”

  I shook a finger at him, then broke into a fast jog, headed toward the bathroom that was located at the far end of the room. As I rushed along, I glanced toward Lady Catherine’s booth and was dismayed to see neither she nor Marigold Coe was there.

  Oh no, oh no. No, no, no.

  I pushed through the restroom’s door to find a line of women waiting to use the facilities. None of them were Natasha. I scooted past the queue, heading for the sink area. As I did so, I glanced under stall doors, looking for strappy gold sandals.

  There were none.

  Great. Fabulous.

  Spinning around, I ran out, receiving curious glances as I did so.

  Back in the main room, I looked around but couldn’t see much because of the crowd. I headed up the stairs to get a bird’s-eye view.

  On the upper landing, I squinted, searching the room. No Natasha. No Marigold. I did, however, spot the colorful Archie. The scarlet macaw familiar was singing loudly, and I strained to hear the song.

  “One Is the Loneliest Number.”

  It fit, I supposed, considering that his booth was empty except for the presence of Terry. Archie was used to entertaining a crowd.

  I also saw Nick. I gave him a smile and a curt wave, then spun around and headed down a long hallway toward the dining room. At an intersecting corridor, the sound of a staccato laugh echoed. I knew that laugh. Natasha.

  I stopped. Listened. I heard another laugh—softer this time. More of a giggle. The noise had definitely come from the deserted hallway.

  Veering right, I kept close to the wall and tiptoed farther away from the thrum of the event. This hallway housed smaller conference rooms, each with a recessed double doorway.

  As I neared the middle of the corridor, I passed a narrow recess, a single entryway. A piece of fabric that stuck out from beneath the bottom of the door marked STORAGE caught my attention. The cloth was white and filmy and looked a lot like the hem of Natasha’s dress. I approached the door cautiously and pressed my ear to it.

  I heard the low murmur of voices—a man and a woman—and slurpy kissing sounds.

  Ew.

  At first I thought it had to be Natasha and Chip, but immediately dismissed the idea. Chip was downstairs, his eyes red and swollen, as he watched Titania.

  Who, exactly, was in the storage room with Natasha?

  As I debated whether to knock, the door started to open.

  Panicked, I quickly dashed into the meeting room across the hall, which was offset at a diagonal. Perfect for spying without being seen. I kept one of the double doors cracked open with my foot and leaned into the doorway’s portal to peek out. As Natasha emerged from the storage closet, her cheeks were bright red as she fussed with the strap of her dress and continued to giggle.

  As surreptitiously as I could, I aimed the spy pen her way, just in time to catch Baz Lucas stepping out behind her. His dog, Audrey, looked bewildered as she circled his feet. Baz pinched Natasha’s butt, nuzzled the back of her neck, and whispered something in her ear.

  My jaw dropped.

  She giggled again, swatted him, and stepped into his arms for a steamy kiss that had my eyes widening, then squeezing shut, as the kissed morphed into a grope-fest with X-rated intensity.

  Ew, ew, ew. Ivy was not paying me nearly enough to witness this.

  Baz said, “Soon, my dear one, soon. We’ll be together. All our dreams will come true.”

  “Promise?” Natasha asked, cuddling close to his chest.

  “I promise. I love you.”

  “Not as much as I love you.”

  I was feeling a little queasy as they fell into another steamy embrace.

  When they parted again, Baz said, “‘Well . . . I guess we’d better get Irving’s car and get out of here.’”

  It took me a moment to recognize the quote from Roman Holiday. That’s right. Baz had an Audrey Hepburn obsession. And now that I looked more closely at Natasha, I saw that she resembled the famous actress quite a bit, with her thin petite stature, her triangular face and big brown eyes.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Natasha laughed and swatted him, promising to see him later. She fluffed her hair, and sashayed down the hallway. At its end, she turned left, back toward the showroom.

  Baz watched her go, then tugged Audrey’s leash. At the end of the hallway, he turned right, heading toward the dog yard.

  Blinking in disbelief, I took a deep breath, tucked the spy pen back into my pocket, and was about to follow Natasha when I heard the barest puff of an exhalation.

  It hadn’t been mine.

  The noise had come from behind me.

  Close behind me.

  Adrenaline shot through me, and bumps formed on my arms as I suddenly suspected I wasn’t alone.

  Bracing myself, I slowly turned and gasped. Sunshine spotlighted the woman standing there, which made her look like an angel with her beautiful fair skin and long blond hair.

  But I considered her to be a devil in disguise.

  She let out a gusty sigh. “Why am I not surprised to see you here, Darcy Merriweather?”

  Chapter Five

  Setting a hand over my pounding heart, I backed up a step and leaned against the door. “I’m not sure,” I said to Broomcrafter Glinda Hansel as I tried to catch my breath, “because I’m surprised as hell to see you here.”

  Her nose wrinkled, and the barest of smiles graced her sparkling pink glossy lips. “Did Ms. Goody Two-witch just say ‘hell’? I don’t believe my ears.”

  “What can I say?” I drew my shoulders back and tugged the hem of my T-shirt. “You’re a bad influence.”

  At that she laughed. It was a beautiful melodious sound that only added to her angelic appearance. She adjusted the strap of a pink sundress and said, “I’ll deny it to my last breath.”

  Glinda and I had our many differences, and were what some would call frenemies. Friendly enemies. We were working on being more friends than enemies, but change was hard. We’d become set in our ways over the past year. She’d once had romantic feelings for Nick, and had used her prior relationship with his former wife, Melina (they’d been best friends as teenagers), to get close to his daughter, Mimi. It had been a brilliant plan to worm her way into their lives.

  Once Glinda realized how committed Nick was to me, she’d eventually moved on from him and was currently dating Liam Chadwick, a talented village artist. Even still, about six months ago, her dislike of me got the better of her, which had resulted in her leaving the village police force and driving what we all thought was a permanent wedge between herself and Nick and Mimi.

  However, it turned out that her feelings for Mimi hadn’t been an act, and we’d all eventually called a truce in the interest of Mimi’s happiness.

  Glinda’s and my mutual love for Mimi was truly the only thing holding our so-called friendship together, but that lone tie was enough to firmly anchor our acquaintance.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be downstairs with Clarence?” I asked, wondering what she was doing up here.

  Clarence was Glinda’s energetic golden retriever.
I had a fondness for him, despite whom he belonged to. He was entered in the Wag It category and had a good chance at winning.

  “Liam’s with him.” She pursed her lips. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Missy?”

  “Evan’s covering for me while . . .” I broke off, not wanting to explain why I was following Natasha, who was now out there somewhere, possibly tripping or poisoning people, namely Marigold Coe. “Actually, I need to get going.”

  Glinda grabbed my arm as I turned. “What are you doing up here, Darcy? Did Vivienne Lucas hire you, too?” Suspicion clouded her blue eyes. One sandaled foot tapped a furious beat against the tile floor.

  It took me a moment to process what she’d said. “Vivienne? No, I’m working for Ivy.”

  In addition to putting her Broomcrafting talents to good use at the local art center creating beautiful wooden crafts, Glinda had recently opened a PI agency here in the village, and she hadn’t lacked for clients. One of whom was apparently Vivienne Lucas.

  Glinda let go of my arm, and a pale blond eyebrow shot upward. “Ivy hired you to watch Baz Lucas?”

  “No, not Baz,” I clarified. Sunlight streamed in through tall paned windows, highlighting dust mites floating in the beams. “So, Vivienne hired you to tail Baz?”

  “Yep,” Glinda said. “To catch the cheating bastard in the act.”

  I suddenly recalled that butt pinch in the hallway and felt heat flooding my cheeks. If Vivienne had hired Glinda, then she had to have suspected Baz was stepping out.

  “Do you ever wish you could change the future?”

  Vivienne’s words from yesterday swirled inside my head, creating a tiny storm of empathy, but now I realized what she meant by saying she was trying to take control. Good for her.

  Shaking my head, I said, “I can’t believe he’s cheating.”

  “Well, believe it,” Glinda said. “He’s a cheating dirty dog.”

  It certainly seemed that way. “How long has he been seeing Natasha?”

  “I’m not sure.” She tucked a long blond strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been on the case for a month, but can never seem to catch them in the act. I have a couple of silhouetted pictures and some blurry video of them sneaking around in the dead of night, but nothing definitive. Baz is extremely careful when they meet. He makes sure of that. The money, you know.”