Stuck in the Middle Witch You (A Middle Witch Mystery Book 1)

by Danielle Finch

  “Making sure Big Ears is gone. Why did you tell Gigi what happened? You had to have known she was going to flip.”

  “Hey,” Ember said, holding up her hands. “You don’t have to attack me. I only asked her if it’s possible for our powers to work without an incantation. She said it isn’t, and then she started drilling me about why I was asking. I had to change the subject before she figured out why I was asking, so I told her what happened with Seth and Jason. I never said anything about you using your power. She figured that out on her own.”

  “Why did you ask her that in the first place?”

  “Because I never heard Raine say anything before the coffee spilled. Did you?”

  I though back to the moment when the coffee cup had tipped over, and realized Raine hadn’t uttered a word. That’s what had been bothering me. Without an incantation, we couldn’t draw on our powers or cast a spell or a curse.

  “You’re right, she never said anything,” I said. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think she was telling the truth when she said she didn’t do it.”

  “I think so too, but it still doesn’t make any sense. A coffee cup doesn’t just fall over by itself. Maybe we could ask Violet?”

  Ember looked at me in disbelief. “You’re not serious?”

  I considered what I had just said, and quickly realized what a dumb idea it was. We both knew Violet would tell Gigi, and we would end up right back where we were a few minutes ago.

  “We’ll have to figure it out later. We need to get going.” I plucked a pair of tiny emerald earrings off my dresser, put them on, then turned to face Ember. “Does this outfit look all right?”

  She gave me the once-over. “Sure. Very waitress-y.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said. “Don’t you think you should get dressed?”

  Ember dashed out of my room and down the hall to hers. Three minutes later, she was back, and even though we were both wearing similar white shirts and black pants, she somehow looked more put-together than I did. That had always been something I was a little jealous of: No matter what Ember was wearing, she always managed to make it look effortless. I don’t know if it was because she was taller than me, or slimmer, or that her caramel-colored hair had just the right amount of highlights, but whatever it was, I didn’t have it. It was annoying, and she knew it.

  The door flew open, and Raine stood there. “I can’t find my black flats.”

  “Did you actually look for them?” Ember asked.

  “Of course I looked for them. Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “You said it, not me.”

  “I didn’t say I was stupid.”

  “Don’t bother, Raine, you’re fighting a losing battle,” I said.

  “And speaking of losing,” Ember said, “ever since you got back from Europe you’ve been losing things,” Ember pointed out. “Did you leave your memory there too?”

  “I’ve just misplaced a thing or two lately,” Raine said.

  Ember snorted. “A thing or two?” She started counting off on her fingers. “Your keys, hairbands, necklace, toothbrush. Shall I go on?”

  “Okay, so maybe more than a couple,” Raine said grudgingly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  “Then tell me, how on earth does someone misplace their toothbrush?”

  “Enough!” I said, holding my arms out like a referee. Usually, I could tune out their bickering, but I could feel time slipping away—and the catering job with it. I pointed a finger at Raine. “You. Forget the flats and wear your black boots.” I turned to Ember. “And you, leave her alone and go get in the car.”

  They looked at each other and then looked at me.

  “Now!”

  “Say the magic word,” Ember said, with a grin.

  “Don’t start,” I warned.

  “It’s just a simple little word,” Ember taunted.

  “Yeah,” Raine chimed in. “Say it.”

  “I’ve had it with you two,” I said, and walked out of the room.

  “Aw, come on, just say it.” Ember followed me.

  “I’ll be in the car,” I said as I ran down the stairs. I grabbed my keys and jacket, and made the mistake of looking back up the stairs.

  They were both standing at the top looking down at me.

  “Say it or we’re not coming down,” Ember said.

  “Yeah,” Raine said, giggling. “Say it.”

  “You know,” I said slowly. “Gigi said we shouldn’t use our magic in public, but she never said anything about doing it in private.” I took a step toward the stairs.

  Raine let out a little scream and ran behind Ember, trying to hide.

  “You’re bluffing,” Ember said.

  “Care to try me?” I dared her, and held up my hands and wiggled my fingers for effect.

  She looked at me for a long moment and then made her decision. “Didn’t you say something about being late?”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, and turned and walked out the front door.

  Chapter 7

  We piled in my car and headed back to Aura. Instead of taking the front passenger seat like she normally would, Ember let Raine take it, and had placed herself in the seat behind mine. If she thought that made her safe from me, she was wrong. I hit the gas, and rolled down my window. The incoming wind only grazed me, but in the back, it created a mini-hurricane.

  “Nothing like a fresh ocean breeze to clear your head, right, Ember?” I glanced up at the rearview mirror to see Ember’s hair blowing wildly, obscuring her face. She didn’t answer; she was too busy yanking strands of hair out her mouth. I stifled a laugh.

  A few minutes later, we were at the café. Jason’s van was parked at the side entrance, and he was standing by the kitchen door, waiting for us.

  “You look great,” I said as I unlocked the door. He was wearing black jeans, a white shirt, and a blue-and-black tie with an unusual pattern on it. I took a closer look. The pattern I had thought was abstract was actually interlocking leaping dolphins.

  “Like my tie?” he asked.

  “It’s, uh, unusual.”

  “Thanks! I got it at a garage sale. Only fifty cents.”

  “You definitely got your money’s worth.” What else could I say?

  “I got a haircut, too,” he said. “What do you think?”

  I thought it looked exactly the same as it did this morning. “Looks great.”

  “Good. I was worried it was too short.” He gently patted his hair.

  “Awesome tie!” Raine said as she came up behind us.

  “I know, right?” He held it out proudly.

  Ember took a quick glance at it as she walked past them, looked at me, and stuck her finger down her throat.

  We left them standing there gawking over the “awesome” tie.

  Inside the café, I entered the walk-in cooler and started bringing out the food I had prepared. I gave myself a mental pat on the back as I carried out containers and trays of thinly sliced smoked salmon, tiny cherry tomatoes stuffed with locally-made herbed goat cheese, cucumber cups filled with a spicy crab mixture, and a variety of spreads to be spooned onto the fresh baguettes Jason had brought earlier.

  We loaded up the bakery van, took one last check to make sure we had everything, and then headed off to the gallery. Raine rode with Jason, and Ember and I followed in my car.

  The Davis Gallery was located in the center of the town. The buildings in this area of town were newer and bigger, but didn’t have quite the same charm of the shops on Main Street.

  The gallery was on a corner and I parked on the street beside the building’s rear gravel parking lot. There was only one vehicle in the lot, but it was parked close to one side of the gallery door and there was a dumpster on the other side, so I guided Jason as he backed up the van.

  “When we've finished unloading, move the van, and park it on the street,” I said as he got out and opened the rear doors. He climbed in and st
arted handing items to Ember and Raine.

  I tried the handle on back door of the gallery, but it was locked. I knocked and heard a muffled voice.

  “Coming! Just a moment.”

  The door opened and the owner, Martin Davis, stood there towering over me. He looked like a praying mantis in a black turtleneck—all long arms and legs. His receding hairline and the round-frame glasses he wore only enhanced the buggy effect.

  “Bree, good to see you. Right on time!”

  He took both my hands in his and shook them vigorously. His hands were damp, and he must have realized it because he quickly let go.

  “My apologies,” he said as he waved his hands in the air to dry them. “I was just cleaning up.” The smell of pine cleaner wafted out the open door behind him. “I’ve been run off my feet trying to get ready for tonight. Who would have thought a simple cocktail party would require so much effort?”

  “I know what you mean.” I discreetly wiped my hands on my pants. “We’ve had a bit of a crazy day ourselves.” To say the least. “It'll just take us a few minutes to unload the van and then we'll get everything set up.”

  Ember gave Martin a perfunctory nod as she slid between us with a plastic tub full of dishes in her arms. Martin returned Ember’s nod with one of his own and moved aside. Jason and Raine followed behind with more supplies.

  “It looks like you have everything under control,” Martin said. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  We got everything out of the van and into the tiny kitchen. I put Raine in charge of slicing the baguettes while Ember unwrapped all the containers. Jason’s job was to unload the dishes we would be using and set up the portable convection oven. It was a tight squeeze in the small space, but we managed to avoid stepping on each other's toes.

  When it looked like everything was under control, I ducked out into the main gallery. I had been there before with Stacey when we were planning the event. The room was enormous. Light poured in from the windows that covered the entire front wall facing the street, and the other three walls held paintings. Display tables were dotted around the room supporting sculptures, jewelry, and pottery. Everything was locally made, even the display tables.

  The last time I had been there, a small movable wall had taken up the center of the room. That's where I had seen Seth Bateman's work for the first time.

  I was far from an expert, but my initial response to his paintings was, I could do that. I'm sure a lot of skill went into his work, but all I saw were streaks, spatters, and dabs of different-colored paint. There was nothing recognizable. Today, though, the paintings were gone, and the movable wall had been pushed back against a far wall. A table now dominated the center of the room, holding a white, foam-core architect’s model of Grant Bateman’s proposed resort.

  “It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Martin asked. He stood beside me as I examined the model.

  “It’s impressive,” I replied. And not what I had expected. When I’d first heard about the plan to build on Breakers Beach, I had worried it would be a massive resort. “It really fits nicely into the area.”

  “Have a look at this,” Martin said and pulled a sheet of paper from a stack beside the model. “This is an artist's rendering.”

  The drawing was in full color and so detailed it almost looked like a photograph. It depicted a long, rectangular two-story building with a curved roof. Stone paths branched off on either side and led to groupings of smaller buildings that were interspersed between the stands of trees. All the buildings were set well back from the beach.

  Martin leaned over my shoulder. “That's the main building with the reception area, restaurant, and meeting rooms. Those smaller buildings are the luxury guest quarters. And this here,” he said, tapping his finger on another building, “is the Artist in Residence Lodge.”

  I looked up at Martin in surprise and then back down at the paper. In one corner of the drawing, a legend described each building and its function. The last entry read: Building H, Artist in Residence, Seth Bateman, Internationally Renowned Artist.

  “He designed this specifically for—”

  “Seth? Yes, well, sort of. If you know anything about Grant Bateman, you know that everything he does is for his benefit. This is just another way of stacking the deck in his favor.”

  “I didn’t realize Seth was famous,” I said. After seeing Seth’s work, I found it hard to believe anyone would actually pay money for it.

  Martin snorted. “He’s not. I mean, he’s sold a few pieces, but he’s certainly not ‘internationally renowned,’ as Grant puts it.”

  “Wow,” I said. “This guy will go to any length to get what he wants. His sister wasn’t exaggerating.”

  Martin looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

  “I had a conversation with her this morning,” I explained. “She filled me in on Grant and Seth’s relationship. Apparently, Grant sent her as an emissary to convince Seth to show up, but she never mentioned this.” I pointed at the building in the picture. “This must be Grant’s Plan B.”

  “Actually, I think I’m Plan B.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Grant wanted me to call Seth and tell him an art critic was coming tonight and wanted to meet him and discuss his work.”

  “That’s pretty underhanded.”

  “I’d say it’s par for the course. He’s a man used to getting what he wants. By any means necessary.”

  After our morning interaction at the café, I couldn’t disagree.

  “Personally, I think this is ridiculous,” Martin said, and waved his hand over the model. “He should have saved his money. Seth won’t fall for this. He may have a big ego, but he’s not going to let his brother dictate where he lives and works.”

  “Did you call him then?”

  “I tried, but he didn’t answer his phone. Not that that’s a surprise. If he’s in the middle of a painting, he won’t stop for anything. Grant wasn’t pleased when I told him, but I imagine he has a Plan C ready to go, even if it involves tying Seth up and dragging him here. Grant is a very stubborn man.”

  “Just like his brother,” I said.

  “Exactly. Their only difference is the amount of money they have, and Grant Bateman has a lot of that. When he approached me with the plan of hosting the event here, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” The corners of Martin’s mouth turned down in distaste. “We all have bills to pay, don’t we?”

  “Yes, and—” Loud voices erupted from the kitchen before I could finish.

  “Go, go,” Martin said and waved his hand in the direction of the kitchen. “It sounds like your sisters need you.”

  “Par for the course,” I said, and headed to the kitchen.

  Chapter 8

  In the kitchen, I found Ember and Raine facing off. Jason was standing in the corner with a plastic tub in his hands.

  “I told you, I didn't put it there,” Ember said.

  “You did,” Raine argued. “It wasn’t there two minutes ago.”

  “Hold it down, you guys,” I said, closing the kitchen door behind me. “What on earth is going on?”

  “Look,” Raine said, and pointed to the floor.

  A squished tube of blue paint lay on the ground, its contents smeared everywhere. Raine lifted her foot. Globs of paint clung to the side of her pant leg.

  “How did that happen?” I asked.

  “Ask her,” Raine said, pointing to Ember. “She put it there.”

  “And I told you I didn't,” Ember said. “I tell you, Bree, she's losing it.”

  “I'm not losing it—you did it.”

  “Why would I put a tube of paint on the floor for you to step on? You’re crazy.”

  “Because you want me to screw up. You're the one who said this catering thing was a bad idea.” As soon as Raine said the words, she slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Jason, could you…” I glanced around the room, spotted a stack of napkins on the table, and snatc
hed them up. “Could you place these around the gallery?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He nodded furiously, grateful for an excuse to leave. He dropped the tub on the table, grabbed the stack of napkins, and took off out the door.

  I turned to face Ember. “You said this was a bad idea?”

  Ember sighed and put down the knife she was holding. “Yes, I did. Don’t you think we have enough work running the café? I think this is too much for us to handle.”

  “But we agreed to do this. Why are you changing your mind?”

  “I’m not changing my mind about anything. I told you when you first brought up the idea that I didn't think it would work, but I would be willing to try it. Well, I've tried it and I don't like it.”

  “It's because of Matt,” Raine said.

  “Is that true?” I asked Ember. I knew she and Matt hadn’t been spending a lot of time together in the last few months. Chief Maxwell, who used to be the supervising chief for both Diamond and Emerald islands, had retired, and a replacement had only recently been found—but he hadn’t shown up yet. As senior deputy, Matt had to handle all the work Maxwell used to do until the new guy arrived. While I don’t think Matt minded the extra work, Ember hated it.

  “No. Maybe. I don't know. We barely get any time together as it is. With him doing all this extra work and me at the café, we hardly see each other.”

  “Why didn't you say something before we committed to Stacey?” I was trying to hold my temper, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Because you had it in your head that this was a good idea for Aura, and what's good for Aura must be good for us.”

  There was a quiet knock on the door and Martin stuck his head in. “People are arriving,” he whispered.

  “We’ll be right out,” I said. “Raine, wipe the paint off your pants.” I turned to Ember. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  Over the next hour, Raine and I circulated throughout the room serving the large crowd. The investors we had seen earlier in the day were there as well as a number of local business-owners, and even David Hobson, the mayor. I saw Stacey in the corner where a table had been set up as a bar. She had a young woman with her, and they were pouring wine for the guests. She smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.