How the Witch Stole Christmas (Witchless In Seattle Book 5)

by Dakota Cassidy

  I’d heard about this woman and how dismissive she could be if you weren’t of her financial ilk, and today wasn’t a day Cassie Haverstock wanted to test how much I despised that sort of mentality.

  But Cassie surprised me by giving me a warm if not practiced smile. It didn’t quite reach her hazel eyes, wide with surprise and fringed with eyelash extensions, but it did say, “I bet I have a charity you can donate wads of cash to, Stevie Cartwright.”

  “Wow. The séance business has been good to you, huh? It’s so nice to meet you! I’m sorry I haven’t gotten around to it sooner. We love our local businesses. We’d love to have you come to one of our events, Stevie.”

  With my checkbook, of course. “That would be lovely. I’m always happy to donate to a good cause. Until then, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions? I’d be happy to buy you a coffee for a minute of your time.”

  I pointed over my shoulder toward Forrest’s shop, Strange Brew, and smiled as much as my face would allow with the sharp breeze making my lips stick to my teeth.

  “As long as you don’t mind the mess I’m in. I mean, look at me, would you? And I drink tea. Chai tea, actually. Caffeine increases your blood pressure.”

  “Right. So tea then?” I asked as I began to walk before the horde of women piled out of the yoga studio and we found ourselves caught up in the clouds of expensive perfume and perspiration, with plenty of curious stares.

  Cassie followed along beside me, smoothing a hand over the headband that kept her raven ponytail away from her angular face. In the gloomy, overcast day, her pale skin appeared almost gray, making the slash of red lipstick on her mouth rather garish.

  Still, she was beautiful, and maintained from head to toe to within an inch of her life—even after a sweaty yoga class.

  Pulling the door open to Strange Brew to the tune of the cheerful Christmas bells jingling on the handle, I waved to Forrest, who was behind the counter, and winked at Chester, who peered over his morning paper with one bushy eyebrow cocked in question.

  I pulled one of the ice-cream-colored chairs out with a smile and motioned for Cassie to sit. Naturally, she looked calm and collected amidst Forrest’s busy cafe, a beautiful, pastel-colored background for a woman who appeared to have it all.

  Sliding gracefully into the chair opposite me, Cassie crossed her toned, slender legs, folded her hands and waited.

  Awkward silence ensued between us as customers bustled in and out and the jazzy tunes of Kenny G playing “Jingle Bells” wafted through the speakers.

  Cassie and I had little to nothing in common but big bank accounts, so polite small talk was pointless. After one of the waitresses took our orders, I decided full steam ahead was the only way to approach this.

  I watched her from beyond the brim of my cup with careful eyes, unsure how to proceed until I decided I was looking for the one steady in my life—the one constant, reliable source of love and support I’d ever had. It was all or nothing in honor of Bel.

  “Look, Cassie, I’m just going to be blunt here. I think we both know we don’t have a lot in common. Being in different places in our lives and all.”

  Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she, too, sipped her tea, her eyes darting about the festively decorated room before finally settling on me. “You mean you being single and living all alone in that big house on the Sound, and me being happily married with children?”

  I had to admire her guns-a-blazin’ leap into our conversation. It was refreshing. “That’s exactly what I mean. But we do have one thing in common.”

  Her plucked raven eyebrow rose. “Money?”

  “Chef Le June.”

  Her eyebrow lost its jaunty position and her face went paler than the norm. “What about him?” she asked in a clipped tone, almost too quickly for my comfort.

  “He’s dead. You did hear, didn’t you? He died at my house last night.”

  Looking over her shoulder, she let her chin rest on the cap of it when she shrugged with a hint of indifference. “I heard it was probably a heart attack. Poor Petula.”

  “And poor you?”

  Cassie’s sharp intake of breath indicated she knew she’d been caught. Twisting her scarf around her neck, she eyed me without even trying to hide her venom. “Meaning?”

  I wasn’t going to play cat and mouse with this woman. I had no personal grudge against her, but Belfry missing canceled out decorum.

  “Meaning you’ve been seen with Chef Le June in close quarters. If I tell the police I heard information about a certain meeting in a dog park, they’re sure to want to question you. That could be awkward for you and your happy marriage, couldn’t it?”

  “Subtle, Dove. Very smooth indeed,” Win remarked in a dry tone.

  “Bah with your subtle, Winterbutt. Go for her throat, my jelly donut! Squeeze until she cries cousin!”

  I fought a smile and waited for Cassie to answer, keeping my expression as passive as possible.

  “Are you telling me you won’t tell the police you saw me with him if I tell you what was going on?”

  I had two choices here. One, I could use this to get what I wanted, which could amount to nothing more than her telling me they were playing footsie. But there was the small chance Cassie knew he’d been playing footsies with other women, too, just as Enzo had implied.

  She might even know the names of those other women, and they could possibly provide an answer as to why chef was at my house instead of Edmund in the first place. But more, if he had in fact been murdered, they could be potential suspects.

  Or I could simply be honest and tell her Enzo had likely already confessed what he’d seen to the police last night and that’s how I knew about the affair. Clearly, the police hadn’t questioned her yet, but I suspected they wouldn’t be far behind me.

  I decided to fib—because not even my integrity was going to keep me from finding Belfry. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Were you having an affair with Pascal?”

  “Fine,” she huffed with a roll of her eyes. “But it wasn’t exactly an affair. We didn’t love each other or anything so sappy. It was more like an agreement. Pascal was a man with…a large, varied appetite, is probably how I’d label it. I called, he came—until he showed up one day smelling like some French tart. I can abide plenty, but to literally hop from one mistress to another within what could have been only minutes is uncouth at best. So I ended it. No fuss, no muss. Do you understand?”

  Oui, oui. I totally understood that kind of arrangement. “So I assume this varied and large appetite was appeased by a buffet of women? More than just the perfumed French tart?”

  Cassie’s mouth thinned and her posture stiffened. I had to imagine hearing that out loud was a hit to her ego—even if their arrangement was very modern. “I’m sure there was.”

  “And that didn’t bother you?”

  “Should it? Listen, Miss Cartwright. I have a family. A husband. A home. Pascal was just a fun distraction. If he was playing in other sandboxes, he kept it to himself. I only know there was gossip about it but no names were ever mentioned.”

  I fought with everything I had to keep my objectivity for the sake of finding Belfry, but it wasn’t easy. After my ex-fiancé left me at the altar, I wasn’t a fan of infidelity for obvious reasons, but Cassie had children. Distractions hurt children. No one knew that better than me.

  “You said there was gossip about Pascal playing in other sandboxes. Who did you hear talk about these other women?”

  Now she fidgeted, fingering a petal on the fake white poinsettia in the vase on the table. “I honestly can’t remember, and that’s absolutely all I have to say. I’ve owned my part in this. You won’t get anything else out of me because I don’t know anything else.”

  Bet if I put her in my super-duper spy hold she’d remember. Still, something in my gut told me it wasn’t worth it to force the information out of her.

  Pulling my gloves from my purse as an indication our conversation was over, I asked one la
st question for no other reason than to have the answer.

  “Where were you last night, Cassie?”

  “Getting ready for the Christmas Lights Display Contest that never was. Though, I hear you had quite a display.”

  Win said disarming your opponent by doing something they didn’t see coming often caught them off guard. So I ignored her barb by smiling at her. “Do you have any witnesses to confirm your alibi?”

  She scoffed at me, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive pose. “An alibi? What are you, a part-time police officer, too? You really are the busy bee, aren’t you?”

  Now, if all of Win’s lessons panned out, it was time for me to take control by reminding Cassie who was in charge. “No, but I suppose we could always take a spin down to the police station and put in my application.”

  Cassie’s lips pursed, but her eyes appeared resigned. “You can ask Merrill Mathers or Taryn Johnson. We were all outside making last-minute contest preparations before the judges’ arrival.”

  Pulling my gloves on, I tightened the scarf around my neck. “May I ask just one more thing before I let you go?”

  Her eyes flashed fire at me, her anger obvious, but she shrugged dismissively. “Do I have a choice? You did just blackmail me.”

  Instantly, I became irritated. She was a married woman with a dead afternoon delight and she was calling me a blackmailer? The nerve.

  I couldn’t tell her the real reason I was desperate for even a tiny bit of information that might lead to Bel, but I wasn’t going to allow her to turn me into the bad guy either.

  “Oh, please, Cassie. Don’t play the victim. You’re hardly innocent. You were cheating on your husband, after all.”

  That really burnt my britches. Yes, I know it’s because my mother has a jaded past full of other women’s husbands, but even if she didn’t, I still wouldn’t agree with infidelity.

  “Then get on with it and be done. I have somewhere to be,” she snapped, rolling her hand in a gesture of impatience.

  My fists clenched around the handle of my purse, but I managed to keep my temper in check. “Did Petula know about the other women Pascal was fooling around with? Did she know about you?”

  “Nope. As far as I know, she was blind as the proverbial bat. Whether that was intentional or not, I don’t know. I turned a blind eye to it, so I can’t throw stones,” she said, her tone icy as she scooped up her tea. “Are we done here now?”

  Sucking in my cheeks, I rose and picked up my coffee. “I think we are. Have a lovely, infidelity-free day, Cassie.”

  “Bazinga!” Arkady shouted in my ear, quoting Sheldon from Big Bang Theory, one of his favorite shows. But it only made me feel guilty for the inability to keep my personal feelings out of my investigation.

  Turning my back to Cassie, I made my way to the counter, where Forrest was busy arranging muffins in the front counter case.

  His head popped up, his chestnut-colored hair shiny under the recessed lighting above us. “Hello, pretty lady! Can I interest you in a muffin?” Forrest wiggled his eyebrows and held my favorite apple/blueberry muffin with crumbs on top in the palm of his hand, but my appetite was nil at this point.

  “No, but thanks, Forrest. You’re very sweet.”

  “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” He hitched his sharp jaw toward the back in the area of the kitchen.

  “Is it important? I really have to run.” And find my missing familiar.

  “You always have to run, Stevie.”

  Uh-oh. I knew that tone. That was the tone Forrest used when he was getting frustrated with my busy schedule and jam-packed life. Granted, I hadn’t seen a lot of him lately, especially with the Christmas Lights Display Contest taking up so much of my time.

  Though we didn’t really have any kind of dating understanding, there’d been a time or two when he’d expressed his wish to see more of me. But I guess the question really was, did I want to see more of Forrest?

  Why wouldn’t I want to see more of Forrest?

  I think I’ve said as much before, I like him a lot. He’s attractive and hardworking and smart, but… It was the “but” in the equation; I continually struggled to find the words to fill in the blank.

  If nothing else, I wanted to keep things easy between us. I didn’t want hard feelings, but I didn’t want to lead Forrest on either, and lately he’d been hinting at something more. And while he hinted, I ran in the other direction because…

  Because?

  Following him to the kitchen, I pushed the swinging doors open and poked my head around the corner. “I’m sorry, Forrest. Please don’t be upset. It’s just been a crazy time with this Chef Le June business and whatever happened to my house last night. What’s up?”

  He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek when he glanced at me. I assumed he was trying to decide whether he wanted to ask me something, but then his shoulders relaxed and he smiled his handsome smile.

  “I was hoping you might have some free time tonight. Maybe we could grab dinner before the holiday rush? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  My shoulders sagged in defeat. Any other night and I’d have gladly gone. “I…”

  “Can’t, right?” he asked on a sigh full of resignation as he pulled off his apron and dropped it on the shiny island, where the makings of more delicious muffins sat by an industrial blender.

  Regret stabbed me hard, yet what could I say? I can’t have dinner with you because I think my familiar’s been kidnapped? “I’m sorry, Forrest—”

  But he held up his hand and shook his head as he approached me. “It’s fine, Stevie.” Then he paused and gripped my shoulders, looking down at me with serious eyes. “Listen, can I ask you something? And I want you to be really honest with me. Let’s just get everything out in the open.”

  I hesitated for a moment, my stomach churning. I think I knew what he was going to ask me, I just wasn’t sure how to answer. “Of course. You can ask me anything.”

  “Is it someone else you’re waiting around for? Someone you hope to get back together with? Someone you can’t forget?”

  I’m sure my eyes revealed my confusion and my evasion. What was it holding me back from dating him full time? Forrest was everything any sane woman could want. But… There was that word again.

  For lack of anything better to say, I stuttered, “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You do know what I mean, Stevie. Why can’t you fully commit to dating me? Is it someone else?”

  “But that’s crazy, Forrest. Who else could there be? If I were dating someone else, don’t you think you’d know about it? I mean, nothing is much of a secret here in Eb Falls.”

  His hands fell away from my shoulders and he took a step back, his body language saying tense with a side of frustrated. “I dunno. Maybe it’s someone from your past? A bad relationship you can’t get over? I have no idea. I just know you duck and run a lot, and while I dislike ultimatums, I find myself thinking about throwing one at you more than I care to admit.”

  My throat grew tight and threatened to choke off my next words, but I managed to get them out. “I like you, Forrest. I like you so much. I’m just not ready…”

  “Ready to find out if we could be something more.” His nod was sharp as he appeared to accept his words—which weren’t far off the mark, by the way. “Well, I am ready. I guess we’re just in two different places, and that’s okay. But in the meantime, I won’t be a place card for someone else while you figure it out.”

  I’d never looked at it like that. I’d never meant for it to be like that. Reaching for his arm, I gripped it, only managing to grab onto the sleeve of his shirt. “I…I…”

  He took another step backward and shook his head once more, loosening my hand from his sleeve as he did. “It’s okay, Stevie. Really. I get it. I just needed to hear it straight for a change.”

  Tears began to fill my eyes. I didn’t want this between us—us at odds like this, a
wkward and weird—but it was unfair of me to hope we could occasionally see one another if Forrest was looking for someone steady.

  I was prepared to say as much when I heard Petula’s hysteria-filled voice from the dining area. “How could you, Cassie Haverstock! How could you do something like this to me?”

  Chapter 9

  My eyes met Forrest’s just before I flew back out to the dining area to find Petula, her face jammed into Cassie Haverstock’s as she used her body to keep her cornered right next to the tabletop Christmas tree Chester and I had decorated only a couple of weeks ago.

  The ornaments bounced on the limbs of the small tree as Petula widened her threatening stance, cramping Cassie until she had no means of escape.

  “Petula!” I yelled as I ran to the far corner and gripped her shoulders to pull her from Cassie. “Stop, Petula!”

  When she whirled around, losing her focus on Cassie, Petula looked like she’d been through the wringer. Her hair stuck out at awkward angles from her head, strands stuck together as though she’d aimed wrong with her hair gel. Her soft eyes were wild as she finally appeared to truly see me. The moment she looked up at me, she crumpled, her typically smiling face falling way to complete misery.

  “Did you hear, Stevie?” she cried.

  I couldn’t bear her humiliation on front of everyone in the café. “Come with me, Petula. Come sit with me and tell me what’s going on,” I coaxed, in an attempt to get her away from Cassie, who was simply green about her paler-than-pale gills.

  As though she now realized she’d made a scene, Petula slumped against me, trembling.

  “How dare you attack me in a public place, you animal!” Cassie accused, sticking a finger in the air in Petula’s direction, her voice pitched high and full of outrage.

  But her outrage didn’t last long when I glared at her as Chester physically took Petula from me and led her to a table.

  I leaned into Cassie “Downward Facing Dog Queen” Haverstock and whispered with deliberate menace, “I’m pretty sure you have somewhere else to be, don’t you? I’m also pretty sure you don’t want me to share where you’ve been, now do you?”