I put another bagel into the toaster, set a short timer, and poured a cup of coffee for myself. “You didn’t tell them about the argument you and Evan had after the rehearsal, did you?” I asked, carrying it into the dining room.
“I did,” Francois replied, a defiant set to his angular jaw. “I told them the truth. I said that Evan Stimpton was a sniveling brat from an overrated family and that he had more money than common sense or good taste!”
I closed my eyes. “Oh, Francois.”
“I told them I personally prepared the food he was served that afternoon because I wanted full control of every detail, down to the garnishes.”
“How did they even know you prepared his plate separately?” I asked, warming my hands on my mug of coffee.
“Apparently, I have a rat in my kitchen. A chef’s worst nightmare, literally and figuratively, it would seem.”
“So, what’s next?”
“They search. And unless they plant something, they’ll come up empty. I don’t keep potions or potion ingredients in my kitchen. Everything I cook is delicious because I made it, not because of some artificial trick.” He lifted his chin. Even under the spotlight of a murder investigation, he retained his pride.
“The SPA isn’t going to plant something, Francois.” I kept my expression neutral, even as anger flared under the surface at his prickly suggestion. “Caleb is an honest man and a good agent.”
Francois didn’t look convinced. After a moment, he waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s not argue, Ana.”
The toaster pinged and I stood from the table, happy for the interruption.
“This is a nice place you’ve got here. Somehow, just as I expected. Minimal but classy.”
I spread jam on the bagel and topped off my coffee. “Thank you.”
Stepping back into the dining room, I sighed. “I’ve got at least two more months to enjoy it, I guess.”
Francois cocked his head. “You’re moving?”
“Most likely.”
“In with the boyfriend?” he asked, and I couldn’t tell if he approved of disapproved of this idea. He’d been the one to inform me of Caleb’s interest in me after our first meeting. He’d not-so-secretly been hoping Caleb would flash those blue eyes his direction, but was happy enough when they landed on me instead. Since then he’d been one of the most ardent supporters of my relationship with the handsome agent.
“I quit my job, remember?”
“Mon Dieu, Ana. I assumed you would have patched that up by now.”
I snorted. “Not sure there is much to patch. I quit, and by now, I’m sure Hyacinth has already given my position to Kait Gerrick.”
Francois pulled a face and I laughed. “Yeah.”
“What even happened?” he asked, casually snatching one half of the bagel from my plate. “I’m supposed to be off carbs this month, but…” he trailed off and took a sinful bite.
“In a word, Hyacinth happened.”
“I’m going to need a little more,” Francois said, rolling his fingers through the air as he leaned back in his chair and took another bite. “Hyacinth is a beast, I’ll grant you that, but that’s not nearly enough reason to quit.”
“Apparently, it is,” I replied, lacing my hands together. “Ever since my promotion to wedding planner, she’s shone some kind of spotlight on me, watching my every move, just waiting to pounce and rip me to shreds. It started after the Swan rehearsal dinner near-miss, then a month later it was the Vanguard disaster, six months ago I got tangled up in the attack on Aurelia, and now this. It’s one too many scandals.”
“None of those things were your fault,” Francois insisted.
“I know, but Hyacinth wasn’t going to let it go. She flew into the chapel—literally—and started screaming at me like a deranged harpy, and I just … snapped.”
Francois blinked. “Dieu. I never thought you’d actually leave the firm. What are you going to do now?”
I laughed, the sound short and hollow. “That’s the million dollar question.”
“Seems the Stimpton wedding’s left a mark on both of us.” He polished off the last bite of bagel and brushed his fingertips together, ridding them of the crumbs. “I should probably leave you to your day. With any luck, your boyfriend’s attack dogs will pick up a new scent trail and leave me alone. I probably should call the bartender from the reception and give him a warning. I have his number somewhere. He works at that martini bar on Everlight.”
“Persimmon?” I asked.
Francois nodded. “That’s the one.”
“You’re not talking about Guy Hansen, are you?”
Francois snapped his fingers. “Yes, thank you. I was having a devil of a time coming up with it.”
I frowned. “Why would Caleb’s agents go after Guy?”
“Because he was the one sending drinks down to Stimpton and his band of merry men.” Francois ran a hand through his coiffed curls. “So, when they realize it wasn’t something from my kitchen, he would be their next logical stop, and I might have pointed that out during our little tete-a-tete.”
He smiled, the edges a little too sharp. “I suppose I should feel bad. He seems nice enough. Asked me to come to his bar sometime for a drink, on the house. He’s cute, too.”
I’d hired Guy for the wedding. He normally worked at Persimmon and occasionally filled in at Luna. I’d gotten to know him after Harmony had introduced us and had hired him for a few wedding events. He was handsome, whip-smart, and made killer signature drinks, tailored to each occasion. He checked every box.
“Did Guy have issues with Evan, too?” I asked Francois. “He didn’t mention anything to me when I saw him before the ceremony.”
Francois hitched one slim shoulder. “Let’s just say, he didn’t have anything nice to say about the guy. Apparently, they have a history.”
“What kind of history?”
And, perhaps more importantly, why hadn’t Guy mentioned it to me when I’d called to book him for the reception? I’d given him the bride’s and groom’s names.
“I don’t know, but he said something along the lines of “he’s always been like that”, which gave me the impression they knew each other. Look, I’m not saying he had anything to do with it, but that poison had to come from somewhere, and Guy was making sure Evan and his goons were well lubricated.”
I drew in a breath. “Caleb will figure it out. He always does. In the meantime, just keep your head down and let things blow over.”
Francois didn’t look convinced, but he nodded amiably and rose from the table. “We’ll see. All I know is that if they try to throw me in some SPA jail cell, they’re going to have a fight on their hands.”
Chapter Nine
Evan Stimpton’s obituary appeared in the morning’s Haven Herald, the nationwide newspaper for all things supernatural. The funeral was set for the following weekend. I circled it in the paper and made a note to send flowers because it was the right thing to do. Glancing at the clock, I tried to decide what to do with myself for the day. Harmony was off at her potion class. CeeCee was working. Caleb too.
My knee bounced as I mentally flipped through my options. I could go back to the bookstore, and this time, skip the whole nervous breakdown part and actually enjoy myself. Or, at least try. Maybe it would be better to get a jump on the job search. I could venture into the human side of Seattle and see what I could find out. It couldn’t hurt to take my resume around to some of the larger event-planning firms. I still had acquaintances in the human division of A Touch of Magic Events. They might know if there were openings at the competing firms.
As I weighed my options, I closed the paper. Perhaps I’d first stop by and visit Charlene. Sending flowers to the funeral was impersonal and cold. I wasn’t employed by the firm, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t follow through with the job as if I were. After all, it wasn’t likely that Hyacinth had done much more than send a gift basket to the family in order to keep the firm in their good graces for future event
s.
I dressed and made my way to the flower shop a few blocks from my building. Armed with a sympathy card and an arrangement of tulips, I hopped a Shimmer Bus to Lakewood Estates, a posh building in the center of town that provided its esteemed residents stunning mountain views and walkability to anything they could possibly need. The high-end units started in the million-dollar range, and Evan Stimpton had a penthouse. I didn’t even want to know how much he’d paid for it.
A doorman ushered me inside and I took the elevator to the top floor. A security guard was stationed outside the door, and I had to wait while he called inside via radio to make sure I was welcome. When he was granted permission, he stepped aside and gestured one meaty hand to usher me forward.
Before I could knock, the door swung open and a face I recognized appeared. “Hello, Clive,” I greeted in a hushed tone. He was one of Evan’s groomsmen, though I’d been told he’d been Charlene’s friend first. He was of average height and build but carried himself with the kind of confidence that came along with being wealthy. He was neither handsome nor ugly, with an oval face, grey eyes, and a somewhat pointed nose. He wore spectacles and frequently pushed them up, almost like it was more nervous habit rather than necessity.
“Hello, Ms. Winters,” he said with a bob of his head.
“Ana, please,” I corrected, extending the flower arrangement. “I wanted to drop these by for the family and offer my condolences. Everything was so chaotic on Sunday, and I never got the chance to properly express my sympathies.”
Clive took the bouquet. “Would you like to come in?”
“Is Charlene here?” I asked. The engaged couple had shared the luxury apartment for the last two years, though I wasn’t sure if she had claim to it legally now that Evan was gone. Her family was wealthy but not in the same way Evan’s was. If she wasn’t on the deed, I had no doubt his family’s lawyers would send her packing so they could sell it off.
Clive shook his head. “She’s with Evan’s parents, helping with the preparations for the funeral. It’s this Saturday.”
I nodded. “I saw in the Herald.”
“Of course.” Clive took a step away from the door and I followed, sheer curiosity beckoning me to enter the penthouse.
It was breathtaking. Flooded with natural light from the wall of glass on one side, everything was modern with clean, sharp lines, bright and minimalist. Art hung on the walls but almost melted into the room. The real attraction was the view of Mt. Rainier.
Clive set the flowers down in the kitchen on a huge marble-topped island. I followed and placed the sympathy card beside the vase. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I’m no longer with A Touch of Magic Events.” I paused and licked my lips nervously. It still wasn’t easy to say out loud.
“Yes, someone called and informed Charlene. Yesterday, I believe.” Clive leaned against the island and crossed his arms. “They offered their services if we wanted help planning Evan’s service. Charlene hung up on them. It all seemed a little tacky.”
“Oh,” I winced. “Well, I apologize for that. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Stimpton have things in hand, but if there is anything I can do, please feel free to call.”
“Thank you, Ana.”
An awkward silence settled between us and I cleared my throat. “Well, I suppose I should go. Please, pass along my condolences to the family, again. I can only imagine what they’re going through.”
Clive’s grey eyes considered me for a moment. “Is it true that you’re dating an SPA agent? The one in charge of the investigation?”
I blinked.
“One of the bridesmaids saw the two of you together at the chapel,” Clive offered.
“Uh—well, yes.” I nodded, unsure why he was asking.
“Do they know who did this? The agents told Charlene that Evan was poisoned.”
My fingers twisted together. The last thing I wanted to do was inadvertently share something about the investigation that wasn’t meant for the public. Not that Clive was the general public, of course. He was the victim’s friend. He deserved to know what was going on, didn’t he?
“I don’t know a lot,” I started, cautiously, “but yes, something he ate or drank was laced with a deadly potion. I think they’re still working on narrowing down the exact source.”
“I see. And they’ve arrested the caterer?”
“Questioned, not arrested,” I replied.
“Mhmm.”
“Let me ask you a question.”
Clive inclined his head. “Shoot.”
“Do you know Guy Hansen? He was a bartender at the reception.”
Clive barked a short laugh. “Oh, yes. We all went to academy together. Evan, Charlene, Guy, me. Almost the entire wedding party, really. It’s a very small world when you run in the circles we do.”
AKA, when you’re magically inclined and filthy rich.
“Guy comes from money, though you wouldn’t know it by the way he lives now,” Clive added, huffing another short laugh. “He didn’t fit his family’s cookie-cutter plan, and they disowned him. See, there’s a certain set of rules we all have to play by. And if you don’t fall in line, you get shut out in the cold. No money, no connections, and next thing you know, you’re slinging martinis seven nights a week and sleeping in a one-bedroom walk-up.”
I bristled. Thanks to my career, I had money and a nice condo (though, still only one bedroom, which was apparently unacceptable), but it hadn’t always been that way. Clive’s contempt for those with less than he was startling and more than a little offensive.
Something else prickled at me, needling under the surface of my skin. If Guy had been thrown out of his family and was then thrust into a situation where he was literally serving those who’d once been his social equals, would that be enough to push him to want to do something to get back at his former classmates? Something like lace their drinks and hope to make them sick? Maybe he hadn’t meant to kill anyone, just humiliate them, the way he likely felt in their presence.
“I really don’t know anything else about the investigation,” I said quickly, reaching up to adjust my purse strap. “Thank you for your time, though. And, again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Clive shrugged and pushed away from the kitchen island. “Sure.”
He escorted me to the door and I hurried to the elevator, his stare boring into my back. When I stepped inside, I turned and found him lingering in the doorway. He said something to the security guard, smiled at me, and then disappeared inside.
After leaving Lakewood Tower, I went across town to the SPA headquarters building, a glass fortress that housed all official SPA operations in the state of Washington. Most supernaturals lived in one of the havens, but there were pockets that congregated in other places, like Holly. She lived in Beechwood Harbor, and while she was surrounded by humans, there were also vampires, werewolves, witches, wizards, telepaths, psychics, and shifters.
Personally, I didn’t see the appeal of living somewhere without magic, but to each their own. The SPA had to manage all magical mischief, be it inside a haven or not, and had a network of regional offices spread across the world to help them with the task. Known troublemakers were attached to a case worker who acted as a guardian or warder, depending on the variety and level of past offenses. Generally, any supernatural living outside the haven had extra eyes on them, at least for a little while, to make sure they were blending into the human world and not drawing unwanted attention.
Caleb only worked cases inside the Seattle Haven, which was a relief. He worked enough hours as it was. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if he had to travel all over the state, chasing leads and doing extended stakeouts. I’d never see him! He held an office on the fifth floor of the headquarters building, and by now, his secretary knew to let me through without question, anytime of day. As I passed her desk, I stopped to offer her a goodie from the box I’d picked up at the bakery on the way. Karla grinned and timidly picked a chocolate chip cookie.
&nbs
p; “Thank you, Ana,” she said as I handed her a napkin.
“Anytime, Karla.” I waved and continued on to Caleb’s office.
Caleb was on the phone, his back to me, as I stepped inside. Silently, I placed the box on the edge of his desk and took a seat, waiting.
“Have them recheck everything. If there’s so much as a drop, I want to hear about it,” he said, his tone tense. His shoulders were too, I noted, studying the lines of his back. As he split his time between the office and field work, he tended to wear business casual clothing. Polo shirts versus full button-ups and slacks that looked polished but had enough give that allowed him free movement, and black Dr. Martens instead of stiff loafers.
He hung up, turned and stopped short. “Ana!”
“Sorry,” I squeaked. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
He placed the phone down. “It’s fine, you just startled me. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
I held up the box of pastries. “Just in the neighborhood and thought you and the team might need a hit.”
He chuckled as he lifted the lid. “Mmm. How am I supposed to choose?”
“I’d recommend the chocolate éclair. I might have already sampled that one on the way here.”
He laughed and scooped the pastry from the box. I handed him a napkin and he placed it under the donut before taking a bite.
I put the box down on the corner of his desk and set the pile of remaining napkins on top. Caleb could distribute them to the rest of his team later. “Also, I just found out some info that you might want to have.”
“You playing junior detective, now?” Caleb asked, one eyebrow raised.
I sat down in one of the visitor chairs and Caleb followed my lead, sitting in his office chair. He took another bite and then placed the donut off to one side of a stack of paperwork and folders. “What’s going on?”
“Well, Francois stopped by my place this morning,” I started, a hint of an edge to my tone. “Why didn’t you tell me he was a suspect?”
Witchy Weddings: A Magic Witch Mystery Series: The complete Touch of Magic series Page 37
