by Nancy Warren
Nyx hopped up on the couch and, curling up against me, began to purr. I wasn’t sure if all familiars were as good as mine, but Nyx had a way of bringing my stress level down. I could feel my heart rate slow and my anxiety dissipate. Calm began to steal over me. We stayed like that for maybe half an hour, and then I sat up with a start. Nyx gave a burp of annoyance. Then she closed her eyes and put her head back down on her paws.
In the quiet, I’d realized something I should have noticed much earlier. I’d missed a clue so obvious I was embarrassed.
I tried to phone Philip Wallington, but I just got an office answering machine. No doubt he was entitled to a Saturday night free, but it didn’t help me. The sense of urgency began to build in my chest.
Think, I told myself. Think.
I really needed to talk to the vicar, and driving twenty miles to try and track him down was not appealing. I didn’t have his mobile phone number or even an email. Just the number for the church office.
I snapped my fingers as I realized I did have a way to get hold of the vicar. I called Harry Bloom, the retired detective, and asked to speak to his wife. When I was connected to Emily, I explained that I needed to talk to Philip. “It’s important.”
I heard her sigh. “I’m not really supposed to do this, but since it’s an emergency and you seem like a sensible person, I’ll give you his number.” Emily Bloom was a sensible woman herself and, having been married to a detective for many years, understood that sometimes crime-solving took precedence over etiquette. I phoned Philip’s mobile, and fortunately he picked up.
When I identified myself, I thought he wished he hadn’t. He said, “How can I help you?” in a cool tone that really said, “I can’t help you. Why don’t you leave me alone?”
I understood his frustration, but I didn’t have time for it. “I won’t keep you long, but I need to clarify something with you. The person that you saw. Was it a drug addiction meeting?”
“Lucy, I really can’t—”
“There is no time to waste. A man’s life is in danger. If you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to go to the police, and by the time they force you to give us the information we need, another life will be lost. Do you really want that on your conscience?” Yes, I was laying it on a bit thick, but from the urgent feeling I had in my chest, I didn’t think I was exaggerating very much.
There was a pause, and I thought he was debating whether to hang up or cooperate. Finally, he said, “No. Not drugs.”
I nodded my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “It was gambling, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
This was the part where I’d been so stupid. “Was Boris Wynter the only person in that meeting who was also at Charlie and Alice’s wedding?”
“No.”
I recalled now how he’d waited when we’d stood in the church parking lot, after I said Boris’s name. He’d stood staring at me before he finally put that hardhat on. Now I understood he’d been waiting for more names. And I’d missed the cue.
“I’m going to give you another name. I don’t have any time for games. This is a matter of life and death. Was he at the same meeting? Yes or no.” I gave him the name.
“Yes,” he said.
It was one of those times when I really hadn’t wanted to be correct.
Now what?
“Lucy,” he said, “be careful. There are dangerous people involved, and they won’t think twice about hurting you.”
Chapter 18
I was trying to decide what my next step should be. One thing I had discovered in my sleuthing was that knowing the truth wasn’t enough. I had to be able to prove it and somehow make sure the right people were caught. But this killer had been clever.
My cell phone rang. It was Violet. Before I had a chance to say hello, she said, “What have you done?” She sounded angry.
I’d said goodbye to her at five o’clock as usual. She hadn’t been mad at me then. In fact, she’d seemed in a really good mood. “I have no idea. What’s going on?”
“I deliberately didn’t tell you my date was tonight, because I knew you’d interfere. Here I am, all dressed up, with this beautiful dinner I had to order from a restaurant and pretend I made myself and he hasn’t shown up.”
That bad feeling I had in my stomach? It started to get worse. Still, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. “Who didn’t show up?”
“As if you didn’t know. Alistair, of course. He was supposed to come for dinner tonight. He said he was looking forward to it.” Her voice started to rise. “He would never stand me up.”
“No. I’m sure you’re right. Alistair wouldn’t miss a date with you without a good reason.”
There was a pause, and I heard her blow her nose. “Are you saying you don’t know where he is?”
“No. Of course I don’t.”
“You didn’t put a spell on him? Or detain him somehow?”
I loved my cousin Violet, and I tried to give her good advice, but I certainly wasn’t about to throw magic around to thwart her love life. “No. I didn’t.”
In a very small voice, she said, “Then he did stand me up. Why do I always pick the wrong men?”
I shook my head. “If I knew that, maybe I could figure out why I always choose the wrong men too.” I really didn’t think he had stood her up, but I didn’t want to tell her that until I knew more. “Have you tried calling him?”
“At least a dozen times. The calls go straight to voicemail.”
“Do you have any idea what he was supposed to be doing today? Before he met you?”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Today was the day he was going climbing. With Boris and Giles. You don’t think something happened to him, do you?”
“Don’t panic,” I said, trying to sound soothing. “I’m going into town to see if I can talk to Sophie Wynter. Hopefully her brother will have some answers.”
“I’m going with you,” Violet said.
That was what I wanted to avoid. “No. You stay where you are. And let me know if Alistair turns up.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I hate sitting here doing nothing.”
“You can do something. If he went climbing and got lost, we’ll have to organize a search party and find him. Get hold of Margaret Twigg. Tell her we’ll need a dozen witches who are experienced fliers. Put them on standby. I’m hoping we won’t need them, but let’s be ready to go in case.”
“All right, Lucy. I’ll call Margaret immediately. That’s a good idea.”
I could not believe I was organizing a search party by flying broom. Either I was losing my mind or I was truly becoming an efficient witch.
I changed into jeans, boots, and a thick sweater. Nyx watched me and then, when I picked up my broom, she jumped down off the couch without even being asked and followed me downstairs out to the car.
I very much hoped I wouldn’t need either the broom or the team of flying witches, but I thought it was best to be on the safe side.
Normally I would never drive the short distance from my flat to downtown Oxford because it wasn’t very far and parking was a nightmare, but I felt time was running out.
I didn’t phone Sophie Wynter to let her know I was coming in case she made some excuse not to see me. Better to surprise her.
By some miracle, I actually found street parking close to the hotel. Leaving Nyx and the broom in the car, I walked into the hotel and, using the lobby phone, called up to Sophie’s room. I was grateful when she answered. “Boris? Is that you? What happened to you? I’ve been worried.”
Oh, dear. “It’s not Boris. It’s Lucy Swift.”
Her tone immediately went cold. “Lucy Swift? Where are you?”
“I’m in the hotel lobby. Can I come up? I want to talk to you.”
I sensed that she was about to refuse, so I added, “It’s about Boris.”
She gave me their suite number, and I took the elevator up to the fourth floor.
She opened the door the minute I knoc
ked. She was impeccably dressed as always, but her eyes looked strained, and she was as pale as one of my vampires. She didn’t say a word of greeting, just held the door open and stepped out of my way so I could walk past her.
She and her brother shared a two-bedroom suite. It was elegant and spacious and, in this part of Oxford, it would be extremely pricey. She didn’t bother with social niceties. “What do you know of my brother?”
I decided to answer her question with one of my own. “Why are you so worried about him?”
She looked at me as though I were an impertinent under-maid arguing with her mistress. Then, seeing her high-handed manner had no impression on me, she dropped the act. “We’re meant to have dinner tonight with friends. Important people. He should’ve been back an hour ago. I’m worried.”
I had to broach a very delicate subject, and I didn’t know how to do it. On the other hand, I didn’t have a lot of time for delicacy. “This is a beautiful suite.”
She glanced around as though she hadn’t even noticed where she was. “It’s not bad. Bit small, and I miss my horses.” I nearly had to put my fingers on my eyeballs to stop the eye roll.
“It must be very expensive.”
If possible, her gaze grew even colder. “Are you looking for a donation for some cause?”
“No. Frankly, I’m wondering how you afford it.”
“Not by answering a lot of stupid questions. I thought you had information about my brother.” She took a step toward the door, no doubt so she could show me out.
“The truth is, I think he might be in trouble.”
From the fearful look in her eyes, I suspected she thought so too.
“Sophie, this is important. Is your brother a gambler?”
If I’d asked her if he juggled burning batons in the street, she couldn’t have looked more surprised. “A gambler? Like one of those villains in James Bond?”
Trust her to imagine some swanky casino on the Riviera. I’d pictured smoky rooms and bookies. But I supposed gambling was gambling. “Yes.”
She shrugged her thin shoulders. “He plays a bit of blackjack, I suppose, but only for fun. Sitting still so much bores him.”
“Then I have to ask you again, where’s the money coming from that funds hotels like this and your obviously expensive lifestyle?”
She went to the in-room fridge and got out a bottle of sparkling water. She poured herself a glass and didn’t offer me one. “Not that it’s any of your business, but our grandfather on Mother’s side made a fortune in home baking.” She raised her thin eyebrows. “Davenport biscuits?”
Even I’d heard of those, and I was from a different country. You could get Davenport biscuits in every supermarket in the UK. I’d often bought them myself.
I had the awful feeling that a theory that had seemed so solid was suddenly crumbling beneath my feet. “Where was your brother today?”
“Lucy, this is becoming tedious. If you don’t have any idea where he is, perhaps you could go and find someone else to bother.”
I ignored her and began to pace. Treading that plush carpet was like walking on clouds. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but your brother’s part of it. I think if we’re going to stop him from doing something stupid, you need to tell me where he was today.”
I thought she’d throw me out then, but from the way she looked at me, I thought she was worried her brother’d done something stupid as well. “They took Alistair climbing. He and Giles. I wouldn’t have worried, except he should have been back by now. And when I call him, there’s no answer.”
So they had gone climbing. I didn’t like the sound of that. I didn’t like the sound of it at all.
“Do you know where they went climbing?”
Visions of a lot of broom-riding witches searching mountainsides began to fill my head. I didn’t relish being one of them. Especially as I was worried we’d be too late.
I have better hearing than most mortals, and I could hear the ding of the elevator arrive. I didn’t think Sophie had heard it. “Somewhere where they had to drive. That’s all I know.”
It wasn’t much to go on, but fortunately I had sisters with some pretty acute powers. Somehow, we’d find them.
“Keep trying to get hold of him on the phone. If you hear from him, please let me know.” I turned back to her. “It’s very important.”
For once she didn’t say something cutting. Merely nodded. “Please find him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Almost before I’d finished the words, I heard the whir of a key card releasing the lock, and then the door to the suite began to open.
Sophie ran toward the door. “Boris,” she cried. “I’ve been so worried.”
Boris was very much alive. He also looked filthy, sweaty, and his face and arms were covered with scratches.
He looked at me, and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Lucy? What are you doing here?”
He looked at Sophie. “We weren’t having dinner with Lucy, were we?”
As if.
“Of course not,” she snapped. “We’re dining with Lord and Lady Ashcroft, and we’re late. Lucy, like me, was worried about you.”
Now he looked even more puzzled. “Why would you be worried about me?”
I was absolutely over these two. I didn’t have time to waste. “Boris, I need to ask you something, and it’s really important that you tell me the truth.”
“Can it wait? I need a shower. And a gin and tonic.”
Honestly, these two and their entitlement. “No. It cannot wait. Where did you go climbing today?”
He glanced at Sophie as though waiting for her to hack me to pieces verbally, but she didn’t say anything. He looked too tired to argue with me. He walked over to one of the soft armchairs. He didn’t bother to take off his boots and managed to track dirt across the million-pound carpet. The chair barely dented as he dropped his weight into it. “I don’t know. Giles knew the place. It was near where Charlie and Alice got married. Moreton-under-Whatsit.”
“Wychwood,” Sophie and I said at the same time.
“Get me a drink, will you, sis?”
For a woman who was so rude to everyone else, she almost ran to do his bidding. Brother Boris was clearly the apple of her eye. After Charlie.
Once more, Sophie opened the fridge. She reached down and pulled out a tiny bottle of gin and another of tonic. She took one look at her brother and pulled out a second gin. As she mixed the drink, she said, “Lucy was asking whether you had a gambling problem.”
Even under the dirt and scratches, I could see his face go red. “Gambling problem? What kind of a stupid question is that?”
I stepped closer so I was standing right in front of him and if he stayed seated, he’d have to look up. “If you don’t have a gambling problem, then why were you seen at a gambler’s anonymous meeting in London?”
Chapter 19
Sophie passed him his drink, and he took a deep slurp. “I thought those meetings were supposed to be secret.”
“Somebody recognized you there.” I didn’t tell them that it was the man who’d run the meeting, Philip Wallington. Let him think we had a mutual acquaintance who lived in London and happened to be at the same gamblers’ meeting as he.
He took another drink. “I went to support a friend. And that’s all I’m going to say.”
“Why? Why did you go?”
He shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. “Because a friend asked me to. That’s why. I don’t know anything about gambling addictions. Didn’t even know this bloke had one, but my friend told me I should go along and be supportive.”
I was asking questions in the dark now. My theory had turned out to be completely wrong, and I was flailing for a new one. “How many meetings did you attend?”
He shook his head. “Just the one.”
“And who was that friend?”
I didn’t think he’d answer, and it was no surprise when he shook his head. “I promised. Goin
g to those things is like going to confession. Everything’s a secret. But when you listen to some of those stories… The trouble people get into, betting they’ll win a fortune. And then they lose everything they have. They don’t stop. They keep going back. They borrow money and lose that. Those people in that meeting, some of them had lost their jobs, their families. Some of them kill themselves. I had no idea it was such a problem.”
“How did you even know your friend had a gambling problem?”
He looked a bit sullen now. “I didn’t. You wouldn’t. You’d never know. A mutual friend told me and asked me to turn up at the meeting. He’d been going as a support person. He couldn’t make it that time. He told me to go and said to tell our friend I was there on his behalf.”
Now, finally, I was beginning to see through the mist of lies and darkness to a glimmer of the truth.
“What did your gambling friend do when you gave them the message? That your mutual friend had sent you?”
He looked at me like it might be a trick question. Then he looked at Sophie, who was standing by the window sipping her water. “He didn’t do anything. His hands were shaking, and he started to sweat. He looked more like an alcoholic or drug addict than a gambler. But after making me promise I’d never tell anyone, he was grateful to me, said whatever happened, I was to look after his family.”
He drank again, deeply. “Put me right off gambling, I can tell you. I won’t even waste a fiver on a lottery ticket anymore.”
“Where are Giles and Alistair now?”
“How should I know? We stopped at the pub in Moreton-under-Whatsit and had a beer. Then I said I had to go, as I had dinner plans.”
“Over an hour ago,” Sophie said in a chill, clipped tone.
“Did Alistair get over his fear of heights?”
He snorted with laughter. “Not really. You can tell he wanted to though. He’s a good bloke, Alistair.”
I leaned in. “And you and Giles are good friends to him.”
He looked uncomfortable. “Try to be.”
I got up to leave. Sophie said, “Why didn’t you answer your phone? Didn’t you know I’d be worried?”
