by Cate Lawley
Richard escorted us out of the house with great efficiency—I’d say haste, but for the fact that he maintained his butlerlike decorum.
Once outside the house, Alex clapped Ben on the back. “Good job, Kawolski. I might like you.”
“Thanks?” Ben loosened his tie. “It seemed the decent thing to do. Please tell me I’m not on the hook for a goat sacrifice or something equally bizarre. You mentioned cremation before. I can handle cremation.”
Alex got that shifty, trouble-ahead look I knew way, way too well. “Eh, we’ll talk about it if Lydia lets you conduct the service.” Then he grinned at Ben. “But if she takes you up on your offer, you might have an in with the Society.”
My feet tangled underneath me, and only Alex’s quick reflexes kept me from wiping out in Lydia’s driveway.
“That’s brilliant, Alex.” I almost wanted to hug him. Almost. I was well past the breakup stage that included wanting to do physical violence to him, but hugs were a long, long way off.
“You’re welcome,” he replied with a touch too much arrogance.
What did I ever see in the cocky twerp? Actually, that was unfair. He was an incredible wizard. And he had talent tempered by good judgment. He also had a big heart.
Fine, he was a decent guy. He just wasn’t my guy. He’d make some woman a fabulous boyfriend.
Maybe. A long time from now and after he’d forgiven himself for a past that had happened centuries before I was born.
I shook my head. Not my problem anymore.
Ben on the other hand… I gave him a cheery smile. “We’re keeping your brain in one piece, have no doubt, but now we have an actual plan to do it.”
11
The Mistress Did It
By my calculations, we were minutes from Brooke’s house.
I was driving, of course. No way I’d let Alex.
He drove like a teenage boy behind the wheel of his first rebuilt Corvette, and I’d swear my Civic used to pick up extra creaks, groans, and rattles every time he drove it.
We could have taken Alex’s car…but then he’d be driving and I’d be riding with my eyes closed and a death grip on the seat.
I was starting to regret that decision. A dull throb beat behind my right eye.
With me occupied driving, Ben and Alex had been left to their own devices. Who’d have thought two supposedly grown men could bicker so well and so long? They might disagree with my characterization, but it was absolutely bickering. Like two siblings trapped in a small car together for a lengthy road trip.
And they weren’t even sitting together. Ben was in the front seat, Alex in the back.
“Can you guys drop the whole memory-wipe debate?” When I didn’t hear immediate and unconditional agreement, I raised my voice and snapped, “Seriously. Stop.”
They made grumbly, discontented noises—but then they shushed.
“Ben, long story short, the Society isn’t keen on making any kind of sweeping change, especially at a speed faster than a snail’s pace. And Alex, you’d argue till you turned blue, too, if you thought your memory was going to be wiped.”
Except for a few moments in Alex’s past that he’d love to not remember—but that was something I would never bring up in mixed company.
On second thought, not something I’d bring up period. Which went right back to one of the many reasons Alex and I never had a chance. An inability to be totally vulnerable to the other person. Poor communication was the cherry on top of that sad sundae.
A mile ticked by in silence.
“In case you were wondering,” Alex said, “Richard’s a vamp.”
“Huh. I’ve never had a hard time spotting a vampire.”
“If something’s off, look for the enchantment.” Alex frowned at me in the rearview mirror. “How long have you been a witch?”
It sounded mean, the constant picking and poking, but Alex’s comments came from what he thought was a good place. Per him, I could be an amazing witch if I’d just pick up my training a notch—and get a new mentor. He really wasn’t fond of Camille.
But I wasn’t always sure I wanted to be an amazing witch. Camille was a competent witch, and a heck of a lot happier than some of the bigger, badder names in the biz.
Glancing in the mirror, I said, “I’ve been a witch for ten years, as you well know. That’s nothing compared to how long you’ve been fiddling with magic, so shut it.”
Alex didn’t look put out. Why would he? He’d made his point.
Ben turned all the way around in his seat to look Alex square in the face. “Vampires are a thing?” Neither of us replied. Ben turned to me and said, “Vampires can do magic?”
And there was that nasty throb behind my right eye again. “Not like you mean. Richard purchased a charm of some sort to mask his true nature.” I looked in the mirror and narrowed my eyes at Alex. “Yes, Alex. Probably from a witch.”
“You don’t practice enough.” Alex pointed to a large house on the right. “That’s Brooke’s house. Who’s placing bets the mistress is the killer?”
I perked up. Solving a murder was so much better than dissecting my faults.
“Murder is usually about money or love, right?” I pulled into the drive. “The butler—PA—doesn’t have either of those motives that we know, but the wife might have both. Although I’m not feeling the love for Lydia as the killer. I don’t doubt she could do it, but she seemed legitimately upset about losing the father of her theoretical child. And I have to say that if I were guilty of killing my spouse, I’d make more of a fuss over his death than the loss of his sperm—or whatever she needs from him to procreate.” I put the car in park, then glanced at the guys. Ben looked wide-eyed, and Alex was grinning. “What? Don’t tell me you both weren’t thinking the same thing.”
Alex shrugged.
Ben opened his mouth, shut it, then just shook his head.
“So is that a yes or a no on the mistress?” Alex asked.
“She’s looking pretty promising from the love-or-money angle.” I glanced at the spacious home on our left. “Mistress implies financial support, right? So, who’s paying for the house? How does Chalmers’ death affect Brooke financially?”
“And love?” Ben asked.
I paused with my hand on the car door handle. “Ah.” Awkward. My suburban background was leaking into my witch life yet again. Sex didn’t necessarily lead to an emotional connection, and golems were particularly pragmatic in those matters. “How about we leave that one open until we meet Brooke?”
If my ears didn’t deceive me, Alex was snickering as he exited the car. He knew me too well.
Three women, one man. I couldn’t imagine how there wouldn’t be emotional conflict of some kind. I slammed the Civic’s creaky door. “You know what? Yes. If you guys can vote for an imaginary butler, then I’m saying yes on the very real mistress.”
“Usual stakes?” Alex leaned against the Civic and cocked his head.
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t like a little side bet, but because I was pinching my pennies these days.
“In deference to your obviously straightened circumstances—moonlighting for extra cash as you are—I’ll put up my usual against one favor.”
I wasn’t terribly invested in Brooke as the murderer. I hadn’t even met the woman yet, but I could use the cash if it happened to be her. The “usual” was enough for a deposit on a new place. And one favor…it was a reasonable offer.
“I get veto power. And you know I’ll use it responsibly, so don’t even argue.” I raised my eyebrows. “Deal?”
“Deal.” He pushed away from the car and dusted his hands off. “Let’s do this.”
Ben walked around the car to join Alex and me. “Same plan as before?”
“Yeah.” Alex looked over his shoulder as he walked to the front door. “Speak only when asked a direct question; otherwise, I’ll deal with her. I don’t know Brooke personally—she’s new to the area—but I do know that she’s a vampire.”
&
nbsp; Probably a tidbit Alex could have mentioned after the meeting, since Ben went a few shades paler. On a red-headed guy, the result was a startling white.
I pulled Ben by the arm. “It’s fine. Their eating habits are pretty civilized these days.”
“Mostly,” Alex said before he knocked briskly on the door.
I tightened my grip on Ben’s arm and shot Alex a nasty look as I came to a halt next to him.
His sense of humor could use some improvement…though he wasn’t wrong.
12
Dancing with a Devilish Vamp
Ben managed to pull himself together pretty quickly. By the time a woman opened the door, he was only a little pasty under his freckles.
The wide-eyed brunette who stood in the doorway looked more like a librarian than a mistress or a vamp. She was pretty, but in no way overtly sexual. Conservative clothes, comfortable but not unfashionable shoes, tortoiseshell glasses that accentuated rather than hid her eyes…Brooke wasn’t anything like what I’d expected.
Maybe she’d pass as the girlfriend, but the mistress?
Then again, there was always the possibility she was another personal assistant.
“So you’re the investigation team. Richard rang and said you’d be over shortly. I’m Brooke Sanders, Robert’s”—she paused, and her eyes crinkled at the corners—“friend.”
Hmm. Labels, stereotyping in general, might be a problem for me. My disbelief clung tightly, even in the face of her declaration. I’d give it some more thought when I wasn’t face to face with a dimpled, smiling wannabe-librarian mistress. A decidedly cheery, not remotely mournful librarian mistress.
“Since you’ve spoken with Richard,” Alex said, “and you’re aware of Robert’s recent death, perhaps you wouldn’t mind answering some questions.”
She swung the door wide and then disappeared into the house.
Alex didn’t hesitate to follow, but Ben leaned close and whispered, “Vampires can only come inside a house where they’ve been invited…right?”
“Myth,” Brooke called out from the back of the house.
“They have excellent hearing.” Maybe I should have mentioned that earlier. Then again, I hadn’t known Brooke was a vamp, so it hadn’t been relevant. I apologized—because it seemed the right thing to do, and Alex wasn’t about to—then said, “Would you rather wait in the car?”
Ben shook his head and marched his very pasty self into Brooke’s house.
If something happened to Ben, I would never forgive myself. I’d known him just over twenty-four hours, and I was already getting attached. I blamed our brief but intense connection when I’d used my witch sight on him.
Alex wasn’t wrong that my studies could use a little more focus.
I shook my head and followed behind Ben.
As we walked through the house, I couldn’t help thinking Brooke’s taste was oddly similar to my grandmother’s. Too much stuff crammed into too small a space, well-dusted figurines lined up on shelves, pictures covering the walls from chest height to just shy of the ceiling, and far too much furniture for the square footage—just like Grandma’s place. I could almost smell lavender water, her favorite scent.
I urged Ben to a quicker pace. As big as the house was, I felt like I was in a tiny, poorly ventilated closet.
After a short—but much too long—jaunt, we found Alex and Brooke in the kitchen. In contrast to the rest of the house, the kitchen was sparse. The counters were clear of clutter, and the sun shone brightest in this room.
A kettle whistled softly.
“Tea?” Brooke shut off the burner and then opened a cabinet full of tea tins. “Or coffee?”
Alex declined, I shook my head, and Ben just stood there looking a little like a mouse caught in a corner by a very watchful cat. I nudged him, and he blinked then shook his head.
“What did Richard tell you?” Alex’s gaze followed Brooke as she fixed a cup of tea.
Ben and I were left to stand awkwardly on the fringes of the kitchen.
Not cool. I pulled out a chair and sat down, uninvited, at the kitchen table. When Ben shot me a worried look, I shrugged.
“Have a seat—Kawolski, isn’t it?” Brooke flashed way too many teeth at him, displaying a beautiful, completely fang-free smile.
Ben’s eyes narrowed. He eventually joined me at the kitchen table, but not until he’d held Brooke’s gaze for just long enough to say: I know what you’re playing at, lady.
It seemed he didn’t like to be taunted. Not bad for a guy who’d just learned about vamps. Maybe even a little daring.
Brooke joined us at the kitchen table with her tea. “I know Robert died in a suspicious manner, and I know you bunch are looking into it.” She pinned first me, then Ben, with a sharp look. “Except you two aren’t exactly Society enforcers. And a burial?” Her gaze drifted back to Ben, where it lingered. “How…interesting. And on top of what’s already been done to the remains. I’m surprised you made it out of Lydia’s house in one piece.”
Ben did an excellent job of not speaking. He didn’t utter a peep.
Better than I’d do if someone accused me of professional incompetence. And that was the second time the alteration of Robert’s corpse had come up. Lydia had asked, and not only was Brooke now bringing it up, but someone (PA Richard?) had obviously thought it important enough to mention to her.
“Lydia had concerns about the handling of Robert’s body, but Mr. Kawolski was only fulfilling what he believed to be the wishes of both the deceased and his loved ones.” Since Alex was hardly one to explain himself and definitely not the sort to defend a third party, especially to a suspect, he had to be using that tidbit to elicit information.
Or maybe he just liked Ben.
Nah.
“Well, his intentions are hardly relevant.” Brooke’s gaze flitted from one of us to the next until she’d rounded the table. “You don’t know, do you? Lydia’s been after Robert for a child for decades. She’d finally convinced him to give up the goods, and now this.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying it’s possible to retrieve enough material to create a child after death?”
“Certainly not when the body has been embalmed.” Brooke shrugged. “But for the embalming, I’m sure she’d have tried. The woman is desperate for a child. Just look at the way she treats that assistant of hers.”
Like a highly paid servant?
But I quickly squashed the uncharitable thought. Lydia had shown some small amount of warmth toward Richard. Since golems were known for being emotionally distant—and Lydia had the appearance of being especially so—the brief display had been noteworthy.
“Do you know if Robert left for his trip?” Alex asked.
“Ah, yes, Richard mentioned you’d be asking. And no, I haven’t a clue. I’m not his keeper, and I wouldn’t expect him to check in before he boarded or when he arrived. I doubt he even does that with his love muffin.”
“Love muffin?” Alex asked with a carefully controlled expression.
Even so, I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep a massive grin from spreading across my face. Alex Valois was the last man on the planet I’d expect to utter those words.
Brooke grinned, again flashing a broader smile than any vamp should. “That’s his darling Abby. She adores it, as if being named after a pastry is somehow endearing.”
I shot Ben a discreet look, but he seemed to be handling sustained proximity to his first vampire—and all those flashing teeth—reasonably well. He certainly wasn’t as pasty as he’d been when we’d arrived.
“Did you know about his trip?” Alex asked.
“Of course.” Brooke ran her finger along the edge of her teacup, and her eyes crinkled in genuine amusement. “He came by for a little fun the night before, which he frequently did before traveling more than a few days. Now, that I’ll miss.”
“But not the man?” The question slipped past my lips.
“Goth girl finally speaks. No, Star, I certain
ly will not miss the man. Robert and I shared a mutual desire to regularly scratch a particular itch, no more.”
No love lost, but that was hardly reason to kill a man. Though she certainly could have damaged his tattoos after they’d had sex. Could those small slices have been made with vamp fangs?
“You’re not going to ask who I think is responsible for his death?” Brooke removed her glasses, and her entire demeanor shifted subtly. As if removing the glasses meant she was no longer the playful, sexy librarian.
Of course, they were a prop. Foolish of me not to realize immediately. I’d yet to meet a vamp that didn’t have exceptional sight.
Alex leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Would you tell me, if I did?”
“Probably not.” She twirled her glasses. “But it wasn’t me. No Robert, no fabulous sex. Everything they say about golem men is absolutely true. Oh, and no more shares in his lovely company. He’s so sentimental.” She winked at me. “Every anniversary, I get a nice little pile of stocks.”
I checked my watch, more for a place to look than anything else, but it was later than I’d realized. We still had to pick up supplies before we hit Camille’s place at midnight.
Alex stood up. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, you know how to contact me.”
Brooke didn’t bother to stand. She leaned back in her chair and delivered a sultry look aimed at Alex. “If I do call, you can be sure it will be about something much more interesting than Robert’s death.”
Once the three of us were outside, the door closed behind us, Ben said to Alex, “Please tell me she wasn’t hitting on you two seconds after finding out her lover was murdered.”
I hooked my arm through Ben’s as we walked back to the car. “Here’s the thing about Alex, Ben: everyone hits on him.”
In fact, I was surprised that Brooke waited until the interview was over. There’d clearly been no love lost between her and the deceased.