I folded my arms, wondering what her angle was. “So you’re saying I’m already perfect?”
She looked at me for a beat too long. “Ah, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. It was lovely to meet you, but I’m going to have to ask you and your perfect friends to leave.”
I looked at Will. He gave a small shrug. I supposed today was going well until this, and the woman was right that we were just tyre kickers. There was no point in causing trouble. “Okay. Bye.”
We all filed outside. “That was weird,” said Liv. “You’d think they’d want as many clients as possible.”
“Could be, they’re actually ethical,” said Beren. “It’s not unheard of, you know.”
Time to look at the positive side. “True. Well, nice to know they’re doing a good job.” My stomach grumbled loud enough for everyone to hear, and everyone laughed.
Imani looked at my stomach. “Time to feed the beast?”
“You know it.”
We walked back to Westerham’s main street and turned right into Market Square. Our destination—the Rendezvous Brasserie—was a two-storey white and dark blue-grey building with one third-floor dormer window, only a few doors down from Napoli E, the Italian restaurant I’d been to a few times. I’d never eaten at the Rendezvous, but Imani swore it was the best French food around.
Beren opened the door for us and came in last. The interior had light-coloured timber floors and white and beige walls. It was hard not to close my eyes as I savoured the delicious garlic and roasting-meat scents coming from the kitchen. A few tables were already occupied, but it looked as if we’d just beaten the weekend lunch rush.
A waitress approached us. “Can I help you?”
I’d actually booked the table, so I stepped forward. “We’ve got a booking for 1:00 p.m. for five people under the name of Bianchi.”
“Righto, let me have a look.” She went to her reservations book, then returned with a radiant smile. “This way please.” She led us to a table by the window, and we sat.
While we perused the menu and decided on food, two young women sat at the table next to us. One was tall and slim, her long dark hair straight and shiny; the other was short and skinny, but—well, there was no subtle way to say it—her boobs were huge and way too big for her frame. They just couldn’t be real. And I didn’t want to stare, but were they uneven? Maybe she’d gone to the plastic-surgery open day to see about getting them evened up. Hopefully she didn’t want to go bigger. I hated to think how sore her back was, plus goodbye to sleeping on your stomach.
“Lily?” Will leaned over and waved his hand in front of my face. “What do you want?”
“Huh?”
“To eat.” He rolled his eyes and turned to the waitress, who was patiently standing there, electronic ordering device in hand.
“Oh, sorry.” My cheeks burned. Seemed as if I couldn’t go two days without embarrassing myself. “Um….” I looked down at the menu again. “I’ll have the pan-roast duck breast, thanks.” I resisted the urge to quack, and then I felt bad. Those poor cute ducks. I was going to eat one. But did I feel bad enough to change my order? Hypocrite that I was, the answer was no. Bad Lily.
Liv ordered wine for the table, and Will poured me a glass of water—he knew I didn’t like wine that much. Plus, since I’d been a target for bad witches, I wanted to be alert at all times. I hadn’t worked out how to sleep with one eye open yet, but I was working on it.
Imani started talking about my new niece, but before she could get too far into the story, cackling came from the two women at the next table. The tall, modelish one had her back to me, but her cockney-accented voice reached me just fine. “But they look good!”
The other one had a similar accent, but I had to strain to hear her. “I’m just ’avin’ trouble findin’ a bra that fits both of ’em. It’s weird, right? They look the same, but they aren’t.”
“But they are the same. I mean, well, no one’s are exactly the same, but there’s no way I can tell them apart.”
Imani was staring at me as if to say, what the actual hell? I giggled. It was probably time to stop eavesdropping, not that the loud one made that easy. We finally managed to get our conversation back on track, and before I knew it, it was time to leave. We were going back to Angelica’s for everyone to travel from there.
On our return walk, Will’s phone rang. Was it too much to ask for a PIB-free day? “Hello, Ma’am. Yes?” He frowned and listened. “Okay. No, not a problem. Yes. Bye.”
Liv unlocked the front door, and Will turned to me. “I’m sorry, but can you take another trip to Dover with me?”
Damn. Well, half a great day was better than none, right? “Yeah, sure.” As I magicked my camera to myself, shards of dread sliced my insides. I hated lying, but sometimes it was necessary. “Okay. I’m ready.” Stepping through my doorway, I was anything but.
Chapter 9
I was living my best life… not. Saturday afternoon, and I was sitting at the PIB conference-room table with Imani, Will, Ma’am, Olivia, and Agent Johanssen, the blond, gorgeous six-foot-five Norse-god-looking agent who’d been on duty at the cliffs when the latest poor soul jumped. The jumper was a young lady who’d been a friend of the last victim, who I now learned was Ellie Fisher. Her gorgeous yet terrified face had haunted my sleeping hours since I’d videoed her last living moments.
Ma’am was grilling poor Agent Johanssen. As sorry as I felt for him, we needed to know what had happened. “What time did you first see the woman who jumped, Ingrid Braun, I believe her name is?”
“At approximately 1:00 p.m.”
“Was she by herself?”
“Yes, Ma’am, but there were others walking and enjoying the view.” Who would’ve thought someone would jump in the middle of the day, in front of other people? But come to think of it, I’d known someone back in Sydney who was waiting at the train station when someone jumped in front of a train, in front of a packed platform. I guessed when you’re in the midst of despair, nothing but your objective matters. So much pain in the world. The heaviness of it settled uncomfortably into my chest.
Ma’am had a somewhat gentle version of her poker face on—it suggested scant emotion in the form of calmness and understanding. She must be trying to make this as easy as possible. “Did you have any warning she would jump when you first saw her?”
He shook his head. “No, Ma’am.”
“At what point did you realise she was going to do it?”
He looked at the tabletop for a moment before meeting his boss’s gaze. “When she was near the edge of the cliff. Four others were close to the edge, so I was within six feet of them. I wasn’t sure if any of them would jump, but the group near her seemed happy and were taking photos, enjoying the view. The young woman, however, appeared focussed, even stressed. She looked across at me just before she jumped. That’s when I knew. I cast a hold spell, but it was repelled, and I froze for a minute. By the time I could move again, she’d jumped.” Agent Johanssen also had his poker face on, but the telltale tic in his jaw muscle gave insight into his feelings.
Wow, that was tough and unexpected. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” I said.
“Yes, dear?”
“Was Ingrid a witch?” If she was, that would make her our first witch suicide in this case.
“No, Lily, she wasn’t.”
“So how come the spell bounced back? Did someone put a return to sender on her?” This was a massive clue. No matter how the spell had returned to Agent Johanssen, a witch was definitely involved.
Ma’am gave the Norse-god agent a probing look. “You did check her with your other-sight, did you not?”
He sat up straighter. “Of course I did. She wasn’t a witch, and there were no spells showing in her aura. It was likely a side effect of whatever spell she was under.”
Ma’am scrutinised him a moment longer before answering. “Right. So, other than this small piece of information, us guarding the cliffs was a colossal waste of time. Wh
ich leaves me to wonder, where to from here?” It quickly became apparent that she wasn’t going to answer her own question. She stared at us one by one, waiting for input.
Imani braved the possibility of incurring Ma’am’s wrath. “I think it would be prudent to ascertain what commonality the two friends had. Who were they dealing with that would want them both dead? And why? Friends tend to do the same things as each other, so maybe it would be easier to find a link by interviewing both families or friends, as they would have shared at least some of the same friends. Interviewing connections of the other victims could mean wading through a lot of useless information, especially if one of them isn’t actually involved in this case. It could throw us off. But two friends within one day of each other is too coincidental, especially with magic being confirmed in the second case.”
Will nodded. “I think we should get involved as law enforcement. We can say we’re looking into this because the two were known to each other, and we’re making sure there’s been no foul play. We should be sure to stress that it’s just a formality.”
A pen appeared in Ma’am’s hand, and she tapped it on the table while she considered the proposals. She finally stopped tapping. “Right. I’m going to send you and Agent Jawara, Agent Blakesley. Due to the number of interviews you’re going to conduct, I imagine this will take at least a week, but I’d like you to get through them as quickly as possible. It would be preferable if we could wrap them up in a few days. I’d put James and Beren on this too, but James is on parental leave for two weeks, and I’d rather not send Beren by himself.” She pressed her lips together briefly, a small gesture for a normal person, but a massive tell from her—she wasn’t happy. “We’ve got so many cases going, and we need to train more agents, but they’re not giving me the budget. It’s beyond frustrating.” She huffed. “Anyway, that’s not your problem. Everyone is dismissed but Agent Johanssen. I have another assignment for you now that we’ve seen our presence on the clifftop is redundant.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Everyone else stood, and we exited via the normal door. Will, ever the gentleman, was the last one out, so he shut the door. “Sorry we had to cut our day short, Lily.”
“I know. Me too. But solving this case is important. Each day sees another person dead. It’s horrible.” My shoulders sagged. “I’ll see you when I see you.”
He put his finger under my chin and tipped my head back so I was looking into his dreamy blue eyes. “I’ll be home for dinner.” He dropped his hand without giving me a kiss—we were at work, and it wasn’t appropriate. Stupid work.
“Okay. I’ll see you then.” I gave him a small wave, and he and Imani walked off in the direction of his office.
Liv linked her arm in mine. “Beren and I are still free. Maybe we could have a game of Monopoly or something.”
Oh, joy. I was notoriously bad at board games. “Okay. I can deal with it as long as it isn’t Trivial Pursuit. I have zero general knowledge.”
She laughed. “I’m awesome at it. If you ever have to play, just team up with me. I’ve got your back.”
I grinned. “It’s a deal. Actually, have you guys seen the baby yet?”
“No. Beren worked late last night, and by the time we could have gone, it was too late.”
“We could go visit Mill and the baby.” I grinned as my heart swelled with happiness.
“That’s an awesome idea. Let’s grab Beren and go.”
“Yes, let’s.” I made our doorway, and off we went.
Chapter 10
Sunday. Here it was, but Will was at work. At least I got to sleep in. I dressed and trudged downstairs to find Olivia. Voices came from the living room, so I went there before the kitchen. Liv and Beren were sitting in the armchairs drinking tea in front of the fireplace. “Good morning.”
They turned. “Morning, Lily,” Liv said.
Beren smiled. “Hey, sleepyhead. We were going to wait for you, then go to Costa, but we gave up. It’s almost lunchtime.”
“What time is it?” I asked because I’d left my phone upstairs. I really should get a watch. Hmm, maybe one of those Apple ones. I could pair them with Airpods for when I ran. That was something to think about.
Beren looked at his phone. “Ten thirty.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mr Exaggerator. It’s not that late after all, especially for a Sunday. In fact, I think I’m up too early. I should go back to bed.”
Liv put her teacup on the small table next to her chair. “Ha ha, very funny. If you want, we can go to Costa now. We had breakfast two hours ago, and I’m getting a bit peckish for a croissant.” She turned to Beren. “What say you, oh, witchy one?”
“I say, sounds good to me.” He stood, teacup in hand, grabbed her cup, and magicked them both away, hopefully to the dishwasher.
I gazed out the window. “Another cold but not-raining day. Perfect weather for walking.” A squirrel scampered up the tree. Oh my God, they were so damn cute. I’d never get sick of seeing the little furry creatures zip about. Seeing squirrels was usually the highlight of my day.
Olivia followed my line of sight and laughed. “No wonder you have that goofy look on your face.” She turned to Beren, and they both said at the same time, “Squirrels!”
“You betcha! I think they were invented just to cheer people up. How could you not feel happy while watching squirrels?”
Liv smirked. “It is possible, believe it or not.”
“I choose not.” I grinned. “So, are we going to get this double-chocolate-muffin-and-cappuccino show on the road?”
“Lead the way,” said Beren. So I did.
As usual, the first step into Costa was an olfactory delight. It was as if I was engulfed in a deliciously soft cloud of chocolate and coffee. Oh, what would I do without you, sweet, sweet Costa?
“Lily.” Liv giggled.
“What?”
“Did you just moan?”
I bit my lip. “Um… I don’t think so, but it’s entirely possible.”
Beren grinned. “You definitely moaned. Lucky Will wasn’t here to see it—he’d likely get jealous.”
I grinned back. “He gets it. He knows he has to share me with Costa.”
Liv shook her head. “That sounds all kinds of wrong.”
We lined up, ordered, and found a table in the middle of the chattering throng common on a Sunday. Liv and Beren sat opposite me. My phone dinged with a message. I pulled it out. James.
Hey, Lily, if you want to see the baby later, we’ll be at home. Just getting discharged now.
Hey, bro. Sounds good. Is it okay if Beren and Liv come?
Yep. Just let them know that if the baby is asleep, I’m not waking her up. Also, if she’s asleep, it’s likely Mill will be too. Maybe text me just before you leave.
Not a problem. Xx
Before I could give the news to my friends, an argument at the table behind me caught my attention. Being the busybody I was, I strained to listen. A woman said, “You need to slow down—at least cut back to two or three days a week.”
An older man’s irritated response was in a posh accent. “No. Cutting back my hours will lead to retirement, and I’m not ready. I love my work. You know that. If you want to cut down your days, I understand. You do so much for me.”
A loud sigh. “That’s not why I’m asking you. You know why we’re having this conversation. You’re so tired at the end of the day. I worry you’ll get sick. How many seventy-year-olds do you know who work the hours you do? It’s not healthy, Dad.”
Liv looked at me and was about to say something, but I put my finger in front of my lips, jerked my head backwards, then pointed at my ear. I needed to know how this was going to play out.
The old man laughed. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m feeling pretty good for an old fellow. I promise I’ll cut my hours, but not for another couple of years. What was the point of having our promotional day yesterday for me to just cancel all those new surgeries we’ll get from it? I want to make sure
you’re taken care of when I die.”
“You know it’s not about the money. We have plenty of it.” She sounded tired, frustrated.
“I’ll admit, I love my work. It’s so rewarding, helping people. Please don’t ask me to give it up.”
The woman heavy sighed, her tone resigned when she said, “Okay, Dad, but we’ll have this conversation again in a few months. Okay?”
“Okay.” They were quiet after that, and our food and drinks arrived.
I carefully consumed the froth and chocolate at the top of my cappuccino before taking a sip. Olivia was looking at me with an expression I knew well. I lowered my voice. “I wanted to listen. Is it a crime?”
“No, but it’s not polite. And now I feel bad because I listened too. It’s all your fault.”
“They don’t even know we heard, and, besides, if they don’t want other people to hear, they should have the conversation when they’re alone.” Time to change the subject. She was probably partly right, but sometimes other peoples’ conversations were interesting, as was people-watching, although I felt odd staring at strangers unless there was a camera between us. “That was James before. We can visit them at home, but I’ll have to text first, in case mum and baby are sleeping.”
“They still haven’t named her?” asked Liv.
Beren shook his head. “I called James this morning, and no. How long can babies go without having a name?”
I shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea.”
My scalp prickled, and not with magic.
Uneasiness cascaded over me. Someone was watching. I was sure of it. I turned this way and that. Nope, no one inside Costa was so much as glancing my way. My forehead tightened. I looked at each of the windows to the footpath and road beyond. When I reached the last window, the sensation dissipated.
Liv stared at me. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”
I created a bubble of silence. “Something was weird. It was like someone was watching me. When I looked out the front window, the feeling disappeared.”
Witchbotched in Westerham Page 9