Charms and Chocolate Chips: A Magical Bakery Mystery

by Bailey Cates

  Well. That certainly put my worries about Declan not “getting it” into perspective. If I truly loved him, I shouldn’t expect him to want to know all about my witchiness. It wasn’t as though I wanted to convert him, and I already had plenty of people in my life whom I could share magic with.

  Wren’s phone rang, and she checked the number. “I have to get this.” Standing, she went into the kitchen. Soon I heard murmuring.

  “She forwarded the Georgia Wild phone calls to her cell,” Mimsey explained.

  “So tell me more about ley lines,” I said, peering back down at the picture.

  Mimsey leaned her back against the couch. “They are deep currents of energy that run through the earth, like a mystical energy highway. They have a force, a magnetic force, that’s measurable by scientific instruments—or even by holding a simple iron rod in your hand. Stonehenge is famous for the lines of energy that emanate from the center, as are other stone circles. Some dowsers say ley lines affect how they find water.” She stared into the flames lapping against the logs in the fireplace. “There’s some which-came-first debate about whether they have been here forever, or whether they were created—by ancient trade routes, holy sites, or even the gods and goddesses. They supposedly emanate from the Bahamas, affect the area known as the Bermuda Triangle, and there are several places in the United States that are supposed to be built near these fields. Sedona, Arizona, is one.”

  “I guess I’ve heard that,” I said. “Curious that Sedona is where Gart Fagen lives now, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps he’s drawn to them. I think of ley lines as the energetic nervous system of a living, breathing earth.”

  I stared at her. “And this set is coming from a tree that pulled me toward it as surely as if it had lassoed me around the neck.”

  She looked away from the flames to study me. “Really? I must see this tree. Because if those really are ley lines, there are a lot of them—and they’re strong.”

  “You’re never going to believe who that was,” Wren said, reentering the living room.

  I cocked my head to the side and waited.

  “Evanston Rickers,” she said.

  “What did he want?” I asked.

  “Bianca’s phone number.”

  • • •

  When I got back to the Honeybee, Declan and Ben were installing yet more shelves in the library. These were under the window. Since the books we offered drew in customers, I couldn’t argue with using the last of the available wall space to house more volumes.

  I paused under the LIBRARY sign, watching them. Declan looked up from the hole he was drilling in the wall and saw me. A huge grin spread across his face, and I couldn’t help returning it.

  “I like the new shelves,” I said.

  “Seemed like a waste not to put this area to use,” Ben said.

  “Hey, you.” Declan put the drill down and came over to where I stood. He put his arm around my shoulders, giving me a quick squeeze. “How was your day?”

  I gave him a peck on the cheek. “Interesting. I’ll tell you all about it later, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  “Now get back to work, mister.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Laughter sounded from the kitchen, and I saw Lucy and Mama working side by side, filling muffin cups to go into the oven.

  “Looks delish,” I said as I went by to take Mungo into the office.

  “Your mother even did a little special baking,” Lucy said with a huge smile.

  “Now, Luce,” Mama said, but she smiled at me. “Sweetie, what are you doing here? I would think you’d savor a day off, especially after your day yesterday.”

  “Thanks for filling in for me,” I said. “I really do appreciate it, and it gave me a chance to follow up on a few things this morning.” I told them everything that had happened at Georgia Wild.

  “You handled that very well,” my mother said.

  I showed them the photo of Fagen Swamp and told them what Mimsey had said about it. Lucy leaned over it for a long moment, then looked up at me and nodded. “I think she’s right. They look like the images of ley lines that I’ve seen before in books. Mary Jane?”

  Mama licked her lips. “They do look familiar. And you say you’ve been near this nexus?”

  “Yeah. Bianca and Cookie, too. Do you think it might have something to do with maroon bats? Could they be surviving in the swamp because . . . No, that’s silly. It just seems like it should mean something,” I said.

  “It does,” breathed Lucy. “We just don’t know what yet.”

  “We don’t even know if that cypress is part of the sale. I imagine there’s information about that in Autumn’s office, but I’d rather stay away from there until Quinn finds Hunter Normandy. I’m going to make a phone call.”

  The sisters watched as I went into the office, but they didn’t follow. Mungo snoozed on his chair as I got online and did a phone number search for Gart Fagen in Sedona. He had an actual landline, which I dialed. Unfortunately, I reached his voice mail. I left my name and number, but didn’t go into details about why I was calling.

  When I went back out front, Lucy was putting a slab of mocha shortbread on a plate for Jaida, and Bianca was in the library with Mama, helping to supervise the work crew. Declan said something, and Mama laughed. I could tell she really liked him.

  Suddenly tired, I poured a cup of caffeine and slid onto the chair next to Jaida.

  “Hey,” she said. “Anything going on?”

  I half laughed and filled her in on everything. “But you have to tell Bianca and Cookie. I’m worn out from giving updates.”

  Her look was wry. “I bet. You have quite the posse, don’t you?” Her eyes cut to my mother giving advice on attaching the last shelf to the wall. “And now you have a new addition.”

  “Sheesh. You make it sound like I had a baby instead of a visit from my mother.”

  “How long is she going to stay?”

  “I don’t know. But you know what? It’s been kind of great having her here,” I said. “So far.”

  She gave a firm nod. “Glad to hear it. I know you two have had your problems.”

  I sipped my coffee, and she took a big bite of the dark, rich shortbread.

  “So Logan Seward’s SUV was stolen for an attempt on Wren’s life. Maybe yours, too.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Suspicious.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And you’re wondering where the boundaries are in the real estate transaction he’s brokering.”

  “What are you getting at?” I asked.

  She popped the last bit of shortbread in her mouth and chewed, then swallowed. “I mentioned that I’ve met Seward once. I wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better, being a fellow attorney and all.”

  “He’s a druid, too,” I said.

  Her jaw slackened. “You’re kidding. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Like you said, I have a lot of people to keep in the loop.”

  “Is he . . . ?”

  “He’s Nel’s cousin. The one the Dragohs recruited from Kentucky.”

  “Holy crow. I was going to suggest that we go see him,” she said. “But now I think I’ll insist.”

  My watch said eight minutes after three o’clock. Where had the day gone?

  “Shall we call him first?” I asked.

  “Hmm. No. I don’t think so. Do you know where his office is?” Jaida asked.

  “Boy, do I.”

  Chapter 21

  The sky still threatened rain, so we left Mungo at the Honeybee and drove the Bug to the building that housed the Dawes Corporation and Logan Seward’s offices. The wind had kicked up by the time I found a space to park around the corner, and we hurried up the sidewalk to the front door. It was open, and we stepped in
side. A marketing firm took up the first floor and a software mapping company the second. As we climbed, the air seemed to become more rarified, but maybe that was my imagination.

  On the top floor, no one was behind the reception desk. It looked extremely neat, and I wondered whether they even had a receptionist. Heinrich Dawes’ office door was closed. The other two were slightly ajar. I heard the tapping of a keyboard as I walked past Steve’s to the one with LOGAN SEWARD, ATTORNEY on it. Jaida followed, took one look at the name, and rapped firmly three times before pushing it open.

  Seward looked up and did a double take. He quickly turned his computer monitor so we couldn’t see anything on the screen and stood. “May I help you?” he blurted.

  Jaida closed the door behind us. We each took a seat in the chairs that sat in front of his desk.

  “That would be nice,” I said.

  Seward blinked down at us and slowly resumed his seat.

  His office was smaller and not as ostentatious as Steve’s. His taste ran more to modern Danish furniture. Some Scandinavian furniture was quite beautiful, but he seemed to like pieces with weird angles and ugly color combinations. The chair I was sitting in was incredibly uncomfortable—the perfect guest chair if you didn’t like guests. A shelf held what looked like old softball trophies, and the single painting on the wall behind his desk looked like an impressionist’s interpretation of hell.

  “I assume this has some kind of legal bearing since you brought your lawyer,” he said.

  “She’s my friend,” I said.

  Elbows on the desk, he steepled his fingers. “Then what can I do for you?”

  “It sounds like sale of the swamp is a pretty sure thing,” I said.

  “It is.” His voice was flat.

  I took the aerial photo out of my bag and, standing, put it on his desk. “Can you tell me where the boundaries of the plot you’re buying are?”

  He barely looked at the picture. “We’re buying the whole swamp, as well as the ring around it that Fagen owns.”

  “So this is included?” I pointed to the cypress tree.

  Leaning forward, he finally looked at the photo on the desk. “Of course.” Squinting, he said, “There’s something wrong with your printer.”

  “Maybe.” I looked at Jaida. She looked amused. I sat back down.

  “Is there something else?” Seward asked impatiently.

  “Your SUV was involved in a hit-and-run yesterday,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

  “Because it nearly hit me. Naturally the detective in charge informed me when they found it.”

  He licked his lips. “It was stolen.”

  Jaida leaned forward. “Don’t you think it’s an awfully interesting coincidence that your vehicle was used to attack two people who have been working against your purchase of Fagen Swamp? After the founder of Georgia Wild was murdered?” She slowly raised one eyebrow. I could only imagine what she’d be like in court. Good thing she was on my side.

  “Oh, please,” he said, rushing to fill the silence. “You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with your . . . accident. Or that woman’s murder.”

  “It was not an accident. It was deliberately malicious.”

  “Listen,” he protested. “I know you’re friends with Steve Dawes. Why on earth would I try to hurt you?”

  “Because you had to be sure we wouldn’t stop the sale of the swamp,” I repeated.

  He shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable. “The Daweses both told the police that I was here all of yesterday afternoon.”

  I glanced at Jaida. “So you have no explanation for why your vehicle was used.”

  “Sometimes coincidences do happen,” he responded.

  “To some people more than others,” I said.

  “I’m not sure I—”

  “Like druids and witches,” I explained.

  He blanched, eyes darting to Jaida. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re a member of the Dragoh Society,” Jaida said.

  His throat worked.

  “See, our coven has a bit of a history with them. I think you should know that,” she said.

  I stood, and Jaida followed suit. “And I think you should know that even with Autumn Boles dead and Evanston Rickers evicted, it’s still possible that Georgia Wild will find evidence of maroon bats in Fagen Swamp,” I said. “If we do, we will do everything possible to save that habitat.”

  His face turned red, and he jumped to his feet. “Don’t you threaten me, girl.”

  Next to me, Jaida stiffened.

  A knock sounded behind us, and the door opened. “Logan?” Steve walked in without being invited. This was one time I was glad he had boundary issues. “What’s going on?”

  “This woman accused me of trying to kill Katie!” Seward pointed at Jaida. “And of murdering that Boles woman!”

  “She didn’t exactly accuse you,” I said.

  “And how does she know I’m a druid, Steve? Huh?”

  “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you think,” I said. “It was your pinkie ring. I saw it when you kicked Dr. Rickers out.”

  “I didn’t kick anyone out,” he spluttered. “All I did was serve a notice to vacate. The guy has two bloody months to find a new place.”

  “Settle down, Mr. Seward,” Jaida said.

  “Tell them I was here yesterday,” Seward demanded.

  Steve glanced at me. “He was. All afternoon after he got back from the swamp.”

  “In your car,” I said.

  Steve nodded. “In my car.”

  Logan Seward took a deep breath, which seemed to calm him somewhat. “Someone stole the BMW from in front of my house.”

  Jaida leaned her head to one side, considering him. “You park a BMW on the street?”

  “The house I rent doesn’t have a garage,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m still looking for the right place to buy.”

  She turned to Steve. “Did you and Mr. Seward here work together yesterday afternoon, then?”

  He shook his head. “We were in our own offices.”

  “With the doors shut?”

  “Part of the time.”

  “Did Mr. Seward leave to use the restroom?”

  “How should I know?”

  A humorless smile curved her lips. “Exactly. Good day, gentlemen.”

  We left them staring after us. Out on the street a light rain misted the air. We trotted to the car where I turned on the engine and started the heater. “Do you really think he’s the killer?” I asked Jaida.

  “I don’t know, Katie. But if he is, then he has the power of the Dragohs behind him.”

  “Great.”

  • • •

  Back at the Honeybee it was nearly closing time. We found Ben and Declan sitting in the reading area, drinking hot cocoa and admiring their handiwork. Lucy had rearranged the books, and a few were already on the new shelving unit.

  “Didn’t want it to look empty, but it is good feng shui to have empty space to grow into,” she said.

  “Very nice work all around,” Jaida said, and walked behind the counter to pour herself a cup of drip coffee.

  I walked over and gave Declan a smooch on top of his head. “Hey, you.”

  A few customers sat at tables. Sometimes bad weather drove people inside and other times they just wanted to get home. “Where’s Mama?” I asked.

  “She went for a tour,” Ben said.

  “In the rain?”

  “Those buses are covered. Two days in Savannah, and she hasn’t seen a single sight. I ran her down to the trolley tour office. Of course, we’ll show her the real good stuff, but that’s always a good overview for anyone who has never been here before.”

  Declan ma
de a face.

  I smiled at him. “You don’t approve of the tours?”

  “Necessary evils, I suppose. What we need to do is make your mother a real down-home meal tonight.”

  “Are you offering?”

  He grinned. “Sure. How about shrimp and grits? Maybe some collard greens?”

  “Yum,” I said. “It’s a deal.” My stomach growled at the thought of creamy cheese grits cooked up with mushrooms, bacon, and fresh shrimp. Unaccountably, the collards, cooked down with a ham hock and a little vinegar, sounded just as good.

  “Your mother and I made a coconut cake before she left,” Lucy said. “Take some home for dessert.”

  “Hard to argue with that,” Declan said.

  The door opened, and Peter Quinn walked in, wearing a forest green slicker and carrying a furled umbrella. It looked like the rain had more or less stopped, at least for the time being. Ben and Declan both rose to shake his hand.

  He nodded to Lucy and Jaida, then turned to me. “I was nearby, so thought I’d drop in rather than call.”

  “Cocoa?” Lucy asked.

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  She bustled over to get him a mug.

  “What’s up?” I asked. “Did you find Hunter?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” He took the mug from my aunt and sipped the steaming chocolate with appreciation. “This hits the spot.”

  I glanced at Jaida before asking Quinn, “Does Hunter have any connection to Fagen Swamp? Or to Logan Seward?” After all, Seward could have hired Hunter to run Wren and/or me down.

  But Quinn shook his head. “Haven’t found evidence of either so far. However, we did find some other evidence. Since we spoke, I got a warrant to search Normandy’s apartment. Sure enough, we found folded origami.”

  “Bats?” I breathed.

  “Well, no. They were cranes, but still. And since you said he had a key to the Georgia Wild offices, I figured he probably had a key to Autumn Boles’ apartment.”

  “Makes sense,” I said.

  “So I grabbed a couple of officers and went back over there. We searched it the night after she died, but I hadn’t been back since Sunday.”