Cast a Lover's Spell

by Claire Thompson

  Paul watched her as her eyebrows bunched in anger, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “You let him go! What are you talking about? How could you do that?” She listened a moment, the color draining from her face. Finally she said, “Yes, all right. Yes, I’ll come now.” She paused, listening. “An attorney? For me? This is crazy.” Again she listened. “Yes, okay. I’ll be there.”

  She hung up, sinking to the couch next to Paul. “What happened? Why did they let the bastard go?” Paul demanded.

  She turned toward him, her expression bleak. “He’s got proof, so they say. Proof he was in Mexico while he was allegedly holding me prisoner in that dump. He’s got airline tickets to prove it and witnesses corroborating his story. He wants to press charges against me for slander and defamation of character?”

  “Obviously he paid a pretty penny to manufacture the evidence he needs,” Paul said dryly. He thought for a moment. “Was he wearing gloves? Surely they have fingerprint evidence. I can’t believe he’d dare to pull this.”

  Anne flushed and bit her lip. “I don’t know what he thinks he’s doing. They want to talk to me. They have a few questions for me, they said. The guy sounded like I was the guilty one. I can’t believe this. He said I might wish to have an attorney present. This is like a nightmare.”

  “You don’t need an attorney,” Paul said as he pulled her into his arms. “Langley won’t get away with this. You forget, he may have all the dishonest alibis money can buy but you’ve got magic on your side.”

  ~*~

  Paul glanced around the windowless room, its concrete walls painted a drab pale green, the old metal table at which they sat scuffed and scratched, the paper cups of tepid coffee someone had provided sitting untouched before them. Anne sat next to him, her hands clasped in her lap, her expression anxious.

  As Detective Spencer came into the room, Paul stood and held out his hand. “I’m Paul Windsor, I’ll be representing Ms. Kaliner.” Nodding, the detective shook his hand and they all sat down.

  Spencer said, “Do you have any objection to this conversation being recorded?” As they said no, he pressed the button on the small tape recorder on the table. He asked basic information about Anne’s name, date of birth, address and other details as a matter of record and then asked her to recount what had occurred the night in question.

  “Excuse me,” Paul interjected. “Don’t you already have a very detailed account from Ms. Kaliner based on several extensive interviews?”

  “Yes, but in light of Mr. Langley’s evidence—”

  “His evidence?”

  “Er, his testimony. It appears there’s more to this relationship than we’d first suspected.”

  “What relationship?”

  “Between Ms. Kaliner and Mr. Langley.”

  “There’s no relationship between us. How dare you even suggest—” Anne blurted, but was cut off by the detective.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but it appears you’ve been less than forthright with us. Mr. Langley has asserted you’ve had an ongoing affair, dating as far back as two years ago, when you worked closely together on a business deal for Granger Finch. He has records indicating—”

  Anne spluttered in disbelief as she interrupted, “Affair? This is insane!”

  “Do you deny you knew Robert Langley two years ago? That you worked intimately with him on a merger deal?”

  “I can’t believe—”

  “Answer the question.”

  “It’s all right, Anne. Answer his questions. Let’s see where they’re going with this.” Remember, we have magic and truth on our side. Let’s let Langley paint himself into a corner. Paul slipped the words into Anne’s mind and she looked at him, pain in her eyes, but slowly she nodded.

  “I did work with him then, yes. On a purely professional level.”

  “So you deny knowing him outside of work. You deny the trip you took together to Bermuda shortly thereafter?”

  “Trip to Bermuda?”

  “Mr. Langley supplied us with records. Airline ticket receipts with your name on them, corroboration with your place of employment that you took those days off.”

  “I may have taken time off, but it certainly wasn’t to fly to Bermuda with that creep. I was married then. I barely knew the man.”

  Spencer nodded, making some notes on his pad. Anne added, “He’s obviously lying. Look, you were there when I came to the station. You took my story. Did you think I was lying then? Obviously the man’s paid a lot of money to someone to make up records. Hadn’t you better spend your time trying to verify his so-called proof? What about the drug he injected me with. Your doctors took blood, surely it was detected.”

  The detective looked embarrassed. “Well, ma’am. He says you have a history of drug addiction. Barbiturates, like the one found in your system. We’re going to need to search your home, ma’am.”

  “You’ll need a warrant,” Paul interjected. The detective nodded.

  Anne was shaking her head, disbelief on her face. “His fingerprints? In that dump he held me captive in?” Her voice was rising in panic.

  Paul put his hand over hers, sending a silent spell of peace toward her. This was worse than he’d expected, but nothing they couldn’t deal with. He felt her calm beneath his spell. Turning toward Spencer he said, “What about that? Surely it’s proof he was in that place with Anne.”

  The detective looked supremely embarrassed and somewhat relieved to focus his attention solely on Paul. “According to Langley, your client liked to pretend she was a hooker. She made him rent that place and she’d wait for him there. He would leave her money on the bureau after they played their little, uh, sex games.”

  Paul glanced at Anne who was bright red, her fists clenched in her lap.”How dare--.” she began, but the detective kept talking over her.

  “Mr. Langley said they had an argument just before he left for Mexico. He was tired of her kinky games and her immaturity. He’s been wanting to break it off with her because of the drugs and her clinginess. He said this whole thing was fabricated by Ms. Kaliner. You know…a woman scorned…”

  “This is beyond absurd.” Paul put his elbows on the table, aligning his fingertips as he forced himself to be calm, resisting the impulse to put a curse on the man in front of them. He reminded himself the detective was just trying to do his job. “What is it specifically you wish to ask of my client today?”

  “Well,” Spencer said, turning toward Anne. “We have your earlier signed statement. In light of the new evidence, we were wondering if you’d like to retract it and give a new statement. Mr. Langley has said he won’t press any charges if you drop yours. No hard feelings. Lovers’ quarrel.”

  Paul said quietly but with steel beneath the words, “We have nothing to retract, Detective. Ms. Kaliner stands by her statement one hundred percent. The man is a bald-faced liar, as well as a kidnapper guilty of sexual assault. We expect you to press criminal charges to the fullest extent of the law. I strongly suggest you recheck his so-called records with the airlines and the hotel. Find out who he paid and how much to lie for him and create false documents. Search his home for brown hair dye, a contact lenses case, any receipts from a wig shop, other false identification he might carry. Get into his computer and look for purchases with online pharmacies.

  While you’re at it, interview Harold Donner. He was present when Robert Langley spoke with Ms. Kaliner at a party last month. He was witness to the fact Ms. Kaliner could not recall Mr. Langley’s name, though they were supposedly ‘intimate’ as you said, for some time prior.”

  “Harold Donner, the billionaire?”

  “One and the same. Whoever else Langley bought off, you can bet Harold Donner wasn’t one of them.” Paul stood, his hand on Anne’s shoulder indicating she too should rise. “Now, if you’re done with this charade, we’ll bid you good day.”

  Chapter 14

  Paul caught his breath as he saw the half-finished self-portrait Anne had been working on. The eyes were perfect, Ann
e’s eyes stared back at him from the canvas, their brilliant clear gray green catching at his heart. The picture wasn’t finished, some of it only blocked in, but there was enough there to convince Paul beyond a doubt of Anne’s considerable talent.

  He stared again at the canvas, mesmerized. There was pain in those eyes and compassion. Somehow she’d caught her own essence, something very difficult to do, even for the most accomplished artist. Paul wanted to wake her from her nap, to shake her by the shoulder and demand why she hadn’t shown him her new work at once. But no, let her sleep. The ordeal at the police station had been a horrible shock, though in retrospect Paul supposed they shouldn’t have been surprised. He doubted this was Langley’s first foray into criminal behavior—the whole thing seemed too well planned, too well thought out to be merely the vengeful behavior of a man scorned.

  No, Robert Langley had probably terrorized other women before Anne and would do so again unless they found a way to stop him. Paul had little faith in the police force’s ability or willingness to uncover the evidence necessary to convict Langley at this point. He’d probed the detective’s mind as they were meeting with him. Spencer had been warned to go easy. Apparently Robert Langley had someone very high up in the force on his payroll, someone eager to quash anything that might give Langley a bad name.

  Paul didn’t intend to allow the long, possibly corrupt arm of the law to stick its hand into Anne’s personal life, raking up painful memories of her husband in the process, invading her privacy, spreading doubt and innuendo among her peers. He would put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. They would need a full confession, delivered in person by Langley himself. Paul intended to make that happen.

  ~*~

  “That’s right. You need to add a pinch more cinquefoil. Be very careful with the oil, too much and it’ll dilute the serum.” Paul was helping Anne as she carefully mixed and stirred the ingredients for the truth powder. She was pleased by his suggestion she might like to be the one to brew the potion he intended to use on Langley.

  “I’ve tried this twice before,” she admitted. “Both times the powder was too dark.”

  “That’s the yarrow blossom. Crush it some more and we’ll try again.” Together they mixed and stirred, their heads touching as they worked together, concentrating over the cauldron.

  “That should do it,” Paul finally announced. “Turn off the fire and let it dry. Meanwhile, make your call to the son of the bitch. Remember to act defeated, the poor stupid female he arrogantly assumes he can manipulate to get out of this thing. Stick to the script as best you can. Then we’ll call Spencer and put an end to this nonsense.”

  Anne nodded, a clutch of fear in her gut. Mostly she was excited. She felt empowered knowing Paul was in her corner. She dialed Langley’s number, unlisted but easily obtained by Paul from the phone operator with a magical suggestion.

  “Hello?” Anne tried not to shudder at the sound of his voice.

  “Hello, Robert. This is Anne. Anne Kaliner.”

  “Ah.” The man seemed at a loss for words.

  Instead of screaming at him, raging that he’d not only terrorized and abused her but then created a horrible string of lies that made her a suspect of false accusations, she swallowed and said, “I think we should talk, don’t you?”

  “What about? Your insane accusations against me?”

  “Listen, you and I both know the truth. But I’m not a stupid woman. I know when I’ve been beat. You’re just too clever for me.” She tried to sound as if she were on the verge of tears. “If you’ll agree to meet with me at Spencer’s office, we’ll both admit to a lovers’ quarrel,” Anne had to force the words past the lump of disgust in her throat, “and drop the charges against one another.”

  Langley was silent a moment. Slowly he said, “And I’m not a stupid man. What’s your angle? What do you want? Money?”

  “Well.” Anne forced herself to sound pathetic. “Since Greg’s been gone and I haven’t been working… Well, things have been kind of hard. This apartment is incredibly expensive, there’s no rent control. I was thinking if maybe you could help me—”

  He cut her off with a loud burst of laughter. “This is rich. Too rich.” Apparently he was buying it hook, line and sinker. “I always suspected you could be bought, just like any common whore. All women are the same. Get a whiff of cold hard cash and all is forgiven, all forgotten.” He laughed again but then said in a cold voice, “So, you agree to drop your ridiculous unfounded charges and I agree to forget the matter for a small fee of…what, ten thousand?”

  Paul, listening on the other line, mouthed to her, “Fifty.”

  “Fifty thousand.”

  “Fifty thousand, eh? That’s awfully steep. You can’t prove a thing. It’s your word against mine and as you’ve obviously come to realize, my word carries a good deal more weight in this town than yours does.”

  “Even if you’re,” she forced the words out, “exonerated, you’ll still have the scandal of a lawsuit, if not a criminal trial. I’ll find other women, women you’ve done this to. I doubt I’m the first. I doubt I’ll be the last—”

  “That’s enough. Shut up.” Obviously she’d hit a nerve. She waited, looking at Paul, who nodded, smiling as if to say, We’ve got him. “Okay. Fifty thousand after we meet with the police and you retract your statement and sign a new one confessing you were just a jilted lover. You might be fined for obstructing justice or a frivolous suit or something. I’ll cover that too. Deal?”

  “Yes. I’ll wait for Spencer’s call.”

  ~*~

  Paul and Anne walked into the room where Langley and another man, presumably his attorney, sat at the table. The room was considerably nicer than the interrogation room where the detective had grilled Anne over her alleged accusations. The table was polished wood, the floors carpeted.

  Anne and Paul sat across from the two men. Paul noted they were both dressed in extremely expensive suits worn over snow-white shirts and hand-sewn silk ties. Langley’s blond hair was slicked back, his mouth pursed in a small smile, his eyes cold and flat. The man beside him looked small in comparison to Langley’s lanky frame. He was darker, with receding hair and eyes set too close on either side of a long hooked nose. He had several stacks of papers and folders in front of him and looked very official.

  Anne was dressed in a dark blue dress that hugged her curves while still being conservatively cut. Her lovely hair had been pinned up in a French twist, making her large eyes look in ever bigger in her small, sweet face, now pinched with anxious anticipation. Paul hated that she’d been put through all this but knew the events about to unfold would give at least some satisfaction.

  Detective Spencer and another man whom he introduced as District Attorney Shafer entered the room a moment later. Once they were all seated, the DA turned to Anne. “I understand from Mr. Bennett here and his client Mr. Langley you have something to say.”

  I would very much like a cup of coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble. The words Paul sent to Langley issued out of his mouth a fraction of a second later. He himself seemed slightly surprised to have uttered them. The DA nodded at Spencer, who rose and left the room. At the door he said, “Could I get anyone else anything?”

  “A bottle of cold water for Ms. Kaliner,” Paul said, and Anne smiled gratefully at him. As they waited, Langley’s attorney and the DA made small talk of a kind that made it clear they knew one another on a personal basis. Peeking into the DA’s mind, Paul learned he was beholden in some way to Langley and hated him for it, but had been ordered by those above him to get this thing settled as quickly as possible. When Spencer returned a few moments later, Paul squeezed Anne’s leg.

  Now it begins, he whispered into her thoughts. Waving his hand over them all, he said the magical words necessary to immobilize the mortals for the few seconds he needed. This particular spell was weaker than the immobilizing spell he had taught to Anne, good when only a few seconds were needed to cover a sleight of hand when one
didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention. It would have been very difficult to exclude Anne from the spell, as any mortal within a few feet was bound to be caught in its web.

  Quickly he removed the little twist of paper that held the truth powder he and Anne had successfully brewed the day before. Unscrewing the paper, he let the pale lavender powder cascade into Langley’s cup, using the plastic stirrer to help it dissolve quickly. He only had about ten seconds left. Hurriedly he dropped the paper into the pocket of his jacket and sat back, waiting for the mortals to spring back to life, unaware they’d been tampered with by a warlock.

  As if nothing had happened, the DA turned to Anne. “As I was saying, we understand you are prepared to make a new statement.”

  I must drink this delicious coffee to the last drop. Obediently Langley lifted the cup and drank from it, gulping the tepid brew until it was empty. He set it down with a satisfied sigh. Anne twisted the top on her water bottle. Paul saw her hands were shaking. She allowed him to unscrew the cap for her.

  He turned to the DA. “Just a moment. If you would be so kind, we have a few questions for Mr. Langley. Since we agreed to come here, some new facts have come to light.”

  “Indeed,” said Mr. Shafer, his expression annoyed.

  “Yes,” Paul said, turning to Detective Spencer. “I suggest you begin recording now, sir.” As Spencer depressed the on button, Paul turned to Langley. His face was slightly less animated than before he’d imbibed the truth powder, the lines smoothed from his brow, the cunning snuffed from his eyes.

  “Have you been having a love affair with this woman, Anne Kaliner, for the past two years?” Paul ignored the startled looks from the other men sitting around the table.

  “No,” Langley answered calmly, even affably.