Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells

by Danielle Garrett

  CeeCee looked at me, silently questioning if we were staying or going. I slid from my chair and caught Caleb’s eye as the last stragglers headed for the exit. He blinked, clearly surprised to see me standing there. “Ana?” he said, approaching the table. He gave a nod to CeeCee and Harmony. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Girl’s night out!” Harmony said, waving her martini glass at him.

  CeeCee plucked it out of her hand.

  “What happened?” I asked, my gaze following the path Meryl and Guy had cut moments before.

  “Potions have signatures, embedded in the very spells that create them. Signatures help connect potions to the potion master who made them. We found traces of the potion used to kill Evan in the glassware retrieved from the basement where he was drinking prior to the ceremony. The signature led us to an apothecary and we showed the owner a series of photos. Out of all the bartenders at the event, he identified Guy as a regular customer.”

  My eyes went wide.

  “It’s enough to arrest him, Ana.”

  Caleb paused long enough to direct his agents, sending two to search the bar and one to the employee-only area behind it.

  “Why would a potion master attach his signature to a potion meant to kill someone?” Harmony asked.

  I started, not realizing she’d moved so close to me.

  “Any potion master worth their cauldron knows the spells that can kill and would never brew them in the first place, let alone be dumb enough to bottle them up and sell them right over the counter like that!” Harmony pointed out, her words spilling out in rapid fire. “Did this potion master say Guy actually bought the potion used to kill this guy?”

  Caleb’s eyes went steely blue. “Would you two like to take over the investigation?”

  Harmony shrank back under his fierce glare.

  I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Caleb, we’re just trying to help. Guy is Harmony’s friend, just like Francois is mine. It’s only natural for us to be protective, just like you said in your office earlier today.”

  “And I’ll say again, I’m following the investigation. And right now, with Mr. Hansen’s history with the victim, combined with his purchases at the apothecary, I have enough to arrest him.” Caleb glanced at his agents, his eyes circling the bar before returning to us. “The potion used to kill Evan was a blend of other potions, all put together with some kind of spell. Mr. Hansen is a mixologist. It’s not far-fetched to believe him capable of putting together a deadly concoction.”

  Harmony started to argue, but one look from Caleb shut her up. She tore from my grip and stalked out of the bar, muttering under her breath. CeeCee shot me a nervous glance and slithered past Caleb to follow after her.

  Caleb grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Well, taking it out on Harmony isn’t going to do anything but create more problems,” I told him, unable to restrain the bite in my voice.

  “I’m sorry, Ana.”

  “I’m not the one you need to apologize to, Caleb.”

  Leaving him no room for a reply, I swerved past him and left the bar. CeeCee and Harmony were on the sidewalk outside. Harmony had her arms wrapped around herself, fighting a losing battle against the chill in the night air.

  “Listen, I should get going,” CeeCee said apologetically. “I have to get up early for a staff meeting tomorrow. Maybe we can schedule a do-over next week?”

  I nodded. “For sure. Thanks for the drinks, CeeCee. I’ll call you later.”

  She gave me a brief hug and then walked toward the nearby bus stop.

  “I’ve known Guy for a while now. He’s not a killer, Stace.” Harmony said, her eyes distant. “Something’s not right here.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She tossed her head and sniffed. “It’s too neat, too clean.”

  “You think it’s a frame job?” I asked.

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “But why would someone set up Guy? I mean, they’d have to know a lot about him, like his beef with Evan, where he shopped for potion ingredients, the fact that he was even going to be at the wedding, let alone bartending it. I mean, who could have that much info on him?”

  I shook my head, coming up empty. “I don’t know and right now, I’m getting the feeling the SPA isn’t going to dig too hard. They want this case closed, like yesterday. Caleb told me there’s a lot of pressure on them to give Evan’s parents and the public a name and move on.”

  “Wouldn’t they rather have the right guy, not just the convenient guy?”

  “You would think,” I scoffed, though I felt a little guilty throwing Caleb in with the rest of the dirty water. “Come on. Let’s go home. We can grab dinner on the way.”

  Harmony hesitated. “Actually, I can’t.”

  “What? Why not?”

  She glanced down the street. A Shimmer Bus was rounding the corner. “I have a class at eight. I signed up for it before we scheduled the thing with CeeCee. I was going to duck out early, but now …” she trailed off as the Shimmer Bus glided to a stop with a slight whoosh sound. “Are you gonna be okay?”

  Disappointment twisted in my stomach but I smiled. “Yeah, of course. Maybe I’ll bug Patrick and see if he wants to order in.”

  Harmony smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and then tore off for the bus before it could pull away. “See you tomorrow, Stace!”

  I waved and watched her go, hating myself for wondering whether or not she’d just lied to me.

  I hadn’t finished my martini but going to a bar alone held no appeal. Instead, I headed home but got off the Shimmer Bus a stop early and walked to Magic Beans, the neighborhood coffee shop. They were open late and had a cozy atmosphere. I ordered a decaf latte and a bagel sandwich at the counter and then staked out a table in the corner. The patron before me had left a copy of the Haven Herald behind. I’d already glanced through the day’s issue, but tugged it toward me, content to peruse it as I waited for my order to be called.

  A few minutes later, the barista who’d taken my order came over and handed me a full mug with a generous amount of foam and then placed my sandwich in front of me. “Anything else?” she asked with a smile.

  I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m all set.”

  She went back to the counter and I took a sip. The latte was extra hot and I recoiled, my lip stinging. I searched for a napkin to wipe away the hot liquid but came up empty. I wiped my mouth with my fingers and then hurried to the bar and grabbed a handful of napkins and poured a glass of ice water from the decanter. On my way back to my table, a familiar giggle caught my ear. I turned and then nearly dropped the glass of water.

  There, occupying the corner booth, was Charlene Fitzpatrick, and she was making out with a man in a dark suit.

  When they came up for air, my breath hitched. I ducked my chin and scurried back to my table, then pushed the sandwich out of the way and flipped the abandoned copy of the Herald open.

  My eyes went wide.

  The man from the corner booth was staring up at me in black and white, right in the middle of page three.

  Russel Lauren.

  Chapter 13

  Phone in hand, I debated calling Caleb. I hesitated, mostly because I had no idea what to say. After all, it wasn’t criminal for Charlene and Russel to be together—a little distasteful, considering the amount of spit they were swapping in public and the fact that her fiancé wasn’t even cold yet, but nevertheless, legal. Questions blared through my mind. How long had they been together? Was this a long-standing affair, or were they simply drawn together in the aftermath of Evan’s death? Russel’s falling out with Evan had been humiliating and left him broke and lacking the rich ally he was used to having at his side. They’d fought in public, but was that the end of it? Or, was it possible Russel had wanted to take revenge in another way? Or, maybe Charlene had put him up to it so they could be together.

  The big problem was that Russel hadn’t been a member of the wedding party. He w
asn’t one of Evan’s groomsmen or ushers. He wouldn’t have had access to Evan or any of his food or drinks the morning of his death.

  I shook my head, snapping myself out of the tornado of scenarios.

  “You’re losing it,” I muttered to myself, setting my phone back on the table with a decisive click. “What did Caleb just say?”

  He was agitated enough without me provoking him further. I had to back off and let him do his job. I wasn’t a detective or a specially trained SPA asset. I was a wedding planner. Period. End of story.

  Still …

  I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder at the pair. Russel and Charlene had stopped kissing, though they still looked mere seconds from tearing off one another’s clothing. Stars, get a room, already.

  What were they thinking? Their faces were both plastered in that morning’s newspaper. Everyone in the haven read the Herald and had likely seen one, if not both, of their photos. Did they not think people might recognize them together and wonder what Evan Stimpton’s fiancé was doing with her tongue down his ex-partner’s throat less than seventy-two hours after his death?

  If they did, they certainly didn’t care.

  Charlene leaned in and whispered something to Russel. His smile faded and then he said something in reply. Their mood shifted.

  I snatched my phone up again and dialed Patrick’s number, silently praying he was home. He picked up on the second ring. “Hey Ana! Harmony said you might call.”

  “She did?”

  “Texted a few minutes ago.”

  “Listen, I have a favor to ask. It’s going to sound really weird, but I just need you to trust me, okay?”

  “Uh, sure. What is it?”

  “I need you to come down to the Magic Bean, order something, anything, and then sit directly behind a table and text me what the people are talking about. The man is wearing a dark suit and the woman is blonde, leggy, wearing a black dress. They look like they just got done seeing a show or having a fancy dinner.”

  I paused. Hadn’t Clive said Charlene was out with Evan’s parents, making preparations for the funeral? I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say if he could see her now, halfway in Russel’s lap. Or, did he know all about Charlene’s secret lover?

  “Will you do it?” I asked Patrick.

  “It’s, uh, pretty strange, but sure, I guess so. Be there in five.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, thanks. I’ll explain everything later—just hurry!”

  Every minute passed like an hour as I tried not to stare at the door, waiting for Patrick to arrive. Finally—okay, four minutes later—he arrived. He wore a red hoodie, blue jeans, and sneakers. He glanced around, spotted the couple, but didn’t look at me as he went to the counter to place his order.

  The cheery barista tried chatting with him, but he must have said something to shut her down because she raised her brows as she turned away and prepared his drink. He went to the table behind Russel and Charlene and sat down, stretching his legs out as he slouched in his chair. He was the epitome of cool and comfortable. He pulled his phone out and half a second later, mine chirped.

  I flicked the volume off and opened his message.

  Patrick: All right, I’m here, you wanna tell me what’s going on?

  Me: You’re supposed to be listening. What are they saying?

  Patrick: I am. Contrary to popular opinion, men can multi-task too.

  I rolled my eyes. Fine.

  Me: The blonde is Evan Stimpton’s fiancé and my former client. The man is his ex-business partner. Three days ago she was in a white dress, ready to marry Evan. Now, he’s dead and she can’t keep her hands off this guy. Coincidence?

  Patrick: You watch too many true crime shows.

  Me: Patrick!

  Patrick: Chill, I’m listening. They’re talking about a funeral. She asked if he’s going to show up. He said he has too, to keep up appearances. Now they’re joking about meeting in a coat closet for some … well, I’ll spare you the details.

  Stars, did they not realize there was a complete stranger sitting right there?

  Patrick: She’s complaining about someone named Clive. Says he’s being clingy and overprotective. The guy just asked if she wants him to … take care of it.

  No … that didn’t sound ominous at all.

  Me: What did she say?

  When Patrick didn’t reply, I glanced up. They’d gone back to making out again. I sent Patrick the throw-up emoji. He chuckled.

  The coffee shop door slammed shut with a gust of wind as a new couple stepped inside. The woman winced and apologized as the pair shuffled to the counter. The loud noise appeared to have startled Russel and Charlene from their canoodling, so while they looked the other way, I raised my phone and snapped a quick picture. They stood from the table, and Russel helped Charlene into her coat. Patrick slipped his phone into his pocket and sipped at his coffee. I must have missed the barista bringing it to his table.

  Patrick waited until the couple left and then came over to join me at my table. He dropped the hood on his sweatshirt. “I gotta say, this night has turned out a lot more interesting than I’d imagined.”

  I snorted. “What, you don’t play 007 with your other friends?”

  He laughed and took a swig. “Lame, right?”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “Nah. They were debating sharing a cab. Nothing interesting.”

  I bobbed my head.

  “You really think one or both of them bumped off the fiancé?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. Right now, the SPA is looking at the bartender, but I just don’t buy it. I mean, I never claim to be some kind of walking lie-detector, but in my world, having a good sense of character is essential. I know people. And this bartender …” I trailed off, shaking my head slowly. “It doesn’t fit.”

  “Hmm. Well, I hope you figure it out. Even more, I hope your boyfriend doesn’t get ticked off that you’re poking around in his case.”

  I frowned. “Harmony told you?”

  Patrick squinted. “No. But I’m sure he can’t be thrilled you’re running ops behind his back.”

  My stomach churned. He was probably right, but what else was I supposed to do?

  “Thanks for the help,” I said. I glanced at my coffee and bagel sandwich. Both cold. “Now, about that takeout dinner.”

  Patrick laughed and pushed to his feet. “Come on. 007’s buying.”

  I didn’t see Caleb until the following afternoon. He came over without calling first, a rarity for him, and when I let him into my condo, a flutter of nerves passed through me. Was he still angry about the night before? We hadn’t spoken, not even a text message, since the argument at Persimmon. Was he here to break things off? Had I crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed?

  He came inside, arms laden with his gym duffel and another bag, bearing the logo of the corner cafe. He looked freshly showered and when he joined me at the dining room table after depositing the takeout in the kitchen, I caught a strong whiff of the ocean-scented body wash he used.

  Caleb paused in the dining room and considered the mess of papers, photos, and trinkets I had scattered across the table. “What’s all this?”

  “This is all I have left. All I have to show for almost a decade of work. I sent a courier to pick up all the stuff from my office a couple of days ago.”

  Caleb exhaled and looped an arm around my waist, then dropped his gym bag to the floor and gathered me into his arms. “I’m sorry, babe. I haven’t even been here for you while you’re dealing with all of this. And then, when we have seen each other, it’s been tense because of the case.” He paused, a pained look on his face. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I haven’t exactly been at my peak, either.”

  He kissed me slow, the tenderness of it washing away the tension and anxiety. I relaxed in his arms and dropped my head against his solid chest. I wanted to tell him about the conversation I’d captured the night befo
re, but was hesitant to pop the peaceful bubble we’d wrapped around ourselves.

  Caleb leaned over, taking me with him. “What’s this?” he asked, straightening. “You’re really going to do it?”

  I pulled back. He held my business license application paperwork.

  “Well, when Kait called to tell me to pick up my stuff, I kinda … um, well, I told her I was starting my own firm and then spouted off a bunch of pure nonsense about how I was going to—” I closed my eyes “—I believe crush them into pixie dust were my exact words.”

  Caleb grinned. “Pixie dust?”

  “Ugh. How humiliating. What was I thinking?”

  Caleb’s body shook as he tried to suppress his laughter.

  “I’m sorry, is this funny to you?” I asked, peering up at him.

  “Funny isn’t the right word, but I do find it a little amusing you’ve basically cornered yourself into doing what I thought you should do from the beginning.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Define beginning?”

  “Since I realized how under-appreciated you were at the firm.” He spread one arm out, showcasing the collection of photos I’d spread across the table. “You’re amazing at this. If you put this talent to work for yourself, I know you’ll take off like a rocket. Aurelia knows it. Harmony knows it. You’re the one who needs to come around and see your own potential, babe.”

  A little nip of guilt bit into me, recalling how I’d overreacted the night before at Persimmon. My cheeks warmed and I placed a hand on Caleb’s chest, drawing his attention away from the table. “You’re good at what you do, too. I’m sorry if I made you feel anything less than exceptional last night at the bar.”

  Caleb’s eyes softened and he lifted my hand from his chest to press a kiss along my knuckles. “I appreciate that.”

  “We’re good?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Baby, we’re great.”

  I lifted onto my toes and kissed him softly.