Where There's A Witch, There's A Way (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 13)

by Dakota Cassidy

  “And this?” she declared in exaggerated surprise. “Is this a vintage Halston, Stevie? It can’t have been your mother’s, can it?”

  I winked and ran my tongue over my teeth to loosen the debris. “It is, and nope. It’s wasn’t my mother’s. It was Goodwill’s until I nabbed it for a steal,” I said proudly, making Win cough into his fist. “I find it so bourgeois when one is impressed by a price tag instead of a classic, don’t you, Mrs. Cheshire? Of course, you have to be the right size. It feels like everyone was so much skinnier in the seventies.”

  Boom. Take that, you heartless wench.

  But Deborah’s smile never faltered, though a wrinkle right next to her left eye appeared. Instead, she looked to Win. “And who is this handsome devil?”

  Win pulled a hankie from the pocket of his tux and wiped the corner of my mouth before he tucked it away and smiled at Deborah. “Christoph Winningham, but Win to my nearest and dearest,” he supplied in his snooty, slightly condescending British accent. Then he offered his hand to her as though he were offering a gift, and she took it with a flushed giggle.

  Score one for Spy Guy and his oodles of charm. Let the games begin.

  “Deborah Cheshire. The mother of one of Stevie’s classmates. Lovely to meet you. So what do you do for a living, Win?” she asked, her eyebrows rising to her hairline.

  He wrapped an arm around my waist and smiled, his eyes twinkling with the beginning thrill of the chase. “Me? Why, I’m retired, of course. I was a financial planner. A very good one, I’d add. Now I spend my days with my clever, beautiful fiancée, making everyone else wish they had one exactly like her.”

  Deborah tilted her head in my direction, ignoring Win’s compliment. “And when did you become a member of the country club, Stevie?”

  Yeah. When did we become members, Win? I almost said, but managed to keep my yap shut.

  Win turned up his hundred-watt smile, making him more devastatingly handsome than ever before with his crisp white shirt against his dark hair, and the lean lines of his body encased in a tux that fit like a glove.

  Man, was he dreamy. I bet in his days as a spy, he was impossible to match when it came to looks and grace.

  “It feels like we’ve always been members, doesn’t it, my Dove?” he asked me, but he didn’t give me the chance to answer. Instead, he untucked my arm from his and offered it to Deborah. “Tell me, Deborah, are you a wine aficionado? You look like a woman who’s educated on the matter, and I find I’m quite parched. Shall we go inspect their cellar and see what we can drum up to quench my thirst?”

  Deborah tilted her chin into her shoulder and smoldered (you read that right. She literally smoldered), and nodded her coiffed-to-perfection head. “That would be delightful.”

  He turned to me then. “My Dove, will you be all right here alone for a moment if I promise not to be gone long? Will you miss me?”

  I smiled and dropped a kiss on his lean cheek. “Of course on both counts. Enjoy the hunt.”

  He leaned in and gave me a return kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Go get ’em, tiger. I shall distract.”

  As Win and Deborah wandered off, Win chatting amicably, I situated myself to see where the staff was coming and going from, so I could begin to ask questions. Eleanor said Ryan was a waiter, and that he’d definitely be here this evening for the event.

  Slipping through the crowd, the jazz band’s snappy music floating in my ears, I headed to the back of the ballroom, where I thought I remembered the kitchen was located.

  I made my way past the couples swaying on the beautiful oak floor, past the tables set with shiny glasses, enormous bouquets of fresh spring flowers and gorgeous gold china for the dinner service.

  I followed close behind one of the waitresses until we reached swinging doors—the doors that led me to the kitchen, where everyone was in full-on dinner service mode.

  I saw Eleanor across the large steel countertops, her cheeks flushed from serving. I gave her a little wave and a smile. She waved back and pointed to a young man adding food to platters before hauling a big service tray over her shoulder filled with more gross appetizers.

  Weren’t appetizers supposed to be appetizing?

  Huge silver pots of steaming food sat on several cooktop surfaces, chefs stirred and barked orders, platters sat atop one another waiting to be washed. My stomach rumbled at the delicious smells.

  Deciding I should make friends, I sidled up to the waiter in question, a tall, lanky boy with acne and two crooked front teeth who had a tray of the gunk I’d spat out of my mouth. “What is that stuff? It tasted like death and the tears of a decaying body.”

  He laughed; a squeaky sound that made me smile. “It’s roasted figs stuffed with goat cheese.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and laughed, too. “Or roasted garbage stuffed with puke. I don’t want to insult the chef, but it was awful.”

  He chuckled. “The shrimp-wrapped bacon is really good. You want some of that? I can get it for you. Otherwise, it’s goose liver pate, caviar—which, if you didn’t know, is fish eggs—and smoked salmon. Oh, and oysters Rockefeller.”

  Ick.

  “So not a sweet-and-sour meatball in sight, huh?” I teased, and he blushed.

  “Nope,” he said, but then he looked away and over my head, his eyes suddenly shy.

  “I’m Stevie Cartwright. Are you Ryan?”

  “Yep. Ryan Gimble, ma’am. You’re that lady Eleanor said might want to talk to me. You own the shop in town?”

  “I do. Madam Zoltar, at your service,” I responded with a curtsy and a grin.

  “I already talked to the police. Just so you know.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ryan. And good to know. I’m glad you spoke with the police. They should have all the information they can get their hands on, but do you mind sharing it with me, too? Sometimes another set of ears can hear something others haven’t.”

  His glance was sheepish. “They didn’t say I couldn’t, but I swear, I didn’t tell anyone else anyway. Not even Eleanor. I was afraid to say anything when I saw that guy on the news today. Doug or whatever his name is. It freaked me out. I’ve seen a dead guy who was alive, but now he’s dead, you know? I mean…I’ve never seen a dead person who wasn’t already dead when I saw him…do you know what I mean?”

  I smiled encouragingly. “I think I do.” I mostly knew what he meant—I think.

  “What I mean is, I don’t know anyone who’s died, and now I do.”

  I tilted my head and toyed with the heavy earring I was wearing. My ears were starting to ache and so were my feet. On top of it all, my Spanks were going to swallow me whole if I didn’t get them off, but Ryan had my full attention.

  As the waiters came in and out of the swinging doors in their black vests and trousers, and the general chaos of a kitchen went on around us, I felt the old familiar itch I might have a clue.

  But I didn’t want to scare him off. “It’s up to you, Ryan. You can share or not. No hard feelings if the answer is no.”

  He set the food down and turned to lean back against the steel countertop, his eyes cautious. “I…I saw that guy Doug. The one on the news, who was killed. He was here last night looking for those ladies. The loud ones who complained about Eleanor—which was stupid. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Can you tell me about it?” I asked casually as my heart jumped in my chest.

  “Most everyone had left, and we were cleaning up. I went outside for a minute because I was hot. I get sweaty really easy and the kitchen gets like an inferno. Anyway, he was outside with someone—by the lamppost. He was yelling at them.”

  My ears tingled. “Did you hear what he was yelling about?”

  He bobbed his head. “Some of it, but not a lot. Dude sounded really mad, though.”

  “About?”

  “I’m not sure about a lot of it. I don’t even know who he was talking to, because I couldn’t see the other person, but I do remember one thing that guy Doug said. He
said, ‘I have to tell her. I’m gonna tell her and I don’t care what you say. She has a right to know. It’ll blow it all up, but I’m gonna tell everyone. I have to do the right thing just once.’”

  Everyone? What did that mean? What did “I have to do the right thing” mean? Come clean about another affair? Was someone holding an affair over his head? Had he become involved with the wrong woman?

  Almost the moment Ryan spoke the words, Carys appeared. Her sneakers lighting up the corner by the big refrigerator doors.

  She danced wildly and pointed her finger at Ryan, nodding her head with a knowing smile.

  Clearly, she knew something we didn’t.

  Man, ghost whispering could be a real drag sometimes.

  Chapter 15

  I wanted to shout, “Now, Carys? Really?” But people already thought I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. I didn’t need any help in that department. But then she disappeared, leaving me breathing a sigh of relief.

  Too much on my plate made me too easily distracted. I couldn’t pursue her right now, even if what Ryan said was a sentiment Carys agreed with, but I hoped it meant I was on the right track.

  “So you didn’t see who Doug was yelling at, not at all?”

  He shuffled his feet in nervous fashion. “I got freaked out because I felt like I was eavesdropping, and we can get into trouble for much less than that here. I need this job to pay for my bowling league dues. So I didn’t stick around.”

  I leaned on the silver countertop, the cool surface welcome against my skin due to the heat of the kitchen. “Can you guess if it was a man or a woman?”

  He shrugged. “Whoever it was stood in the shadows, and I couldn’t hear any other voice over that guy yelling.”

  “And how do you know for sure it was Doug Wallace?”

  “Because he looks just like the guy in the picture they showed on the afternoon news. Bald, the beard, all of it. It was him. Trust me. I’m not lying.”

  “I would never think that, Ryan.” I thought for a moment, and wondered who Doug could have been arguing with if not Cleo. He wasn’t from Eb Falls. So it had to be one of the wedding party or someone who followed him here. Didn’t it? “Tell me, do you remember if the women who were disruptive were still here when you saw this go down?”

  “I can’t remember, to be honest. I was on kitchen duty, so I didn’t go into the bar much.”

  “Do you remember what time it was?”

  He scratched his head. “Guess it was probably like one or two? I don’t honestly remember, and I don’t remember when I got home, either. I was so tired from all the stuff that went down with that lady yelling, and cleanup, I fell into bed and passed out.”

  If that was true, it was definitely right around just before Doug was murdered, at least according to the video. “Is there anything else you can tell me, Ryan? Anything with more detail?”

  “Gimble!” someone yelled. “Get another platter and get your butt out there! Let’s keep it movin’!”

  He gave me an apologetic look. “I gotta beat feet, Stevie. I don’t want to get fired. But if you need to talk to me again, let Eleanor know. I can always stop by your store.”

  I didn’t want to get between a man and his bowling dues, so I let him off the hook. “Thanks, Ryan. You’re an angel.”

  He blushed again and grabbed another platter full of appetizers and headed out. “Bye.”

  The moment he left, I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. Thinking it was likely Win, I pulled it from my bag as I pushed my way out the kitchen doors, eager to share what I’d just learned.

  But it wasn’t. It was from Fallon Merriweather.

  The woman-who-was-here-for-Tammy’s-wedding-and-thought-we’d-killed-Doug Fallon Merriweather? How curious.

  “Can we meet?”

  “Is everything all right?” I texted back.

  “I really need to speak to you. It’s urgent and everyone says you’re who I should talk to.”

  My Spidey-sense kicked into high-gear. “Of course. When would you like to meet?”

  “Now! Please…”

  Her sense of urgency almost frightened me a little, but not enough to discourage me from meeting her. “Where would you like to meet?”

  “I’ll come to you, if that’s okay? I have to do this.”

  My fingers shook a little as I typed back, “I’m at the country club. I’ll meet you outside on the steps. Does that work?”

  “Yes! Oh, thank you. Give me two minutes. See you soon.”

  “See you then.”

  Well, huh. Tucking my phone back into my purse, I went to find Win, thinking he might be buried in the wine cellar with Deb-or-ah. The motel wasn’t but a half mile from the country club. I’d better hurry it up.

  I looked around, but didn’t see him anywhere in the ballroom or in the extravagant foyer. Tapping one of the waiters on the shoulder, I asked, “Where is the wine cellar?”

  “Down that long corridor, the door at the end, on the left, ma’am.”

  I peered down the hallway and decided it was a long walk in heels that were already killing me. I didn’t have time to waste. I could text Win and let him know where I was.

  I did exactly that, then I flew across the foyer and out the wide doors to the set of even wider steps to look for Fallon.

  The parking lot lights were great but for the fog that had rolled in, making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of me.

  I decided to take a quick sweep of the parking lot as my stomach rumbled and my feet throbbed. Slipping down the stairs, I passed the valet, who’d appeared to settle in, now that the guests had arrived and the parking lot was quiet.

  I didn’t want to venture too far from where I said we’d meet. Pushing my way through the thick mist, I stood at the bottom of the steps when I heard my phone buzz again.

  “I’m here. Three rows back, parked by the wall of arborvitaes. We can talk in my car where no one will hear. Blue Honda Civic.”

  Yay. I couldn’t wait to walk across the hard pavement in the shoes that were rubbing my feet raw. But if this was a clue, and it must be because Fallon had specifically mentioned my reputation (which seemed to be an ongoing theme today), then I wasn’t going to miss this conversation—even if I had to walk across hot coals in my bare feet.

  “Be right there.”

  It took some adjusting my eyes to see where I was going. The mist and fog can be pretty thick here near the ocean. I bumped into a couple of cars until I clicked on my flashlight ap on my cell. That made things only marginally easier.

  As I was almost to the shadow of what I hoped were the arborvitaes Fallon mentioned, I heard a car door shut and then someone yell, “Please don’t!” before there was a sharp scream—then nothing but crickets.

  Ice ran though my veins and my heart began throbbing in my chest as I tried to decide what to do next. Go back toward the muted lights of the country club, or push forward and see if Fallon was all right?

  If I called out, I could call attention to myself, and if I didn’t locate Fallon, and that was her scream, she could be hurt.

  Kicking off my shoes, I crouched down between the cars, trying to figure out if I was close to Fallon’s car or if the shadows I’d seen weren’t actually the trees after all.

  Squinting, my breathing heavy, I felt my way along several cars until I struck gold and saw the edge of the bright blue Honda under the glow of my phone’s flashlight.

  It was then I decided, I’d made a mistake. I mean, really. I was so caught up, I didn’t think being in the dark in the fog could present a problem? It was sleuthing 101. I decided to run back to the entry of the club and get help while I berated my amateurish behavor.

  Unfortunately, that was the last thing I thought before the sting of something at the side of my head sent me tumbling forward and crashing to the hard pavement.

  And I briefly remember thinking, Okay, it’s official. I’ve been maimed. Now we’ve got ourselves a real murder investigation!

  “Dov
e? Can you hear me? Stephania!” I heard Win’s frantic call, piercing the black hole I’d fallen into.

  I turned my head, but unlucky for me, I turned it in the wrong direction.

  Because to the right of me, eyes, lifeless and round, stared at me in glassy death.

  I screamed in terror and surprise, launching my upper torse upward, trying to scramble away from that dead stare, and scraping my palms in the process.

  Win grabbed me, pulling to him and turning me away to tuck me close to his long length. “No, Dove, we shouldn’t move you,” he soothed. “you could have injured your neck.”

  I groaned but I couldn’t make actual words with my mouth. It hurt too much.

  “Dove, what possessed you to come out here alone?”

  Stupid impulsivity. That’s what. “How long was I out?”

  “Long enough to frighten me to death and for the valet to call the police and an ambulance, which has arrived in record time.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I shivered against him at the concern in his voice as I explained about my intended meeting with Fallon. “She’s dead, isn’t she? Fallon? Is that Fallon? She’s dead?”

  I know that was a stupid question. Of course she was, but my hope overruled my good sense.

  A paramedic sat on his haunches next to me and took my pulse, thwarting my questions. He asked me a bunch of questions then gave Win the go ahead to bring me to the hospital for a thorough checkup.

  “So, Fallon…?” I whispered as he helped me up and walked me to the back of the ambulance.

  He brushed his knuckles lightly over my forehead, pushing my mussed hair from my face to run a thumb over the sore spot. “She is, Dove, and you’ve got quite a hit to your noggin. We should take you to the emergency room before we do anything else.”

  I shook my head, even though it hurt like the dickens. “No. I’m fine. I want to know what the heck happened.”

  “No, beloved. We take zero chances with matters of the brain. To the ER we go, and someone walloped you over the head with what the police think was a baseball bat. That’s what happened.”