Way of the Witch

by Cate Dean

  “Please take your own advice, Maggie.” He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her. “I know you want to protect Spencer, but Givens is not someone to anger, not lightly.”

  “Got it.” She still planned to head over to the museum, and talk to whoever really was in charge. They needed to know that Spencer was a valuable asset. “Okay.” She eased out of his embrace, as much as she wanted to stay for, oh, the rest of the day. “Time to get to work.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What are we working on?”

  She smiled up at him. “We’re going to make a list.”

  Ten

  An hour later, Maggie had a short list. A pathetically short list, and Spencer was on it.

  Circumstantial evidence made him a suspect, and she couldn’t ignore that. She was determined to cross off every bit of evidence, until Spencer was clear.

  “I’m going to the museum.”

  “Maggie.” Martin took her hand. “I know you are concerned for Spencer—”

  “But you don’t want me to walk right into potential danger.” She patted his hand, and eased out of his grasp. “I’m not going to be alone with Dr. Givens. I want an objective witness present when I do talk to him, and I know just the person.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Wish me luck.”

  “I will, and ask you to be careful.”

  “Always.”

  After a quick word with Ashton, she grabbed her Kelly green jacket and headed down to the museum. Her first stop was at the ticket counter.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling at the teenage girl, who looked incredibly bored. “Can you direct me to Mr. Newcombe’s office?”

  “Sure.” She straightened, and pointed at the staircase. “Second floor, take your first right. Is Givens the Nasty in trouble again?”

  Maggie bit back a smile. “Why would you say that?”

  “He’s been flying off the handle at every little thing.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I overheard Mr. Newcombe saying something about possibly letting him go.”

  “Thanks for the information.” Maggie winked at her and headed to the staircase.

  On the second floor, she easily found the administrator’s office, and walked up to the reception desk. “I’d like to see Mr. Newcombe, if he’s available.”

  The older woman studied her, eyes appraising. “What would this be about?”

  “Dr. Givens.”

  “Ah. Please, come with me.” She stood and led the way to a set of double doors, knocking sharply.

  “Come in.” The deep voice sounded pleasant.

  The receptionist opened the door. “Maggie Mulgrew to see you, Mr. Newcombe.”

  Maggie blinked. She had never told the woman her name.

  “What an unexpected pleasure. Please, send her in, Mrs. Gooden.”

  The receptionist smiled at Maggie. “Please feel free to speak your mind with him, Miss Mulgrew. I adore your antique shop.”

  “That’s how you know me. Oh—you bought the Sheraton writing table. How is it working?”

  “Beautifully. I use it every day. As I said before, speak your mind with Mr. Newcombe. We need all the documentation we can acquire.”

  It sounded like Givens had already started his own fall.

  She took a deep breath and walked into the surprisingly small office, hearing the door close behind her.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable, Miss Mulgrew.”

  “Maggie, please.”

  “Maggie, then. Please, call me Brent. May I offer you some tea?”

  “Thank you, I’m fine.”

  “Very well.” Brent leaned back in his chair. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what can I do for you?”

  “I believe Dr. Givens had something to do with Regina Draper’s murder.”

  Brent sighed. “You are not the first to make that observation. Spencer Knight’s exhibit has the man furious. I finally pinned him down and learned the reason for his reaction. Regina claimed that she was related to Anya Trimble, am I right?”

  “Yeah. I’m afraid Spencer’s exhibit also proved that she wasn’t related.”

  “That is a dilemma.”

  “Do you know Givens fired Spencer? When he was at the police station?”

  “I was informed, not long after Elgin’s impulsive visit. Needless to say, Spencer is still part of this museum. I sent a formal letter stating as much. You can relay the information to him, if you like.” He stood, and moved around the desk, sitting in the empty chair next to Maggie. “If you can do me a great favor, Maggie, and give a brief statement to my receptionist. I am determined to rid this museum of Elgin Givens, but he has enough friends in the right places that I am forced to present documentation.”

  “I’ll be happy to.”

  “Thank you.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “One thing. Can Spencer come back to the museum, and keep working on the exhibit?”

  “Of course.” Brent stood, heading to the double doors. He opened one and leaned out, talking to Mrs. Gooden. “Can you send down a message to Security, informing them that Spencer Knight is to be allowed into the museum? Have my notice belay any order from Dr. Givens.”

  “Of course, Mr. Newcombe.”

  Brent smiled at Maggie. “Done, and done. I want his exhibit to go off as planned. It will be a boon to the museum, and I believe it will be a popular one, as well. Witches, a deserted village, hauntings—it all makes for an irresistible draw. I plan to take full advantage of the local legends, as well.”

  “You mean Dell.” She tried not to shudder as memories of her time there with Spencer sharpened. It had been more than a decade, but what had happened there had affected her. “I wouldn’t direct tourists there. Dell may be deserted, but it doesn’t feel that way.”

  “You’ve been there.” Brent walked back to her, interest on his face. “Can you tell me about it?”

  “I can’t tell you much, but I will say this—don’t satisfy your curiosity and visit.”

  He studied her, and finally nodded. “I will rely on what you know about the place, and take your advice. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

  She stood, sensing that the meeting was over. “I was going to talk to Dr. Givens, but on the way here I thought better of it. He does have a temper, and he doesn’t like me much.” She smiled, and answered his unasked question. “I’m a Yank.”

  Brent shook his head. “That is one of the reasons I have orders to keep him out of the public spaces. He is becoming an embarrassment; one I am determined to remove, as quietly as possible.” With a sigh, he took Maggie’s elbow and led her to the double doors. “I was hoping, when I took the administrator position, that Elgin and I could come to an agreement. Instead, he has flouted my authority at every turn. I don’t enjoy documenting his actions, but he’s given me no choice.”

  “It’s not because of you. I remember my great aunt telling me about Dr. Givens, years ago. He never was a pleasant man.”

  “Unfortunately, giving him control of the museum brought out his least desirable traits.” Brent rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Maggie had a feeling he was about to have a battle on his hands. “Thank you again, and please give Spencer my best.”

  “I will.”

  She walked out of the office, and smiled at Mrs. Gooden before she left. With that unpleasant task out of the way, she wanted to have a look around. It had been too long since she’d taken some time to just enjoy the museum. Her last visits here had hardly been uneventful.

  Heading down to the first floor, she stopped when she heard voices, filtering up from below.

  Her heart skipped when she recognized them. Spencer and Dr. Givens.

  “Oh, Spence—what are you doing here?”

  He should still be at Patrick’s bookshop, sorting through piles of books.

  His next words told her.

  “I still have my position here, according to Brent Newcombe, so I will keep set
ting up the exhibit that he already told you has been approved.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it! You will not drag my family’s name through this, Knight, and I will do whatever I have to in order to stop you.”

  “Including murder?”

  Maggie closed her eyes, and understood what Spencer was trying to do.

  “How dare you accuse me, you cretin! Have you any idea who I am?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. My research was quite thorough.”

  “Oh, Spence,” she muttered—and moved fast when a crowd started to form, drawn by their argument. She pushed past the first group of lookie loos and raised her voice. “Spencer—there you are.” Both men stopped mid shout and stared at her. “I was just talking to Brent Newcombe, and I was going to track you down at the bookshop.”

  Spencer grinned, and Givens sputtered, his face turning an even darker shade of red.

  “You bloody Yank!” Givens stalked over to her and grabbed her arm. She had trapped herself, between him and the larger crowd behind her. “Who do you think you are, sticking your ignorant nose in what you clearly know nothing about?”

  As much as Maggie wanted to jerk free, she stood still, and looked at Givens, her voice quiet. “What makes you think I was talking to him about you?”

  “You—Knight—it is an affront to me, and this institution!”

  “The only affront at this moment is coming from you, Elgin.” Brent stepped clear of the crowd, his arms crossed. Because he stopped next to Maggie, she could see the anger that flashed in his eyes, before he controlled it. “In my office, Dr. Givens. Now.”

  “I did not—they were—ˮ

  “It wasn’t a suggestion, Elgin.”

  Givens glared at Spencer before he stomped forward, headed directly for Maggie. Brent stepped in front of her, his arm reaching back, blocking Givens from any access.

  “You will regret crossing me.” Givens spat out the words, so furious he shook. “Watch your back, Maggie Mulgrew, because I never forget a slight.”

  “Martin.”

  Givens halted, color draining from his face. “What?”

  “My last name is Martin, now. Maggie Martin.” She wanted to give him a subtle reminder, in case he’d forgotten who her husband was.

  Givens muttered what sounded like Arabic and fled, shoving through the now substantial crowd. She let out a relieved sigh, a little shaken herself from his temper. Brent turned to her, and frowned, closing his hand over her shoulder.

  “Are you all right, Maggie? You look a bit green.”

  “Mags!” Spencer skidded to a halt next to her. “You were—what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I feel a little—ˮ

  Those were the last words she remembered before the world dipped sideways.

  Eleven

  Martin paced the waiting area of the clinic, glancing in the direction of the exam rooms every other step.

  Women like Maggie did not faint, not unless there was something wrong. Something serious. Something life-threatening...

  “Stop borrowing trouble, mate,” he muttered.

  “What was that?” Spencer headed for him, looking just as worried.

  “Thinking out loud.”

  “She’s going to be fine, Professor. Too little sleep, too much worrying about me.” Spencer sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well as Martin. “A couple of days in bed, and she’ll be—ˮ

  He cut himself off as the door opened, and Dr. Smith walked out.

  Martin’s heart pounded, hard and erratic, as he waited for the doctor’s verdict.

  “First off, I will tell you both that Maggie is fine.” He moved, fast, when Martin stumbled. “I think you had best sit down, Martin. Both of you,” he said, glancing at Spencer. “You have worried yourselves into exhaustion.”

  “Why did she pass out?” Spencer managed to ask the question before Martin could recover enough to do so.

  Dr. Smith smiled, and sat next to Martin, laying one hand on his shoulder. “Maggie is expecting.”

  Martin stared at him, the words not registering. “Maggie is—how—ˮ

  Spencer laughed and clapped him on the back. “Thought you were old enough to know the birds and the bees, Professor. You’re about to be a father.”

  Martin blinked, looking from Spencer to Dr. Smith. “A—father?”

  Heaven help him.

  Dr. Smith smiled, and stood. “From your reaction, this was not planned. Maggie is nearly three months along, and she and the baby are doing fine. I will set her up with a series of appointments, just to check her regularly, but she will need to find an obstetrician, and soon.” He leaned down. “Breathe, Martin.”

  “Right,” he whispered.

  “You can go back and see her. One at a time, mind you. I want her to rest.”

  Martin stood, his legs still unsteady. “When will I be able to take her home?”

  “I would like to watch her for a few hours, so before supper. Go on and see her, Martin. She looked as gobsmacked as you when I told her.”

  Martin nodded, and followed Dr. Smith into the exam area. They had put Maggie in the room at the back, and curtained off her bed. After taking a few deep breaths, he walked over to her bed and slipped through the opening in the curtain.

  Maggie was sitting up, her hand on her belly, her head lowered. Wild red hair curtained her face, and he hesitated, terrified that she already had second thoughts.

  “Maggie?”

  Her head snapped up. “Oh, Martin.” Tears filled her crystal blue eyes.

  He forgot about his own fears and sat next to her, gathering her into his arms.

  “Quite a surprise, love.” He buried his face in her hair, breathed in the familiar, soothing scent of wildflowers. “You scared another ten years off my life, Maggie Martin.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I know we never talked about this, and it wasn’t planned, I swear—ˮ

  “Slow down.” He eased back, until he could see her face. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she looked utterly miserable. Martin gently wiped at her tears, which only caused more. “Yes, this is unexpected, and it blindsided me.” He laid his hand over hers, felt the slight curve of her belly. “I love you, Maggie, and I am already half in love with our child.”

  “Martin.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and laid her other hand over his. “I’m so scared. I didn’t have a good role model. What if I’m not cut out for this?”

  “Maggie Martin.” He kissed her cheek, wanting to soothe away any doubt. The moment he had touched her, felt the presence of what their love had created, his doubt disappeared. “You are the most generous, caring, compassionate woman I know. Your Aunt Irene would say the same, were she here. She was your role model, and she did well.”

  “I wish she was here.” Fresh tears slipped free. “I miss her, so much.” She straightened and wiped at her face. “I don’t know if it’s hormones doing this, or if I’m just overtired.”

  “My guess is a combination. You haven’t slept since Spencer found Regina in his kitchen. That has to change, love, along with your amateur sleuthing.”

  “No argument here.”

  “Hey, Mags.”

  They both looked up at Spencer’s voice. He peeked through the curtain, looking as relieved and shocked as Martin had felt when he first heard the news.

  “Spencer.” She held her hand out.

  “I can only stay a minute. Newcombe rang me, and wants me back at the museum. The Doc said I could sneak back and say a quick hello before I left.” He moved to the bed and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Congratulations, Mum,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  “Spence.” She teared up again, smiling as she looked at each of them. “You’re going to be an uncle.”

  “I am.” A grin flashed across his face. “Someone I can finally teach to surf.” He winked at Maggie, and kissed her again. “Have to go. Patrick’s waiting on me. He gave me a break to run over to
the museum, so stop frowning at me, Maggie. It was just bad timing, running into Givens. Ring me when they spring you, and I’ll bring over some celebratory non-alcohol.”

  He waved one last time and left.

  Maggie sighed, and leaned against Martin. “I feel like I could sleep for a week. I want to go home, Martin, sleep in my own bed.”

  “I will speak to the doctor.” He cupped her chin and kissed her. She slid her arm around his neck, and kissed him until they were both breathless. “Feeling better, Mrs. Martin?”

  “Much,” she whispered. “Get me out of here.”

  He kissed her again, and went to search for Dr. Smith.

  ***

  Maggie had never been so happy to see her own bedroom.

  Despite her protests, Martin carried her into the house, and up the stairs, gently settling her on the edge of the bed. He wouldn’t be doing that again; she didn’t miss him rubbing his right shoulder as he turned away. And she was going to get heavier.

  Still in shock, she pressed her hand to her stomach. “Hi there,” she whispered. “I’m your mom. It’ll be Mum here, and I can’t wait to hear you say it for the first time.”

  “And the thousandth?” Martin leaned against the doorframe, smiling at her. Heavens, she loved him. He moved to the bed and crouched in front of her, spreading his hand over hers. “How are you feeling?”

  “Hungry. Tired. Stunned.”

  He kissed her stomach, then stood and kissed her. “Did you need help changing?”

  “I’m good.”

  “I’ll head down and put a tray together.”

  She smiled. “A bedtime snack?”

  “Get used to it, love.” He framed her face with his hands. “I am going to spoil both of you rotten.”

  After a lingering kiss, he left the bedroom.

  Maggie wanted to stretch out right now and close her eyes, but she wanted to be comfortable more. With a sigh, she pushed to her feet, waited a few seconds. No dizziness, thank goodness. She headed for the closet, and her favorite blue cotton nightgown.

  After she changed, she added her worn blue chenille robe, planning to take it off after she ate, and sat on the edge of the bed.