Charlie stopped. “Why ever not?”
“He left. The police told him he had to stay in Iriswood but was barred from coming back to the Country Club, so he left,” Derek explained.
“Did he have an alibi for the time of the murder?” Charlie said.
“Yeah, I guess he was playing a volunteer gig at an old folks’ home. Over fifty people saw him and he didn’t even take a break, so there was no time at all when he could have slipped away to go kill someone,” said Devin.
“That takes the police back to square one,” said Greer.
“I bet they aren’t happy about it, either,” said Charlie. “Still, I should see if I can talk to them.”
“They’ll be at the ball,” I pointed out.
“Okay, yeah, maybe a casual approach would be better,” Charlie acknowledged. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but couldn’t figure out how to phrase it.
“Hansen Gregory?” she finally managed.
“Who?” Derek and Devin chorused together.
“The reporter for the Chronicle,” said Charlie.
“Oh, him. Yeah, he’s still around. He was playing badminton this afternoon, so I don’t think he’s doing much investigating,” said Devin.
Instead of looking relieved Charlie only looked more concerned. “Hansen Gregory is always investigating. Who was he playing badminton with?”
Derek appeared to think. “Some guy they called Smith.”
Charlie started toward the door again.
“Where do you think Goldie is?” Charlie wondered.
We were on our way to Mrs. Dice’s room. Mr. Dice had had to leave on a business trip, so he wasn’t going to be around for the rest of the weekend.
Just as we were approaching the room, the door burst open and Goldie burst out. Without the slightest glance in our direction, she dashed off down the hall. She was dressed in a practical gold gown, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. What caught my attention was that her face was streaked with tears.
Mrs. Dice followed her, also dressed for the evening but immeasurably calmer than her old friend. Mrs. Dice was wearing a black sparkling gown with long sleeves and a high neck line, an outfit that did nothing to dispel the impression that she was terrifying.
“I do believe the ball is off,” she sighed. Her gown was black and silver, set off with impressive earrings chosen to make a statement. She even carried a fan.
My friends and I exchanged puzzled expressions. Maybe we hadn’t heard her correctly.
“What do you mean, it’s off?” I said.
“Let’s go down to the ballroom and see if we can’t stop this mess before it gets any worse,” was all Mrs. Dice would say. She walked past us and we had little choice but to follow.
“Stop the ball? We can’t,” cried Greer.
“It’s already done,” said her mother in a tone that tolerated no argument.
“What was wrong with Goldie?” Charlie asked as we fell in line behind Greer’s mother.
“The most important weekend of her life has been ruined,” said Mrs. Dice grimly. “There’s been a murder—of her boss. Her boyfriend was arrested for the crime, and when he was shown to be innocent he went off with no word of where he was headed. And to top it all off, the board is calling for her job. Other than that I believe the weekend is a success. So successful, in fact, that unless something changes, it’s likely that this will be the last weekend the Iriswood Country Club is ever open in its present form.”
“How can they call for her job? None of this is her fault,” said Greer, outraged.
“If the ball doesn’t go off without a hitch, she’ll get fired. Even if it isn’t her fault,” said Mrs. Dice. “The board discussed it today after they discussed the refurbishments and the new development that the Wolf Corporation is involved with.” Her knowing eyes skidded my way, reminding me very much of Greer in that moment. Clever—and trouble. I tried to look innocent, but I felt like my cheeks were on fire.
“How’d that go?” I asked.
“I believe they came to some agreement that will keep the Wolf Corporation busy for a number of years to come. Jasper Wolf is in charge, under his grandfather’s direction. That is the most capable and hard-working young man I’ve ever met. I wish some of his friends saw the wisdom of his ways.”
Greer bristled.
Deacon worked plenty hard, but he wasn’t always successful at it. He’d had some business deals go sour, and Mrs. Dice did not seem inclined to forgive him for them either. But having gotten her dig in, she let the subject drop for the moment.
As we neared the ballroom, a concerned-looking David was just coming out of the big doors.
“There are so many problems, we have an oversupply of good reasons for canceling. For instance, we have no bartenders,” he whispered to Mrs. Dice. She paused and raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked.
“We had hired a catering company, but after what happened last night they pulled out,” said David. “Of the three bartenders we had on staff, two have quit and the third had a family emergency and didn’t come in. We have a room full of people who will not be served alcohol tonight after being kept here because of a murder. The situation is dire, if I do say so myself.”
“There’s something else missing, isn’t there?” said Charlie perceptively.
“Music,” said David. “We’re going to have to make do with recorded music and speakers. Trouble is, no one thought we’d have to do that, since it’s never happened before in the history of the Club. We’re not really set up for it.”
“That’s awful,” said Charlie, looking around helplessly.
Just then we heard yelling from inside the ballroom.
“This whole weekend is RUINED! If something doesn’t change, I’m going to take my business elsewhere! The only reason I stayed on here was because Mason ran such a tight ship, but with him MURDERED there’s really no reason to waste my time.”
Mrs. Dice pushed open the ballroom doors to reveal a sizable crowd. They were all dressed for the ball, but many of them did not look happy to be there. In one corner was Hansen Gregory, his blue eyes beaming luminously around the room and his dark hair curling over his forehead as he listened quietly to the fight.
I scanned the room for Jasper or his grandfather but I saw neither of them. My heart sank a little.
Several people turned to look at us as we entered. As the weekend had progressed I had noticed that people’s eyes usually stayed on Mrs. Dice, but might skitter briefly to Greer. This time, several pairs of eyes lingered on me. I felt another blush coming on.
The man who was yelling was dressed in a tuxedo, and a woman who was surely his wife was trying to get him to be quiet. “I will not! This is a disgrace,” Mr. Hamlit sputtered. “I’ve had enough of this place and this weekend!”
Then he turned and stormed out, sliding a bit on the confetti that had already been thrown. It had covered the floor in gold and silver flakes that only seemed to emphasize how bizarre the situation was.
The night was in tatters. Goldie was off in a corner crying uncontrollably, at the same time trying to keep her mascara from running. She was having a hard time of it.
As we stood taking in the scene, two women about Mrs. Dice’s age stormed up to her. I recognized them immediately as wealthy women who also sat on the board of the Club.
“We believe we should cancel the ball,” said Mrs. Peacock.
“I quite agree with Delores,” said Mrs. Clapps.
“On what grounds?” said Mrs. Dice.
At that, Greer snapped to attention. She had been gazing down at her feet, trying to stay unobtrusive, but I knew she’d thought, as I had, that her mother was simply going to cancel the ball. Charlie too had been hanging back, looking quite upset, but she brightened when Mrs. Dice didn’t immediately agree that the ball should be called off.
It turned out that we weren’t the only ones who expected Mrs. Dice to
go along with the recommendation of the Club denizens. Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. Clapps were visibly taken aback, but they recovered quickly.
“Everything has gone awry,” said Mrs. Peacock. “Goldie can no longer handle her responsibilities as Senior Event Planner for the Country Club, and until other arrangements can be made we really must not go forward with this farce. There is no music and there is no alcohol. I’m shocked that so many people even managed to get dressed and show up tonight.” Mrs. Peacock’s cheeks were stained a bright red and her eyes were snapping, a sure sign that she felt quite strongly about the matter.
But at the suggestion that Goldie should be relieved of her post, Mrs. Dice had turned distinctly stony.
“I do not believe the situation is as dire as all that. Furthermore, Mason would be distraught if he were to find out that everything he has worked so hard for over these last twenty years has gone for naught. He would not want us to cancel the ball,” said Mrs. Dice firmly.
In that, at least, she was right. It was the last thing Mason would want; I knew because his ghost had told me so.
“The ball is the premier event of the year. Pictures will be in all the papers,” said Mrs. Clapps.
“All the more reason to have it go on,” said Mrs. Dice, holding her ground.
“We shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of newspaper people,” sniffed Mrs. Peacock, her eyes flicking to Charlie.
Far from being offended, Charlie appeared delighted that so many people knew who she was.
“We must have this conversation in front of them because they are helping Goldie. My daughter Greer, in fact, is a trained and exceptional bartender. She can work tonight,” said Mrs. Dice.
Everything was so surprised that for a couple of breaths no one said a word. Then all eyes turned to Greer. Mrs. Dice’s expression never wavered, while Greer’s mouth fell open slightly.
“You are a bartender?” asked Mrs. Peacock, trying hard with the help of her good breeding not to put any inflection on the word. She managed, kind of.
“Um, yeah,” said Greer. She hadn’t recovered from her mother telling people, without a hint of nastiness, what Greer did for a living.
Oh well, there’s a first time for everything.
“Are you willing to bartend tonight?” asked Mrs. Clapps, looking at Greer as if she was some strange species that she’d never encountered before.
“I am,” said Greer firmly.
Then, with a little more conviction, “I definitely am. Anything to help Goldie.”
“You can’t do it alone,” said Mrs. Peacock. “Your friends here are not members of the Club, so they can’t be allowed to serve alcohol here.”
Not, apparently, having anticipated this hurdle, Mrs. Dice looked momentarily concerned.
We in turn looked at Devin and Derek, but Greer shook her head. “They’re clumsy. That’s why they work with numbers.”
“I’d have to agree with my daughter on that one,” said Mrs. Dice. “The boys did not inherit Greer’s dexterity.”
Two compliments in two minutes.
Greer looked like she might topple over from shock.
“I’m a member of the Club, and I’d be happy to help,” said a male voice.
Greer grinned as Deacon strode up looking glorious in his tux.
“I have very capable hands,” said Deacon, winking.
Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. Clapps gave nervous twitters of laughter.
“Very well. Solve this and Goldie can stay. Although I still have no idea what you think you’re going to do about the music,” said Mrs. Clapps.
Suddenly the course of the evening was changing. If Greer came to the rescue, maybe the ball wouldn’t have to be canceled after all.
But before I could even start to think about what should come next, a creaking sound came from above us. Several people gasped, and I instinctively reached for my wand, which was hidden in my pocket, then looked up to see what was going on.
The highlight of Goldie’s night was a giant bag of balloons that covered the entire ceiling. She was going to release them at midnight. Also fastened overhead were barrels of confetti (temporary) and a chandelier the size of my farmhouse (supposedly permanent).
“Wow,” said Charlie.
“Is that swaying?” I asked.
All around us people were chatting, trying to keep busy until it was an acceptable time to leave the party, which at this point would probably be about nine o’clock. Back in the good old days parties would go until the wee hours, but under the circumstances people had come to the ballroom only for appearances’ sake and were likely to leave as soon as they felt it was polite to do so.
“Yes!” said Charlie, suddenly sounding panicked.
“That chandelier has been up there for as long as I’ve been coming here. I’m sure it’s fine,” said Greer, but then she looked up and her words trailed off. The chandelier was swinging more violently by the second.
“It’s going to fall,” I said with certainty.
“We have to clear everyone out!” gasped Charlie.
“There’s still time,” I cried, pulling out my wand.
Glancing up again, I saw the chandelier break free of its moorings and start to careen downward. On its current trajectory, it was set to land right on our heads.
With a desperate yell, Charlie and Greer dove out of the way, but I knew with certainty that that wasn’t enough.
At least ten bewildered people still stood frozen in the path of the chandelier.
One ridiculous thought that wafted through my brain was that I hoped neither of my friends’ dresses ripped. Another part of my brain had more sense.
Without really thinking about it, I waved the prettily decorated stick I’d inherited from my grandmother. A whooshing sound met my ears and trails of green sparkles streaked through the air between the chandelier and my wand.
Time slowed.
Everyone stopped moving.
A woman near me was caught mid-laugh and froze. Only Charlie and Greer could still move and were still aware of time. The windows darkened and the air turned chilly and seemed to crystallize.
Stop falling, I ordered the chandelier. It kept falling.
“STOP FALLING!” I yelled in a way that I hadn’t yelled at anyone or anything but Paws in a long time.
To my total amazement, the chandelier stopped falling. It hung in the air as if it was still held up by its ornate chains, and green sparkles floated around it.
Charlie and Greer scrambled to their feet.
“Did I know you could do that?” Charlie whispered.
“I hope not. I definitely didn’t,” I said, staring.
“You’ve never performed magic like that before,” said Greer.
She was right. This was big. Moving a book from one table to another was nothing compared to this.
“I don’t know how I did it,” I whispered.
“You used your wand and ordered it to happen, so it did. I wonder if it would work so well if you wanted to fly a car over a cliff or something,” Charlie mused.
“Don’t give her any ideas,” groaned Greer.
Charlie shrugged.
“What do I do with it now?” I asked desperately. My wand was still in the air, but magic had stopped coming out and the sparkles were starting to fade. “The spell isn’t going to last forever.”
“Maybe gently set it on the floor?” Charlie suggested.
“Everyone’s going to wonder what happened if a glass chandelier is just sitting on the floor like it’s fine,” said Greer.
“Can you put it back?” Charlie said.
Sweat was starting to break out on my brow and the sparkles were still getting dimmer.
“I can try,” I said, feeling faint.
The wand slipped a little in my hand and I tightened my grip. Right before I was about to start the magic, a voice rang out, “STOP RIGHT THERE!”
Chapter Twenty
Mason the ghost came lurching through the crowd of f
rozen guests, followed closely by Paws, who was looking annoyed.
Paws’ tail was high in the air, a sure sign that he was bent on causing trouble.
“What do you think you’re doing? Unhand that chandelier this instant!” cried the ghost.
“It’s not as if she’s going to run off with it,” said Greer, folding her arms over her chest.
“Why not?” Mason paused, honestly bewildered. “It’s a rare and valuable piece.”
“We don’t have any space for a chandelier at the farmhouse,” said Charlie.
“And we’re not thieves,” I added.
“Speak for yourself,” said Paws. He got very close to a woman’s bejeweled high heel and sniffed.
“Right, I suppose most houses have ceilings that are too low,” said Mason. “So what are you doing with it?”
“It was falling,” I said.
“No way. I had it reinforced a year ago.” Mason was genuinely shocked.
“Well, the reinforcements broke, and the thing would have killed someone if Lemmi hadn’t stepped in,” said Greer.
“Another someone dead?” Mason shook his head. “I swear I had the safety system replaced. There’s no way that chandelier could fall on its own.”
“Then someone really wants to do the Country Club harm,” I said grimly. “And the sooner we find out who it is, the less risk there is of that person succeeding at closing the Club.”
“Excuse me?” Mason sputtered. “What do you mean ‘closing’?”
Charlie gave me a look that said now I’d done it.
“There was a murder at the Country Club, of course they’re considering closing it,” said Paws. “I mean, there might be a better Country Club out there. Like one where no one has been murdered.”
Mason gave Paws a shocked look. “I don’t accept that,” he said.
“Good. If you want to stop the Country Club from closing, then remember who killed you. That would get us a long way toward your goal,” explained the cat.
Mason clutched at his balding head. “I don’t remember anything! I was shoved from behind and tumbled into the water!”
“Wait, you didn’t tell us that before!” said Charlie.
Witch Way Round (Witch of Mintwood Book 6) Page 15