“That I fell into the water? I thought it was obvious,” said Mason.
“No, that you were shoved from behind,” she said.
“Oh, yes, that’s what happened.” Mason frowned. “I’m not sure I knew it before.”
“Exactly,” said Greer.
“Oh,” said Mason, a lightbulb coming on at last. “I see. Is that helpful?”
“It might be,” I said. It at least sounded as if Mason hadn’t had a conversation with his killer before he died. Not only that, his killer might not have meant to actually kill him, a possibility that might help us figure out who had done it.
“Anyway, I have to deal with this chandelier now,” I said. The green sparkles had continued to fade, and the enormous contraption was starting to slip down.
“I’ll help,” Mason said, striding forward. He pointed to a clasp I could just see on the ceiling. “You have to hook it back up there.”
Under Mason’s watchful eye and guided by his excellent directions, I used my magic to lift the chandelier carefully back toward its place. After three close calls and a near-miss where I almost dropped it, the chandelier was back where it belonged, attached firmly to the ceiling.
“Nicely done,” Charlie congratulated me.
Mason beamed with pride. “I would never let anything happen to that. It’s the pride and joy of the Club.”
“And someone chose it as a treasure to ruin,” said Charlie. “And possibly to hurt a lot of people.”
“Someone who knows about the Country Club,” said Greer thoughtfully.
“Who might that be?”
Just then I saw something moving off in one corner of the ballroom. The lights were starting to come back on and people were starting to unfreeze.
“We’ll have to figure that out later,” I said.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” said Paws to Mason.
“I’d like to stay,” said the former manager. “I had been looking forward to this night for months.”
“Suit yourself,” said Paws, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to take my pedicure and head for the back lawn. But do let me know if I can be of any assistance,” he added.
“And you might refill Mrs. Peacock’s glass,” said Mason. “She prefers ginger ale to champagne. I’m not sure Goldie knows. Mrs. Peacock doesn’t even want anyone, even her husband, to know that she doesn’t have a head for liquor.”
“Thanks. I’ll be sure not to give her any,” said Greer, nodding bemusedly.
As Mason melted into the crowd he gazed right and left, checking on people’s conversations and drinks and appetizers just as he had done for twenty years. He even tried to straighten a curtain. When his hands simply went through the material, Charlie hurried over and straightened it for him. Mason looked ever so grateful.
The lights came back up and everything was in motion again. Waiters moved throughout the room offering snacks. Guests milled around, chatting. Everything appeared normal, except that some people looked slightly confused. I did my best to blend back into the background.
“Do I look okay?” Greer asked, smoothing a hand over her dress.
“You look gorgeous,” I said.
“Even after I went skidding across the floor?”
“Yes, even after that.”
Despite the seeming return to normality, it didn’t take us long to realize that all was still not as it should be. Goldie was still upset, there was still no music, and Greer hadn’t started bartending.
Charlie found her way back to us after helping Mason with the curtain, and after a quick consultation we agreed that we had to do more to get the party on track. Mrs. Dice was looking at us desperately as Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. Clapps got increasingly anxious.
“This isn’t working, but then we haven’t done anything to get the party going yet,” Charlie said, surveying the room with her hands on her hips.
“At this rate Goldie’s still going to get fired,” said Greer. “We’d better get at it.”
“We have to save the night,” I agreed. The only trouble was that I had no idea how to help do that.
“Has there been any sign of Jasper?” Charlie asked.
“Not that I’ve noticed. Why?” I asked, frowning.
“Everyone likes Jasper, and given his grandfather’s position on the board I’m just surprised he hasn’t gotten here yet,” Charlie explained.
“Maybe they’re busy looking at buildings they want to tear down,” I muttered. Jasper had said he’d answer all my questions about the development later, and it was hard to set aside the thought that after years away I had met Jasper under fiery circumstances, when I joined the protests against his plans for the Babbling Brook Barn. When he had preserved and updated the barn instead of replacing it, I had let myself hope we were closer to being on the same page than I’d realized. But my knee-jerk reaction was still to be skeptical.
“Why would you think I’d notice when Jasper arrived, anyway?” I said.
“Your eyes give a little flutter and your breath quickens whenever you see him,” said Charlie, looking around the large space with an innocent look on her face.
“It does not,” I muttered.
“Does too,” Greer said, siding with Charlie.
I glared at both of them in turn, but I knew they were right. Jasper had an effect on me that I couldn’t seem to get over.
“Funny, on the surface it looks like everything is fine,” said Charlie. “Beautiful decorations, lovely space, well-dressed people. But if you look closely, it’s obvious that everyone is worried about what happened on Friday, and Goldie’s meltdown will only make things worse.”
Luckily someone did have a plan.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Greer, getting down to business.
Charlie took my car keys and went off to find Simon. Just because he’d been cleared of murder didn’t mean he wanted to be back at the Club, but Charlie’s job was to persuade him. Greer told her where the musician usually hung out, and Charlie took Hansen Gregory along for protection.
My job was to take care of the music until Simon came. One of the ghosts haunting the Country Club had been the conductor of an orchestra, so I ordered Paws to track him down and get some suggestions for music I could provide. Even I could hit play on a record player. I hoped.
Greer had the hardest job, but she already knew how to do it, so I had no worries on that score.
After I’d gotten the music going I paused to take a breath, gathering myself for my next task, which was to put Goldie back together.
Greer had said that under no circumstances was Goldie allowed to have mascara running down her face. Given that I usually felt like I got dressed in the middle of a tornado, I might not have been the best person to help Goldie, but I was all she had.
“Goldie, do you need some company?” I asked Greer’s old friend.
She was sitting in an organza heap on the steps outside the grand entrance to the Club. Her bleary eyes met mine as if she had never really noticed me before.
“What?” she gurgled.
“Come with me,” I said, and reached down and took her hand. The nearest bathroom was mercifully not far away, so I led her there.
“Everything is ruined,” she said as I checked to make sure we were alone. “I’m going to lose my job. I don’t know what else I’ll do with my life.”
When tears started leaking out of her eyes again, I grabbed some toilet paper and handed it to her.
She ran it under the sink, squished out all the water, and threw the wad away without ever putting it in contact with her face.
Since her face was covered in black streaks, I grabbed another handful of toilet paper, and this time I made Goldie stand still while I did the dabbing. She let me clean her up, but she still looked upset.
“What’s in this clutch of yours?” I asked. The skirt of Goldie’s dress was so thick and full it was hard for me to even get near her.
“Do you think I’ll be able to find a new job?” Goldie’s br
own eyes were huge as she stared at me hopefully.
“You aren’t going to lose this job,” I assured her.
“Of course I am. I’ve failed. Everything I’ve ever worked for is gone. I’m going to lose my house, my car, I’ll even have to give these earrings back.” One hand reached up to touch one of the gold hoops she was wearing.
“You’ll be fine. Let’s just get you cleaned up a bit so we can get back out there,” I said.
“I’m never facing those people again. They don’t want to see me. Don’t you understand? I’ve failed!” she declared.
“You have to go back out there,” I said. “Greer has an idea.”
“Greer was always such a nice kid. Kind of prickly, but just the sweetest kid. I appreciate that she thinks she can help, but I know she can’t,” said Goldie. “There’s no help for me now.”
At this point I had gotten into Goldie’s clutch. Luckily, there was some makeup in the jumble of things she carried around. As I handed her outliner and blush, she seemed to pull herself together enough to start applying them to her face, even as she kept right on talking about her new life as a hermit who didn’t get facials or hair treatments. She was going on auto-pilot, without any conscious idea of what she was doing, but her hands seemed to know.
After she finished reapplying her makeup, I turned my attention to her hair.
Pulling on curls was never a good idea, but Goldie had done just that as her party had fallen apart.
Carefully I stuck the loose strands back into her bob as best as I could. After some painstaking work on my part, even her hair looked good again.
Just as she was ready to go back out there, Paws showed up.
“It would follow that you go to a fancy party and spend your time hiding in the bathroom,” said the cat.
“Not now,” I said through gritted teeth.
“What?” Goldie asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Sorry.”
Goldie was so overcome with grief at the imagined loss of her familiar life that she didn’t have the energy to push at me.
“Everything’s ready,” said Paws. “The recorded music will work fine until we can get Simon here.”
“Simon will impress them,” I said without thinking.
Paws made a face at my foolishness.
Goldie didn’t perk up at the music that started up right then, but she did perk up at the mention of Simon.
“He’s never coming back. After being kicked out by Mason and then arrested, why would he? Men are so foolish. They think they’re so tough and rational all the time, but who cares about rationality if it means you lose people you love?”
Goldie sounded even more forlorn than before, and I wished I’d had the sense not to mention Simon’s name.
Chapter Twenty-One
When we got back to the ballroom, pride flowed through me. My friends and I had jumped into action, and it looked like we might salvage the evening after all. People were looking around with renewed interest and starting to have a good time. Greer had gone to the kitchen staff and explained the situation, and that had worked wonders. They had come streaming out the doors with champagne, cheese, and crackers. Everyone’s favorite things.
Meanwhile, Paws was following the cheese trays around, trying to get the wait staff to drop tidbits.
Good thing he was just a ghost cat. If he could actually have gotten underfoot and jumped on trays, we would have been in trouble; there’d have been no cheese for anyone else.
“Where’s my daughter?” Mrs. Dice’s voice cut through my thoughts, her expression distinctly displeased. I thought uncharitably that it was a wonder she could walk and talk at the same time with her eyes squinted into such thin slits.
“She’s here,” I said with confusion. Mrs. Dice herself had volunteered Greer’s services behind the bar, and now she was apparently upset that Greer and the Club had actually taken her up on it. She looked around as if she expected Greer to pop up at her elbow. When she didn’t, Mrs. Dice’s look only soured further.
“Where exactly is that?” she asked.
“Over there.” This time I pointed, but a crowd of people filled the space between Greer me, and at the moment we couldn’t see her. Mrs. Dice didn’t appear to appreciate what I was doing, as evidenced by her deep sigh and her foot starting to tap out her impatience. Greer had once told me that her mother’s foot-tapping was a sure sign that there was about to be a crash landing.
Before the explosion could come, Goldie appeared, beaming. Her eyes sparkled and she was nearly dancing with delight.
“Do you see what’s happening?” she gasped to both of us.
Mrs. Dice clearly cared about Goldie. When she saw the woman happy she nearly smiled. “My dear girl, what has happened?”
Before Goldie could answer, the music cut out. As the happy chatter paused for a moment, something amazing happened.
A voice came over the loudspeakers.
“Good evening, everyone. My name is Simon Simone and I’ll be your entertainment this evening. I hope you don’t mind that the recorded music is at an end. Please accept my most sincere apologies for my tardiness. If you could direct all compliments to Goldie, the credit goes to her for this wonderful party.”
Goldie looked like she was about to fall over with delight, while Mrs. Dice visibly tried— and failed—to process what was happening. The main point that Goldie was happy wasn’t lost on her, but everything else was.
Simon didn’t waste any time. Charlie had said he was famous, but I hadn’t known how famous. The entire ballroom stood still once he started singing. Even Mrs. Dice appeared to be entranced, while Goldie held her hands together and swayed with delight. Her eyes were closed and she looked like she had gone off to a magical place.
For the first song, no one moved. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to appreciate the magic of Simon Simone. Once he finished and the next song began, the conversations started again. More cheese was eaten. The evening continued on successfully, with Simon alternating between singing and playing the violin. He was magical.
Yet with all that, there was Mrs. Dice, whose beady eyes had returned to their task of staring at me.
The woman was yet again about to bite my head off when we were interrupted—yet again—by the arrival at our side of Dame Esmerelda Geraldine, dripping in diamonds and old money. Even Goldie and Mrs. Dice looked afraid to talk to her.
“Dame Geraldine.” Goldie’s cheeks had gone a shade pinker and her eyes were shining with excitement.
“What a lovely party. I’m so delighted it wasn’t canceled,” said the Dame.
Charlie was staring at her open-mouthed from across the room. By all appearances she was doing eight different things at once and relishing it. Periodically I could see her standing on her tiptoes and looking for us, but each time, when she confirmed that we were also still frantically rushing about, she got back to work.
“Yes, it’s all thanks to my friends here,” said Goldie, and her hand swept out, taking us in.
The Dame’s sharp eyes skated over us with a penetrating gaze. I felt like she could see my deepest secrets, but I certainly hoped I was wrong. She smiled. It was very close to a grin.
“I do believe that my drink was made by an expert bartender,” said Dame Geraldine, holding out a glass with a red liquid in it. She smiled at Mrs. Dice, while Greer’s mother’s expression tightened.
Mrs. Dice did not like anyone criticizing her children, but that didn’t change the fact that beneath the surface she couldn’t possibly approve of a bartender in the family. To hear someone important compliment her daughter’s skills in an activity that she didn’t approve of really put her on the spot.
Meanwhile, Greer was moving around the bar with her usual smooth competence, Deacon helping as she shot orders at him.
Everyone was to have a drink in hand.
Maybe two if they were lucky.
With no other bartenders in attendance, Goldie would have been in an awful lot
of trouble if Greer hadn’t taken over and used her skills to help out. Deacon’s assistance had also been invaluable.
Mrs. Dice’s jaw worked. Ever the professional, she said, “My daughter is a rare talent. I’m just so relieved she could help dear Goldie on a beautiful night like this.”
“Yes, she makes a great drink as well.” The Dame help up her glass and smiled.
“You should mingle,” the Dame ordered Goldie.
For a split second the woman didn’t understand, but then her eyes widened. “Yes, let’s go see what everyone else thinks,” said Goldie eagerly, excited for compliments.
As she led Mrs. Dice away, the older woman winked at me.
“I hope that was helpful,” she said in a throaty voice.
Shocked and baffled, I merely nodded. A tinkle of laughter burst out of the woman.
“Do you like my necklace?” she asked.
Like most of what she was wearing it was encrusted in diamonds. It was about as long as a pencil. I nodded mutely.
The laughter lines only deepened around the Dame’s eyes.
“If you ever need anything just ask, okay?” she said in her husky voice.
Again I just nodded, not trusting myself with any words.
The Dame looked satisfied and faded back into the crowd.
“That was brave of you,” said Paws, materializing out of nowhere.
“Huh?” I said. “You mean because she’s so rich?”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” said the cat with exasperation. “CHEESE!”
Then he was off like a shot again, not bothering to explain whatever it was he was talking about this time.
He didn’t need to, because just then realization finally struck me like a ton of ballroom party favors.
The Dame had been trying to tell me something when she highlighted her necklace.
I had just been too foolish to realize it.
She was a witch.
I swallowed hard.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The ball had been in full swing for several hours and was starting to wind down.
A handful of the guests had already left, and more would soon depart. But we were going nowhere, since we still had to find Mason and discuss the case with him. I didn’t even care about having to stay up later, I just wanted Jasper to see me in my dress. But he still wasn’t there.
Witch Way Round (Witch of Mintwood Book 6) Page 16