Bat Out of Spell

by Amanda M. Lee

  “There’s a first time for everything.” Augie ignored my efforts to push him away and glanced around the bar as we circled. “I see our victim’s daughter is here with the other members of that little group. What do you make of that?”

  “Am I supposed to make something of it?”

  “They haven’t been talkative since the incident.”

  That was hardly surprising. Of course, I had a plan to break that streak. “Maybe they simply don’t want to talk to you. You’re head of security. You might intimidate them.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve never intimidated anyone in my life.”

  “Still, you’re an official presence,” I argued. “They might do better trying to talk to me. In fact, I was just putting together a tray of drinks to deliver to them. I was hoping that might loosen their lips a bit.” That wasn’t a lie even though I conveniently left out the part about dosing the rum runners with truth serum. I flicked my eyes to the bar and my heart skipped a beat when I realized the tray on the counter was bare of the drinks I’d painstakingly mixed. “I … what happened to the rum runners?”

  “Are those the ones from the bar?” Augie asked, his hand flat on the small of my back. He actually seemed to be enjoying this dancing thing, which I didn’t get. “Bonnie said you were mixing four drinks for you and your partners in crime. She took three of the drinks to them and I brought the fourth to you.”

  Uh-oh. “What?” Panic licked my heart and I could feel the blood draining from my face. “She delivered the drinks I was mixing to … .” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The idea was so horrible that my brain wanted to shut down. Then the other part of what Augie said penetrated the haze in my busy mind. “You gave me one of the drinks from the tray?”

  Augie nodded, smiling down at me as he pressed a bit closer. “You’re not so bad when you’re not constantly trying to pick a fight with me.”

  Oh, no. He had a sappy look on his face. “How many drinks have you had?”

  “About four. It’s been a really long day and it ended on a sour note.”

  That was so not what I wanted to hear. “Have Kenna and the others drunk from their glasses yet?” I managed to extricate myself from his iron grip and started in that direction as I clung to a last thread of hope. It disappeared in two seconds flat when my three former classmates clinked glasses and downed drinks simultaneously. “Oh, crap!”

  “You’re kind of soft, too.” Augie ran his hand over my back and pulled me back against him. “I don’t know why I never noticed that.”

  “Because I’m not soft. I’m … hard to be around.” And I was now cursed with the inability to lie for the next hour. This was not good. I had to get out of here. “You know what, Augie? I really need to get some air.”

  “One more song.” Augie was in no mood to release me, rum clearly fueling his belief that he felt amorous … which had to be one of the most ludicrous things I’d ever heard.

  “Augie.”

  “I love this song.”

  I cringed at the opening bars of “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Unfortunately, I recognized the voice belting out the song before even looking toward the stage. The sight of Kenna with a microphone in her hand – especially when she had no control over song choices – was one of the most truly terrifying things I’d ever seen.

  “Ugh. She’s going to be so angry.”

  “I don’t really remember her singing this song before.” Augie furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t seem her style.”

  “She’s a closet fan.” I’d heard her sing it back in the day when we shared a bathroom. She denied it, of course, but I always knew the truth. Now everyone in town was going to know the truth. That couldn’t possibly be good. “I need to get out of here.”

  “Not until we’re done dancing.” Augie was firm. “You even smell good tonight. Did you shower or something?”

  Only Augie could manage to slide in an insult when trying to be a drunken lothario. “Ugh. This is going to come back to bite me so hard.”

  Ten

  I woke with a thousand regrets the next morning.

  My head throbbed as I stumbled through the living room, barely noticing the bras and panties that remained strewn about, and rubbed my forehead as I waited for the Keurig to brew my coffee. I seriously wished I could throw it straight into my eyes to kick start the waking process, but third-degree retinal burns didn’t sound like fun.

  It’s possible to have a magic hangover, for the record. That’s what I struggled with after a night of fighting the truth serum while being passed between Augie and Dylan for dancing purposes. I was on my feet the entire night, and it was only after the truth serum finally passed out of my system – and Kenna, Evian, and Zola grasped exactly why they’d been acting like such goofs and began hunting me – that I realized why I was so popular. The magic I used to expel the truth serum turned it into an aphrodisiac of sorts, apparently making me attractive to every single man in town. The only reason I wasn’t fawned over more is because Augie seemed to be marking his territory while glaring at people, sending silent warnings of sorts, and he eventually scared everyone off.

  I was mortified by his reaction. We weren’t close – we spent all of our time battling, after all – and for him to be all over me the way he was took a strong dose of magic. That was on me. It was my fault. I should’ve watched the drinks more closely. Not only had I lost a prime opportunity to question my suspect about the murder of her romantic rival, I’d also managed to get various pairs of lips throughout town wagging. I was absolutely positive I’d be answering questions about my relationship with Augie for days, maybe even weeks.

  It was humiliating, which meant he’d probably feel doubly bad when he woke today … and have no idea why it happened in the first place. It wasn’t as if he was acting on emotions he buried deep. My efforts to fight the truth serum turned him into a randy devil. I almost felt bad for the embarrassment he’d surely feel.

  Almost.

  I showered after finishing my coffee and felt nearly human again, although a little draggy, when I returned to the main floor. I’d resigned myself to picking up my own bra and panties because I’d been reduced to wearing the only two things left in my drawers: granny panties and a sports bra. I was readying myself for the task when there was a knock at the door.

  I expected irate visits from Kenna, Evian, and Zola before the end of the day, so I didn’t bother looking through the peephole before opening the door. They’d find a way to make me pay before darkness descended, so it was probably best to get it over with. Instead of three witchy antagonists, though – or one obnoxious skunk – I found Augie shuffling on the porch. He had two cups of coffee from the downtown shop in his hands.

  I was surprised … and a little unnerved. “Augie.”

  “Good morning, Skye.” Augie swallowed hard as he cautiously met my gaze. “I thought we should talk.”

  Oh, geez. I should’ve expected this. Augie was going to accuse me of doing something to him – which I technically had – and we were going to end up in a humongous fight when I lied and denied culpability. This was so not how I wanted to start my day.

  “I don’t think talking is necessary,” I hedged. “I’m not feeling all that hot and if you’re here to pick a fight … .”

  “I’m here to apologize,” Augie said hurriedly, stealing my breath as he pushed into my house without invitation. He pulled up short when he saw the bra and panty explosion in the living room, absently handing me one of the coffee concoctions as he perused the mess. “What happened here?”

  “Would you believe me if I told you that I like it this way?” I didn’t consider myself the sort of woman who embarrasses over minor things, but the blush creeping up my cheeks told me I was closer to that sort of woman than I would’ve liked.

  “Not really.”

  “Swoops did it.” I sipped the coffee and almost groaned at the taste. My Keurig was good for delivering a quick jolt of caffeine, but nothing beat the real deal. “
He has a thing for my underwear.”

  I didn’t miss the indignant hoot from the second-floor landing, but I refused to look in that direction.

  “Your pet bat carries your … um, undergarments … around the house?” Augie looked as uncomfortable as I felt. “That’s … different.”

  “He’s a little pervert. What can I say?”

  I heard that, and you’re going to owe me corned beef hash for life!

  I ignored the voice in my head and made a spot for Augie on the couch. I had to move three bras and panties to do it, but I dropped them on the coffee table with as much dignity as I could muster and pretended there was nothing odd about the situation as he got comfortable. “So … why are you here again?”

  “Because I made a fool of myself last night.” Augie stared at his shoes rather than me, his mortification evident. “What I did was … not acceptable.”

  I racked my brain. “What did you do?”

  “I … danced with you.”

  “And while a little odd – especially when you wanted me to do ‘Baby Got Back’ while smacking my own rear end – it wasn’t the worst thing I saw all night,” I offered. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Ugh.” Augie slapped his hand to his face. “I forgot about ‘Baby Got Back.’”

  Hmm. “Did you also forget about ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’?”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but Augie’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Yes.”

  “So, if you didn’t come to apologize for either of those sterling numbers, what did you come to apologize about?” Perhaps I’d forgotten something during the long night. Once I realized that dodging my friends was about to become an issue, everything turned into a total blur.

  “The rest of it.” Augie’s voice was soft.

  “The rest of what?”

  “You know.”

  I really had no idea. “I don’t know, Augie.” I felt sorry for him, although I had no idea why. Any other day of the year I would’ve been celebrating his misery. He was a total pain and had it coming, after all. This, though, this was my fault, and I felt rotten that he seemed to be taking it on himself. “You’re going to have to tell me. There are apparently things about last night I don’t remember. One of those things is anything you could possibly have to apologize about.”

  I was purposely giving him an out. Most men would’ve jumped at the chance to wave goodbye and flee. Augie wasn’t most men. He was too much of a gentleman.

  “I kept forcing you to dance.” Augie swallowed hard as he finally shifted his eyes to mine. “You didn’t want to, but I kind of made you.”

  “You didn’t make me.” Not exactly. “You pressured me to dance, but I could’ve gotten out of the situation whenever I wanted. Don’t get all worked up about that.”

  “You kept saying you had to go, but I made you stay.”

  “And I will be forever appalled by how poorly we sing together.” I couldn’t stop myself from grinning at his hangdog expression. “It’s not the end of the world, Augie. We got a little drunk and danced.”

  “And sang.”

  “Yes, well, we’re hardly the first people to make fools of ourselves at karaoke night,” I pointed out. “Besides, after Evian’s rendition of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ people won’t be talking about us.” I didn’t really believe that. Augie appeared to need his coffee with a side shot of reassuring lies this morning, though.

  “Yeah.” Augie brightened, although only marginally. “I didn’t even know she could headbang.”

  I was fairly certain Evian didn’t either, which was only one of the reasons I was certain she would be coming after me. “She’s multi-faceted talented.” I sipped my coffee and gave him an appraising look. “As for the other stuff, you didn’t really force me. I could’ve escaped if I’d wanted to.” The sobering thing was, that was true. I could’ve escaped if I’d put a little effort into the maneuver. So why didn’t I? “You didn’t hurt me or anything. We just … danced.”

  “I seem to remember shots and flirting, too.” Augie pressed his lips together. “My memory flakes out after that. We didn’t do anything else, did we?”

  Wait … what was he asking? “Are you wondering if we had a quickie in the parking lot or something?”

  “I … no!” Augie vehemently shook his head. “I know you’re not that type of person.”

  “Not last time I checked,” I agreed. “So … what are you asking?”

  “We didn’t, like … um … kiss, did we? I remember being really close to you for a very long time, and I’m hoping we didn’t kiss.”

  Ah, that’s what was bothering him. I understood his terror. “No. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Good.” Augie lowered his forehead to his hands. “I can’t imagine finally kissing you and not being able to remember it.”

  I froze at the way he phrased the comment. “W-what?”

  Augie pushed forward as if he hadn’t heard my panicked utterance. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was the sort of guy who wandered around kissing people without asking first.”

  “Yes, that would be a true tragedy,” I drawled. “I’m sure that would’ve thrown both of us. You can rest easy. That didn’t happen.”

  “Good.” Augie sucked in a breath, and when he looked at me this time he seemed more together and less freaked. “I am sorry about the dancing. I don’t know what got into me.”

  I did, but there was no way I could share my knowledge. “It’s okay. I’m sure we’ll have to answer a few questions from curious townsfolk over the next few days – or maybe even weeks – but worse things have happened.”

  “Yeah.” Augie’s exhale was shaky and deep as he leaned back, shifting a moment and digging in the cushion behind him until he came back with a purple padded bra. “Yours?”

  I yanked the bra out of his hand. “Don’t bother smirking. It’s a bra. It’s not as if you’ve seen me in it or anything. You can’t smirk until that happens.”

  “Until, huh?” Augie’s eyes glinted with mischief. I opened my mouth to tell him it would never happen, but he was already turning somber. “I came here for another reason, too.”

  I snapped my mouth shut as I tilted my head to the side, considering. “You have more on your mind than the fact that you thought you might have kissed me and not remembered it?”

  “I do. That was the biggie, but now that you’ve assured me it didn’t happen I can focus on the other bit. You’ll probably be more interested in that anyway.”

  Now I was definitely intrigued. “Okay. I’m all ears.”

  “You were all hands on my rear during ‘Baby Got Back’ last night, but I’ve decided to be magnanimous and let that go.” Augie’s quick smile was too much to allow my anger to kindle. “Besides, I think you’re going to like what I have for you so much you’ll forgive me almost anything.”

  He thought an awful lot about himself if he believed that to be true. “Just tell me why you’re here, Augie.”

  “This.” Augie dug in his pocket and came out with a slip of paper.

  I wordlessly took it and read aloud. “Room sixteen at the Beachcomber resort.” I had no idea what it was supposed to mean. “Are you trying to set up a clandestine meeting with me to see if we can find another duet to sing or something?”

  Augie chuckled, the sound low and warm. “No. That’s where Charles Whitney is staying.”

  I knit my eyebrows. “But … our Beachcomber resort?”

  “That would be the one.”

  “Did he come to the island to claim his wife’s body or something?”

  “That’s just it. He’s been here for three days.” Augie was deathly serious as he rubbed his palms over his knees. “I got an anonymous tip that he was in town. Someone slipped it under my office door at the resort. I didn’t think much of it at first – thought maybe it was a joke or someone trying to send me on a wild goose chase – but I confirmed it last night.”

  That made absolutely no s
ense. “Why would he be on the island?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did his wife know he was here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What about his mistress?”

  “I believe that’s how he got caught.” Augie was earnest. “Someone saw the mistress going into a room there and Charles was later seen with her. I’m not sure how my anonymous tipster knew who he was, but I have confirmed that he’s really here … and he checked in hours before his wife died.”

  This development was quite simply unbelievable. “Do you think he killed his wife?”

  “I don’t know.” Augie helplessly held up his hands. “I don’t have any way to prove that, so you need to be careful when you track him down.”

  “You want me to track him down?” I was understandably dubious. “That doesn’t sound like you. Why wouldn’t you be the one to track him down and question him?”

  “Because an edict came through the higher-ups last night,” Augie replied. “Until Abigail declares Blair Whitney’s death a murder I have nothing to investigate. I’m the chief of security, but essentially my hands are tied. There’s absolutely nothing I can do about it – trust me, I put up a heckuva fight – and I’m in a pickle.”

  Most grown men couldn’t get away with using the word “pickle” to describe a situation like this, but I decided to let him slide. “That’s why you got so drunk last night, isn’t it? You were upset about being ordered off the case and because your good-guy brain couldn’t simply abandon the investigation you decided to wallow.”

  “Pretty much. What’s your excuse?”

  “I’m a lush.”

  Augie snorted. “Cute. I don’t believe it, but I guess it’s something we can talk about later. For now, I can’t move on Charles Whitney because I’ve been ordered not to. I could lose my job over this, and as much as I want to get justice for Blair Whitney, I really like my job.”

  I couldn’t blame him. I remained suspicious about a few things, though. “Did the order to close the investigation come from Buddy?”

  Augie’s eyebrows winged up. “Buddy? Why would he be involved?”