Witches and Wedding Cake

by Bailey Cates

  He hesitated, then looked down at the floor. “Katie, I love you.”

  I blinked. “Steve—”

  “Shhhhh. Let me finish.” He took a deep breath. “I want to apologize. I’ve done some not-so-great things to try to win you over. I was wrong.”

  I took another step toward him. “You don’t have to—”

  He held up his hand. “See, I thought you were falling in love with me once. I thought if I persisted, you’d come back around to me. I kept thinking that I understood you in a way that Declan couldn’t. That you needed someone who could understand your magical abilities, to know what it’s like to have a gift like we do. I thought we could practice magic together. That our kids would be amazingly talented. That with my money and family connections I could give you everything.”

  “Steve,” I protested.

  “But I was wrong. You aren’t interested in money or social status. I don’t even know if you want kids. I do know you want Declan, though. And even though I’ll never be able to like the guy—I’m sorry, I just can’t—I do want you to be happy.” He gave me a tentative smile. “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, Katie-girl. And may your life be filled with all the things you do want.”

  My eyes felt hot as tears threatened. I finally managed to speak around the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

  That tentative smile again, so unlike his usual smooth and cool confidence. “You’re not rid of me altogether, though. I’m still around. I just wanted you to know I want the best for you and the man you chose.”

  I nodded. “That means a lot.”

  “I only wish it had been me.” He took a deep breath. “But it wasn’t.”

  “You’ll find the right person,” I said. The women he’d dated since I’d become seriously involved with Declan hadn’t worked out, but I truly felt there was someone out there who would recognize what Steve had to offer—and would accept the occasionally shady moves his druid clan made to further their interests.

  “Sure, I will,” he said, but I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or actually agreeing with me. I chose to believe the latter.

  “Okay, I’ve done what I came for. I’m going now, before I say something stupid.” He strode over to the door and wrenched it open.

  “Steve?”

  He turned.

  “Are you coming to the wedding?”

  He hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll be there if I can.” And he stepped out to the deserted street.

  Slowly, I went over and locked the door behind him. Then I turned to Mungo.

  “Well. That was intense.” I made a face. “He’s right that he’s crossed the line a few times, though.”

  His brown eyes gazed up at me.

  I was sorry if Steve was hurting. He was right that I’d been attracted to him for a time. Heck, he was an attractive guy. But he was a bad boy druid, and I disliked what his druid clan was willing to do. Steve wasn’t the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and I’d known that for a long time. Declan was, and I’d known that, too.

  I turned the engagement ring on my finger. It was an antique design of filigree platinum with a low-profile blue sapphire in the middle. No diamond, practical to wear in the kitchen and garden, and slightly retro. Declan had known exactly what to choose.

  Because Declan knew me.

  I straightened my shoulders and went to start the ovens for the sourdough.

  * * *

  * * *

  Rori took a ride share to the Honeybee, and at nine fifteen, we were in the Bug heading toward Gibson Estate Sales on Broad Street. Traffic was light, and we made good time. Beside me, Declan’s little sister fidgeted and fussed. Once again, I’d left Mungo behind at the Honeybee, unwilling to leave him in the car during the heat of the day, windows down or not. He hadn’t been happy about it at all, though. I’d have to do something extra nice for my familiar when this crazy week was over.

  “What else did his girlfriend say about Tucker?” Rori asked.

  “Ex-girlfriend,” I said. “And I’ve told you everything.”

  She sat back and picked at a cuticle. “I noticed that ring the other day. I’d never seen it before. Did you notice it?”

  “It was kind of hard to miss,” I said. “But Quinn said they didn’t find a ring on Tucker, or in his room.” I glanced over at her. “You didn’t see it at the Spotlight, did you?”

  Her shoulders hunched, and she gave a shudder. “No, but I didn’t really take a good look.”

  “Believe me, I get it.” After all, I’d made a point to go look at the room but couldn’t bring myself to spend more than a millisecond looking at Tucker himself.

  “I wonder if I should go talk to this Effie person,” Rori said. “I feel like we might have some things in common.”

  “Hmm. It’s up to you, of course. But I think that might not be the best idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Because digging into Tucker’s other relationship sounds like the opposite of closure. And honestly? I think she wants to leave it all behind her.”

  She looked out the window, then nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Do you still believe finding Tucker’s killer is going to give you peace?” I asked carefully.

  A few seconds passed before she answered. “You know, I do, Katie. His death is so open-ended at this point. There are so many questions. Once those are answered, I have a feeling some of the other questions I have about him will be answered, too.”

  “Okay, then.” I pulled my car into a space in the office park and checked the number on the side of the building. “Let’s go talk to his latest employer.”

  We located the suite on the second floor and walked in. I stopped inside the threshold, surprised at the lushness of the office furnishings compared to the spare industrial feel of the rest of the building. The small reception area boasted a Queen Anne desk and chair, while large potted plants and framed watercolors provided ambience. Two upholstered chairs offered a place to sit, the delicately carved end table between them bare save for an old copy of People magazine.

  Beyond was another office, where a man sat behind a large, dark wood desk. He was on the phone when we came in but saw us and held up a finger to let us know he’d be with us in a minute.

  The receptionist desk had a bowl of designer chocolate truffles on one corner, as well as a box of tissues with a vintage silver cover, and two copies of an estate sales trade journal. Despite the opulence of the waiting area, I got the impression that all the real business was conducted in the back office.

  The man hung up and came out front. Tall and tan, he wore shorts and a polo shirt with boat shoes. His blond hair was graying, and crow’s feet radiated from the corners of his eyes. He seemed like the kind of guy who spent as much time as possible on the water or the golf course or both.

  “I’m Jake Gibson. You must be Katie Lightfoot.”

  “I am.” I stepped forward and shook his hand. “And this is Rori McCarthy.”

  He shook her hand as well. “Come on back.”

  We skirted the front desk and went into his office. The guest chairs there were similar to the ones in the waiting area. The air smelled of expensive cologne and something I had a hard time pinning down. Wet dog? The window behind the desk looked out on the parking lot. Two pictures were perched on the corner of his desk. One was a professional portrait of a beautiful woman I assumed was his wife. The other was of a dog in a canine camo vest, standing in tall, yellow grass.

  Jake noticed me looking at the pictures. “Beautiful, no?”

  “She’s lovely,” I said.

  “What? Oh, well yes, my wife is gorgeous. I enjoy beauty in all forms, you see.” His arm swept the air. “But I was talking about that beautiful hound of mine. Beauregard’s his name. Best hunter I’ve
ever had.”

  I offered a smile.

  “Have a seat.” He made a vague gesture toward the chairs and then sat down behind the desk. “Usually I meet people at the home where they’re thinking of having their sale. Don’t get many people who come to the office, but Edna Standish said that’s what you wanted. What can I do for you?”

  Rori and I exchanged a look. We’d already decided that a straightforward approach would be best, with a focus on where Tucker might have acquired his ruby signet ring.

  I said, “Thank you for meeting us with so little notice. I’m sure you’re very busy.”

  He looked puzzled. “Is this about an estate sale?”

  “Not exactly. It’s about an employee of yours. Tucker Abbott.”

  Jake’s jaw set, and his eyes narrowed. “Former employee. He’s no longer with the company.”

  “I’m not sure if you’ve heard what happened to him.”

  “I don’t care what happened to him.” His voice was flat, his eyes hard.

  “He was killed,” I said, watching his reaction carefully.

  First, he looked blank, then after a few moments he swore. His palm slammed down on the desk, and I jumped. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and looked out the window for several seconds. Then he looked back at us. “I’m sorry, ladies. This is terrible news.” His lips twisted in a wry smile.

  “But you fired him,” Rori said. “Right?”

  Jake studied her. “Who are you again? And why are you asking me about Tucker?”

  “I’m his ex-wife.” Rori leaned forward. “See, Tucker had a ruby ring. Huge thing. He told someone he got it at an estate sale, and we know he used to work for you. I thought you might be able to tell me the value of the ring.” She gave him a tentative smile. “It’s missing, you see.”

  “Ex-wife, huh. He mentioned that he’d been married. And I know the ring you’re talking about. Looking for some insurance money, I take it?”

  “Maybe,” Rori said noncommittally.

  “Well, I can’t help you because I don’t know where he got it. Unless . . .” He swore again.

  “Unless?” I prompted, suddenly knowing where he was going.

  He started to say something, then seemed to think better of it and shook his head.

  “You think he stole it,” Rori said.

  Jake pressed his lips together.

  “You can go ahead and say it. I was married to the man, for heaven’s sake. I know what kind of a person he was. You think he stole the ring.”

  “It wouldn’t be the only time he’d done something like that,” Jake muttered.

  “Is that why you fired him?” I was feeling my way, but his face told me I’d guessed right.

  “Yeah. Turns out he took something from an estate sale about a month ago. It was very valuable to the son and daughter of the deceased homeowner. They specifically called and said not to include it in the sale. Tucker insisted it wasn’t anywhere in the house, but I’m pretty sure he took it.”

  Rori leaned forward. “What was the item? Was it the ruby ring?”

  But Jake Gibson must have decided he’d said too much. He stood. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you ladies. Good luck.”

  As we rose from our chairs, the main door opened, and a woman came in. She had dark hair tucked into a baseball cap and wore dark glasses. Something about her seemed familiar. Perhaps I’d seen her at the Honeybee?

  “Jake! You’ll never believe that house. They’re hoarders of the best kind,” she said. Then she reached the doorway to the office and noticed us. She slid off her glasses to reveal big blue eyes. It was the woman in the picture on Jake’s desk. “Oops. Sorry. Hi, I’m Serena Gibson.”

  I stuck my hand out and introduced myself and Rori. Her handshake was firm and short, and she exuded a happy, fun vibe.

  “We were asking your husband here about Tucker Abbott.”

  “Tucker! Well, good heavens. He hasn’t worked for us for a few weeks.”

  “So we heard,” I said. “How did he come to work for you in the first place?”

  She looked surprised and glanced at her husband before saying, “He came to one of our estate sales about a year back. He was looking for items to furnish a vacation rental. It wasn’t his rental—that was his job. We found a few choice items he could use, and we got to talking. I started letting him know when there was something he might be interested in at a sale, and eventually he chose to leave his old job and come work for us.”

  Chose to leave, huh.

  She smiled and shook her head ruefully. “That man could sell sweaters in hell. It was a real loss when he left.”

  Her husband slammed his fist down on the desk. The sudden noise made Rori and me jump, but Serena just rolled her eyes.

  “Please, Jake. Not everyone is as used to your histrionics as I am.”

  He glowered at her. “That one is Tucker’s ex-wife. She knows what a son of a—”

  She broke in. “Tucker’s ex-wife? Really.” She tipped her head and gazed at Rori with interest. “And you’re here because . . . ?”

  Her husband answered. “They’re trying to find out how much that ruby ring Tucker wore was worth. Apparently, he told her he got it at an estate sale. Well, nothing like that ever came through on any of our inventories. I would have remembered it, especially after he started wearing that thing. You know what I think? I think he stole it from one of our sales before the inventory was taken. Just like he stole from the Wiggins estate.”

  That made it sound like he’d stolen something other than the ring from the Wigginses.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Jake, stop it. Tucker didn’t steal anything. The Wigginses thought something was in their daddy’s house that wasn’t. End of story. I still can’t believe you fired Tucker without talking to me about it first.” She rolled her eyes at him and turned back to us. “Ladies, I’m sorry we can’t help you. I don’t know where Tucker got that ring. You should try asking him.”

  “He’s dead,” Jake said. “Are you happy now? The guy’s dead.” He pushed past his wife and went through to the main door, slamming it shut behind him so hard, the floor shook.

  Chapter 17

  Serena Gibson’s eyes grew round as she looked between us. “Dead?”

  “He was murdered,” I said.

  Her hand moved to cover her throat. “Oh, no. That’s horrible. What happened?”

  “The police are looking into it,” I said.

  Rori said, “Your husband said Tucker stole—”

  “Oh, my husband.” Serena frowned then moved to stand behind the desk. “He always thought the worst of Tucker. I’m not sure why. Jealousy, probably. Tucker was younger and better looking than Jake. Plus, he flirted. Not that I’d ever . . . you know. But men can be funny that way.” She sighed. “You’d think Jake would stop running the poor man down now that he knows he’s passed on.” A moue of regret crossed her features.

  Tucker must have thoroughly fooled her with his glamour.

  It sure hadn’t seemed to sucker her husband, though.

  “But what does Jake think Tucker stole?” I persisted. “From the, what was the name? The Wiggins estate?”

  Serena Gibson waved her hand. “I don’t even know, honey. Waverly Wiggins said there was some old curio her daddy left her and her brother and to put it aside when we had the sale. But Tucker went through the whole house and never saw it.” Her ponytail swished as she shook her head. “False accusations aside, there’s no reason why he’d steal something like that.” She shrugged and held her palms up toward the ceiling. “Honestly, Jake handled all the communication with Waverly and her brother. I was working another sale at the time. After the sale, they more or less let us go.” She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, fired us. See, once the official estate sale is over, we usually try to find places for the items that are left—online
auctions, consignment shops, donating to thrift stores, things like that. Part of the package. They decided to take that over themselves while they got their daddy’s place ready to sell.” She squinted her baby blues. “Or do you already know all that? Do you have a connection with the Wiggins family?”

  Rori shook her head.

  “Never heard of them before today,” I said.

  “Well, you sure seem to have a lot of questions about them if you’re only here about some ring of Tucker’s. I mean, I know you’re his ex, and there’s probably bad blood between you, but good heavens. The man just died. That seems awfully cold.” She smiled to soften the harshness of the words.

  Still, Declan’s sister started to protest.

  I cut her off. “We needed to follow up on some questions the insurance company had. Come on, Rori. We have to get going. Thanks for your time,” I said to Serena and turned to leave.

  “Sure thing. Again, sorry we couldn’t help,” she said, sinking into the office chair and taking out her cell phone.

  That was when I noticed a crack in the drywall plaster by the door frame. It was out of place amid the casual luxury, most of which I felt sure had been purchased from the estate sales the Gibsons organized. I could only imagine what their house looked like. I walked past it and out to the exit.

  Rori trotted after me. When we were outside, she said, “Why did we have to leave so quickly? Didn’t you hear? Tucker stole that ring, and he stole a curio from those Wiggins people. Do you think it’s my music box?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But I think we need to talk to the Wiggins family. Because something is off.”

  She frowned and got in the car. “What do you mean?”

  I started the engine. “First off, Jake said Tucker stole something valuable from the Wigginses. We’re pretty sure that music box isn’t worth more than twenty bucks. Secondly, he seems to have a bit of an anger problem. Did you notice the dimple in the wall board in his office? Right by the door?”

  Wide-eyed, she said, “No.”

  “Just about the size and shape a fist would make if someone punched a wall in a temper tantrum.”