Caleb pinned me with a stare, and for a moment I thought he might tell me off. “We’re pursuing a number of leads, Ana. This is the very beginning of the investigation. So, yes, Francois was brought in for questioning, and yes, we searched his kitchen, but that’s all I’m at liberty to say. You know I can’t get into the nitty-gritty of active investigations with you.”
There was a stilted formality to the words that set my nerves on edge. He never gave me every nitty-gritty detail of a case he was working on—that would upend SPA protocol—but he usually gave me more than some boilerplate line that sounded like it came straight from the legal department.
“What about Guy Hansen?” I pressed.
A flicker of irritation wavered on Caleb’s face. “We’re going to look into him, too.”
“Good, because I just came from speaking with one of Evan’s groomsmen, Clive Errol, and he told me that Guy used to be classmates with them in academy.”
“So?”
“Francois doesn’t have a motive. But Guy just might. Clive made it seem like Guy was ex-communicated from their social circle. There’s bad blood. I could feel it.”
“If that’s the case, then why did Guy take the bartending gig?” Caleb asked.
I shrugged. “I have no idea. But maybe he saw it as a way to get revenge.”
Caleb turned it over in his mind. “I’ll have the team look into it, Ana. But I need you to hang back and let us do our job.”
“Francois didn’t do this, Caleb. He has an edge. He can be cold and sarcastic at times, but he’s not a killer.”
Caleb drew in a patient breath. “I know he’s your friend and I understand you’re trying to protect him, but I have to do this investigation by the book and play by the rules. You know that, Ana.”
I sighed.
“The Stimptons have a lot of sway in this town,” Caleb continued. “Everyone is under a lot of scrutiny to make sure we get this right. Which, at the moment, means digging into Francois until I can rule him out as a suspect.”
“I understand,” I said, rising from the chair. We said goodbye but as I left SPA headquarters I couldn’t help but feel that my concerns had fallen on deaf ears. The SPA wanted a win and they needed to give the Stimptons a name. The sooner the better.
I trusted Caleb, but he wasn’t the top of the food chain. If his bosses gave the order, he’d be forced to arrest Francois whether he was guilty or not. Even if Francois was later proven innocent through a trial before the Haven Council, what would he have left by the end of it? Who would hire a caterer who’d recently been tried for poisoning—and ultimately killing—a former client?
Francois might survive the justice system, but the court of public opinion wouldn’t be as forgiving.
I had to do something before he lost it all.
Chapter Ten
I’d barely stepped foot back in my condo before my phone was ringing. I answered the call, not recognizing the number. “This is Anastasia Winters, may I ask who’s calling?”
“Hello, Ana,” a sickly sweet voice purred on the other end of the line.
My jaw snapped tight. “Kait. What do you want?”
“I was just calling to see how the unemployed life is treating you. Are you finding time to catch up on some self-care?”
“Why. Are. You. Calling?” I ground out through clenched teeth.
Kait laughed, the sound throaty. I wanted to reach through the phone and deck her.
“I see you haven’t managed to wrangle that temper of yours,” she said, as easy-breezy as if batting away a fly. “You know, maybe in your abundance of free time, you should think about seeing someone. I’m sure with a few months, maybe years, you could get to the root of your anger issues.”
“I don’t have anger issues, Kait. In fact, things are really looking up, so I suppose maybe I should be thanking you for calling Hyacinth that day. Maybe you were just the catalyst I needed to get out of that soul-sucking firm. You might think you won some kind of prize, and I’m sure you’re enjoying the spoils of this little war you started, but sooner rather than later, Hyacinth is going to need a new outlet for her frustration, and I’d put a hundred bucks down that it falls on you.”
Kait laughed. “You don’t have a hundred dollars to spare, Anastasia.”
My eyes narrowed and it took every ounce of restraint to keep myself from pitching the phone across the room.
“Since you brought it up, I am enjoying my office, though. Thank you for keeping it in such good shape. Though, it did take some effort to get all of those ridiculous pictures off the walls. What did you use, superglue?”
The words stung, a prick right through the armor I was trying to crouch behind. A direct hit. The wall of photographs of every wedding I’d ever done was the pride and joy of my office, the sunny spot that reminded me why I did what I did. The image of Kait haphazardly ripping them all from the walls and chucking them into the trash hurt me more than I would ever admit, at least to her.
“I want them back,” I said, forcing my voice into a cool, thin line.
“Oh, don’t worry. One of your little friends scooped them up and made sure they made it into the box.”
“What box?” I asked, leaning forward.
“That’s why I’m calling,” Kait said, a maddening playfulness to her tone. She fancied herself the tomcat. I was her mouse. “Hyacinth wants to know when you’re coming to pick up the box of crap we gathered from your office.”
“She has my address on file,” I replied. “Send it with a courier.”
This was all a stupid game and I wasn’t going to play along. If Kait thought she was going to trick me into coming down to the office one last time so she could make a big show of putting her feet up on my desk, she was dead wrong. All inclinations of yesterday afternoon were gone. I’d never set foot in that building again.
“She’d prefer you come and pick it up,” Kait said. “She doesn’t need to spend money sending it with a courier when you have two functioning legs and more than enough time on your hands.”
My blood went molten. “Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll send a courier. I’m too busy to come down there at your beck and call.”
Kait laughed. “Oh, yeah? Doing what? Eating ice cream straight out of the vat?”
“For your information, I’m starting my own business, and one day, very soon, I’m going to open my own firm right here in the haven. I won’t call you when I have my grand opening. I won’t need to. You’ll know about it when your phone stops ringing and your clients stop showing up for their appointments! You’re going to look back on this conversation and wish you’d been nicer, because I’m going to crush you into pixie dust.”
With that, I smashed my finger against the screen to end the call and then threw the phone down on the nearest sofa cushion. I paced a few steps away and then snapped back around to stare at it in alarm, as if I’d been listening to the conversation rather than actively participating in it.
Crush you into pixie dust? Goddess help me.
“Ugh. Good going, Stace. That’s a great reason to open a business. I can just imagine the business plan. Purpose: to tick off my ex co-worker. Start-up capital: a few hundred bucks, a pipe dream, and a whole lot of rage.”
Groaning, I dropped into a chair and rubbed my temples. “What are you doing?”
I allowed myself a few minutes to wallow and mutter under my breath—most of which was various ways of questioning my own sanity—before retrieving my phone and calling a courier service.
Write a business plan. Easy. Right? I mean, the plan was to plan. I should be a natural at this. Yet, as the minutes ticked by, the page before me remained unmarred by ink.
Anastasia’s Events
Hmm. No. That sounded like I had some kind of medical condition.
Winters’ Events?
Nope. That one sounded seasonal. I tapped my pen against the pad of paper. A wicked grin spread across my face as my next idea lightbulb flashed on.
If they h
ad a touch of magic, then perhaps I could offer A Pinch of Magic Events? Or, better yet, A Bucket of Magic Events.
Okay, now that one had potential. If only because of the way it would rankle Hyacinth. I snickered to myself even as I drew a slashed line through both of the names. I’d cop to an occasional vengeful urge, but petty, I was not.
Forgetting the name, I moved to the next glaring question. How in the Otherworld was I going to come up with enough money to get started? Sure, when I secured a client, most of my expenses would come out of their wallet. I’d book the florists, bands, ministers, reception halls, and calligraphers, but when the bill was forked over, it wasn’t my name signed on the dotted line. But where would these client meetings take place? Was I supposed to shlep my hoity-toity clients around on a Shimmer Bus? Then there were business cards, a phone line, an assistant to handle the phones while I was out busy with clients.
The totals added up like a Las Vegas slot machine jackpot marquee, surging higher and higher—ironic, considering that’s what I’d need if I had a chance at getting this project off the ground.
I set the pen down and slumped against the table, my chin resting in my palm. If I couldn’t afford to start my own business, then what were my options? I could apply to other magic-based event-coordination firms. If I managed to find a position open, it would require moving to a new haven. Not something I wanted to do, even if Harmony was moving away and things with Caleb seemed to have hit a snag. My home was in Seattle. I loved everything about it. There wasn’t going to be an easy replacement, even if it was the only way I could do what I loved. But, staying in Seattle would mean no magic. I could find a job in the human world and do human weddings. As A Touch of Magic Events had a human division, it would still show as relevant experience on my resume, although I wasn’t going to hold my breath for a ringing endorsement of my capabilities as a planner from the likes of Hyacinth. My portfolio would have to speak for itself.
Reaching across the table, I tugged the glossy folio toward me and opened the cover. It needed some updating. The first three highlighted events had been done months ago and I now had even more impressive wedding photographs to display. My stomach tightened as I flipped through the laminated pages. Everything was so beautiful, a perfect realization of the visions I’d had in my mind whilst planning the events.
The front door opened and I turned to peek over my shoulder. Harmony came inside, kicked off her kitten heels, dropped her messenger-style bag to the floor, and exhaled.
“Long night?” I asked.
Gingerly, she crossed through the living room, heading for the kitchen. “Party of twenty came in twenty minutes before closing. I wanted to turn them away, but apparently one of them was Marco’s second cousin once removed or something crazy, so he insisted they be seated. We were down a server and then Jess had to leave right at end of shift to pick up her kid. I ended up filling in as a server, and let me tell you, I was not wearing the right shoes for the occasion.”
I winced. “Sorry.”
Harmony shuffled around in the kitchen for a few minutes. The fridge opened and closed half a dozen times, finally followed by the sounds of ice cubes hitting glass and the fizz of soda. Finally, she reappeared in the dining room and plopped into the chair beside mine. She placed a glass of dark soda on the table beside a plated triple-decker sandwich and dug in with gusto.
She scanned the contents of the table as she chewed. “Whash all this shtuff?” she asked around a full mouth.
I narrowed my eyes but didn’t scold her. “The firm packed up my office and I sent a courier to get everything this afternoon.”
“Ooooh.” She cringed and swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
I shrugged. “I’m just glad it didn’t end up in the trash.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” she said, then second guessed it when I gave her a wry look and nodded. “Okay, you’re right. They totally would. Scum bags.”
“Even back when I first started working for the firm, I knew I’d have to climb the ladder and pay my dues, and I did. Without complaint. I took all the bottom-of-the-barrel jobs with a smile. I gave every client my full attention and effort, no matter how small or casual the affair. And finally … finally … it had paid off. I’d thought I’d had it made. I had my dream job and all those years had been worthwhile after all. And now …” I trailed off, staring at the assortment of memories lying on the table before me.
Harmony placed a hand on my shoulder. “It wasn’t for nothing, Stace.” She gestured at the photographs and the multitude of thank you cards stacked on one side of the table. “Look at all these happy people. You made that! You put those smiles on their faces. They will treasure their special day forever, and you made it all happen. No one, not even that shrill harpy, can take that away from you.”
I smiled sadly. “Thanks, Harmony.”
She was right, but it didn’t fully take the sting or shock away.
While I stared at the portfolio, Harmony snaked an arm past me and grabbed the list of rejected business names. I tried to get it back, but she was too quick and held it out of my reach. Her eyes lit up. “You’re really going to do it? Start your own business?”
“I don’t know.” I chewed my lower lip, turning over the idea for the dozenth time. “Maybe?”
“You totally should,” she replied, an enviable decisiveness to her tone. “I’ll bet within a year, maybe two, you’d be giving A Touch of Magic a run for their money.”
I laughed and took the leaf of paper back as she handed it over. “I think that’s a little ambitious.”
“Can you imagine the look on the dragon lady’s face?” Harmony asked with a giggle.
The dragon lady was her title for Kait, bestowed after their first meeting nearly a year ago. Harmony had been at my office the morning after she’d showed up on my doorstep to announce she was homeless and broke, and Kait had come storming in, snarling about something. Thus, a nickname was born.
“It’s tempting,” I admitted, “but I don’t have any concrete steps forward. It’s not like I have a huge nest egg saved up somewhere.”
Harmony’s smile fell away and something wiggled across her expression. Guilt?
“I didn’t mean to imply that’s your fault,” I said quickly. “If anything, I can thank my shoe collection. Even the sale-price pairs were too expensive, in hindsight.”
“Things will turn around, Stace. You won’t have to auction off your shoes.”
I snorted. “Maybe a kidney instead.”
Harmony rolled her eyes, smiling at me. “And you call me the dramatic one in the family.”
I yawned, stretching my arms overhead. “Stars, what time is it?”
“One-thirty,” Harmony replied, not missing a beat.
“No wonder my bum’s tired. I’ve been in this chair all night.” I scanned the pages before me and scoffed. “Not that I have a ton to show for it.”
Harmony’s phone pinged. A text message. She snapped the phone up with a lightning-quick hand and read the message, her smile growing. Her fingers danced along the screen and the phone whooshed as her reply spiraled off into cyberspace. The giddy grin, however, remained.
I raised an eyebrow. “Who in the Otherworld is texting you at one-thirty in the morning?”
“Oh, uh, no one. Just someone from work.”
“Uh huh.” I quirked my lips to one side. “A male someone, perhaps?”
Harmony laughed and popped up from her chair. “No. I’m too busy to deal with boys right now.” She stuffed the phone in her back pocket, another ping slightly muffled against the fabric of her work pants. “See you tomorrow? We’re still getting drinks with CeeCee, right? Six o clock?”
I nodded, but she was already halfway across the living room, the light from her phone illuminating her smile as she tapped out another reply to her mystery texter.
I don’t know why it mattered who she was communicating with. Her social life was her own and not something I wandered into on a regular basis.
But with the real estate flyer and sticky note still fresh in my mind, it nagged at me that she was potentially keeping secrets.
Sighing, I heaved myself up from the chair and stretched before gathering the pages into a neat pile. I’d have to come up with a killer business name tomorrow. My muse had apparently gone to bed hours ago. Smart woman.
Chapter Eleven
CeeCee had already secured a table and flagged us over as soon as we stepped inside the dimly lit martini bar. It was one of the nicest bars in the Seattle Haven. High-end furnishings, tasteful art, and top-shelf alcohol. My kind of place. I enjoyed a good drink, but I’d never been one for rowdy bars or the spring-break crowd. As Harmony and I wove around the other tables, I couldn’t help but peek at the bar, looking for Guy. Was he working tonight? And if so, should I try and ask him about Evan?
Not that I had any idea how I could drop such a loaded question into a conversation and make it seem like casual interest.
My heart jumped into my throat when Guy appeared from the back room, opening a new bottle of vodka. He said something to a trio of patrons and all four men laughed. Harmony tugged on my elbow and I snapped to attention.
“You good, girl?” CeeCee asked, concern pinching her brow.
I realized she’d been trying to get my attention and quickly slapped on a smile. “Sorry, yeah, I was just spacing out, I guess.”
Harmony eyed me as she hopped up into one of the high-backed chairs. She kicked the other one out for me and I scooted into it. I placed my black clutch on the table and turned my attention to CeeCee. She’d been one of my first calls after quitting my job and had been checking in with me daily since.
“I took the liberty of pre-ordering you each a sour appletini,” she announced, throwing a finger in the air to catch the attention of a bartender.
I twisted in my seat just in time to see Guy zero in on her request. He nodded and went to work making the drinks.
“Sounds great,” I said, trying to conceal the nervous edge of my voice.
Witchy Weddings: A Magic Witch Mystery Series: The complete Touch of Magic series Page 38