Murder Most Witchy (Wendy Lightower Mystery) (17 page)

As she walked down the street, her passion turned to rage, not at Archer, who couldn't really be blamed when she'd practically attacked him, or even at herself. No, her rage was centered on someone else entirely.

To make matters worse, he answered the phone before she'd even finished making the call.

“Good evening, Wendy,” Gerry sounded abnormally cheery.

“What the hell was that spell?” she demanded.

“Whatever do you mean?” his innocence was infuriating.

Wendy ground her teeth to keep from blurting out the truth. “You said it was a spell that required protectiveness and affection. That's not what I felt at all.”

“Hmm, interesting. Well, I've only done the spell on you, my dear, and those are certainly the emotions I used. Perhaps you were thinking of something else?”

Wendy was grateful that he couldn't see her blush through the phone. She hung up without answering him.

When she reached the end of Archer's street, she stopped. Night had brought a chill with it that didn't bode well for a three-mile walk in a cocktail dress. Not to mention that the shoes Magda had lent her were pinching her feet something awful. There was only one person she could call
.

Ten

“Thanks for coming to get me, Magda,” Wendy said when she had thawed sufficiently for her jaw muscles to function again.

“No problem,” she looked sideways at Wendy, taking in her bruised lips, mussed hair, and cheeks still pink despite the warmer temperature. “Now, you want to tell me what happened?”

Wendy leaned back with a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“Absolutely, but you can wait until we have alcohol, if you want.”

Wendy nodded her agreement. “I want.”

Back in her own home, she changed into sweats and got herself a beer while pouring Magda a glass of wine. Grimacing as she did so, she ordered Thai food takeout because she hadn't had the chance to eat dinner.

“Okay, spill it,” Magda said after her first sip. “What happened?”

Wendy twirled her pint glass, watching the overhead lights catch the golden hues in the beer. Then she started talking. She told Magda everything about Nathan Braun's death and Ian's suspicions of Archer. She explained about the spell and how she had to use emotions to fuel the magic.

“I must have been feeling some residual effects from the spell,” she finished, looking down at her now empty glass.

“Wait, though, if it is a spell that uses protection and affection,” she began slowly, “then why did you jump him? In my experience, that has very little to do with affection.”

Wendy blushed to the roots of her hair. “I was supposed to think affectionate, protective thoughts. Apparently my mind was somewhere else.”

Magda laughed out loud. “That's my girl. So you were thinking about jumping his bones, and that's what fueled the spell. Lust.”

“Evidently so,” Wendy mumbled. “I'm so mortified. I will never see that man again,” she vowed.

“Whoa,” Magda put her hand on Wendy's arm. “Let's not be hasty. He's gorgeous, and you know he's into you. We can fix this.”

Wendy shook her head. “Magda, the man might be a killer, and I was just going to jump into bed with him. I am the world's worst investigator.”

“Okay,” she granted, “if he's a murderer, we can call that irreconcilable differences, but Wendy, what if he isn't?”

Wendy remembered the way Archer's mouth had felt against hers, and the way his body had felt, hard and uncompromising, as he literally swept her off her feet.

Magda smiled knowingly. “So let's look on the bright side, shall we?”

Magda was gone by the time Wendy's phone started buzzing. Wendy had finished the rest of the bottle of wine she'd opened for Magda, and she was feeling delightfully lightheaded when the insistent humming brought her back out of a comfortable doze.

“What is that?” she asked of no one in particular. Charlie happened to be squatting on the table right in front of her, and he butted the offending phone with his large furry head.

“No,” Wendy complained, her eyes begging to be shut, “that's not my ring tone.”

Wendy hummed pleasantly to herself as the cat rubbed his silky head against her arm. He was mewing, softly, and she reached out a hand to pacify him.

“Shhh. I'm sleeping.”

She shoved Charlie away, perhaps not as gently as she might without the numbing influence of the alcohol, and let her head tip back.

“Ouch!” Wendy's eyes flew open, and she sat up straight on the sofa. “Was that necessary?” she asked Charlie, rubbing the sore spot on her elbow where his needle sharp teeth had broken the skin.

Charlie mewed his displeasure, butted the humming phone once more, and stalked off, his tail held high.

Her phone continued to emit an endless high frequency whine.

She picked it up, and the sound grew louder. “Great, now my phone is broken.”

It took another full minute for her brain to catch up out of its wine-soaked stupor. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Right!”

Wendy slid her finger across the screen, activating the call.

Archer's voice came in loud and clear in the middle of a sentence. “... ran out. It was,” he seemed to search for a word, “unusual.”

A woman answered. “Unusual that your trademark charm didn't reel this one in, huh?”

“Something like that.” He sounded amused.

Wendy clamped a hand over her mouth. She never asked Gerry whether the people she was listening in on could hear her, but she didn't want to take any chances.

“Don't you worry,” he continued, “I'll get her.”

The woman laughed, a light, silvery sound even through the hijacked cellular connection. “Work your magic.”

They chatted for a few more seconds, making plans to meet for lunch the following week. Then they both hung up, and Wendy's phone went dark.

She held it in her hand, staring at the screen long after the call had ended. She had missed the beginning of the conversation, but she knew, with absolute certainty, that they had been talking about her.

Wendy grabbed the wine bottle from where it sat temptingly in the center of the table, then remembering that it was empty, pushed it aside. With a sigh, she stood and took herself to bed.

Wendy was in her office at the library the next morning when Ian walked in. He moved cautiously, as though unsure of himself.

Wendy was engrossed in updating the online catalog system and didn't hear him until he spoke.

“How did it go last night?”

As though in answer to his question, her phone started humming. Wendy looked at the device with disgust, snatched it off her desk, and slammed it inside her desk drawer.

“I forgot that this guy is a politician. It hasn't stopped going off all morning. I swear, all he does is talk on the phone.”

“Heard anything interesting?”

Wendy was sure she imagined the accusatory tone that she heard in his question. “No,” she said, almost truthfully, “but I have heard more conversations than I would care to admit about a traffic light being installed on Oak and Main. Who knew that it took twenty local government officials to install a light. Sounds like a bad joke.”

Ian shot her a little half smile. “A very bad one.”

Wendy could hear the humming noise even from inside the deepest drawer of her heavy wooden desk. She threw up her hands with a noise of frustration. “I would never have thought to charm an electronic device. I didn't even know you could do that. That makes all of this Gerry's fault.”

Ian's smile stretched to his limits. “Gerry has a way of thinking about magic. He does things no one else could simply because he never considers that he can't do it. I don't know how he does it either.”

Wendy brushed back a loose strand of hair. “I probably never will.”

“I don't know about that,” he said quietly. After a beat, he was still standing in the doorway, not coming in but not making any move to leave either.

“Was there something else?” she finally asked, hating the distant words even as they left her mouth.

Ian straightened, his smile vanishing. “Gerry wanted me to come by and ask you to lunch. I think he wants to check up on us.”

“That sounds like Gerry,” she rejoined. “I'll be there.”

Ian turned and stalked out of the room without another word.

After he left, there was a quiet knock on her office door.

“Come in,” Wendy called.

A
middle-aged woman with short dark hair and a colorful print dress stood in her doorway.

Wendy stood behind her desk. “Can I help you?” she asked the stranger.

The woman averted her eyes as though she were embarrassed. “I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but I was hoping you could direct me towards any books that might have early photographs of the town.”

Confused but happy to help, Wendy led the woman out of her office. “Certainly. You will find some here,” she said, indicating a shelf near the bottom in one of the stacks. “If those aren't what you are looking for, I will pull a few more from another collection that might have some photographs.”

The woman flipped open one of the books. “Thank you, but this should be fine. I just love seeing how places have changed, don't you?”

Wendy murmured an assent. She left the woman happily thumbing through one of the books and headed for the front desk. It was unattended. As she did a quick loop through the library, Wendy found neither Magda nor Carrie anywhere.

“Great,” she said, sitting down behind the front desk. It was one of the perks of being head librarian that she wasn't supposed to have to deal with the visitors; she got to spend all of her time with the books. Not today, apparently.

“Finally!”

Wendy looked up to see Derek striding towards her desk, his forehead covered with wrinkles of consternation.

“Finally?” she repeated.

“I've had droves of people wandering into my museum, not to see my exhibit, but wanting to know where some musty old book is.”

Wendy looked around the largely empty library. “Droves of people?” She could see a grand total of exactly two visitors from where she sat.

Derek brushed off her question. “The point is that this desk is supposed to be stationed at all times. It is right in front of the visitor's entrance, after all!” He stormed off, bristling with the indignity of visitors who hadn't come to see his exhibit.

Wendy sighed. It was at moments like this when she was very, very tempted to remind Derek that he wasn't her boss, but she knew that would only lead to further strife. Derek was one of those men who had to feel like the leader, no matter what, and Wendy was largely able to ignore him. What made it worse that day was that she actually agreed with him. One of her staff should be at this desk.

Bored within seconds, Wendy leaned onto the desk with both elbows. What did Carrie do up here all morning, she wondered? Homework, or something more interesting?

Feeling a bit like she was snooping, Wendy began pulling open drawers in the desk. Mostly they contained office supplies or random bits of paperwork that needed filing. In the bottom drawer, Wendy found a very large and old book. She clucked her tongue at the negligent way it was shoved into the drawer at an awkward angle. It was another town register, similar to the one Wendy had been restoring for the exhibit, but of a later date.

The bell over the door jangled as it opened, and Carrie stepped inside. Seeing Wendy behind the desk, she froze.

“Hi, Carrie,” Wendy greeted her cheerfully.

“Hi,” Carrie replied, and then she launched into her explanation. “I had a dentist appointment. I told Magda.”

Wendy nodded her understanding. “I see. Well, that's okay then.”

Carrie stepped behind the desk and saw the town register sitting out on the surface.

“I found that in the drawer,” said Wendy. “It really shouldn't be stored like that.”

“I'm sorry. I was doing a paper on the history of the town for school, like the exhibit. I just hadn't finished with it yet.”

Wendy patted the girl on the shoulder. She seemed so concerned that she was in trouble that the lecture she had been about to deliver died on her tongue. “It's fine, Carrie. You know you can use whatever resources we have here.”

Carrie's smile was a bit wobbly. “Thanks.”

“Now I have a lunch appointment,” Wendy continued briskly. “Are you okay here by yourself?”

Eager to make up for her unavoidable absence, Carrie nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Take your time.”

Wendy scanned the room, noting that the two tourists were still perusing the shelves. “Thanks, Carrie. I hate to have to say it, but try not to leave the desk. Derek is in one of his moods.”

The girl answered gravely. “Understood.”

Having seen Carrie settled in behind the desk, Wendy decided she could keep her lunch with Gerry after all. As she stepped into the warm midday sun, Wendy reached for her phone to call Magda, intending to give the other woman a piece of her mind for being so flaky. Finding nothing in her purse but the inside of an empty pocket, she cursed inwardly. The phone, with its irritating connection to the world's most talkative man, was still locked in her desk drawer.

She considered going back inside to get it, but the bright blue sky and shining sun were too much to ignore. She could call Magda from Gerry's house. Wendy briskly walked the few blocks to Gerry house. She went in without knocking, a liberty she hadn't taken with him for more years than she could count.

“Gerry, can I use your phone?” she yelled as she walked through the door. “I need to call...” she broke off as she reached the kitchen.

“Need to call whom?”

Gerry was seated at the large round kitchen table, not only
with Ian as she expected but also with Detective Milton and Magda.

Wendy pointed at Magda. “Her, actually.”

Magda beamed at her. “No need. Here I am.”

She knew it was unfair, but what Wendy felt when she saw all them gathered there without her was a profound sense of being left out. As a result, her reply was somewhat sharper than it should have been. “As far from where you should be as possible. Why weren't you at work?”

Magda was unfazed by her friend's tone. If it were possible, she looked even more pleased with herself. “I was investigating.”