Some Enchanted clair : A Magical Bakery Mystery (9780698140561) (11 page)

As she left, Lucy winked at me. “I have a feeling that any whoopee in Mrs. Standish's future will not involve red velvet cake.”

“Why, Lucy Eagel. You're enjoying this matchmaking a little too much,” I said.

“Not matchmaking, my dear. Only . . . facilitating.”

At six thirty I packed up Mungo and took him over to Declan's apartment. We left the little guy contentedly tucked into an afghan on the sofa to catch up on his soap operas. The house where the séance was to be held was within walking distance from Deck's, but we didn't want to rush supper at the casual and kitschy Toucan Café. He folded himself into the Bug with nary a complaint, his knees jutting up and his head almost brushing the roof of the compartment. My car was easier to park downtown than his extended-cab pickup, and as he put it, he was literally along for the ride.

After a rib eye steak for Declan and the jerk tilapia for me, we motored the short distance to the address Ursula had given me. Given my aunt's terrific parking karma, I wasn't surprised to see Ben and Lucy's baby blue 1964 Thunderbird convertible already squeezed into a convenient space, but I was surprised to see Ben get out of the driver's side.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said, approaching and giving him a hug.

“Declan told me about what you had planned for tonight, and Lucy said it would be okay if I came, too.”

“Of course it is. I just didn't expect, well—”

“I know,” my uncle broke in. “But I'm willing to do whatever I have to in order to find this murderer. Believe me. I've seen your aunt pull off some pretty strange stuff—you, too—and I have to at least admit it's possible that this might work.” He looked uncomfortable in his dress shoes and sports coat, and I wondered whether he'd ever enjoyed wearing his dress uniform or if over the last two years he had simply grown used to the freedom of retirement.

Retirement—or whatever you called working at a bakery nine to ten hours a day.

Lucy greeted me with her own hug as Bianca's red Jaguar pulled up. A flushed Mimsey rolled out of the passenger seat. She was resplendent in a pantsuit of eye-popping yellow, white alligator pumps, a string of oversized pearls, and a yellow ribbon in her hair. Bianca swirled out of the driver's side wearing a sleeveless watered-silk blouse, dark slacks, high-heeled gemmed sandals, and a row of silver bangles halfway up her forearm. Jaida arrived next, wearing jeans, a Stonehenge T-shirt, a black jacket, and knee-high boots.

I had changed into a long skirt and silky tank top, and Declan wore a collared shirt and jeans. Yes, I decided, we were all dressed nicely enough for a visitation from the spirit of Simon Knapp.

Squarish and tall, the house was three stories high, with three sets of windows on each floor. Those on the top floor were set back and smaller, as if the top layer of the cake had come out a bit smaller than the first two. Brick trim studded all the vertical corners and set off the creamy white exterior. Wrought-iron balconies outside the middle windows matched the fence that enclosed the small front yard. More iron, decorative spikes this time, ringed the flat roof and probably served to deflect the attentions of pigeons as much as anything.

The building certainly gave off an effluvium of
age
, so much so that I felt sure it was an original antebellum home. Of course Simon wouldn't have stinted on finding the best Savannah had on offer for his A. Dendum charges. It was quite beautiful, and certainly not the kind of place you'd find for rent on Craigslist. I guessed it was a private residence whose owners were off in St. Moritz or some such, and Simon had arranged with them for the cast to stay there.

It couldn't have been cheap, though, and the only people staying there were, as Niklas Egan had put it, “major players,” while the regular crew stayed at the Hyatt. It was a very nice hotel, of course, but nothing like this. I wondered whether this evident hierarchy between cast and crew was typical for film projects or specific to
Love in Revolution
.

I hadn't been in many true antebellum homes and looked forward to seeing the interior. Althea answered the door wearing a little black dress. Make that a
tiny
black dress, cut low on top and high on the bottom and cinched around her wispy waist with a wide magenta belt. It was further accessorized by glittering diamond studs in her ears, stiletto heels, and a goblet of red wine in her left hand. Her hair, which I had thought might be a wig, hung in luxurious tresses down her back.

“Come in,” she intoned as if trying to emulate a female Vincent Price with a Deep South accent. Séance in the offing or not, it didn't quite work.

I glanced at Declan. His eyes sparked with amusement, and I barely managed to control my urge to giggle.

Ben stepped forward. “Ms. Cole, I'd like you to meet my wife, Lucy.”

Althea gave a regal nod. “Ms. Eagel.”

“Lucy, please.”

“Oh, my stars and garters, what a pretty girl you are!” Mimsey stepped forward before anyone could introduce her. “Of course, I already knew that having seen every single one of your pictures, but you're even lovelier in person!”

Althea's ice appeared to fracture.

Mimsey barreled on. “You are just the nicest thing, too, to let us invade your home like this so we can have a little confab with Mr. Knapp. Just the most generous, sweetest thing ever.”

Man, she's laying it on kind of thick.

But Althea loved it. Her prim little smile grew into a wide, genuine grin. “You are most welcome, my dear.”

“I'm Mimsey.” She suddenly embraced Althea, who looked stunned for a moment before the older woman stepped back. In fact, I'm pretty sure we all looked stunned. “Mimsey Carmichael. Your passionflowers come from my florist shop. And this here is Jaida French.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jaida said.

“Sure. You, too.” Althea replied, more interested in the fawning Mimsey.

“Hello, Althea,” Bianca greeted her. “I think you know everyone else.”

The actress glanced at the rest of us, gaze lingering for a moment on me before moving on. “Mm-hmm. Well, come on in.” She stepped back and waved us inside.

We stepped into a wide entryway, where a fountain trickled water from lily pad to lily pad. The sound was soothing, as was the indirect lighting that extended into the large open space. Indirect but bright, spilling from sconces, exploding from torchères, and sneaking from uplights hidden behind furniture and potted palms.

Niklas Egan appeared at the top of the stairway to the right. He ran lightly down the steps, Van Grayson behind him. They were dressed designer casual, and both paused when they saw us.

“Ah, the spiritualists have gathered already,” Niklas said. “We'd better vacate the premises ASAP unless we want to become ensnared in their silliness.”

“Well . . . ,” Van said.

“Poor Nik is jealous of those who believe in something beyond what can be seen with the naked eye,” Althea said in a frosty tone. “It must be difficult to get through life believing in nothing but your own ego.”

The director treated us to a full-throated laugh. “Actually, it's surprisingly easy.” He quickstepped down the last few stairs, Van on his heels. As they approached the door, Niklas paused in front of Bianca. The corner of his lips lifted in a wry half smile. “You, too?”

“I'm afraid so,” she said. They gave the impression they knew each other rather well, and Jaida and I exchanged a quizzical glance.

“Well, you all have fun, hear?” Niklas said to the group. “But we're going to wash our hands of this shindig and see what kind of rocking nightlife we can find in Savannah on a Tuesday night. I doubt it'll be much, but with Grayson here as my wingman, it shouldn't be too bad.” He winked at Bianca, waved dismissively at the rest of us, and left through the still-open door. Van's smile faltered before he ducked his head and tagged along behind.

Althea sniffed her distain before leading us through the main hallway. Waist-high wainscoting ran around the perimeter, and we craned our necks to take in the high ceilings and eggshell walls. The floor was whitewashed wood, as was the towering fireplace mantel. The carved moldings along the edges of the ceiling were a darker ecru. The furnishings were understated and appeared, frankly, uncomfortable, the hall not a place for lingering but transition. The dark wood settee and chairs looked even darker against all the white backgrounds.

And everywhere, passionflowers punctuated the decor, singly and in groups, in small and large vases.

“The séance will take place in the dining room,” Althea said, and we trailed behind her like so many baby ducks. Her expensive perfume wafted behind her. She missed her step once, smoothly catching herself on the back of a Queen Anne chair. It was a subtle move, though possibly well practiced, and I wondered whether it was the stilettos or the wine.

We shuffled into the dining room. The table was an impressive slab that sat fourteen people easily. Four of the chairs had been moved to the edge of the room so that ten remained, four on each side and one at each end of the table. The space was large, the walls high, but not so high as the main hallway, and they were mostly covered in tapestries. I recognized some of the scenes from mythology: Diana and the stag, Zeus visiting Leda as a swan, and right over Althea's shoulder, Narcissus gazed adoringly at his reflection in the water. The air smelled of lemony furniture polish, a whiff of patchouli incense, and the delicious scent of golden beeswax that somehow negated Althea's strong perfume without overpowering it.

The honeyed atmosphere was because of the candles. More than a hundred of them, already lit, the flames wavering as we passed by. I exchanged approving looks with my coven mates and inhaled a deep, appreciative breath. As it sighed out, I saw Steve standing under Leda and the Swan, his usual casual attire replaced by slacks and a sports coat similar to Ben's. His lips curved up in a small welcoming smile.

I was oddly glad to see him and realized with surprise that I was a tad nervous about what might happen. A glance sideways, however, revealed Declan watching Steve with narrowed eyes, his lips firmly pressed together. Steve refused to look at Declan altogether. I stifled a sigh.

Ursula stood behind the chair at the head of the table. She wore a simple shirtwaist dress, loose and comfortable-looking and the same color as her eyes. Her right ear sported a large silver cuff beneath her spiked hair, and she had added some understated gloss to her lips. She seemed to assess each of us as we filed in the door, often looking off to the side as if listening to someone.

The fine linen cloth that covered the table was a dark blue that set off the color of Ursula's eyes. I wondered if it was part of the house furnishings or if she carried it as a prop because of the numinous effect it gave her gaze. Declan bent down as if to retrieve something from the floor and took a good hard look under the tablecloth—and under the table. If the psychic noticed it, she didn't give any indication.

Once we were all inside, Althea waved her arm toward the back of the room and said, “There's plenty of wine and cheese to sample. Help yourselves.”

Ben moved toward the sideboard, no doubt thinking a bit of the grape might help calm his own jitters. I joined him and snagged a nugget of deeply golden cheese off the board. Popping it in my mouth, I nearly swooned. It was rich and chewy, the texture similar to Parmesan, but the flavor was a complex combination of nuts, fruits, and, of all things, butterscotch.

“Welcome, everyone,” Ursula said. “Thank you for your generosity, Althea, but I really must advise against drinking alcohol until after we've completed the séance.”

The actress gave her a dirty look.

Ursula calmly ignored her. “It can interfere with the high vibrational energy required to communicate with the spirit world.” She smiled. “However, wine can be marvelously grounding afterward, so do feel free to imbibe after we're finished.”

Her employer approached and sat down in the chair to Ursula's right. She patted the chair next her, then crooked her finger at Steve.

“Althea,” Ursula said. “Since you have experience contacting the other side, I was hoping you would anchor the table at the other end.”

“Not sit by you?” Althea asked.

Ursula simply smiled.

“Well, okay. Come on, Stevie.”

Oh, Lord.

She stood and put her hand on his arm, and he steadied her with his other hand. She wrinkled her nose, all cutesy, and batted her big fake eyelashes. I looked away. Declan leaned down and said into my ear, “I wonder what she was like before she was a big star?”

Lucy leaned in on my other side. “She seems awfully unhappy and insecure, doesn't she?”

I opened my mouth to scoff, then closed it. Instead, I put my arm around my aunt's shoulders and squeezed. “Trust you to look past appearances.”

“Come sit here, Katie, so you will be available to speak to Simon should he grace us with a visit,” Ursula said, indicating the seat to her left.

Now I got the dirty look from Althea.

Ursula arranged the rest of us around the table to her satisfaction. Declan sat next to me, and next to him was Jaida and then “Stevie” on Althea's right. On her left, going back toward the head of the table, sat Bianca, then Ben, Lucy, and, finally, Mimsey directly across from me.

“Has anyone heard how Owen is doing?” I asked.

Ben said, “I checked after the relief guys arrived for the night, and he's still in the hospital under observation.”

“But he's going to be okay,” Lucy said.

“It sounds like they plan to release him tomorrow morning,” my uncle confirmed.

I sat back, relieved.

Ursula's skirt swirled as she rose and moved to close the double doors to the hallway. She twisted the round light switch on the wall, and the chandelier above us darkened. The sudden contrast made the candle flames seem to grow brighter. They cast dancing shadows over the walls and up to the ceiling.

With calm, measured steps, Ursula returned to her seat at the head of the table. Her eyes smiled at me before her attention flicked to Althea, who was saying something to Steve. I couldn't make out the words, but her tone was edged with complaint. She took a big swig out of her wine goblet and turned her attention back to the rest of us.