Bewitched, Bothered, and Biscotti: A Magical Bakery Mystery (19 page)

A woman across the room waved at us and began threading her way through the tables
in our direction. Her lipstick was the color of Merlot, matching her dress and shoes.
Smooth dark hair swung above her
shoulders, and long mascaraed lashes framed her friendly gray eyes.

“Bianca! I’m so glad you called me last night. We’re delighted to have you join Team
Powers, even in this small way.”

My companion smiled widely. “Elizabeth Dwyer, I’d like you to meet my friend Kathleen.”

I shot her a grateful look.

“She wants Victor Powers to represent the great state of Georgia in the Senate as
much as we do. Kathleen, Liz is the driving force behind this lovely breakfast.”

We shook hands. “Oh, heck,” Elizabeth said. “Just doing my part for the greater good.”

“Good for you,” I said. “I’m so pleased to meet you. I do hope to get a chance to
talk with the candidate himself.”

“He has been busy, busy, busy from what I understand. So many people to meet around
the state. He’s been out of town for the last four days, shaking hands and kissing
babies. Running for office isn’t for wimps!”

“I can only imagine how much work it must be.” But I wasn’t imagining that at all.
I was thinking Victor Powers might very well have an alibi for the night Lawrence
Eastmore was struck on the head. “Do you happen to know where Mr. Powers was on Friday
night?”

Elizabeth looked momentarily puzzled, but recovered quickly. “I’m afraid I don’t have
his schedule. However, Carolyn—his wife—will be here soon. It looks like Victor’s
running late, so she may be speaking in his stead. She’s very charismatic, you know.
Perhaps she could tell you.”

“Oh, it’s not important,” I said. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course.” She turned to Bianca, and as I moved away I heard her ask, “Are you interested
in volunteering for the campaign?”

Bianca was a big girl. She could take care of herself.

The place was beginning to fill, and some people were finding seats at the tables.
I snagged a couple of seats near the front, but remained standing. I didn’t recognize
anyone at first, then saw Mrs. Standish. I had no idea of her political leanings,
but that probably didn’t matter. Since she was a mover and shaker in Savannah she
might have attended the fund-raiser of an up-and-coming senatorial candidate no matter
what his views so as to keep her hand in.

She didn’t see me, though, and I turned to survey the rest of the growing crowd. They
were a well-dressed bunch, though the level of formality varied. Elizabeth Dwyer hurried
toward the buffet tables, smiling and nodding at everyone she passed. Bianca found
me a few minutes later.

“What time is it?” I asked.

Glancing at her watch, she said, “Eight forty-five.”

A male voice announced that the buffet was open, and people began filing in that direction.

“Let’s wait for the throng to thin,” I said.

Bianca nodded. We sat down at the table for six, and a young couple and two older
gentlemen filled the other chairs. We all exchanged pleasantries. The men had already
been through the food line, and I surreptitiously eyed their plates. Shrimp and grits,
cheddar biscuits and slabs of ham, piled together with peach pancakes
and scrambled eggs. The Westin obviously offered a proper buffet. It was a ridiculous
display of food, and I wanted some.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Bianca grinned.

We shuffled down the buffet and returned to the table. My plate had a little dab of
everything, while Bianca’s held an assortment of melon and a piece of toast. Poor
woman was going to starve, eating like that.

Elizabeth Dwyer went up to the podium, adjusted the microphone, and welcomed us all.
Next she started in on the same sound bites I’d already heard. Between the food and
the people-watching, I largely tuned her out. Then she introduced Carolyn Powers.

Victor Powers was married to a willowy, tan blonde who spoke in a refined drawl. She
welcomed all the attendees as well, and then got down to the business of touting her
husband’s credentials.

“He has worked in the financial sector for most of his life. We talk about the economy,
but Victor understands economics. He also understands how things get done, both in
business and in the world of politics. With your continued support we can bring the
Empire State of the South back to greatness!”

Funny: I thought it was pretty great already.

She went on for twenty achingly long minutes, making vague but enthusiastic promises.
Finally, she gave the online link for further donations. “However, we know how busy
everyone is, and it’s easy to forget. We need your help, and you need Victor Powers
in the Senate! So why not break out your checkbooks right now? And if you don’t have
a check handy? Well, shame on you.” She
smiled, and a few people laughed. “But you can still donate to the campaign online
before you leave the hotel. We have volunteers with electronic tablets who will be
moving among you, and we accept credit cards. Or text your donation and the amount
will show up on your phone bill.” She recited a number. “Thank you so much.”

I looked at Bianca in amazement as everyone clapped. She shrugged. The young couple
got up and hurried over to a college-aged woman, reaching for the tablet in her hand.

A waiter collected our plates—my eyes had been bigger than my stomach, but I’d made
good inroads—and I pushed back from the table.

“Sorry you spent so much to get us in here,” I whispered to Bianca. “Let’s at least
circulate a little more, see if we can find out anything useful.” I looked around
for Carolyn Powers. She’d know where her husband had been on Friday night. Or at least
I assumed so.

I spied her approaching the podium again. She took the microphone in hand, and a short
whine screeched through the room. Bianca winced.

“Sorry about that! But I have some very good news!” Carolyn said.

A murmur drifted through the crowd.

“We thought Victor would be unable to attend this morning’s soiree, but it turns out
he is on his way back from Athens as I stand here. Go, Bulldogs! He’s only about fifteen
minutes away, and we’d love for you to stay and get to know each other. I know my
husband would love to personally meet as many of you as possible.”

Of course Powers would want to meet as many of these moneybags as he could.

“Well, now. Maybe things are going to be more interesting than I thought,” I said
to Bianca and stood up. “Let’s at least stretch our legs while we have a chance. Maybe
take a look around?”

She nodded, and we started toward the exit.

And there, walking straight toward us, was Heinrich Dawes.

“Darn it,” I said, and veered to the right.

Bianca followed. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s Steve’s dad.”

“Oh! Did he see you?”

“Not yet—but if he does he’ll know I’m not here because I’m a big fan of future senator
Powers.”

You would be well advised to keep out of the society’s business.

He turned in our direction. I ducked down as far as my long pencil skirt would allow.
He strode forward, confident and smiling, toward a cluster of political boosters.
Quickly, I slipped into a chair next to a white-haired woman in a navy blue pantsuit.
Bianca remained standing, surveying the room as if she were looking for someone in
particular.

The grandmotherly woman in the chair next to me looked at me in surprise.

“Sorry,” I said. “Not feeling well.”

“Oh, dear. Shall I call someone?”

“No, no. I’ll be fine in a moment.” I pushed a napkin off the table with my elbow.
“Oops.” I leaned down to
retrieve it from under my chair as Heinrich walked by, oblivious. Relief washed through
me as I saw his retreating back.

Then he paused by the next table. Stopped. He looked at the faces near him, then turned
in a slow circle. It looked for all the world as if he were sniffing the air.

You have tangible power.
Heinrich’s words came flooding back.

Even though he hadn’t actually seen me, he knew I was there. I didn’t know how to
dampen whatever he was sensing, didn’t even know if that was possible.

“Dear, are you all right?”

The nice white-haired lady leaned down to where I remained hunched over in my chair,
alarm and concern all over her face.

“Just a little dizzy,” I whispered.

Heinrich had stopped turning and was now facing my way, but I was still mostly hidden
by the white tablecloth. Movement to his left made him turn his head just before Bianca
ran into him.

She’d picked up a half-full glass of freshly squeezed orange juice from one of the
tables, and now it dripped down the front of his expensive suit.

“Oh! Heavens, where did you come from?” Bianca turned on her considerable charm full
blast, capturing his undivided attention. “I thought I saw Mr. Powers coming up the
path outside and became utterly distracted.”

I sat up and smiled at my new friend. “I feel much better now. Do you know where the
restroom is inside the hotel?”

“Just around the corner from the elevators, dear. You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. Thanks so much.” My words were rushed, and I missed her reply as I stood and
sidled quickly toward the exit, watching Heinrich the whole time.

Bianca dabbed at his lapel with a napkin. “Take that off, and I’ll get it cleaned
up with some nice club soda. Can someone please get me some club soda?”

“Isn’t that for wine stains?” he asked in a gruff voice, looking up. I saw his light
gray eyes flash.

“Oh, I think it’ll work for a little citrus stain. Let’s at least try, okay?”

I stepped to the side, putting several people between Heinrich and me.

A cheer went up as the door opened behind me. I turned to find myself facing a large
man with a short white fringe of hair running around the perimeter of his otherwise
bald head. The tonsure effect belied his powerful shoulders and military bearing.
I recognized the face from the television ads.

Victor Powers met my eyes with his own ice-blue ones. Something passed between us,
but I didn’t know exactly what. Did he recognize me, perhaps from Heinrich’s description
or even a picture? Or did he sense something the same way Steve’s dad seemed to when
he walked by?

Whatever it was, it flickered for one long second before he grinned broadly and waved
at his supporters. They shifted to allow him passage, and I slid farther behind the
crowd until I was finally able to duck outside.

 * * *

Bianca walked into the women’s restroom fifteen minutes later. “I thought I might
find you here.” She bent down to check under the stall doors. We were alone.

Leaning against the counter, I said, “Seems the safest place to be right now. Nice
job with the orange juice, by the way.”

She laughed. “Mr. Dawes is not terribly happy with yours truly. I would have offered
to get his suit cleaned, but anyone who can afford that suit in the first place doesn’t
need my contribution to his household budget.”

I grimaced. “No kidding. You’re out of pocket enough already. What a fiasco, not to
mention a waste of time.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

My chin jerked up. “What do you mean?”

“After her husband arrived, I had a chance to talk to Carolyn Powers. Their grandson
turned eleven on Friday, and she made sure Grandpa was in town for the party. In fact,
it was at their house, and Heinrich was in attendance. She also mentioned that it
was a pleasant—and rare—thing to have her husband home for a full night during this
campaign.”

“Really. Well, Steve said that Brandon Sikes was with him and his father at a function
of some kind, then came home with them and stayed the night at the Dawes’ house.”

“Why?”

“Something to do with an art exhibit Sikes is planning. It got late, and they’d had
a few drinks, so he stayed.”

“Ah. Well, I guess that’s better than having Jaida defend another DUI.”

The door opened then, and a woman came into the restroom holding the hand of a little
girl. Bianca and I exchanged glances and I nodded. “Let’s go.”

Hotel guests, golfers, and political supporters strolled through the Westin’s lobby,
but there was no sign of Steve’s father. Watchful, we went outside and made a beeline
for the dock. Halfway there, I spotted him. He stood between us and the river, watching
people gather for the water taxi. I tugged on Bianca’s arm, pulling her back, but
there wasn’t really anywhere to hide. We retraced our steps as far as the hotel and
tucked ourselves around the corner.

“At this rate we should just get a room and plan on staying until he leaves,” I said,
frustrated.

Heinrich continued to watch the waiting passengers as the taxi chugged across the
water. We could see one of the humongous container ships from China downriver, approaching
the Talmadge Bridge.

Suddenly Heinrich spun on his heel, looking across the lawn toward the main entrance
of the hotel. He raised his hand to someone and began walking back up. Bianca and
I shrank back, but he walked inside without a glance in our direction. Down at the
dock the water taxi let off its passengers from the other side of the river.

“Come on!” I said.

Together, we ran across the grass and down the sidewalk, high heels clattering on
the cement ramps. We made it onto the taxi just before the attendant closed the gate.

“Whew!” I laughed, trying to catch my breath. “It’s a miracle I didn’t turn my ankle
on that little sprint.” The boat pulled away. The wind had blown some of the cloud
cover off, and now thin sunlight glinted off the dark water of the river.

But Bianca didn’t respond. She was looking back at the hotel. I followed her gaze.

Heinrich Dawes stood above, looking down at us. He’d fooled us by going back into
the hotel, I realized. I put my hand on the railing and nodded to him.

His nod in return felt like a promise. Not a good one, either.