Murder Most Witchy (Wendy Lightower Mystery) (16 page)

The mention of Ian's name jolted Wendy out of her shock. “Ian, no, not Ian. I have to call Ian. I was supposed to meet him tonight.”

Magda smiled proudly. “Double booked. Nice.”

Wendy reached for the phone, but Magda stopped her.

“Never mind Ian. He can wait. Who is the date?”

“Archer. I met him at the opening.”

Magda practically licked her lips. “The gorgeous blond with the stormy eyes. Excellent, Wendy, really excellent.”

Wendy didn't know whether to tell her friend that aside from being ridiculously
good-looking he was also a prime suspect in two murders. She decided it might bring down the moment.

“What are you going to wear?”

Wendy frowned and looked down at her sensible, professional outfit. “He's picking me up here, so this, I guess.”

Magda didn't bother to hide her disgust. Her patrician nose wrinkled. “Unacceptable. Leave it to me.”

As she got up to leave, Wendy smiled at her. “Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

The date talk had smoothed over whatever awkwardness Magda had been feeling, at least for the time being.

“Nope,” she replied with a smirk, “everything is great. Be back soon.”

Wendy was pleased that Magda was happy and comfortable again, even if it had been accomplished at the expense of her date night outfit. As for herself, Wendy dreaded the idea of a date with Archer more than she could express, and not only because he was undeniably a suspect in two separate murders. The thought that made her queasy with dread and anticipation was the laughing, knowing look in those deep gray eyes. The next phone call she would have to make didn't make her too happy either.

The phone rang three times on the other end before Ian picked up.

“Lightower Investigations.”

“Ian, it's Wendy. Listen,” even as she began her explanations, she stopped. The sound of the ringing phone echoed in her ears. “I need to talk to Gerry.”

“Sure, hold on.”

Wendy waited through the rustling on the other end as Ian passed the phone over to Gerry.

“Hello, Wendy. What can I do for you?”

“Why didn't you know I was calling?” she demanded without preamble. “You always know when I'm calling.”

Gerry chuckled heartily at a joke only he understood. “I haven't gotten to your work phone yet. Is that where you're calling from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just one of my parlor tricks. I charmed your phones, sort of like a mystical
wiretap. My phone hums whenever you're picking up the line.”

Wendy didn't join in his laughter. “Have you been listening to my calls?”

Gerry sounded shocked. “Of course not.”

“But you could if you wanted to, right?”

Gerry didn't answer right away. He knew well enough to confess when one of his tricks had already been found out, but that didn't mean he was willing to incriminate himself further.

“It's important, Gerry,” she pressed him.

She heard him sigh on the other end of the call. “Yes, I could. I don't,” he added quickly.

Wendy was smiling as the plan coalesced in her mind. “You can put Ian on now.”

Wendy could hear in his voice that Ian still wasn't happy about her date with Archer, but after explaining to him that it was all a ruse so she could magically tap his phones, he begrudgingly agreed that it was good for the investigation. He would stop by later with the supplies for Gerry's charm.

Magda barged into Wendy's office around lunchtime with yet another plastic dry cleaning bag. Wendy braced herself for the revelation, but when she saw the contents, she relaxed. Under the bag was a classic little black dress, short but not too short, that somehow managed to be both alluring and modest at the same time.

“Well done,” she had to admit.

Magda beamed. “Thank you. You are going to look so good. I'm actually kind of jealous.”

Wendy glanced at the large bag of supplies that Ian had just dropped off. “Don't be.”

He had hardly spoken to her at all, just shoved the bag into her hands and left with a grumbled, “Be careful.”

She'd tried to stop him, but there wasn't really anything to say. He had walked away without a backward glance.

As the doors were locked to visitors and the day wound to a close, Wendy felt the fluttering of nerves in the pit of her stomach intensify exponentially. She got ready in her office with the help of shaking hands and a pocket mirror. When she stopped for the second time to take a deep, steadying breath, she wondered again whether it was the fact that Archer featured prominently on her Suspect list or the fact that he was knock-'em-down gorgeous that was making her so nervous.

Probably, it was both.

She was ready way too early, and she watched from the window as his black luxury sedan pulled up in front of the library. He stepped out of the car in a single fluid motion, his expensive navy suit fitting him like a glove. He strolled up the walkway towards the library.

Wendy, alone in the library, quickly cut all the lights and set the alarm, moving to meet him outside before he could reach the steps. The smart investigative move would probably have been to let him in to see if he reacted to the scene of Benny's death, but she couldn't do it. The very idea sent shivers up and down her spine.

He smiled when he saw her, which suggested that the outfit wasn't a total failure. It was a bit snug around the hips and chest, but Magda had seemed to think that was a good thing. The bulky black bag slung over her shoulder probably ruined the effect, but she wasn't about to leave it behind.

“Hungry?” he asked as she joined him at the sidewalk. The way he said it made it seem like he was, but not, perhaps, for food.

Wendy decided in that moment not to be intimidated by Richard Archer Blackly, if he was a witch committing murders or just an incredibly handsome man. Either way, she could hold her own.

“Starved,” she let her eyes rake over him, taking in the effect of his purposefully mussed hairstyle and ever so slightly loosened tie. It was a completely staged attempt to look relaxed and at ease, and she smiled. “Where are you taking me?”

Archer offered her his arm, which she took by slipping the end of her hand through the crook of his elbow. “I thought we would try La Monde,” he replied, naming the most popular, and therefore most exclusive, restaurant in town.

Wendy pretended to cover a yawn. “I'm not sure I'm in the mood for La Monde.” She had to clench her teeth to stop from laughing at herself; she had never been to La Monde. No regular people ever ate at La Monde.

“What did you have in mind, then?” he asked, bemused.

Wendy forced her voice to remain level as she answered. “I was thinking we could go to your place.”

The words hung in the air between them, sizzling in the chilly night air. Archer stared hard at her, a furrow between his brows, as though he was trying to solve a particularly problematic puzzle. Then his face cleared, and he smiled.

“Even better.”

He helped her into the car and shut the door. Wendy had to take several deep, shuddering breaths to calm the wild careening flutter of her heart. By the time Archer made it around the car and entered on his side, she had herself under control.

For the most part.

She didn't see much on the ride through town, mainly because Archer drove faster than any rational person ever should. From the way his car handled and his ease in the drivers' seat, she could tell it was his normal driving technique.

They rode in silence for several minutes before Archer finally spoke. “I'm not much of a cook, I'm afraid. We'll have to order in.”

Wendy turned to him with a smile. As she did so, her dress inched a bit further up her leg. She forced herself to keep her hands still and not tug it back into place. “That's fine. I'm flexible.”

Archer's eyes darted to her exposed thighs, but only for a second, and then his attention was back on the road. One final hair-raising turn, and the car slowed to a stop. Wendy stepped out of the car without waiting for Archer to help her.

She found herself in another world. Archer lived in the swankiest neighborhood in North Harbor, not among the old, practically historical buildings in her neighborhood and by the library, but in a very modern glass-fronted one story overlooking the most spectacular view of the sea. She could smell the salt and hear the birds, and as she walked up the path, the sun was setting directly behind the house in a blaze of orange and pink.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Thanks,” Archer said, opening the front door.

Wendy didn't burst his bubble by telling him that she was impressed by the sunset, rather than by the house. As she looked around the stark, almost Spartan living room, Wendy was even less impressed. She lived in her cozy little cottage, not because of its more reasonable price tag, but because it felt like a home. This ultra modern dwelling felt like a showcase, not a place that anyone actually lived in.

She allowed Archer to show her in and even consented to put her bag on a table in the hallway. Then she made a beeline the wall-length windows overlooking the sea. The house she could leave entirely, but the view was something else.

“Spectacular.”

She felt Archer standing behind her so close that she could feel the heat of his body.

“It's why I live here actually. The house isn't really my taste, but when I saw that view,” he trailed off.

The thought so closely mirrored her own that Wendy spun around to face him, a question in her eyes.

“I prefer those historical homes in the center of town. If I could pick up one of those and plant it here, I think I would.”

She didn't answer, but she was envisioning her little cottage perched comfortably on the edge of the sea.

Archer cleared his throat. “How do you feel about Thai food?”

“Love it.”

“Great. I'll be right back. Make yourself at home.”

The idea was impossible amongst the black leather sofas and walls covered with abstract art prints, but she smiled her agreement. Archer disappeared into what she assumed was the kitchen, and soon she heard the electronic beeping of a phone being dialed.

Wendy waited until he was safely out of sight, and then she ran across the slick tiled floors to her bag. Archer's cellphone sat where he had left it, on the small table in the hallway with his keys. She removed and placed her own cellphone next to his. Closing her eyes, Wendy gathered the sizzling blue energy into her fingertips. She found it comforting to know that not just any witch-practitioner could perform this charm. She didn't like the idea that anyone could waltz into her home and mystically bug her phone. Just Gerry, of course.

She touched Archer's phone with her right forefinger, then her own with the left. Slowly and deliberately, she brought her fingers together until the blue light formed a sort of bridge between the devices. As her fingers connected, she imagined Archer's face and associated every affectionate feeling she had with his image. Gerry's instructions had been very clear; he had designed the spell for the protection of loved ones and the emotional component was absolutely necessary.

“You may feel some residual effects,” he had warned her over the phone that afternoon.

Wendy had assured him, “I'll be fine.”

As she finished the spell, Wendy opened her eyes. She felt warm all over, from the tips of her fingers to the depths of her belly. Her head whipped back and forth, almost frantically, as though she was searching for something.

Archer came back into the room, smiling apologetically. “It's going to be awhile. Busy night, apparently.”

Before the words had even left his mouth, Wendy launched herself into his arms and planted her lips over his with a passion she didn't even know she possessed.

Archer reacted with shocked surprise, unsure at first how to respond, but as she kissed him harder, he moved his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him.

Wendy wove her fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss. Archer's lips, hot and insistent now, skimmed across her lips, over her cheeks, to her
collarbone. He pulled aside the strap from her dress and kissed the delicate hollow of her neck. Wendy heard herself groan, a guttural sound from somewhere deep in her throat.

Archer smiled against her lips as he pulled off his jacket. “I have to admit,” he mumbled between kissing her, “I didn't expect this.”

Whether it was the cocky tone of his voice or just that the effects of the spell had worn off, Wendy couldn't be sure, but just as suddenly as it started, she pulled away from him and shoved herself free. She planted her feet firmly on the ground and readjusted her skirt. Her lips were throbbing from his kisses, and as she looked at him, the bewildered look in his eyes was almost endearing enough for her to begin all over again.

Almost.

“I have to go,” she said bluntly. She scooped up her purse, and the few contents that had escaped when she landed on the table, and was out the door before he had a chance to recover.

The cool night air cleared her senses on contact. Her skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and her breathing was labored like she'd run a marathon. Where it had come from, she didn't know, but when she had seen Archer coming into the room, she had felt an ardor she didn't understand. In that moment, she had wanted him more she had wanted anything in her entire life.