Page 61 of Seven Secret Spellcasters
“You think you know something.” He studied her over his coffee cup. “Are you going to let me in on what you’ve found?”
She shook her head. With this connection, maybe Blake had killed Howard because he’d taken her money to scare off his friend. “It might be nothing, but if I find out who paid for Howard’s first night at the Lodge—if he was even there—I think it might turn into something. Especially with what Patty just told us.”
“Okay, but I don’t want you to put yourself in danger.” Mark raised his hand to indicate they were ready for a check.
When Mark dropped her off at the lodge, he repeated his warning. “Call me if you get in over your head.”
“If I’m in over my head, I’m probably not going to be able to call,” Mia pointed out. When Mark stared at her, she shook her head. “Don’t worry so much. I’m not doing anything dangerous. Just looking at some accounting records.”
Mark’s phone beeped. “That’s Sarah, seeing when I’m coming home so I can get ready for this shindig. Miss Adams had better appreciate all the dolling up I’m doing to attend.”
“I’ll make sure to point out how nice you look in your suit. See you soon.” Mia closed his truck door, and as she walked through the lobby to her office, she texted Trent to pick her up in thirty minutes. Hopefully, that would give her enough time.
James caught her in the staff hallway. “What are you doing here?”
“Just a little work. I’ll be gone in a few minutes. How’s the day going?” Mia unlocked her office door. Or she thought she did. She pushed on it, but the door didn’t move.
“Did the boss change the locks?” James teased as he leaned against the doorway.
“One could only hope.” Mia turned the key again, and this time the door opened. “Did Abigail and Finn drop off the food?”
“About thirty minutes ago. You missed them. Abigail walked our kitchen staff through the final prep steps. That woman could lead an army brigade of cooks. She had a system for everything.”
“I know, she’s organized and prepared. I’ve learned a lot from working with her.” Mia dropped her tote and logged on to her computer. “Huh.”
“What’s up?” James now leaned in the doorway. He leaned on everything.
“My mouse was in the wrong place. Maybe the cleaners wiped off the top of my desk.” She pushed away the thought and tried to find the file she’d been looking at. It wasn’t there. “I thought I put that file on my desktop.”
“Check the trash. I always seem to find stuff there I didn’t delete. Or I thought I didn’t. Anyway, it looks like you’re busy, so I’ll chat you up tonight. You’re going to love my tux,” he said, closing the door behind him as he left.
Mia found the file in the trash, just like James had predicted, but she never threw anything away. She checked the first reservation and then went to the payment method. Edmund had said that Howard didn’t pay for anything he didn’t have to, so when the name of the credit card matched the reservation, she made a note on the spreadsheet she’d created, then went to the next name. When she started looking at the third name, a knock on her door distracted her.
This file had a Lodge credit on the room. Now she had to find where the credit came from. She glanced at her watch. Maybe she could ignore whoever was out there. But it was probably about the event tonight, and there was no reason for the person to call Abigail and bother her while she was getting ready. She let the computer do its work and called out, “Come in.”
Carol Hathaway, from the front desk, stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. “I’m so glad I caught you. The rooms are disappearing fast for Sunday night, and I wanted to know if you wanted me to save you a room.”
Mia shook her head. “Trent and I will be heading home after the party. Between Cerby and Mr. Darcy, we can’t leave them alone, and all my usual babysitters will be here at the party. But thanks for thinking about us.”
“I’m sure it’s hard to leave a hellhound alone for any amount of time.” Carol walked over and looked at Mia’s screen. “I can’t believe you’re working right before Christina’s big party. Don’t you want to head home and get ready? I can finish whatever it is you are working on.”
Mia frowned. Carol wasn’t usually this pushy, and did everyone in the coven know about Cerby’s secret? And if so, did they also know about Buddy? “I’m fine. I am just matching up some rooms with events so we can make sure we charge correctly for the ballroom.”
“That’s not what you’re doing.”
Mia felt the change in the woman’s demeanor. From helpful coworker to predator in thirty seconds. Her gut tightened as she glanced at the clock on the computer screen. Trent wouldn’t be here for another nineteen minutes. Could she stall that long? “Of course it’s what I’m doing. You know Blake and her reports. I need to get last week’s numbers to her before I go home to get ready for the party. She’ll come find me and drag me back to the office if I don’t.”
“That’s not last week’s numbers. That room reservation was from two weeks ago. You’re looking to see who paid for Alfred Howard’s room on Tuesday.” Carol’s voice had turned to steel. “I’m sorry you got involved in this, but it’s one more body count that Blake will have to deal with.”
“Blake killed Howard?” Mia now knew that wasn’t the right answer, but keeping Carol talking could keep her alive. And hopefully, Trent would hear the cry for backup she’d tried to send him telepathically.
“You and I both know that she didn’t, but everyone else will think she did. It’s a good thing he couldn’t resist cookies. And I know how to bake.” Carol giggled a little. “Frank was a better boss. He kept his nose out of my business. Now I’ll have to train a new boss when your friend arrests Blake.”
“I’ll tell Mark she didn’t do it.” Mia sounded a lot more confident than she felt.
Carol reached out and stroked Mia’s hair. “No, you won’t. You’ll be dead. And unless you believe in vengeful ghosts, you’ll be the only one who will think that. Besides, Mark Baldwin doesn’t believe in ghosts or witches, not even when they’re right under his nose. I wonder how Sarah’s been keeping him ignorant all these years. Maybe her cooking, or maybe her other talents?”
She pulled a vial out of her jacket. “Grab one of those water bottles out of your mini fridge, and I’ll get this mixed for you.”
