“Malvyn’s calling,” he said. “May I bring you your cell phone?”
“Ask him if I can call him right back.” I pushed up to sitting so at least half of me was vertical.
“Okay.”
I hauled my heavy limbs out of bed, stumbled to the bathroom, and found resurrection under a steady stream of hot water. My overalls were hanging on the hook on the back of the door. A quick inspection showed dirt and grass stains on the knees. I tossed the garment in the direction of the laundry closet on my way back to my room. Hunting for clean clothes, I vowed to do better at keeping up with essential chores. Once I got my energy and focus back.
“Hi, Mal,” I said, holding the phone gingerly in my unbandaged hand. I had to stifle a wide-mouthed yawn before I continued. “Christoph said you called.”
“I want to help you prepare for your date with Odilon. We all want to help you.”
“Thanks, Mal,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you right away.”
“Apology accepted. Now, let’s schedule a fitting. I have ideas for jewelry, and Maritza is ready to start working on a dress. We would like to come by after lunch today.” He stifled a cough. “You do know that when I say date, I don’t mean anything other than it is a day and time on the calendar and not a romantic assignation?”
“Of course, Mal. Though I think I prefer working dinner, or stealth investigation,” I teased. Malvyn Brodeur was an elegant, mannered man, and every once in a while, I wanted to crack his cultured exterior just a bit.
He surprised me by chuckling and agreeing. “Calliope du Sang, Stealth Witch. I like it,” he said. “Is one o’clock good for you?”
“Perfect.”
I tried calling Kerry’s personal phone number again. This time she answered on the fourth ring, whispered she would call me right back, and hung up. My phone rang fifteen seconds later.
“Calliope, this man is getting ridiculous,” she hissed, foregoing her usual perky greeting. “You have to help me stop him and his nonsense. When are you coming back to work?”
“Kerry, I looked over everything you sent me.” Guilt got the better of me. “Also, I went into the office on Friday evening and had a look through a ton of old files.”
“I thought that was you,” she said. “You’re lucky Mr. Know-It-All hasn’t a clue about our paper filing system. All he cares about is what’s on that damn laptop he brings to work every day. There’s something very fishy about him, Calliope.”
“I agree. That’s why I took the files and why I’m still looking through them. But listen, there’s something I need you to do, and it’s going to require your best acting skills.” I outlined my idea and although she balked at getting within three feet of my temporary—as she continually emphasized—replacement, she agreed to get a selfie with him and send it to me first thing in the morning.
“I know you’ll come up with a good excuse,” I said.
“You owe me,” she countered. “And the one thing I want is to have you back on the job. I’m not the only one who misses you. The old-timers especially, Calli, are freaking out.”
Chapter 14
By Tuesday afternoon, the first floor of my house looked like a clothing designer’s atelier. Maritza, Malvyn, and Alabastair had arrived in Mal’s opulent SUV. I once called it a fancy Jeep to his face. He corrected my misnomer. His preferred vehicle for carting off murdering Fae and delivering a portable sewing studio was a Mercedes G-Class.
He backed the spotless vehicle up to the house and unlocked the rear door with the push of a button. Alabastair descended from the passenger’s side, opened the door behind him, and held his hand out for Maritza to steady herself while disembarking. Bas’s attentiveness to Maritza suggested there might be more to their relationship than apprentice and Master Teacher. They were consenting adults and my curiosity was piqued.
I came down the porch stairs, eyes alert for more clues, and let the trio know I would offer to help carry in supplies except that I had cut up hands and feet.
Malvyn handed a dressmaker’s dummy on its stand to Bas. Next out were three thick rolls, four to five feet in length and wrapped in brown paper. Mal shouldered those and followed Bas into the house, with Christoph manning the door.
The back seat of the Mercedes was piled with four pieces of vintage luggage of differing sizes, all with stitched edges, rounded corners, and handles on their tops.
“Can you manage two of these, please, Christoph?” Maritza asked, peeking over the rim of her signature black-rimmed oversized sunglasses.
“Calli, come hold the door,” he said.
Today Maritza was wearing a pair of flats that were far more elegant than the ones I’d worn when I went to see Odilon. Without heels, the witch was a few inches shorter than me and still of an indeterminate size. She did not stay a consistent height and silhouette, instead fleshing out or going gaunt depending on the kind of magic she was wielding. Today, her cheeks were rosier and plumper than usual.
She closed the car door with her elbow and led the way up the steps. “I will need a cutting table, Calliope.”
“Would the dining table do?” I asked.
She walked all the way through to the combined dining and living room area, set her cases on the floor, and appraised my furniture. “Yes, this should be fine. The surface will have to be cleaned and then covered with an old sheet before we can lay out the fabric for your dress.”
“Calliope.” Malvyn had propped the rolls against the far wall and seated himself on the couch. The rectangular case he’d sent Bas to retrieve was by his feet. Mal laid out a sketchbook and what looked like a jeweler’s tray on the low table. “Could you join me?” He pointed with his fountain
