Chapter 6 #2
“So sorry, Martha, I’ll have to call you back.
” Arthur hung up, mind spinning. Sal’s suggestion about the mafia didn’t hold water, then.
He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disappointed.
Organized crime was dangerous, but it would’ve been a lead.
Now he was back to the beginning. And on top of it, he’d forgotten to get his accounting questions answered.
He’d check in with her later, when he had more time.
Yet another thing to add to his to-do list. At least they weren’t in danger of defaulting on the mortgage quite yet.
With a sigh, Arthur made his way to the dining room to see broken glass and spilled orange juice, Sal in the center of the chaos.
“Oopsy-daisy,” Sal said, putting the several dishes he had balanced on his arms onto the table. “I thought balancing the pitcher on my head would work.”
“I’ll get the mop,” Arthur said.
“No, no, I’ll clean it—and myself—up. You stay here.” Sal swanned off, not seeming put out at all about the accident.
Arthur tried to adopt a casual attitude—while keeping the guests away from the broken glass, of course.
By the time most of them arrived, Sal had cleaned up the mess and changed into a purple jumpsuit with the deepest of Vs.
Things were back on track. With the exception of Brody’s missing mother, and the ongoing investigation into who killed Lola Lataurelle, and the fact that Rumble was still out there somewhere.
A frown creased Arthur’s face as his mind circled with indecision about which of the many problems plaguing them he ought to focus on.
If he didn’t find Brody’s mother, Brody could end up in the foster system, but if he didn’t find Lola’s killer, the news would hurt tourism and the town, and McMartin would probably send an innocent off to prison.
Not finding Rumble wasn’t an option either—Sal would never forgive him.
There was only one thing for it: he would have to manage all three.
But first, he needed to play the gracious host to his guests.
Forcing his attention to the task at hand, Arthur noticed one guest was missing from the queue around the buffet.
Arthur Miller, no relation (no relation).
He’d marked on his reservation that he wanted to attend breakfast at the usual time.
Arthur headed upstairs to knock on his door and hurry him along before the eggs got cold.
Once he was on the second floor, however, Arthur saw he needn’t have bothered. The other Arthur Miller was leaving his room. Today he wore a bright shirt patterned with tropical flowers, khaki shorts, and sunscreen, judging by the scent of it. Perhaps he was planning to attend the festival, then.
“Breakfast awaits,” Arthur told Other Arthur cheerfully.
Other Arthur grunted his thanks and passed Arthur on his way down the stairs.
Arthur turned to follow, but something made him pause.
He felt for a moment as though he were being watched.
He turned around, but no one was there. Of course not.
That would be silly. His gaze swept over the hall anyway, checking each guest’s door to ensure it was properly closed.
Perhaps it was just his imagination. Nothing was amiss.
Except…no, that couldn’t be right. He could’ve sworn he assigned Other Arthur to room 2, but just now he’d seen him exiting room 4.
It must have been a mistake. Arthur had so many other things on his mind.
It was no surprise he’d forgotten which room belonged to each guest.
Still, as he returned downstairs and watched Other Arthur join the rest of the group around the table, Arthur stalled at the front desk, checking his records.
He was right. Other Arthur was in room 2.
Room 4 belonged to Hailey North, the young witch, who today wore a mint-green Celestine Coven–branded sundress.
He hadn’t thought the Other Arthur was quite age appropriate for Miss North, but the nighttime activities of his guests were none of his business. Arthur tucked the tidbit away to share with Sal later—gossip was always Sal’s business—and focused on making sure everyone enjoyed the meal.
Breakfast began with the usual compliments to the chef—Mr. Winslow had a particular fondness for the coffee, while Hailey took photos of everything on her plate for a full five minutes before digging in.
Soon, they were all immersed in chatter, and Arthur sank into the familiar sounds of clattering silverware and guests enjoying themselves.
Arthur’s attention was drawn into sharp focus by the sound of Salvatore’s most honeyed tone—the one he used when he was trying to get something Arthur didn’t want to give him.
“Oh, come now, you simply must tell us everything!” Sal was bent in conversation with Hailey, who was practically vibrating in her chair.
“The Celestine Coven changed my life.” Hailey relinquished her fork, letting it clatter onto her plate, before holding out her hands to Sal. “Are you ready to have your life changed?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” Sal placed his hands in hers, a wistful look in his eyes Arthur wasn’t completely sure was an act. “You simply must introduce us to the exciting world of witchcraft!”
Arthur turned away to hide his smile. They had disguises laid out upstairs—Sal had spent the better part of last night assembling them—and now they had a guide.
The Celestine Coven was about to have two new recruits.