Chapter 22
Joell stood on shaky legs after swimming about forty laps across the Olympic-sized pool.
Usually, at this point, the mansion’s pool would be replaced with a creek on Funky Mountain, but Bas had given Chad the responsibility, and he didn’t know everything yet.
Hey, every job comes with a learning curve, and he’ll learn not to mess with PMS. Oh, yeah.
Now that Joell was feeling better, maybe she could get somewhere with her scrying. She’d never forgive herself if she failed this ‘easy’ mission.
At one point, she swam so hard her bathing suit top came untied. She just heaved it over her head and threw it onto a lounge chair. Crowe crawled back down from his tree and waited by the pool, trying to look like he didn’t see anything.
Wrapped in a towel, Joell strolled over to him, kneeled by the pool and scratched behind his ears. “Did you have a decent view from your tree?” she asked casually.
He looked up at her with wide eyes and mewed innocently.
“Uh huh. I saw you.”
She lowered herself to her elbows and stared at the glassy surface of the pool. The lining was black, the best color for scrying. Bas had the blue tiles changed to black. Crowe saw clouds reflected in the surface, but that’s about all. Oh, is that one in the shape of a mouse? Cool.
Crystal popped her head around the door to the pool area. “I’m going to meet Stan and wait for a ransom call, meanwhile looking for any suspicious activity at the hotel.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll be here doing what I do until I come up with something. Got your cell phone on?”
“Sure do. Oh, and Joell? Rick’s still here.”
“What?” She jumped up and held the towel together tighter.
“Don’t wait up,” Crystal called. Then she disappeared faster than a cat at bath time.
The cop wandered out onto the patio. “Sorry about before,” he called as he approached. “I talked to Crystal. I really didn’t give you a chance to explain how you work before pissing you off. I thought it might be a good idea to talk about how we can coordinate—”
“Stop right there.”
“Look. I know you don’t like to work with the police, but…”
She glared at him. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“No. It’s your turn to do the talking. Seems I’ve said enough.”
It was what he was saying with his eyes that concerned Crowe.
They twinkled with secret knowledge. She’d undoubtedly be furious if she thought he was one up on her.
She seems dominating. Not with the whips and stuff.
It’s just that she likes to call the shots, because she’s usually right. Bossy, but in a good way.
He began to swagger toward her again. “Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.” Then he looked over at her bathing suit top and said, “Well, maybe not that quick.”
Uh oh. Dark clouds crossed her eyes. Crowe thought Rick was about to see the reverse side of Witchy. Her evil twin, Bitchy.
Instead, she matched his swagger and met him halfway. She leaned forward and whispered something in his ear.
He laughed. “Believe me, sweetheart, no one’s damaged me yet, and you wouldn’t be the first one who’s tried.”
Joell attempted to walk past him and head for the house, but he grabbed her arm. “Hey, we need to talk about the case.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Excuse me, but I think we do. Unless you don’t care if the League fails.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s not an option.”
“Good. I have the same philosophy.”
“I work alone.” She tried to shake off his arm without success.
“Not this time.”
Uh oh. He means business.
They both glared, and he seemed to have lost his sense of humor. It looked as if the unstoppable force that was Wonder Witch had met an immovable object.
“Look, I need your help, Joell.”
Her eyebrows rose, probably because he actually used her correct name. “How?”
“I don’t know anything about romance conventions or how the models are supposed to act. I need to know how to blend in.”
Joell’s eyes glinted, and one side of her smile lifted.
Uh oh, Crowe thought. I know this look. She’s thinking of doing something. Something bad.
“Well, the first thing we need to do to make you blend in is wax your chest.”
“Excuse me?”
“You wanted my help. Those dark curls peeking out from your undershirt can be taken care of right now. I have all the equipment right in our spa room.”
His brows furrowed, and he studied her, looking like he was weighing the pros and cons. “What’s the worst that can happen if I let you do that?”
“Well, let’s see. The very worst? Pain, redness around the follicles, but those things are both expected and temporary. I suppose your male ego could be bruised if you cry. But don’t worry. I’ll never tell anyone if you do. It’ll be our little secret.”
“Cry? Over pain that a girl can take? Ha! Bring it on.”
Famous last words, my man.
Rick must have felt as ridiculous as he looked. Dressed up like Cupid, he strolled amongst the participants of the romance convention, with feathery wings and a quiver of arrows on his back. Joell walked behind him, chuckling.
He turned to the side and murmured, “Quit staring at my ass.”
“Why? You volunteered to be ogled, didn’t you? Besides, in that flesh-colored leotard, there’s nothing else to stare at.”
“That’s thanks to your waxing. As soon as the pain and redness go away, I’ll gear down.”
She pretended to enjoy his humiliation, but Crowe thought she was enjoying the view.
The man was solid muscle. Women began flirting with him from the moment he stepped off the elevator, and Crowe sensed his discomfort melt away after a few moments of appreciation.
Now he was either enjoying the positive attention thoroughly or trying to bug Joell by faking it. I’d vote for the latter.
She was wearing a provocative, low-cut red dress and getting her share of revenge stares. Whenever another male model appeared, Witchy-poo would squeeze his biceps or run her hand over his chest seductively.
When she took her leave, Rick asked the guy why there weren’t more models around. He said he had been forced to wear someone else’s costume and wished the guy would come back and claim it, so he could be the pirate he was supposed to be.
Joell didn’t even need to linger close by to hear the other models’ answers. Her auditory sense is her sharpest. She has the most powerful hearing of any of the witches. Almost as good as her familiar’s. The built-in bullshit detector, as Crystal called it, seemed quiet so far.
Speaking of Crystal. She was enjoying a drink at the bar with Stan Gold.
They were looking pretty enamored with each other, and no, she didn’t come home last night.
At some point, Joell would need to check in with her too.
Meanwhile, Crowe was enjoying their stroll through the lobby in her Louis Vuitton tote bag/cat carrier.
“Joell, darling!” someone called from across the room.
She faced in the direction of the voice and saw both Sahara and Magda waving madly. The three women made a beeline for each other and hugged like they hadn’t seen each other for years, even though they’d just teleconferenced the other day.
Crowe meowed his complaint about being squished between them and almost jumped out of his ride-along bag. But he’d be taking his last life in his paws amongst this throng. So, he was the filling in a triple-decker sandwich. Thankfully, they backed off before he could leap.
“I thought you were staying in Oz, Magda,” Joell said.
“And miss this? Not bloody likely. Don’t worry, I have the sat phone on me.” She patted her Prada bag.
“What have you found out so far, and how can we help?” Sahara asked.
“There’s not much to go on. One of the models has medication that got left behind. Someone should either come back for it, or call his doctor for an emergency prescription, locally.”
“Has anyone contacted the doctor?”
“Stan Gold had Gabriel’s parents’ phone number as an emergency contact and had to get the prescribing doctor’s name from his father. It was dicey without giving away the fact that Gabriel was in trouble.”
“How did he do it?”
“He said he was thinking of buying a vacation home on Lake Superior but needed a good doctor who could handle his brittle diabetes, and Gabriel couldn’t remember his doctor’s practice name or phone number.
Then he went off on a tangent about how people think New York is the center of the universe, yada, yada, yada.
I think the dad just gave him the number to shut him up and get his afternoon back. ”
“So now what?”
“Now we wait to hear from his doctor. If he gets a call, a couple of us will be waiting at the pharmacy he calls the prescription in to. Oh, shit. I ended a sentence with a preposition.”
“Perfectly understandable under the circumstances, darling,” Magda said. “And what if the perps send someone to his room to get the bottle he left behind?”
“The lock code has been changed, and only Stan has the new card.”
“It sounds like all the bases are covered,” Sahara said.
“For the moment. Can I call on you to run to the pharmacy with me, if we get a lead?”
“Unless you need us between eleven and twelve o’clock. We’re giving a workshop on how to write sizzling erotica.”
Joell snorted. “I wish like hell I could go to that.”
Magda laughed. “Why? You’re already writing stuff so hot your readers need fire-retardant gloves to turn the pages.”
“Who else is around?” Sahara asked.
“Crystal is sticking close to Stan Gold. We’ve pretty much ruled out his involvement, but someone may contact him for ransom.”
“Okay. Our league cell phones are on. Call if you need us.”
“I will.” After they parted, Joell glanced all around the lobby. “Now where’s that stinkin’ fake undercover model, Rick?”
Stinking? Crowe thought he smelled rather nice. Just a hint of aftershave. Not enough to make him think he was gagging on a pine tree.
Crowe sensed his witch’s panic even before she began swinging his big Louis Vuitton tote hither and yon as she searched the room.