I Put A Spell On You

I took over the tea-making duty and told Xander all about how I’d found Star.

“So the spa’s sealed off?” he said. “Is it like CSI Edinburgh?”

I squeezed a teabag against the side of the mug.

“Not really,” I said. “They’ve got one poor community support officer standing guard outside.”

I concentrated hard on stirring the tea.

“They’re doing the post-mortem today,” I explained, trying hard to keep my voice steady. “Once they’ve confirmed it was Star’s heart condition that killed her, we’ll be able to go back in.”

“But it was, though, wasn’t it?” Xander said. “Her heart condition I mean. So there shouldn’t be any problem.”

I handed him his tea, giving him a fake, bright smile.

“Oh I’m sure it’s just ticking boxes,” I said. “We all knew Star had health problems.”

I leaned against the counter and sipped my tea. For some reason I didn’t want to tell him about the expression on Star’s face or the magic that I’d seen hanging in the air.

Xander was cool when it came to magic. I told him about my, ahem, talents shortly after we’d met – sooner than I’d ever told anyone, even Natalie – and he didn’t so much as bat an eyelid. He was really interested and was always asking me to teach him a few spells. I hadn’t, yet. But despite how accepting he’d been, something made me hold back from telling him my fears about Star.

Esme came back into the kitchen. She’d changed into a fitted pink T-shirt, which really suited her, and if I wasn’t mistaken she’d put on a bit of make-up. Bloody Xander was like the Pied Piper when it came to women. Even ones who’d recently got engaged.

“Sounds like it’s been pretty horrible,” Xander said. Esme nodded and I was a bit put out. It hadn’t been horrible for her. I didn’t say so, though, because my phone rang. It was DI Baxter. My stomach fluttered, ever so slightly at the sound of her voice. I told myself it was hunger.

“The post-mortem’s been done,” she said. “We’re satisfied there are no suspicious circumstances. You can reopen whenever you want.”

“Okay,” I said doubtfully. “You didn’t find anything at all?”

“Nothing,” she said firmly. “But if you have any worries, about anything at all, please call me.”

I said goodbye and hung up, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment.

“Well, let’s go,” Xander said.

I looked at him blankly.

“We can go back to the spa, right?” he said. “Let’s go now, and make sure everything’s ready to open up on Monday.”

“I suppose so,” I said. I was nervous about going back to where Star had died.

‘I’ll come,’ Esme said, she was looking at Xander, but I thought she should be looking at me.

“I can help you get stuff sorted out. I’m sure I’ll be useful,” she added weakly and unconvincingly.

Xander was obviously a hit with my cousin.

“Okay. There’s not masses to do, but you’re very welcome,” I said, giving her a sly, sideways look. “I know Jamie’s busy today, right?”

I wanted Xander to know Esme was spoken for.

“He’s er playing rugby,” she stuttered. She turned to Xander. “Jamie’s my erm, my erm, boyfriend,” she said.

“Lucky guy,” he said in his Irish drawl and Esme nearly fell off her chair.

I laughed out loud and whacked Xander round the head. He was shocking. I was just glad Esme loved Jamie so much.

“Let’s go,” I said.

There wasn’t much to do. We tidied up a bit, and Esme hoovered the reception area. I looked at the chair where Star had sat, then shook my head. Xander understood and, without speaking, he wheeled it outside. I went into my office and got the chair from there.

“I’ll order a new one,” I muttered as I pushed it under Star’s desk, then I wandered over to tidy the magazine rack.

Xander sat down and switched on the computer.

“We need to send out a flyer,” he said. “We’ve been closed all day. People will wonder why. We need them to know we’re still here and we’re still in business.”

I looked over his shoulder.

“Don’t put any prices on that,” I said. “We’re exclusive. Just put what we do.”

Esme looked intrigued. She leaned over Xander’s other shoulder to see what he was typing.

“How are you going to do that?” she asked. “How are you going to tell people what you do, without actually, you know, telling them what you do?”

Xander looked round at Esme. His face was far too close to hers for my liking – he was so cheeky – and I gave him a nudge.

“We don’t tell them on a flyer,” Xander said. “We work hard to attract a certain type of client.”

“What type?”

“Rich, of course. But also creative, open-minded, interested in things a bit wooohooo.” He waggled his fingers in front of Esme’s face and I was pleased to see her pull back.

“And the most important trait,” I said, “is that they’re a little bit unhappy.”

“Oh yeah,” said Xander. “You know the sort. A bit dissatisfied, looking for more. So they’re amenable when we offer our spiritual services.”

“That is shocking,” Esme said. “Have you no shame?”

“Nope,” I said cheerfully.

“Of course some people only want yoga lessons,” Xander admitted. “We cater for them, too.”

Esme perched on the edge of the reception desk and studied Xander.

“So, Xander,” she said in an overly casual manner. “Are you, ahem, one of us?” She looked at me. “What’s it called when men do it?”

“Some people say warlock,” I said. “But that’s got a bit of bad history attached to it – mostly now men are just witches too.”