“Wait. Fly Guy-”
“Gadfly. You know those horrible little bitey flies? He’s like that. The distraction.”
“Shooting someone as powerful as Alastair Taylor sounds suicidal,” she says doubtfully. “How’s Wallace taking this?”
“He’s almost unrecognizable,” I admit. “He put on an expensive suit and turned into someone else. I’m not even sure where he is right now. He’s got one foot into revenge mode and the other into propping up the company’s image.”
“He’s got to come home at some point,” she says. “You can sink your claws into him then and thaw through that first layer of asshole around him. Do you want a spell bag? I can send you a couple of things. There’s a gris gris bag that-”
“Let me try getting him to talk to me first.”
She sounds a bit sulky. “My way is faster.”
“Tell me about you. Any more creepy visitors to the spellshop?”
“None. Unless you count some of my regulars,” she laughs. “I’m safe, you have enough to worry about.”
We talk for a while until I can barely keep my eyes open and we say goodbye.. How is Wallace handling this? What business meetings does he have at 3am?
Wandering downstairs, I find a meal in the fridge- risotto with crab in cream sauce and wolf it down, walking around the kitchen. It’s crammed with high-end stainless-steel appliances and an espresso machine so complicated that I can’t find an ‘on’ switch or even where the espresso would come out.
The oven and fancy stovetop look promising, but when I look for the basics in the pantry like flour, sugar and the like, there aren’t any. Does his chef even cook here?
I’m going to wait up for Wallace. There’s a stack of artfully arranged wood in the fireplace, just like at home, and it blazes to life with a single flick of the lighter. I warm my hands with a deep sigh. This is the closest I’ve felt to Wallace since we came here.
“What are you doing down here?”
I wake to my husband’s warm hand on my shoulder. “I was waiting for you to come home.What time is it?”
He checks his watch. “It’s almost six. I’ll take you up to bed.”
I grab his tie. “Only if you’re getting in that bed with me.” There’s hesitation there and I take advantage of it. “Please? You’ve got a lot to do and it’ll help your focus to get some sleep.”
“For a couple of hours,” Wallace nods reluctantly.
We get maybe three hours of sleep before all hell breaks loose again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
In which there is nothing like getting charged for one crime when you’re busy committing another.
Wallace…
“There’s a warrant out for your arrest in the United States.”
My brow raises, “For the Banner building? It took them long enough.”
Uncle Alec stopped by the house this morning with flowers for Scarlett and plenty of bad news.
“No, there’s nothing to tie you to that,” Uncle Alec says, uncharacteristically grave. “The arrest is for arson and the murder of Marlena, Kyle, and Steven Banner.”
Scarlett sways slightly, she’s gone sheet white and I slide my arm around her waist. “Let’s sit down.”
“They’re- they’re dead?” she croaks. “Arson? Who’s trying to pin this on Wallace?”
“I’m sorry, darling,” he says gently. “You’renamed in the warrant as well. The prosecutor is claiming you conspired with Wallace to kill your step-family and take over the family’s business.”
“When were they killed?” I ask. Murder Mittens must sense she’s needed, because she strolls through the door and leaps onto Scarlett’s lap.
