Cookies and Clairvoyance by Bailey Cates

Author:Bailey Cates
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-08-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Cookie started to protest that we were real witches, but I cleared my throat.

“Something like that. And we heard you were Kensington Bosworth’s magic dealer,” I said.

Caesar looked surprised, then frowned. “I see. You knew Kensington?”

“He was a customer at the bakery,” I said. “And I’ve seen some of his extensive paranormal collection.” No need to mention that I’d seen it after he’d been killed.

“Is that so? And he told you I procured some of the items for him?”

I smiled and kept my mouth shut.

He smiled in return. “And now you wish to use my services. Wonderful!”

Cookie opened her mouth to speak again, but I beat her to it. “Perhaps. What can you tell us about Kensington’s magical practice? His collection was quite eclectic. Did he focus on practicing one particular kind of magic?”

Caesar Speckman gave a little laugh. “I wouldn’t know. The poor guy was all over the board. Little bit of this, little bit of that. He’d talk about how he could use his collection to tap into real magic, but I never believed it. I mean—” Then he seemed to catch himself. “Not that I don’t believe! No, indeed. If you want me to find something for your, er, rituals or whatever, I’d be happy to do my best.”

He doesn’t believe in magic. He’s just a businessman.

I exchanged looks with Cookie.

“When did you start working with Mr. Bosworth?” I asked.

His eyes drifted to the ceiling as he thought. “On a regular basis? About two years ago. Before that, I’d found a few items for his father.”

“Um . . .” I trailed off.

Caesar smiled. “Yes?”

“His house was very well protected.” I took a deep breath and plunged on. “Magically, I mean.”

“Oh?” His smile faltered, and he looked uncertain.

“Do you know anything about that?” I asked.

“Um, not really my bailiwick, you know? But I do believe, yes sirree! Maybe ol’ Kensington managed a bit of real magic after all.” He spoke encouragingly, as if talking to children.

It was really irritating.

“It wasn’t enough. He knew it wouldn’t be,” I said. “He had an alarm system installed.”

Caesar quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Two weeks ago,” I said. “Any idea what he was so afraid of?”

“The usual, I suppose,” he said. “Robbery. After all, his home was chock-full of valuable items.”

Which was exactly what Malcolm Cardwell had said. Maybe they were both right. Maybe the shielding I’d felt around Bosworth’s home had been a simple, everyday precaution. But had he done it himself, or had he enlisted help from someone else? Cardwell thought he’d seen his boss casting a salt circle, but Speckman didn’t seem to think Bosworth had possessed any power.

Then again, Speckman didn’t appear to believe in real magic at all, despite his lame claim to the contrary. Valuable ceremonial items, along with cheap stage tricks, were just a way to make money.

“So, do you see anything your nephew would like?” The shop owner’s eyes twinkled. “Or was there something else you really wanted me to find?”

I realized I was still holding the box labeled JUMBO MAGIC TRICK SET.

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