4 The Witch Who Knew the Game Read online

  The Witch Who Knew the Game

  Pixie Point Bay Book 4

  Emma Belmont

  Contents

  EMMA ONLINE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Sneak Peek

  FREE BOOK

  Copyright

  EMMA ONLINE

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  1

  Maris Seaver couldn’t remember the last time that dinner had been served at the Bed and Breakfast. But as she sat at the dining room table with Cookie and the B&B’s four guests, she had to wonder if it wouldn’t be a fun thing to do from time to time. Of course, since Cookie didn’t regularly prepare lunch or dinner, it’d have to be done as it was being done tonight.

  “For our first course,” Etienne Fournier said, bringing the small white plate to Maris’s place mat, “a salmon canapé.”

  The owner of Plateau 7, the five-star restaurant on the bay, was dressed in the traditional chef’s uniform and hat. In his early sixties, he was of medium height with dark hair and flinty black eyes, and a pointed mustache that was waxed to a precise perfection.

  “Local salmon on a fresh cucumber slice,” he continued, with a slight French accent, setting the next plate in front of Cookie. “Finished with a lemon truffle mayonnaise.”

  “Beautiful,” she said. Ruth “Cookie” Calderon, the B&B’s diminutive older chef, smiled up at him, her dark eyes shining. “It’s very good of you to leave the restaurant during the dinner hour.”

  As a fellow professional, she had appreciated the meaning of his presence. But Maris paused for a moment, regarding the man. Had Cookie not mentioned his restaurant, it wouldn’t have occurred to her that Chef Fournier had left his business at its daily peak of customers. She gazed down at her canapé. This dinner must have come at quite the price tag.

  Fournier smiled and inclined his head to the B&B’s chef. “Thank you,” he said. “But I am quite sure that the kitchen there is well taken care of.”

  The French chef moved on to serve the big man at the head of the table, Reggie Atkinson. A red-head with a matching red beard and hazel eyes, Reggie was the leader of the group. He’d reserved the entire B&B for the weekend and arranged for the catered dinner months ago. He called this get-together a “company off-site” for the key employees of his business: Whiz Kid Games.

  “Bon appétit,” the chef bid them.

  Reggie smiled down at the little morsel, and then at each member of his group. “Let’s start.”

  “This looks amazing,” Pammy said, reaching for it. But when the Filipino man next to her picked up his fork, she paused. Then she picked up hers.

  Blonde, blue-eyed, and more than a touch on the nerdy side, Pammy wore glasses that were round, thick, and framed in black. Maris had already noted that Pammy and the man next to her were pals. He waited for her to spear the appetizer and then they tasted it together. Her eyes widened as she made an appreciative sound, and nodded.

  Like Pammy, Felix was in his early thirties. But unlike her or the rest of the group, he was easily the least nerdy, with his spiked hair and artsy goatee.

  His dark eyes lit up as he enjoyed the canapé. He brought a napkin to his mouth. “I like this,” he said, reaching for his glass of white wine. “A lot.”

  Reggie had used his big fingers and simply popped the cucumber and salmon in his mouth. He nodded, still chewing. “Very nice,” he said. “What do you think, BJ?”

  The final member of the group had used a knife to cut his in half and had finished the first section. He’d just been about to eat the second piece, but paused. “I’m savoring it,” he said with an enormous smile. “Because I’d eat this all evening if I could.”

  BJ sat opposite Pammy and was either the nerdiest of the group or the most avant-garde. Probably in his mid-forties, his dark hair had gone prematurely gray and he wore it cropped close. But it was his enormous fluorescent green glasses that made him stand out. They were so bright that they cast a slightly greenish hue to his brown eyes.

  Maris decided to cut her appetizer in half as well. Sometimes the second bite could reveal the more complex flavors in a dish. The first bite, however, was divine. The brined salmon melted in her mouth, and the cucumber had a fresh and crisp texture that was the perfect compliment to it. The lemon truffle mayo left a nice lingering aftertaste that did indeed leave her wanting more.

  Cookie nodded. “Perfect,” was all she said.

  The French chef inclined his head toward her, his mustache lifting at the sides, though he said nothing. He glanced around the table, and began to remove the plates.

  Maris turned to Reggie, who was finishing a sip of wine. “Are you planning on seeing some of Pixie Point Bay’s local sites while you’re here?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” the big man said, his equally big voice rumbling. “It’s finally a chance for us all to unwind a bit.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing the redwoods for the first time,” BJ said. His broad smile lifted his bright green glasses.

  “I’m going to do something out on the bay,” Pammy said, watching the chef set a bowl down in front of her. “Oh, this looks wonderful.”

  “French onion soup,” he said. “Sweet onions in vegetable stock with white wine, seasoned with garlic, thyme, and pepper.” He set the next bowl down in front of Felix. “Topped with Gruyere and Swiss cheese, of course.” He went back to the tray on the sideboard.

  “Felix,” Maris said to him, “are you planning on getting out?”

  He laughed a little as he picked up his spoon. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I remember what that’s like.”

  “Oh my god, is that the sun?” Pammy joked as she pretended to squint.

  “Look, the sky,” BJ chimed in. “It’s still blue.”

  As Maris was served her soup, she took in the savory aroma. The cheese spilled artfully over the edges of the small white bowl and not only looked melted but also slightly toasted in spots. With a supreme exercise of willpower, she tore her eyes from it and looked around the table. “I take it you all work long hours?”

  There was laughter again, just as the last soup was served to Reggie, who said, “That smells amazing.” Without a moment of hesitation, he dug in. Everyone else did likewise.

  Maris tasted a bit of the broth first, and her appreciative “Mmm” joined those of the others. For a few minutes, there was only the sound of happy diners. A seemingly simple dish, the hot soup struck just the right balance between the savory onion and the salty but creamy cheese.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” BJ announced. “Now I want this for the rest of the evening.”

  Everyone laughed a little, too busy eating to make more jokes.

  But eventually Reggie answered Maris’s question. “We put in some crazy long hours,” he
said, “all of us, and this is a well-deserved getaway.”

  “Thank you, again, Reggie,” Pammy said, her eyes big and expressive inside the round lenses.

  Next to her, Felix nodded. “Yes, thank you.” Pammy elbowed him and indicated his goatee, where a small string of cheese clung. He took his napkin from his lap and quickly wiped it. She nodded.

  Conversation turned to the lighthouse, and Maris filled them in on its Victorian heritage, with the conical white tower being built first, in 1885. Then the lightkeeper’s house, today’s B&B, following a few years after that. But as Etienne cleared away the soup bowls, Maris was more curious about what the group did than the history of her home.

  “I take it that Whiz Kid Games makes games?” she said.

  “So to speak,” Reggie said. “Actually, we’re a publisher.”

  She cocked her head at him, but before she could ask him what a game publisher did, Etienne reappeared with the main course: crab legs, colossal ones, too big to fit on one of the B&B’s standard plates. But he’d brought his own. If Maris had to guess, each long leg was more than a pound. Appreciative murmurs and a low whistle went up from around the table.

  “Fresh caught Dungeness crab,” he said, putting the first of the three plates he carried in front of Reggie, “served with cheese-and-potato pancakes and steamed baby carrots.” He set the next enormous plate in front of BJ. “Also on the side are local organic greens topped with an aged balsamic vinaigrette.” He set the third plate in front of Pammy and headed back to the kitchen.

  The room seemed to settle into a stunned awe, all eyes on the plates. But eventually Cookie took a sip of water.

  “So you publish games,” she said, putting the glass down, “not create them?”

  Reggie had been staring at his plate, but looked up at her with a broad smile. “We do a bit of both.” He glanced at the sideboard, to a small stack of pamphlets that Maris hadn’t previously noticed. “In fact,” he said, “it’s easier to demonstrate than explain.”

  He pushed his chair back from the table, fetched the pamphlets, and returned to his seat. Though Reggie was grinning, BJ, Pammy, and Felix were all staring at the pamphlets with stunned looks. Chef Fournier returned with the remaining plates and served them—in total silence. Although everyone had their dinner, no one moved to eat.

  “You have got to be kidding,” BJ said, glaring at Reggie. His fingers clutched the stem of his wine glass so hard that his knuckles had gone white and glossy. For a moment Maris worried he might snap it.

  Reggie ignored him and focused on Cookie. “You’ll be fascinated to know that our upcoming publication is a murder mystery dinner.” He handed two pamphlets to Cookie, and she passed one to Maris. He arched his eyebrows at Maris. “And it just happens to take place at a Victorian B&B.”

  “No,” Pammy muttered and sat back.

  Felix moaned and put his head in his hands. “I should have known,” he muttered.

  Maris exchanged an alarmed look with Cookie. The convivial five course meal had just devolved into something else.

  Reggie opened his pamphlet. “Shall we?”

  2

  Maris looked at the booklet titled “Betrayal at the Bed and Breakfast.” On the upper half was a small Victorian home that looked like it was in an English village. On the bottom half was a drawing of a chalk outline around a body. At the very bottom was the Whiz Kid Games logo of electrons whirling around a nucleus with a byline crediting B.J. Ridder.

  “This is lovely,” Maris said, still gazing at it.

  “Thanks,” Pammy muttered.

  Maris looked up at her. “Are you the illustrator?”

  “Artist and art director,” she replied, sullenly.

  Etienne returned with the plates for the shells and set them down. “Everyone has a crab cracker and fork.” He paused and cast a glance at the stack of pamphlets next to Reggie. “Lemon and clarified butter are here.” He indicated a sauce boat and a bowl of lemon wedges. “But please, taste it without first. I think you will be pleasantly surprised.” When no one began eating, he scowled. Under his sizeable nose, the perfect mustache twitched back and forth and, if Maris wasn’t mistaken, his ears were turning red. Now he glared at each of the diners and then the pamphlets.

  Cookie set the paper down and picked up a crab leg and cracker. “This looks lovely, Chef.”

  “Bon,” he said, before giving her a curt nod. Then he turned on his heel and left.

  Cookie gave Maris a pained look, prompting her to set her pamphlet down as well. As she picked up one of the three large crab legs from her plate, she was astonished to find it was still warm. But the crab cracker was barely big enough to fit around the shell. As she squeezed, it occurred to her how big the crab must have been. Finally the shell gave way with a splintering sound, and the sweet and briny scent of the meat filled her nostrils.

  As she reached for a lemon wedge she said, “BJ, I see your name is on the cover of the game book. Did you write ‘Betrayal at the Bed and Breakfast’?”

  He was using his fork to cut into the cheesy potato pancakes. “Yes,” was all he said, glaring at his plate.

  “BJ is our game designer,” Reggie said, smiling as he cracked a crab leg. He broke it open and then used the tiny fork to tease out a good chunk of white meat. “We’ve been working together since college.” He popped the crab in his mouth. “Mmm,” he sighed as he closed his eyes.

  Felix had picked up a crab leg, but dropped it back on his plate with a loud thunk. “Look,” he said, glaring at Reggie, “this is supposed to be a vacation. A weekend off.”

  Pammy looked up from her plate and nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Honestly, Reg,” BJ said, “this is pretty lame.”

  In the sudden silence, the sound of Cookie cracking a crab leg was incredibly loud. When she winced, Maris gave her a sympathetic look.

  Reggie finished his first bite of crab. “Listen to you people,” he admonished them. “You’d think we were at the office with stale pizza.” He gestured to the table. “Instead we’re eating a five course meal from a five-star restaurant.” He pointedly looked at Felix’s plate. “Which is getting cold, by the way.”

  “How could you bring the game?” Pammy asked, a slight whine to her voice. “It’s the last thing any of us want to see.”

  “We won’t need to see it for much longer,” Reggie said. He paused for a dramatic moment. “I’ve sold the game to Hario.”

  BJ put down his fork and gaped at him. “You what?”

  Reggie smiled at him. “We’re not going to publish it. They are.”

  Felix and Pammy exchanged a quick look that Maris couldn’t quite read. Surprise? Guarded pleasure?

  The artist looked at Reggie, her blue eyes big behind the round lenses. “Then we don’t need to play test it.”

  Reggie smiled beneficently at her, as though she was a child. “We’ve got to dot the i’s and cross the t’s. It’s a two-hour play test, tops. Then we have the rest of the weekend. We don’t even have to start at the beginning.”

  “Of course you do,” Felix said, picking up the crab leg again. “It’s a murder mystery.”

  BJ and Pammy both shot a glare at him, but he just shrugged in reply.

  “And where better to do it?” Reggie asked, still smiling. “In a beautiful locale, in an actual Victorian B&B.” He gestured around with his fork. “It doesn’t get any better.” He shoveled some cheesy potato pancake into his mouth.

  Pammy picked at her carrots. “It’s like bait and switch,” she muttered.

  The group sank into another silence, but Reggie continued to relish his dinner. Although BJ and Felix began to crack crab legs, Maris wondered how they’d manage to eat with tight jaws and deep frowns. Rather than discuss the game, she decided to take a different tack.

  As she squeezed some lemon onto her crab meat, she said, “I only learned recently that Chef Fournier was an instructor at Le Cordon Bleu. His restaurant, Plateau 7, is the only restaurant in Pixie Point
Bay with an ocean view.”

  “Cordon Bleu?” Pammy said quietly and seemed to take a new interest in her plate.

  Felix glanced toward the dark bay window. “The only one with a view?” he asked. “Why is that?”

  “It’s a simple matter of geography,” Cookie said as she speared some of the greens. “Most of the coast is too rocky, or the beaches too narrow, or the cliffs too steep.”

  “There are only three establishments on the bay itself,” Maris said. “The pier, Plateau 7, and our lighthouse.”

  Felix’s eyebrows rose. “Some pretty pricey property I imagine.”

  “The lighthouse and attached lightkeeper’s house have been in my family since the late 1800s,” Maris said, smiling. “I’m afraid I don’t keep up with real estate prices.”

  BJ smirked at her as he poured clarified butter over everything on his plate. “Pretty pricey property.”

  At that moment, Chef Fournier returned with a cheese tray, but seeing that no one had yet finished the main course, he frowned and set it on the sideboard.

  “Chef,” Maris said to him. “I have never tasted such sweet and tender crab meat.”

  Pammy turned around. “These cheesy potato pancakes are to die for,” she gushed.

  Felix nodded, covering his mouth with his hand. “Best potatoes I’ve ever had.”

  The chef gave them a stiff little bow. “Thank you,” he said, managing to smile.