by Erin Johnson
We approached the desk and our hovering baskets of tea (down to just four) crowded in behind us.
"What can I do ya for?" The man, probably in his fifties, lifted his thick brows. "My, oh my. This is your lucky day." He shook his head and scoffed, as if full of wonder.
"Not so far," Iggy quipped.
I shot Iggy a look, but the man ignored him as though he hadn't heard. Maybe all that shouting at his wife had damaged his ears. "Everywhere, I mean everywhere, is booked up for the festival." He flashed us that smile again. "But lucky, lucky you. I've just had a cancellation. This has got to be the last room in town." He flipped open a thick ledger on the counter behind the desk with a loud thunk. "Third floor, penthouse suite, with a great view of the beach. Right across the street is the boardwalk and the best beach for magic manta watching, and it's walking distance from your room where you'll be pampered and—"
I held up a hand and grimaced. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, but we don't need a room. We're staying at the Doragon." I tilted my head toward Miss Sara's place behind us.
The smarmy smile stayed glued to his face, though his eyes darted back and forth between me and Hank. When it sunk in that we were serious, his face clouded over and he slammed his book shut. "Never mind. Someone's just booked it anyway." He turned and shouted toward a swinging door with a round window. "NO VACANCY!"
Hank and I exchanged unsure looks.
"This man's unhinged." Iggy shook his head.
Dango rounded on us and folded his arms across his chest. "So, what do you want, then?"
I opened my mouth to tell him about the tea, but he suddenly thrust an arm out and blanched. "Water and whales, you're not Nazo Suzuki, are you?" The whites showed around his eyes as he looked from me to Hank and back again.
"He wouldn't tell you if he was, honeybun!" his wife shouted from the kitchen.
Dango licked his lips. "Right, right," he muttered to himself. He tried for a bright, friendly look (or so I guessed), but just managed to look desperate and crazed. "What—what can I get you two… lovely… strangers?"
Hank cleared his throat. "Neither of us is Nazo Suzuki." He lowered his brows. "He actually passed away last night."
Dango gawked. "No."
I nodded.
"Where? Why? How?"
I licked my lips. "The authorities think it was a heart attack." I gulped, not sure if I should tell him the rest of it. "We were there at the Doragon Spa when it happened."
"No." He gripped the edge of the desk and shook his head. He blinked. "Tell me what he looked like."
He paled as I described him and swayed on his feet. "Glasses?"
I nodded.
"Kinda snooty?"
I thought about the way he'd walked about, his nose in the air. "Yeah… maybe."
Dango dragged his hands down his face. "Oh, no no no. This is not good." He ducked his head and pulled at his hair. "He had a bad experience here. His write-up of Dango's Tranquility Spa is not going to be kind." He turned his head. "But maybe, since he's gone, they won't publish it." He winced and sucked in air over his teeth. "Unless they do a special memorial print of his last ever piece." He made a fist and bit it. "Oh typhoon's tits, everyone's going to read that!"
"This appears to be a bad time for you." Iggy made his mouth small and spoke in a soothing voice. "We'll be leaving now."
Dango appeared to suddenly remember we were standing there. He cleared his throat and straightened. He smoothed back his hair, which stood up in clumps. "So… if you're not here for a room, what do you want?"
I flashed my eyes at Hank, and he stepped to the side so Dango could see the magically hovering baskets behind us. "Tea delivery?" Hank tried for a wan smile.
Dango let out a sigh and his face relaxed. "That's great news." He came around the side of the desk and lifted the lids of each one, peering inside. My nose itched and I turned away and sneezed into the crook of my arm. I blinked through watery eyes. Man, was I allergic to that stuff.
He inspected the last case, then turned to us and rubbed his palms together, an excited grin on his face. "Perfect! Though I was expecting Josh… or Joop. Is that a name?"
"Jun?" Hank suggested.
"That's it!" Dango snapped his fingers and pointed at Hank.
"We're helping out this time."
I rose on my toes as they chatted behind me and looked over the tall ledge to the crowded desk on the other side. Golden coins magically stacked and unstacked themselves while an enchanted quill scribbled illegible notes on a scroll. It dribbled splotches of ink behind it as it went. There were several mugs, half-full of tea, with water stains on the wood desk below them, and quite a few red-and-white checkered paper food wrappers. I cocked my head and tried to the read the upside-down wording printed on the wrapper.
I turned.
Hank watched the hotel owner with wide eyes, his lips slightly parted, as if dazed at the speed with which the man talked.
Dango gestured with his hands. "Now there aren't a lot of people as in the know as I am, but I'll tell you that—"
"Do you eat at Better Than OKonomiyaki, often?" Normally I wouldn't interrupt, but he didn't seem like he was coming up for air anytime soon.
"Hmm?" Dango frowned at me, his hands paused midgesture.
"The wrappers." I tilted my head toward the desk. "Sara recommended it, but it was closed yesterday."
His frown deepened and he made a noise in the back of his throat. "I ate lunch there yesterday, so it was open then."
Huh. That was strange. Maybe whoever ran the stall had just happened to be taking a break when we went by. We'd have to try again.
He leaned back and patted his ample stomach, his mustache twitching as he smiled. "And I'll be eating there today."
"Eating a liquid dinner!" His wife laughed from back in the kitchen.
Dango's face reddened, but after a moment he drew himself up taller and shouted, "It's how I do my best thinking, flower!" He turned to us and tapped one finger to his temple. "There's always lots going on up here."
"Yeahhhhh…." Iggy slowly trailed off.
I sniffled and sneezed again. Hank jumped at the sudden burst of noise (it wasn't a dainty sneeze). He looked at me, then at the baskets, and with a flick of his wrist all the lids slid back into place. I sniffled and gave him a grateful look. He lifted the sheet of paper Jun had given us—the amounts and prices of tea to be delivered. "According to Jun's ledger, eighty units of maho tea"—he swept an arm toward the baskets—"comes to five thousand gold pieces."
Dango paled and his brows lifted up his forehead. "Do they now?"
Hank pressed his lips tight together and nodded.
The hotel owner licked his lips and his eyes grew far away. "That's—whew." He wiped his forehead on the back of his sleeve. "Quite a—quite a large sum."
I bit my lip as I glanced around at the water stains, layers of dust, and dark, flickering lighting. Judging by the state of the lobby, this place needed some serious updates. Why would he be spending so much money on baskets of tea when a fresh coat of paint, a deep clean, and some new furnishings would probably take the business farther?
Dango straightened and nodded, as if to himself. "No, no. It's worth it though." A huge, white smile stretched across his face. "Like I said, lots going on up here." He pointed at his head. "This idea, and this green gold—" He hugged one of the floating baskets. "It's going to make us rich!" He rubbed his hands together again.
I lifted a brow toward the baskets of tea. What could he have in mind?
"Heard that before, love dove!" his wife shouted from the kitchen.
"This one, though! This'll be the ticket to the top!"
I winced and turned away, his shout deafening in the small space.
"Well, go get 'em, tiger!" she shouted back.
Dango clapped his hands and squeezed past me, back to the other side of the counter. He opened a leather pouch and the magically stacking coins flew into it. "Okay, okay… where's the rest?"
It took the better part of ten minutes, but he eventually searched enough drawers, pockets, and chair cushions to scrounge up the five thousand gold pieces. He spent the entire time trying to talk us into giving him a discount, but Hank held firm, and finally Dango handed me the heavy pouch.
He smiled, his mustache bristling, and bowed his head. "Send my regards to Jupe and his parents."
26
Investigation
We stepped outside, and the sunshine and sea breeze were literally a breath of fresh air after the dingy, cramped "tranquility" spa. I turned to Hank and slid a hand around his neck. He bowed his face to mine and I kissed him. I meant it to be a quick one, but the rush of feelings that coursed through me made me linger and go back for another kiss, and another.
Iggy cleared his throat. "A-hem."
Heat rushed to my face, and I pressed my forehead to Hank's, grinning. I suddenly remembered we were standing in the crowded main street through town, a dense crowd bustling by.
"What was that for?" Hank sounded husky, slightly out of breath.
I bit my lip. "I just love you." I grinned up at him, his lids half lowered, eyes intent on my lips. "And also, can we never start screaming at each other like that?"
He took my hand, a huge smile on his face, and we stepped into the street after a cart, drawn by an invisible horse (I guessed) passed by. "What do you mean, butttercup?!" He mock shouted at me.
I laughed, then looked up at the imposing Doragon Spa that loomed above us, directly across the street. I gulped, my throat tight, and hefted Iggy's lantern higher. I lowered my voice, even though I was sure no one would hear us over the din of the crowd and the street musicians pounding at their drums.
"Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking, though?"
"Time to see if that food stand is open?" Hank lifted his thick brows.
I shook my head, grinning, and we stepped to the side to let a big family pass by, the children skipping along with enchanted kites in their hands, the manta-ray-shaped things flapping their fins. I jumped when one opened its mouth and caught a fly.
"No, uh—" I shook my head to clear it. "No, about how Dango was afraid that Nazo Suzuki would leave him a bad review?"
"Uh… that it would be completely warranted?" Iggy gasped and leaned out of his lantern to edge closer to me. His flames heated my cheek and neck. "Or that it's a Norman Bates type situation… that it's just his wife's skeleton back there in the kitchen?"
I gawked at him. "No. Ew." I thought about the fact that we'd never seen her. Could he have been throwing his voice? Or was there a spell for that? I looked up at Hank. "No… right?"
The prince leveled me with a look. "No."
I shook my head. "Yeah. Of course not." I frowned at Iggy. "How do you even know about that? You've never seen Psycho."
Iggy looked smug. "Rhonda tells me about things."
I lifted a brow. "How does she know so much about the human world?"
Iggy shrugged. "She says she visits there a lot." My flame rolled his eyes. "Why would she bother? It sounds so boring."
"Except for the movies?" I lifted a brow.
"Except for the movies," Iggy conceded, grumbling.
"But back to my point." I glanced up at the huge building with the green scaled roof, then looked between Hank and Iggy. "Iggy saw Nazo and Sara arguing right before he was killed. If she knew he was the secret critic, she might have suspected he'd give her a bad review." I licked my lips and barely whispered the words. "Maybe she killed him to keep that bad review from going out. Dango said it could ruin a business, right? And for that to come out at peak tourist season…." I gestured at the street packed with tourists and revelers.
Hank frowned. "Would she have known he was the critic?"
We edged our heads closer together. "Those flowers that arrived at the same time we did, yesterday in the lobby? The card was an apology from N.S." I lifted my brows significantly. "Nazo Suzuki. I got the sense that they were more than friends, so it's likely she knew who he truly was."
"Huh." Hank bit his lip and lowered his eyes, deep in thought. He looked up. "But the officials said he died of a heart attack."
I nodded. "Maybe she knew he had a heart condition or something. She could have instructed that worker to leave him in there too long." I licked my lips. "I thought I saw five sandmen when we first went in—there was one with a kerchief over his face. But after, there were only four. He could have run off—maybe she told him to leave."
Iggy's eyes widened. "Or maybe it was her in disguise!"
I nodded. It was possible.
Hank rubbed his wrist. "I'd like to not think badly of her, just based on rumors, but…" He looked up, a sadness in his eyes. "I've not been the best judge of character in the past." He glanced down. "I've underestimated, at least, the lows people can sink to." He gave a wry smile.
I knew he was thinking of his father and I reached out and squeezed his hand. I shook my head. "You know, you're right—it's just conjecture."
Hank lifted a brow.
"Hank, if you've learned to question things more, then I've learned to stay out of it more." I lifted my palms. "I just wanted to share my thoughts with you guys. Old me would've been like, we're gonna prove she did it. But new me knows this isn't my business. The authorities are already involved, and if there's something more to find, I'm going to let them handle it."
"Who's what now?" Iggy's lip curled back.
I lifted my chin. "If the Badlanders want to let a murderous widow give them facials, who am I to interfere?"
Iggy narrowed his eyes. "Who are you, and what have you done with Imogen?"
Hank cleared his throat, his eyes full of doubt. "Wow, really? All right…."
I squeezed his hand again and smiled. "That's right. We, my friends, are on vacation, and we are going to enjoy it and let other people deal with the bodies this time."
"But we love dealing with bodies," Iggy whined. "It's our thing."
"No." I shook a finger. "We seem to do it a lot, but we don't love it." I nodded decisively. "Right now, vacations are our thing."
"Not… bodies?" Iggy winced.
I shook my head. "Exactly. Not bodies."
Hank, holding back a smile, opened the tall, heavy door to the Doragon for Iggy and me. We stepped into the surprisingly quiet lobby—yesterday it'd been bustling. Heels clicked in quick clips across the gleaming wood floor. I paused and lightly touched Hank's arm as he stepped in beside me, then darted my eyes across the room.
Miss Sara strode into the center of the lobby, sunlight streaming in from the huge windows behind the front desk. The sole worker escorted an older woman toward the hallway that led to the hotel rooms, leaving us alone with Miss Sara in the enormous space. But we hesitated near the door, in the shadows. She hadn't seen us. She glanced at the desk, then behind her toward the restaurant, then buried her face in her hands.
A second set of footsteps sounded, heavy, coming from the direction of the hotel rooms. Yann stepped into the lobby. He saw Sara, hesitated, then walked up to her. They stood, silhouetted by the bright sunshine behind them.
"Oh, Yann." Sara's thin shoulders slumped and she dipped her chin. "I apologize. I thought I was alone." Her quiet voice echoed in the big space. She sniffed and appeared to wipe away a tear.
I grimaced at Hank. We probably should make our presence known, but at this point it'd be awkward. I looked behind me. But even more awkward would be if someone else came in—they'd run right into us. He pulled his lips to the side and looked as uncomfortable as I felt. I jerked my head to the left, and very quietly, we shuffled out of the way of the door.
"You arrre crrrying?" Yann reached out and clasped one of her slender hands in both of his enormous ones.
"I—" She let out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry you caught me like this. It's very… unlike me."
Yann stepped closer and I winced. No, Yann, back away, not today!
"Can I help wit anyting?"
She shoo
k her head and her voice came out small and tight. "You're very kind to offer. What you must think of me!" She shook her head again, the strand of gray at her temple falling loose from her low bun. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors."
My heartbeat picked up. So she was aware of them? Now that I thought of it, she had to be, in a small town like this.
"No!" Yann's voice thundered through the space, and Sara looked up. "I don't beliefe dem. Een fact, I—I wanted to know eef—" Yann cleared his throat and scratched at his neck. "Eef you would want to go on a date wit me?" He shook his head and stepped back. "I am sorry, dat was too forward and you are—"
She stepped closer, her chin tilted up to him. "I'd love to, Yann."
He froze. "Rrreally?"
I shook my head. No no no no no.
She nodded.
"Oh! Oh, grrreat. Wow. Heh." Yann shifted on his feet. "Tonight, den?"
She nodded, they made a few arrangements, and then parted ways, each glancing back at the other before Sara headed toward the hotel and Yann headed outside to the beach.
Iggy, Hank, and I stood alone in the shadows of the lobby.
I turned to them and lowered my voice. "Forget everything I said outside. We love bodies, this is our thing, and we're going to make sure Miss Sara's not a killer because I love Yann, and I don't want him to be spider food."
"You should have said you don't want to see Yann caught in her tangled web." Iggy nodded.
"Yeah, you're right, that's better."
Hank rubbed his hands together. "Wow, okay. Got to admit, I'm pretty pumped about this. We haven't investigated a murder together since Bruma."
I chuckled at him. "Actually, we did look into your mentor, Colin's, death."
"Oh yeah. I just—" His throat bobbed. "You know, I'm just excited to feel like part of the team."
"Whoa." Iggy held up his hands. "You're a trainee, at best, okay? You're here on a trial basis."
I held a hand to the side of my mouth. "You're on the team."
Hank grinned.
"Trainee," Iggy insisted. "We have to see how you operate under fire."
