Grimoires, Spas & Chocolate Straws

by Erin Johnson

  "You know," Hank grinned, "back home, as a prince, I kind of felt responsible for upholding the rule of law and abiding by it and all that. But here, I'm just a regular guy who can snoop like—"

  "Investigate," Iggy corrected.

  "Sorry. Investigate like anyone else."

  "That's enough out of you, rookie." Iggy turned to me. "Alright, what's the plan?"

  27

  Nazo Suzuki

  Soon we stood outside Nazo Suzuki's hotel room on an upper floor of the Doragon. Hank had found it using the same locater spell we'd used to find the businesses for our tea deliveries. No one stood guard and no police tape stretched across the door like I'd expected. I guessed, since the reviewer's death hadn't been ruled murder, there wasn't much point to a whole lot of security measures.

  I looked left and right down the long hallway. Lights set into the ceiling cast white pools in even intervals down the hall. Tiny black shadows swirled in those light pools, enchanted to look like swimming fish.

  I looked up at Hank, a nervous grin on my face, and bounced on my heels. "Coast is clear. What now?"

  He rolled back his white cotton shirt, revealing his thick wrists, and gave me an exaggerated wink. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

  "What, are you a magician now?" Iggy rolled his eyes. "If you can open the door, just open it."

  Hank jiggled the locked knob. It was brass and molded to look like a sleeping dragon curled in on itself. He hovered his big hands over it. I glanced right and left down the still empty hallway, and my stomach twisted with nerves. How would we explain this if Miss Sara found us… or the police?

  He closed his eyes and the hairs on my arms rose as an electric charge flashed through the air. Hank scrunched up his eyes and tried again, then again.

  "Anytime now…." Iggy folded his flame arms.

  Hank licked his lips, squeezed his eyes tight, and—CLICK— the door swung open.

  I gasped and ducked inside with Iggy, Hank right behind me. He turned and slowly shut the door, then locked it. I playfully swatted at his arm.

  "How did you learn to pick locks?" I lifted a brow. "Are you secretly a bad boy?"

  His face reddened all the way to the tip of his big, straight nose. But he tried for a cavalier attitude, propping one foot on a chair and leaning on his bent leg. He waggled his brows. "I may have learned a few illegal spells back in my wild boyhood."

  "Okay." Iggy shook his head. "If you're trying to sound tough, don't say boyhood."

  I tried hard to hold back my smile and play along with Hank's suave act. "Illegal?" I sauntered up to him. "Were you breaking into the royal wine cellars to have a rager with your bros?"

  A smile tugged at Hank's lips, though he fought it and kept his blue eyes squinted, jaw set. "Nah. I was a lone wolf."

  I shook my head. "Society just couldn't contain your wild ways."

  He narrowed his glare. "Exactly. And neither could those elderly royal librarians."

  I pressed a hand to my mouth to hold in my giggle.

  "They just couldn't keep young, rogue Hank from breaking into the restricted section of the library."

  "Stop." Iggy gasped and held out a flame hand, tears trickling from his eyes as he shook with laughter. His tears sizzled as they fell and hit the bottom of the lantern.

  "Yeah, they tried." Hank kicked the chair away, propelling himself upright. A toothpick magically appeared between his teeth and a butterfly knife in his hand. "But I practiced lock spell after lock spell, until one day I opened that forbidden door and stepped into those dusty archives, looking for books on swallows."

  "What happened—did they catch you?" My shoulders shook as I fought the giggles.

  Hank flipped the knife, attempting a trick I guessed, but frowned, fumbled, and dropped it. He straightened and with a waggle of his fingers the knife disappeared. "You didn't see that."

  "See what?" I shrugged.

  Hank rolled the toothpick between his teeth. "But nah, they didn't catch me. It was a creepy, forgotten room in the bowels of the castle. I picked up the first book, opened it to a dark, black spell that seemed to whisper all around me."

  "Ugh." I recoiled. "That sounds scary."

  "Oh, it was." Hank's lip twitched. "Which is why I dropped it and ran away, and never went back."

  I chuckled.

  "Ahhahaha." Iggy wiped away the tears as he laughed.

  "But I'm glad all those spells came in handy today." He grinned and the toothpick disappeared. "I'm surprised I remembered them."

  I laughed and stepped forward, wrapping my arms around him. "Me too."

  He hugged me back, then we turned to survey the hotel room. Nazo's tatami mat bed hadn't been rolled up and stored away—the white, thrashed sheets lay strewn across it and the wooden floor. Across from us, french doors looked out onto a beautiful view of the sparkling ocean, and on the right side of the room, across from the bed, a wardrobe and desk stood against the wall.

  "Should we look around? We need to see if he'd written a review for this place."

  I stepped forward and set Iggy on the desk, then surveyed the wardrobe. I scrunched up my nose as the spicy scent of the dead man's cologne hit me. I turned from the hangers filled with tailored suits and pressed collared shirts and waved a hand in front of my nose. "He must've gone through buckets of that stuff. It smells…so…strong." I sneezed. Then froze and winced—that had been loud. Loud enough for someone in the hallway to hear. Hank, who stood by the wood desk, froze, one eye closed. After a few moments of silence, we straightened.

  Hank waved me over. "Come look at this." He pointed at a piece of parchment on the desk, Nazo Suzuki's quill beside it. Something about that enchanted quill lying there, still and unmoving, reminded me that the reviewer had died—his quill would never write another piece again. I'd been having fun with Hank and Iggy, but now I sobered; someone might have murdered him. Someone with a pretty face and charming smile who might have her sights set on Yann. My stomach clenched as I scanned the paper.

  "Doragon Does It Again" was scrawled across the top of the sheet. I frowned as I read. "Huh. 'As beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside.'" I shook my head. "First class service. Views to die for." I winced at that last line. Poor choice of words in retrospect.

  "He left Doragon a glowing review. If this had been published, it could only have boosted business for Miss Sara." My frown deepened. "Then what were they arguing about? And what had he done to warrant sending her that enormous bouquet of flowers?"

  Hank shrugged and passed me another piece of parchment. "I don't know—but take a look at this one."

  I winced as I read. "Dango's Tranquility Spa—more like Turbulent Spa. The place is a chaotic mess, with proprietors who don't understand the concept of 'inside' voices." I pulled my lips to the side. "Oof. That's rough."

  "But true," Iggy chimed in. "It's funny because it's true."

  I couldn't help but smile in spite of myself. "It's not funny, Iggy. What if this got him killed?" I lifted the sheet and my brows.

  "But Dango seemed surprised to hear of the death—he didn't even know it was Nazo Suzuki who'd died." Hank tilted his head to the side, a crease between his brows as he thought. "I suppose he could have been acting."

  I nodded. "It did seem odd that he hadn't heard about the death. In a town this small, a famous critic dying—that news had to have spread like wildfire."

  Hank worried his lip. "So, Sara's seeming like less of a suspect… at least until we can ascertain what she and Mr. Suzuki were arguing about."

  I nodded. "And Dango's looking worse. His spa seems to be struggling, and a bad review might have killed the business—"

  "So Dango killed first!" Iggy drew a line across his throat… or where one would be if he weren't a flame.

  "Maybe." I grinned at Iggy, then Hank. "We still don't know if he was killed at all, right? But you know, we make a good team."

  Hank's eyes focused on me, and his smile dropped. "We are a good team. In
fact, now is probably not the right time, but I'm feeling adventurous and—"

  The doorknob jiggled and I pressed a finger to Hank's lips. I covered my own mouth and looked with wide eyes to Hank, then Iggy. Someone was trying to get in! Who? Probably the police. And how would it look if they found us rummaging around a dead man's room?

  I dropped my hand from my mouth and glanced around, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I pointed to the green velvet blackout curtains that hung on either side of the french doors and mouthed, "Hide!"

  28

  Good Cop, Bad Cop

  We'd just barely ducked behind the floor-length curtains when the lock clicked and the door creaked open. I pressed myself tighter to the wall and held very still, praying Iggy wouldn't somehow light the curtain on fire. I looked right, over my shoulder, at Hank, who stood on the other side of the french doors that led out onto the balcony.

  I worried my lip, but he gave me a tight-lipped nod, his eyes steady, reassuring. I gulped. I had to admit, it felt great to have Hank as a snooping partner. He made me feel a little safer. Still, my heart slammed against my chest and breath came in shaky gasps that sounded way too loud in my ears.

  Footsteps padded across the floor. A drawer slid open, then another. Papers rustled. I frowned at the frantic pace of whoever was searching the room. That didn't seem like the way the police would operate… plus they'd already searched, undoubtedly. I licked my lips and slowly, slowly eased to the side and peeked around the curtain.

  A shorter man with graying hair was on hands and knees, searching the floor under the desk. He sat up suddenly and smacked his head on the desk.

  "Ow!" he hissed, and pressed his hands to the balding spot on top. He turned toward me, his eyes squeezed shut in pain, and I stifled a gasp as I recognized him—Dango! I ducked back behind the curtain and flashed my eyes at Hank.

  He lifted his brows.

  "Dang-o," I mouthed.

  His eyes widened, and still pressed against the wall, he ever so slightly lifted the parchment in his hand. He held the bad review—which was what Dango had to be looking for. Dango might be the killer, but there were two of us—well, three with Iggy—against one, and we'd be taking him by surprise. Maybe we could startle a confession out of him. I licked my lips and drew in a quick breath. I gave Hank a short nod, my eyes blazing, then pushed the curtain aside.

  "Looking for this, Dango?" I threw my arm to the right, just as Hank tossed aside his curtain and stepped forward, the bad review of the Tranquility Spa in his hand.

  The little man lurched to his feet and stumbled back, tripping over the desk chair and landing on his back. "What? How did— Who are—?" He panted and looked back and forth between us, then frowned as he recognized us. "Hey. You're, uh, Jool's friends, with the tea."

  "Jun." I shook my head. "That doesn't matter. What matters is why you're snooping around a dead man's room. Were you looking for the terrible review he left you? Did you kill him to keep the review from being printed?" I jabbed my finger at him accusingly.

  "Oh no, she's using the finger on you." Iggy feigned terror.

  Dango scrambled to his feet. "Not a chance!"

  "Your spa is clearly struggling. You knew he'd had a bad experience there. And you yourself said a bad review from Nazo Suzuki would put a place out of business." I stood with my feet wide, arms crossed, and glared at him. Hopefully I looked intimidating enough for him to confess.

  "Come on, Imogen, give the guy a break." Hank rested a hand on my shoulder.

  I jerked my head to look at him. What was this?

  His eyes darted to Dango, then back to me, and he gave me a little nod, his brows raised. I narrowed my eyes—huh? Then it clicked. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. He was being good cop to my bad cop. My boyfriend was such a nerd. I felt this had a very small chance of succeeding, but I had no choice but to play along.

  Hank gave my shoulder a little shake. "The guy has clearly fallen on hard times. The economy, am I right?" Hank lifted a palm, and Dango nodded, hesitantly looking from me to Hank. "Who would blame him if he got frustrated with some snooty critic and snapped? His livelihood was in jeopardy."

  I tried hard not to grin. Snooty was a nice touch—it was how Dango had described Nazo Suzuki earlier.

  Dango had been nodding along, caught up in agreeing with Hank, till that last part. He scowled. "I didn't snap," he scoffed. "Besides, who needs that guy and his stuck-up reviews. I know I've got a good business." He pointed both index fingers at me. "And I'm not the only one."

  I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Dango folded his arms and looked down his nose at me, smug. "It means I have a secret angel investor who always believes in and funds my ideas. There's no way my business is going under. Things always work out for me." His face reddened. "And I'll have another great idea too, even better than my first one."

  I narrowed my eyes. "What was your first idea?"

  He hugged his arms tighter around himself. "Nothing."

  It was like talking to a grumpy child. "Do things always work out for you because you make them work out? By killing anyone who threatens your success?" I cocked my head and stared him down.

  He let out a heavy sigh. "Look, I know I'm not supposed to be in here, but I just wanted to see if I could find the review." He waved an arm toward Hank, who still held it. "I figured, the guy's dead, nobody needs to read about the food poisoning he got at my spa or how—"

  "Food poisoning?" I crinkled my nose.

  "Yeah, whatever." Dango waved a hand, then narrowed his eyes at me, then Hank. "Hey, what are you two doing in here anyway?" He planted his hands on his hips. "How do I know you two didn't off him?"

  My mouth fell open. How dare he! "I—we didn't—" I sputtered.

  "Uh-huh." Dango looked smug again. "That's what I thought." He lunged forward and magically summoned the review right out of Hank's hand before he could react, and dashed for the door. "I'll be leaving now."

  "We're going to report you!" My hands clenched into fists at my side.

  Dango spun in the doorway. "If you do, I'll report you back."

  "Sea snakin', flotsam face!" I growled. "That guy's so annoying."

  "You tell him!"

  I glared at Iggy, and Hank chuckled. He held up a sheet of paper that looked identical to the one Dango had stolen. "Good thing I made a copy."

  I grinned. "You're so clever."

  He slipped it in among the other papers on the desk. "If the police come back, nothing will be missing."

  My eyes landed on a red-and-white checkered sheet of crumpled wax paper in the bin next to the desk, and my stomach rumbled. I sighed. "Mission over. Time for lunch?" I gestured at the wrapper. "Should we try that Better Than OKonomiyaki stand again? Seems like everybody's eating there."

  Hank chuckled and slid an arm around my shoulders. "Yeah, I think it's time good cop and bad cop took a lunch break."

  "We missed lunch." I waved a hand. "This is early dinner."

  "What does that make me?" Iggy peeked out from his lantern. "If you're good cop, and he's bad cop?"

  I shrugged. "Uh… baby cop?"

  He scowled and ducked back inside his lantern. "I hate it."

  29

  Better Than OK

  We checked back at our room on our way out, but the guards had left for their shift on the fishing boats and none of our friends from Bijou Mer were around.

  I shrugged. "Must still be out making tea deliveries."

  Hank took my hand. "It's a date then."

  I grinned and hefted up the lantern. "Plus Iggy."

  My flame folded his arms. "Goody."

  Hank grinned too, and we headed downstairs. The walk along the boardwalk was lovely, with the sky a beautiful gold and fuchsia sunset and a happy crowd gathering on the beach, staking out their spots. I remembered Miss Sara saying that tonight would be the highlight of the magical manta migration. A real tongue twister, that.

  We soon reached
the pier and I spotted the red-and-white-striped tent. A couple with a little boy scooped some change off the counter and pushed away from the stools just as we arrived.

  I grinned up at Hank. "They're open! And perfect timing!"

  He flashed his dazzling smile at me and swung our linked hands. I set Iggy on the counter and slid onto the middle red leather stool, while Hank took the one on my left. The man behind the counter stood with his back to us.

  He lifted a basket of steaming noodles, gave it a shake, then set it back down into boiling water. He moved to the side, repeated the action with a second basket, and then turned to us, wiping his weathered hands on the stained towel tucked into the tie of his apron.

  He smiled at us. A couple of gaps marked missing teeth, and his tanned, leathery skin creased at the corners of his eyes. I guessed him to probably be in his midfifties or sixties, though the sun might have made him look older than he was. "Welcome. A couple of new faces."

  I shifted on my stool as he stared at me just a little too long. I nodded. "Yep, our first time here."

  "Here at my food stall, or here in Umiru?"

  "Uh, both." I smiled, though his constant gaze on me made me a little uneasy.

  He threw his head back and laughed, then clapped his hands.

  Iggy made a face at me. "Yeah… good one."

  I flashed my eyes to tell him to be quiet.

  "So… I've never had okonomiyaki before." Hank cleared his throat and the man finally looked at him. "What do you recommend?"

  The old guy held up a skinny, knobby finger. "I'll make you my special."

  "Okay, great." Hank shrugged at me, and I shrugged back. Sounded fine to me—though I literally had no idea what kind of food we were about to eat.

  "This food stall is an island staple." The little man whirled on me and bowed. "I'm Genji, by the way." Hank and I inclined our heads, while Iggy just looked the skinny man up and down.

  With his hollow cheeks and leathery skin, he looked a bit mummified. Lanterns suddenly flickered to life above our heads and on all the little tents and carts that lined the pier. I glanced behind me and found the sky had darkened to blues and purples.