“You’re back to saying ‘she’?” Althea queried. “Last week every mention was a ‘he’.”
“I decided to alternate,” I said. Truthfully, I couldn’t keep track and said whichever one popped out of mouth at the time.
Althea walked over to inspect the plant on the windowsill. “Maybe you should go home and put your feet up. There’s no need to be coming in here and getting stressed out. Everybody knows stress is bad for the baby and, let's face it, your life can be stressful.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I said, “but I’m the public defender and it's my responsibility to handle Mr. Geary's case.”
“Between you and me, you'll be doing yourself a favor by letting Josie handle it.” The town council had appointed a new lawyer to handle my caseload during my upcoming maternity leave. Josie McGill was a wererat who’d recently moved to Spellbound. She’d worked as a lawyer in her hometown and was hoping to find work here. Secretly, I think Althea had hoped to handle things, but she was still studying for her law degree so there was no chance of that happening.
“I’m perfectly capable of handling a simple misdemeanor charge.”
“It's not the charge I'm concerned about,” Althea said. “That Mr. Geary has a salty attitude. Seems to me he felt that he was above the law and that his case would be dismissed. You should've heard the entitlement coming out of that elf’s mouth. Called the trial a mere formality.”
I suppressed a smile. “Well, I am sure you set him straight.”
Althea popped a hand on her hip. “You bet your sweet corn I did. He had a nerve coming in here acting like the world owed him something.”
“I’m sure he'll tell me all about it when he gets here for his next appointment.” I shuffled through the files on my desk until I located his.
“Nobody will blame you if you want to pass this one off,” Althea said.
I glanced up. “Message received loud and clear. Thank you.” Althea reminded me of Gareth today and I didn’t need two overbearing parental figures in my life right now.
“How about you quiz me on torts while you wait for Mr. High and Mighty to turn up?” Althea asked. She produced a pack of study cards from the pocket of her floor-length kaftan.
“That’s probably the first time in history an elf has been described as high and mighty,” I said.
“Maybe that’s his problem,” Althea replied. “He has a chip on his shoulder because he’s tired of being the little whistling, pointy-eared dude.”
I squinted at her. “Elves are known for whistling?”
“Sure, they do it while they work.”
“I think you’re confusing elves and dwarfs.”
Althea ignored me and dropped a card on my desk. “Questions are on one side. Answers on the other.”
Twenty minutes and fifty questions later, I declared Albert Geary a no-show. Maybe Althea was right and I was destined to have trouble with this client.
“Stop looking at the door with those sad puppy eyes,” Althea said. “He’s probably bailing because he thinks meeting with you is unnecessary. I told you he was a difficult one.”
I rolled back my chair and stood.
“Good idea. You’ve come to your senses and are going home,” Althea said.
“Sure,” I lied. “That's exactly what I'm doing. Taking it easy.” I pulled my handbag from the desk drawer and slung it over my shoulder. “See you tomorrow. Good luck with studying.”
“Tell that handsome husband of yours to give you a foot rub. That’s his baby you’re toting around.”
“I’ll let him know you requested it on my behalf.” I waited until she returned to her adjacent office to stuff Mr. Geary’s file into my bag. I knew from a quick glance at the address that his house wouldn't be hard to find. The Rosebush neighborhood was popular with elves and faeries.
I wobbled down the block to my grandmother’s 1988 Volvo, Sigmund, and stuffed myself in the driver’s seat. I’d made adjustments to the position of the seat so that I had room between the steering wheel and my burgeoning belly. Traffic was light and it only took seven minutes to reach Mr. Geary's house. It was a sunny day and I smiled as I passed a group of children playing in the front yard one of the houses. For a brief moment, I pictured my own child among them. I tried to envision what she would look like. Would she have Daniel’s turquoise eyes? Or my freckles? Would there be parts of our child we didn't recognize inherited from my biological parents?
As I scanned the mailboxes for number twenty-two, I noticed a stream of children alongside me, crossing lawns and giggling excitedly. They all seemed to be headed to the same place.
Up ahead, I spotted the bright red mailbox with ’22’ in shiny black letters and pulled into the driveway. Coincidentally, the group of children had gathered on Albert Geary’s front lawn. They appeared intent on something in the front garden.
“Hey kids. What’s going on?” I asked, approaching the small crowd.
“This statue is so cool,” one of the boys said. “It looks just like Mr. Geary.”
“Oh, I’d like to see that,” I said. I knew the feeling of having your likeness carved into stone. The town of Spellbound had erected a statue of Daniel and me to commemorate the breaking of the curse that kept paranormals from crossing the town border. My position on the angel’s back and my expression of triumph made the entire monument appear somewhat…erotic to others. Needless to say, the statue served as the butt of many jokes at our expense. Daniel and I took it in stride, though. There were worse things in the world.
The children parted so that I could get a glimpse of Mr. Geary’s new statue. I hadn’t met the elf yet, so I could only assume the likeness was a good one.
“It even has the mole on his cheek,” one of the girls said. She touched the dark spot on the short statue’s cheek and snickered.
“At least he has a healthy self-esteem,” I said. I couldn’t think of many paranormals who’d want a statue of themselves front and center in their own garden. The garden itself was impressive with a variety of flowers, bushes, and other lawn ornaments—a ladybug, a mushroom, and the requisite garden gnome with a bright orange hat that matched the flowers around it. Mr. Geary clearly put a lot of thought and effort into his garden.
“Do you think he posed for this?” I asked.
“I doubt it,” a redheaded boy said. “He wouldn’t have the patience.”
“He’s always beeping at us to cross the street faster,” a smaller boy said. “He ran over my ball on purpose last week because I didn’t get it out of the road fast enough.”
It seemed Althea’s assessment was spot on.
“I don’t like the eyes,” a blond girl said. “They follow me like the portrait in my grandma’s study.”
I glanced at the statue’s eyes and gasped. The girl was right—they seemed to be moving.
“Does anyone know if any local artists use magic in their statues?” I asked. Maybe the eyes were meant to be realistic—an artistic expression. Or maybe the eyes doubled as a security camera. That would explain why the statue was positioned in the front garden, although it didn’t explain why it was modeled after the owner.
One of the kids knocked on the statue’s forehead. “Hello? Anybody home?”
The children laughed.
“Well, I do need to see if Mr. Geary is home,” I said. “He missed an appointment with me this morning.” I continued up the walkway to the front door and knocked.
“He should be home,” the blond girl said. “His jalopy is in the garage.”
Trust observant children in the neighborhood to know these things. “Thanks,” I said and knocked again.
Still no answer.
I walked over to the large window at the front of the house and pressed my face against the glass.
“That’s nosy,” the redheaded boy said.
I turned to look at him. “There are twenty children swarming Mr. Geary’s front lawn to inspect something that isn’t theirs. I think that’s nosy.”
The redhe
ad stuck out his tongue before running away. I returned to the door and pounded as hard as I could, calling Mr. Geary’s name. If his car was in the garage and he missed an important meeting, should I force my way inside? I could use an unlocking spell, but I thought it best to leave it to the professionals. Now that technology had infiltrated Spellbound, Daniel had insisted I have a phone for emergency purposes, despite the town’s efforts to retain its charming pre-technology character. I was out of the habit of carrying a phone and didn’t always remember it, but I knew I’d put in my handbag before I left the house. I fished out my phone and called Sheriff Astrid.
The Valkyrie hadn’t quite gotten the hang of her phone yet, and I could hear her cursing as she tried to hit the right button.
“Sheriff, it’s Emma,” I said. “Could you come to Rosebush? I’m at 22 Cherry Parfait Drive.”
“What seems to be the trouble?”
I explained to her about Mr. Geary’s missed appointment and that his car was in the garage. She didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll be right there.”
While I waited for Astrid, a few children ventured back to the yard.
“Why is your stomach so fat?” the small boy asked.
The blond girl beside him smacked his arm. “That’s rude, Geoffrey.”
Geoffrey rubbed his arm. “Why? It’s fatter than her arms and legs. She looks like a spider.”
“Haven’t you ever seen a pregnant woman before?” the girl asked.
“I’m the youngest,” Geoffrey said. “How would I know?” He fixated on my stomach. “There’s a baby in there?”
I smiled. “So I’m told.”
“Did you ask for one?” Geoffrey asked.
The girl smacked his arm again. “It’s not a Christmas present, you ninny. It’s a baby.”
“I did ask for one, Geoffrey,” I said. “And she is a gift.” Tears welled in my eyes. Pesky hormones.
“Look at that, you made the lady cry,” the girl said accusingly. “You need to learn to mind your manners.” She took him by the hand and dragged him across the road as Sheriff Astrid pulled alongside the curb.
“You’re not about to give birth, are you?” the sheriff asked. “Because I didn’t bring a healer.” With her long stride, she was across the lawn in about two steps.
“Don’t worry. I’m not about to deliver my child on Mr. Geary’s front lawn.” I motioned toward the house. “Mr. Geary is a client of mine. He missed his meeting this morning so I came to talk to him. His jalopy is in the garage, but he’s not answering the door.”
“Got it.” The Valkyrie approached the door and studied it for a moment. “I could kick it down, but probably better if you use a spell.”
I already had my wand in my hand. “I thought you might say that.” I performed a quick unlocking spell and let Astrid enter the house first.
“Mr. Geary,” she called.
The house was quiet. One visual sweep of the interior told me that Albert Geary was a fastidious elf. Based on the labeled baskets and nearly stacked books on a shelf, he seemed to subscribe to the motto ‘a place for everything and everything in its place.’ Gareth would approve.
Sheriff Astrid went from room to room, checking for any sign of the elf. I stayed downstairs and took inventory. There was a bowl and spoon on the drying rack on the kitchen counter next to the sink. I touched the inside of the bowl and felt that it was still damp, which meant he’d likely eaten breakfast here this morning and washed up afterward.
“He’s not here,” the sheriff said, returning to the kitchen. “Do you happen to know what he looks like? I’ll alert Britta to start a search in town.”
“I can give you a fairly accurate description,” I said. “Come back outside.”
She frowned. “Outside?”
“You’ll see.”
We left the house and I guided her to the statue in the front garden.
“Wow, talk about an ego,” she said.
“That was my thought, especially based on what Althea told me.”
Astrid inspected the statue. “What did she say?”
“That he was so awful to her that she had to set him straight.”
Astrid laughed. “His mistake.”
“Do you know who makes magical statues in town?” I asked.
She patted the statue’s head. “What makes you think this one is magical?”
“Look at the eyes.”
Astrid peered into the statue’s eyes. “Weird.”
“I wondered if he installed a security camera,” I said. “Apparently, he isn’t overly fond of children. Maybe he wants to keep them away from his garden.”
“You think the eyes are some sort of security feature?”
“Could be,” I said. “We have stuff like that in the human world. I’ve seen houses with fake cats outside that are really security cameras.”
I examined the statue’s face and snapped my fingers in front of him.
The eyes blinked.
At least I thought they did. Maybe I was mistaken and I imagined it. I decided to snap again.
The eyes blinked again.
My stomach quivered. “Astrid,” I said quietly. “I think I might be wrong.”
“You don’t think it’s magical? I’m inclined to agree. It would do something more interesting if it were.”
“No, I mean I don’t know that this is a security camera.”
The sheriff walked around the statue, scrutinizing it as she went. “It could be charmed.”
“I don’t think it’s a charm either.” I gazed into the statue’s eyes and a shiver rippled through me. “Astrid, I think the statue is actually Albert Geary. I think he’s been turned to stone.”
Chapter Three
The statue was moved from Mr. Geary’s front garden to the police station for further examination. Astrid wouldn’t let me lift anything in my condition, so we waited for Deputy Britta to arrive and the Valkyrie sisters carried the statue to the back seat of the police jalopy. Thankfully, the statue was the same size of the elf and fit neatly into the compact space.
Twenty minutes later, the three of us stood in the interrogation room and stared at the statue, uncertain what to do next.
“I don’t know,” Britta said, bending her neck at an odd angle for a different view. “It could just be a weird statue.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m pretty sure that’s Albert Geary.”
“Well, there are only three paranormals I know that can magically turn an elf into stone,” Astrid said.
It took a moment for the realization to settle in. “You think a Gorgon is responsible for this?”
The sheriff gave me a sympathetic look. “They’re kind of famous for this sort of thing.”
I hesitated. Althea had made disparaging remarks about Albert Geary. And the stress of law school was making her a bit temperamental. Was it possible that she took her dislike of Mr. Geary too far? No, Althea would never use her power simply because she didn’t like someone’s attitude. I decided to keep my thoughts to myself and hoped that Astrid wouldn’t remember my earlier comment about Althea setting him straight. No point in adding fuel to the fire until I spoke to my assistant.
“It could be a spell,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be a Gorgon.”
“Do you know any spells like this off the top of your head?” Britta asked.
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything,” I replied. “The coven grimoires have all kinds of spells.” I had no doubt there was a spell that turned living beings to stone in at least one of them.
“See if you can fix him then,” Astrid suggested.
“Good idea.” If it was a coven spell, it was possible that I could undo his condition with a counterspell. I rolled up my sleeves and rubbed my hands together before producing my wand. I aimed Tiffany at the statue, focused my will, and said, “Statue or elf, it’s too hard to tell/crack open the stone and break this spell.”
Although sparks flew from my wand, nothing hap
pened. The statue remained intact.
“What does this mean?” Britta asked.
“Nothing concrete,” I said. “No pun intended.”
“If a Gorgon is responsible,” Astrid began slowly, “would you be able to turn him back to normal with your brand of magic?”
“I…I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t exactly had to deal with this before.”
“So it’s not definitive either way,” Astrid said.
Britta patted Mr. Geary’s statue on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, dude. We’re going to get you out of this. Just think of it as your temporary cocoon and soon you’ll emerge as a beautiful butterfly.”
“Unless he dies of suffocation first,” Astrid said.
Britta recoiled. “That’s a harsh thought.”
“I’m sure the magic prevents that,” I said. I hoped.
“We should keep him in a secure location while we investigate,” the sheriff said, “in case the culprit decides to try to finish him off. Without knowing the motivation for the crime, he’s still at risk.”
I swallowed hard. “I guess your office is the best option then.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Britta offered. “You start rounding up the snake ladies for questioning.”
“No one is rounding up anybody,” I said. “You have no idea what happened to Mr. Geary.”
“Exactly why we round them up,” the deputy said. “To find out what happened. You know how this works, Emma.”
Unfortunately, I did, which was the reason I was worried for Althea.
Sheriff Astrid looked at me. “Can you think of any reason why Althea might have turned this elf to stone?” Before I could answer, Astrid snapped her fingers. “Wait. Didn’t you say she had an argument with him?”
I hesitated. “I don’t think I used the word argument.”
Astrid wagged a finger at me. “You said she set him straight.”
My stomach churned. “Did I? I just meant that she showed him the door.”
“But what if she did more than that?” Astrid asked. “I need to speak with her immediately.”
“I’ll drive you,” I said quickly. “I need to go back to the office anyway and file for an extension.” The defendant was obviously unable to stand trial while he was a statue.
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