Magical Murder

by Ann Denton

  Cherry nods and wipes her fingers on her apron. “I should check on him anyway. He didn’t call me back last night.” She dials.

  I hold my breath. And keep holding. Holding. I hear a beep.

  “Timmy, it’s Cherry. Call me when you get this. I just want to know you’re okay.” She hangs up, eyes wide as a doll’s again. “He’s not answering. He wasn’t at his place last night. He’s missing.”

  I turn to stare at Luke.

  Either Timmy the unicorn is missing, or he found out about Georgina’s plan for his horn. What if he didn’t agree? What if he didn’t just say no like Cherry? What if he got mad, killed Georgina, and is now on the run?

  My list of suspects just keeps growing.

  Chapter 10

  Luke wants to walk me back to my apartment, but I won't let him. I stop in front of Wendel's and turn to him.

  "Things are just really messed up right now. I'm accused of murder. You have an open case. You have an ex you're not over."

  Luke opens his mouth to protest but I hold up a hand.

  "Let me finish. I really like you. And your biceps. More than I've liked anyone in years. And that is really hard for me to say. Because I have avoided vampires for almost a decade."

  "Why?" Luke asks.

  "Because I'm bad for you."

  "Maybe I like bad girls."

  I give a weak smile. "Look. I'm not saying never. I'm just saying not yet. I think we both have a couple things that we need to work through first."

  "But—"

  "Don't. Believe me it is taking all the self-control I have to walk away right now. I mean who goes through a first date involving puke and still thinks it's awesome? And it was awesome."

  Luke tentatively reaches out his hand. Trembling I reach mine out until our fingers just brush. It's scary and electric all at once.

  "You need to know something about me," Luke steps closer. "Earlier I mentioned vampire obsessions." His eyes flicker back and forth between mine and he leans forward slowly. He whispers, "I think I just found a new one."

  Shivers of glee follow me on my walk home. I look back once before I turn the corner, and Luke’s still standing there in the moonlight, staring at me. OMG. I may not have actual wings, but I totally feel like I’m flying. Which is insane, considering the last twenty-four hours. My little bubble of glee pops the second I reach my doorstep and reach into my clutch for my keys.

  “Mother Eff! Where the duck are they? Did I seriously leave my keys inside my apartment?” Grunting and groaning I walk downstairs to Mrs. Snow’s apartment. I inhale a big whiff of something curry-like as I knock on her door. It's a better smell than most nights she tries to play witch-doctor, so I guess at least there's that.

  Mrs. Snow’s door swings open. But instead of Mrs. Snow, a familiar little old lady glares up at me. It's Tabitha Blue, the sneaky little peeper from Ruddy's courtroom. She looks as shocked to see me as I am to see her.

  Luckily, Mrs. Snow barges up to the door and shoulders her out of the way, ending the awkward staring. Sarah Snow’s a true-blue southern belle who’s never met someone she doesn’t consider a friend. It’s unfortunate her potion-making skills are so atrocious. Otherwise, I wouldn’t mind visiting her. As it is though, I try not to look concerned as blue smoke curls around the two women.

  Mrs. Snow waves away the smoke with a grin. “Lyon. Lost your keys again, huh? Girl, you really oughtta let me spell those things so they’re glued to your hand.”

  “Told you I had a bad experience with that.”

  “Well come on in, sugar! We’re just settin’ down fer tea.”

  My stomach is so full of cinnamon roll that I almost groan but it is not a good idea to turn down a southern Nisse’s hospitality. Especially one who’s holding your keys. Nisse are related to brownies, helpful and sweet creatures, until you cross them. I make it a point never to cross Mrs. Snow. So I enter the widow’s apartment, sliding past Tabitha Blue with a polite nod.

  “Saw you leave with that handsome fella’. You have a date, sugar-pie?” Snow asks as she putters around her duck-themed kitchen.

  “Yup.” I slide into a barstool.

  “Well now, isn’t that nice?” She winks and slides me a tea-cup with a goose’s neck for a handle. “Tabby, bring your tea on in here!”

  Tabby comes into the room reluctantly, clearly suspicious of me.

  “I’m Lyon. Nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand and Tabby shakes, but the look behind her thick glasses is threatening. She must not want her crystal ball habits known in her social circles. Fine by me. I don’t really want Mrs. Snow knowing I’ve been accused of murder. (Falsely, but still.)

  When Mrs. Snow’s back is turned I mime zipping my lips and Tabby relaxes.

  “You said you had a bad experience with a sticking spell once?” She seizes on the only thing she knows about me to start a conversation.

  “My mom. She was a little bit of a control freak. She was worried about me getting lost so she had a spell done to make me stick with my cousin. Boy cousin. She did not specify anything about releases. Or exceptions. So you can imagine what happened when I had to go to the bathroom.”

  Mrs. Snow returns with her own cup of tea so full of sugar it’s practically sludge. In true southern fashion, she has an appropriately dramatic response for my story. “No. She didn’t. You poor thing!”

  Tabby yowls in laughter. “Mightta’ even been more traumatic for your cousin, poor guy.”

  “My mom had to stand between us with a sheet every time … for two days. That’s how long it took this shoddy spell caster to come up with an antidote. I mean. Who does that? Sell something and not know the antidote? Never again.”

  Mrs. Snow pats my hand. “Can’t say I blame you, dear.”

  Tabby interjects, “So now you just what? Lose your keys. You should get a crystal ball you know. Easiest way to look for lost things.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “I brought mine if you want to have a quick look-see. Sarah and I were just gonna—”

  “Gonna look for a potion ingredient I lost dear,” Mrs. Snow’s interjection seems suspicious. Almost too quick.

  I raise my eyebrows at Tabby. She gives me the same innocent old-grandma look she gave Ruddy. And I know. She and Mrs. Snow were gonna spy on male shifters! My disgust and admiration at this revelation is suddenly overshadowed. I put two and two together. I turn to Tabby.

  “I’d love to have your help with the crystal ball. But not looking for keys. I’m looking for a friend. He’s missing.”

  Tabby and Mrs. Snow light up like Christmas trees. This is probably the most intrigue either of them have seen in years. “Absolutely. I’d love to help. What happened?”

  I decide to tell them part-truths, mostly so things will be easier to keep straight in my head. “Well. His girlfriend went by his place. Tried calling.” I lean forward. “She thinks he’s cheating.”

  That earns me a gasp.

  “Well, I never!” Mrs. Snow puts a hand on her heart.

  Tabby stands. “Let me get the ball. I’ll be right back. We’ll see if we can’t catch this scumbag in action!” She returns a second later carrying a clear bowling-ball that should be-by the laws of physics-way too heavy for her. She plops it onto the table. “Okay. So I need a name and a little bit of a physical description.”

  Shit. I don’t even have a last name. Hopefully what I have is enough. “Timmy. And he’s a unicorn shifter.”

  They both turn to stare at me. “A unicorn cheating?” they chorus, in unison. Most people think unicorns are uber-pure, just like they think nymphs are nymphomaniacs. But there’s always the odd apple in any group.

  I shrug. “That’s what she said. But he’s missing. I’m more worried about that.”

  Tabby nods and gets to work. Mrs. Snow slurps her tea. And I pat myself on the back. I think I’m gonna solve this whole freakish murder case before Bennett. That gives me a great deal of satisfaction.

  Until I see the im
age Tabby pulls up in her ball. There’s a unicorn-shifter, rainbow hair spread across the ground. He’s laying underneath some trees. And he does not look alive.

  “Oh, feculence!” I curse.

  The three of us glance up at each other. We’re not quite sure what to say. Or what to do.

  “Should we call the police?” Mrs. Snow asks.

  Tabby’s head immediately sweeps side to side. Before yesterday, I wouldn’t have agreed with her. But now that I’ve been to the dungeon, I really don’t want to go back.

  “I don’t know…” I draw out my response, trying to figure out a logical reason for avoiding the law. The side that I’m supposed to work for. How did my life get so messed up in one night?

  “First, we don’t really know where he is,” Tabby throws out. “Those trees could be anywhere.”

  “Well, we also don’t know what’s going on,” I point out. “For all we know, he could have gone on a bender and is sleeping it off.” I’ve never heard of a unicorn going on a bender, but you know … it could happen. I peer closer at the crystal ball, trying to see if his horn looks shaved. I can’t tell. That’s when I hear something.

  “What’s that?” I turn to Tabby.

  “Someone’s coming.”

  Mrs. Snow looks at her front door, but Tabby pulls her back to the ball. “Not there. Here.”

  We all huddle over the ball. I’m surprised our breath doesn’t mist the surface.

  “See, someone’s about to find him,” I whisper to Mrs. Snow. He’ll be okay.

  Voices drift out of the ball as the walking noises get louder. It’s clearly a couple walking in the woods.

  “It’s easy. I told them you were with me. You do the same,” the man’s voice says.

  “We can’t do that,” the woman argues.

  “We have to. There’s a lot at stake. You say you were with me. Say we were looking at financials.”

  “But someone might have seen us. They’ll know it’s not true.”

  A foot becomes visible on the edge of the ball.

  “Matt, I don’t feel—” the woman’s shriek has all three of us reeling back away from the ball.

  “Found him,” Tabby cleans out her ear. “She didn’t have to be so loud about it though.”

  “Yes, well now we don’t have to worry about calling the police,” Mrs. Snow heaves a relieved sigh.

  The man and woman step closer, bending to take Timmy’s pulse. I knock my chair over, standing so suddenly. Tabby and Mrs. Snow both stare at me.

  “Can I get my keys?” My voice is breathless. I don’t have any breath. Because I can’t breathe. I can barely think as Mrs. Snow hands me the keys.

  “You alright sugar?” she asks.

  “Sick,” I mumble. I stumble out of her place and up the stairs to mine. My hands shake as I fight my lock. Once I’m inside, I sink to the floor against the door, hands covering my face.

  The man and woman who found Timmy—the couple who were talking about financials—were Saffron Watts and Matthew Boolye. My mentor and that real estate mogul. In the woods together. Talking about covering for each other. Talking about alibis. They might as well have been talking about murder.

  Chapter 11

  I stare at the floor for what feels like a really long time. I'm in shock. I think it's finally hitting me that all this is real. You’d think I’d have had that realization happen in the dungeon, or the interrogation room, but no. I'm in over my head. I'm surrounded by suspects and a murderer. And I don't know what to do next. A tear slides down my cheek.

  Pounding on my front door brings me back to life.

  "I'm not here!" I yell.

  "I have a key," Bennett's voice sounds through the door.

  I groan but slide out of the way. "Why do you have a key?"

  "JR gave me hers so that I could come back and do a postmortem on your ‘date.’" I can hear the air quotes in his voice.

  "That's it. Her friend card is totally revoked." I slide down the wall next to the door and sit on my butt as Bennett tromps in.

  He glances around for second. I'm slightly amused by how lost he looks when he doesn’t see me. But I ruin it by snickering. He whirls around to find me behind the door.

  "What are you doing down there?"

  "Giving up."

  He crouches down and rubs the tear from my cheek with his thumb. For a second I see pity. But I glare at him and it quickly turns to harassment. "Giving up on what? The idiot idea you should date a criminal? The destruction of district attorney investigative property? The idea that I'm your stalker and not here to help you?"

  "Were you always this annoying?" I push him away from me and stand up.

  He wolf whistles. My hands immediately fly to my skirt. Dammit. It's a ridden up on my right thigh. I shove it back down.

  "Stop that." I go over to the nook in the corner where my desk and computer sit. As annoying as he is, he’s spurred me out of my funk. And he’s right. We have to get to the bottom of things. I need to know how his investigation is going. And he needs to see what I found out. We have to figure out who the killer is. Even if Saffron’s involved.

  I shove that thought away.

  I flip on the computer and pull the spy camera out of my hair.

  Bennett flops onto the couch irritated. He pulls out a notebook. "I need to know what happened after you pulled that childish little act in the bathroom Ly-ly. Luke is my prime suspect. What did he say?"

  "He shouldn't be your prime suspect."

  I boot up the video program.

  “Hey! Pay attention please.” Ben crosses and puts his hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off and sync the camera’s bluetooth with the computer.

  “Ly, this is a serious investigation.”

  “I know,” I turn and grab his shoulders. Damn. He’s more ripped than when we dated. He could maybe give Luke a run for his money. Not that I’m comparing. I would never. I’m over him. I force him into my computer chair. I press play. “I recorded my entire night. You’re gonna want to watch everything.”

  “Everything?” his eyes flick to mine. “You don’t mean anything happened …”

  I roll my eyes. “Nothing like that. Just watch. The suspect list is worse than you ever thought.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  I refuse to answer and point to the screen. He turns and starts watching.

  I walk to the kitchen. I just ate but all this detective work, lying, and craziness is stressing me out. It’s time for ice cream. I grab a pint of bubblegum for myself and some caramel for Bennett. I bring his to him and collapse onto the couch with mine.

  I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, Bennett is shaking me awake.

  “Hey,” his breath on my ear is soft and sweet. It brings up memories. I turn toward him, my hands reaching out. I caress his stubble.

  I realize what I’m doing. I jolt backward on the couch. “Sorry. Um. Sorry.”

  He smiles softly. A little sadly maybe. But I’m really not awake, so how am I supposed to tell?

  “I watched everything.”

  I nod, rubbing my eyes, scooting over on the couch so he can sit. I feel my cheek, the velvet pattern of the couch has left squiggle marks all over it. Gorgeous. Great.

  “Nice work with the spy cam. What made you think of that?”

  “Runes. His tattoos could have anti-spy spell runes in them.” I think back to my cellmate and his advice on runes. I wonder if Luke would let me photograph his tattoos with an infrared camera. The idea of him taking off his shirt and letting me take photos momentarily sidetracks me. Why did I turn him down again? Oh right. Murder investigation. Suspect. Focus.

  Bennett grins. “I think you might need some caffeine. I’ll make coffee.”

  I blush as he leaves. I’m so, so glad he cannot read my dirty mind. I decide I need to move a bit to wake up more, so I stand. “What time is it?”

  “Four a.m.”

  I stretch. When I head toward the kitchen, Bennett’s stand
ing frozen, his hands on the coffee bag, staring at me.

  I give him a quizzical look. He snaps out of it and hastily starts pouring coffee into the machine. “You did good work,” he mutters. “There are a lotta people with a lot of reasons to hate Georgina right now.”

  “I know. I hope if I’m ever murdered, it’s not this hard to solve.” I hop up onto the counter before I remember I’m in a short skirt.

  Bennett’s dazed look returns and I get an inkling about why he froze before.

  I snap in his face as I adjust my skirt. “Excuse me, co-worker. We were starting a conversation about suspects.”

  He turns bright red. Ha. So I was right. He was gawking.

  He fumbles with my cabinets, searching for coffee cups. I could help him out, but I decide I’m enjoying his discomfort too much.

  “So, I showed you mine. Your turn.”

  He whips around when I say that, eyes wide. I can see a flash of heat in them before he gasps, “What?” I bet if I touched his skin right now, he’d be blazing hot.

  “What evidence have you picked up so far? Who’ve you interviewed? What’s the working theory?”

  He takes a deep breath to calm himself before he responds.

  “I’ve talked to her parents. And I’m not supposed to discuss the case with a suspect.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not really a suspect.”

  He shrugs. “You knew her.”

  “More like knew of her. It’s not like she hung out with high school kids when I dated …” It’s hard for me to say Alec’s name, even now. I don’t know at this point if it’s because I kept him a secret so long, or if it’s just always hard to think of your first heartbreak.

  “The parents are weird.” Bennett caves. I’m not sure why, exactly. But I do his silence thing. That tactic that lets the silence stretch out until the weaker person has to fill it. And he does. “The mom, I dunno if she drank someone who was high or what, but she kept dodging questions. ‘I’m not sure.’ ‘I don’t remember exactly.’ ‘Are we done?’” He mocks her in a falsetto that would make any choir boy proud.