by Emery Belle
After glancing over at Merry, who was still rummaging through the closet with far more enthusiasm than I’d believed possible, I grabbed the envelope and unfolded the single page inside, which looked as though it had been hastily torn from a notebook. The six words were written in a distinctly feminine scrawl.
Pay up, or it’s all over.
It was signed, simply, I.
For Isla.
Chapter 13
“I think I found something,” I called to Merry, my face flushing with excitement.
He emerged from the closet, a half-empty vial of potion in his hand, and let out a rich burp. “So did I,” he said with a wicked grin.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, dropping the note onto the desk and hurrying over to him. I grabbed the vial from him and sniffed it tentatively—the bright pink liquid smelled and looked exactly like cotton candy. “Where did you find this?”
He waved his hand vaguely toward the closet as he took another sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction. “It was hidden in one of Emeril’s snow boots,” he said. “And for good reason—don’t you know what this is?”
When I shook my head, he beckoned me over to him and lowered his voice in a dramatic whisper. “Poppymill potion. Been banned from the island for over a century because of its powerful hallucinogenic properties. I last had it when I was a lad—best night of my life, that was.” He winked roguishly at me, and I folded my arms across my chest.
“Put it back.”
“Why?” he pouted, lowering the bottle slightly. “It’s not like he’s going to miss it.”
“Because,” I said, making a swipe for the bottle but grabbing only air when he yanked it out of reach, “we’re not here to do anything illegal. Well, anything else illegal,” I added quickly, shuddering as I imagined what Kellen would do if he knew what we were up to. Did impersonating a police officer carry the same punishment on the island as it did in the human world? I was in no hurry to find out.
After making another fruitless grab for the potion, I narrowed my eyes at Merry. “Are you really going to be this selfish and compromise my investigation?”
He lowered his eyes to the floor, looking slightly ashamed of himself. Then he caught a glimpse of the vial dangling loosely from his hand and shrugged. “Yes,” he said, then tipped the rest of the potion down his throat.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to keep my temper under control—after all, we were still within earshot of Emeril’s brownies—and returned to Emeril’s desk. I began rooting through it again, hoping to find something, anything, that would help me understand why Isla was threatening Emeril.
As I glanced at her note again, the pieces began falling into place, so cleanly I couldn’t believe my luck. Isla, for reasons I still didn’t know, was blackmailing Emeril, holding some secret over his head he surely didn’t want made public. And she’d obviously won, because Emeril had left her everything in his will. What better reason to murder him and make it look like an accident? The Snow Bunny Fashion Show had been the perfect cover for the crime—she could have easily slipped away amid the chaos, set fire to Emeril’s harness, and returned just in time to wail over his body, putting on the performance of her lifetime.
I remembered her abrupt change in demeanor when I’d returned to Emeril’s dressing room the next day and heard her whistling when she thought no one else was around. I’d thought it was strange at the time, but now her obvious happiness over the yeti’s death took on a much more sinister tone. And why shouldn’t she be happy? She’d just won the lottery, after all. Thanks to the fortune Emeril had amassed, Isla wouldn’t have to work another day in her life.
I began rooting through the desk drawers with more vigor, my excitement mounting at the prospect of catching yet another killer. Take that, Sandrine, I thought as I yanked out the top drawer and dumped its entire contents onto the floor so I could sift through them more easily.
A sudden yelp from behind me caused me to jump in alarm and drop the packet of unpaid bills I was holding, and I whipped around to find Merry barreling toward me, a look of horror on his face. “What did you do?” he howled, dropping to the floor and frantically sweeping the papers I’d dumped out into a tidy pile. “Do you have any idea how long this will take me to clean up?”
“Why would you have to clean it up?” I asked, bewildered. I placed a tentative hand on Merry’s shoulder, but he threw it off him and jumped to his feet, his eyes wild, and began feverishly shoving the papers back into the desk drawer.
“Are you all right?” I asked, alarmed to see sweat pouring off his brow as he spun in a circle, waving his arms over his head as his eyes searched every corner of the room. He began panting, taking great big gulps of air in an attempt to calm himself, but that only caused him to start hyperventilating.
“Where’s the broom?” he shouted, whirling around and jabbing a finger into my chest with such force that I had to grab onto the desk to steady myself. “Why are you hiding it from me?” Two bright red spots of color had appeared on his cheeks, and I could see the remains of the pink potion dribbling from the corners of his mouth. By now, he was starting to look quite deranged.
“I-I’m not hiding anything from you,” I stammered, backing away from him.
I watched in horror as he grabbed the desk and, straining from its weight so much that his eyes were bulging out of their sockets, toppled it over with a thud that shook the ceiling. He dropped to his knees, then licked his thumb and began sweeping it along the floor where the desk used to be.
“What are you doing?” I asked, crouching down beside him as he frantically scraped at a patch of mud with his fingernail.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he shouted, his eyes rolling madly. “If I don’t get the dust cleaned off this floor before he gets home, the master is going to roast my head for his Christmas dinner!”
He clutched at his cheeks, leaving deep marks where his nails cleaved into his skin. When I tried tugging his hands away, he slapped me so hard across the face I toppled backward. He straightened up, and for a split second I thought he was going to come to his senses and help me to my feet—and, heaven forbid, maybe apologize for decking me—but he merely jumped over me, lithe as a gazelle, whisked a handkerchief out of his pocket, and set to work polishing a pair of shoes Emeril had left by the door.
I climbed slowly to my feet, wincing in pain as I patted my cheek, assessing the damage—I was surely going to be sporting one heck of a shiner the next day. A sudden high-pitched shouting noise drew my attention to the door, which burst open with more force than I thought possible from Wendall, who stood on the other side, looking both shocked and furious as he took in the state of disarray we’d left Emeril’s office in.
The brownie’s eyes latched onto the empty vial of potion, and then onto mine, and I could see the fury sparking in them. Without a word, he raised his hand and aimed a steady finger at Merry, who was now licking the last of the dirt from Emeril’s shoes, his entire face redder than a lobster, sweat pouring down his cheeks in great waves.
Wendall’s finger sparked, and Merry was thrown across the room, landing in a heap beside the overturned desk. Thick ropes appeared out of thin air and snaked their way along his arms and legs, binding him in place. The gnome struggled mightily for several seconds, then fell limp, his eyes locked onto a mop tucked in the corner of the room. A low whimper escaped his lips, but the brownie ignored him and turned to me.
I held up my hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I said quickly, shooting another nervous glance at Merry. What in the world had gotten into him? “My partner here drank some kind of potion he found in Emeril’s closet and—”
The brownie stomped his hairy foot on the floor and howled with rage, his bellman’s cap hanging askew. “We gave you permission to search the master’s estate, not destroy it!” he screeched, his voice drilling into my skull. He raised a threatening finger to me. “Get out.”
My heart leapt int
o my throat. This couldn’t be happening… not when I was so close to figuring out the circumstances leading up to Emeril’s death. I just needed a few more minutes to search the estate, perhaps question any brownies who were willing to talk, and I was confident I’d be able to gather enough evidence to implicate Isla. I could just imagine the look on Kellen’s face when I presented him with yet another solved case… it would be a cold day in Hades before he dared threaten me with jailtime again.
Feeling desperate, I hurried over to the brownie’s side. “Look what I found,” I said, brandishing Isla’s note under his nose. “I think this is the key to…”
I trailed off as he pushed the note away with barely a glance and turned his hard gaze to me once more. “You shall leave this place,” he said, “and you shall never come back.”
I heard a flurry of squeaks behind him and saw that dozens of brownies were now crowded in the doorway, surveying the damage with identical expressions of horror.
Without waiting for Wendall’s instructions, they surged into the room, producing mops and brooms and dust rags out of thin air and setting to work, and before long the yeti’s office was returned to its former glory. When the last speck of dust had been wiped from the statue of Emeril watching over the scene, its eyes vaguely disapproving, the brownies filed back out again, casting enraged glances at Merry and me before they pitter-pattered down the hallway and out of sight.
The female brownie who’d spoken to us when we first arrived stopped before Wendall, Sweetpea in her hand, and held the camera out to him. “I found this in the closet, sir,” she said, curtsying at his feet before scurrying out of the office to join the others. Wendall brought the camera up to his nose and began turning it over in his hands. He muttered something angrily beneath his breath, then turned to me with a look of disgust.
“For decades, my team and I have ensured that the master’s winter estate is a place of peace and privacy, his sanctuary from the outside world. You were given permission to search his belongings for information relevant to his death, and you took advantage of our kindness by tearing our home apart and violating that privacy.” He gestured to the camera, his eyes heavy with sadness.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say. He was right, and I was ashamed. “I understand,” I said, bowing my head in embarrassment.
The brownie nodded brusquely, then snapped his fingers. The ropes binding Merry popped off, and he stood up, rubbing his chafed arms and squinting around the room with a dazed expression.
“What’s going on?” he asked, glancing down at the ropes piled around his feet. “What the devil happened?” He saw Sweetpea dangling carelessly from Wendall’s hands and let out a roar of outrage as he began charging toward the brownie, his lip curled in a snarl—clearly, whatever spell he’d been under was broken and he was back to his usual cheerful self.
Wendall aimed his finger at Merry once more, and the gnome stopped in his tracks, though he kept his eyes trained on Sweetpea. “It’s time for us to go,” I said to Merry in a tone that brooked no argument. Then I turned to the brownie and inclined my head. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Wendall straightened his hat and drew up his shoulders, then beckoned for us to follow him as he turned smartly on his heel and headed for the door. I tucked Isla’s note into my pocket for safekeeping as I followed, pushing Merry in front of me so I could keep my eyes on him—after the little display of insanity I’d just witnessed, I didn’t want to let him out of my sight for a second.
Just before I reached the door, I caught sight of the empty vial on the floor, lying on its side, and bent down to retrieve it. I quickly slid it into my purse before anyone noticed, then hurried to catch up to the other two.
The other brownies, who were busy preparing a lavish lunch, averted their gazes as we passed, their little faces set in stone. It was clear to me that we were no longer wanted, and if the rest of them possessed the same powers as Wendall, then the last thing I wanted was to be on their bad side. We needed to get out of the estate, and fast.
Wendall led us into the foyer, then yanked open the heavy front door and stood back, giving us room to exit. As we passed him, Merry yanked Sweetpea out of the brownie’s hands, hard enough to knock him over, and tucked the camera protectively inside his coat.
“Goodbye,” I said to Wendall, offering him a tentative smile that he didn’t return.
Instead he waited until we had barely crossed the threshold, then bowed one last time, stepped back, and slammed the door squarely in our faces with a loud crash that rattled the icicles hanging over our heads. The longest one shuddered and swayed violently, and I pushed Merry out of the way just before it speared him as it fell, shattering into a thousand pieces, the last sign I needed that we had worn out our welcome on the Frozen Island.
Chapter 14
I glanced at the directions scrawled hastily on the piece of paper in my hand, then looked uncertainly at the rickety old shed in front of me. It looked barely big enough to hold a lawn mower, let alone a wizard as… ample… as Glenn. And that’s if he didn’t own a single possession, though I knew for a fact that he had the most extensive—and colorful—wardrobe on the island. But the address matched up perfectly with the directions he’d given me, and so I walked up the winding, cracked pathway lined with weeds and raised my hand to knock on the door.
Before I could, it opened with a bang, and Glenn stood before me, grinning widely and holding an enormous platter of peanut brittle. “Wren!” he said, sounding delighted, even though he was expecting my arrival. “What a pleasant day it is for a visit. The birds are chirping, the dragons are soaring, and I’ve just had the most delightful nip of elderberry leaves, fresh from the puff shop, that’s left me quite famished.” He rattled the platter under my nose. “Goodie?”
I thanked him and selected a small piece of the brittle, then popped it into my mouth—and almost immediately heard an ominous cracking sound. “Whoopsie-daisy,” Glenn said, thumping me on the back as I spluttered and spat out the treat, along with a sizeable chunk of my front tooth. He tugged his wand from the pocket of his pants—today Spandex and bright orange, the perfect complement to his purple woolen turtleneck sweater—and tapped it against my mouth.
“Thanks,” I said, prodding at my tooth, which was whole once more. He held the peanut brittle out to me again with a hopeful smile, but I politely shook my head and followed him into the shed.
The door closed behind us with a soft click, and as soon as I stepped into the musty space, it transformed into a spacious home with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a spectacular view of the ocean, a beautiful granite fireplace sparking with turquoise flames, and a white carpeting so soft I sighed happily when my feet sank into it.
“I didn’t expect this from the outside,” I said, gazing around at the stunning space.
“That’s a little trick I devised that’s quite clever, if I do say so myself,” Glenn said, settling himself onto a blue suede couch and carefully selecting a square of peanut brittle before nibbling delicately on its edge. “I find it’s best, if one is fortunate enough to have the means to pay for life’s luxuries, not to flaunt it in front of those who are not. A humble heart is the world’s greatest equalizer.”
He crossed one leg over the other and gestured for me to sit beside him. “Now, I believe you have a matter of some importance you’d like to discuss with me?”
I nodded. “I hoped you could identify this.” I produced the empty potion vial I’d taken from Emeril’s winter estate and placed it on the couch between us. A few drops of the bright pink potion lingered at the bottom, and Glenn swooped up the vial and gave it a hearty sniff.
“Hmm,” he said, waving the vial under his nose. “Interesting.” He stuck his finger into the vial and dabbed at the potion drops, then the tip of his tongue. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he added, “That’s what I thought.”
“So you know what it is?” I asked eagerly.
Ignoring the
question, he said, “Tell me, Wren, where did you come across this potion?” He smiled kindly at me, his electric-green eyes roaming over my face, studying me in a way that made me distinctly uncomfortable.
I squirmed in my seat, unable to meet his gaze. “Someone left it on my desk at the office.”
It was a lame story, not even believable, and I absolutely hated lying to Glenn, who’d been nothing but wonderful to me since the moment we met. He was my friend, my champion, the father figure I’d never had. And I could tell by the way he raised his bushy white eyebrows that he knew I wasn’t being honest.
So the story spilled out, everything—seeing Emeril’s burned harness at the fashion show, my visit to Preston at the jail, the scene I’d witnessed at the reckoning and my follow-up meeting with Amelia, my trip to the Frozen Island to continue snooping, Merry’s bizarre behavior after drinking the potion.
He listened patiently without interrupting, and when I was finished he patted me on the back. “This is a lot of weight for you to carry,” he said, “especially so soon after your ordeal with Percival.” He sighed heavily. “I wish you had confided in me earlier, but I understand that you had your reasons. And besides,” he added with a wink, “I would have done my best to try to dissuade you, which you undoubtedly knew.”
He got to his feet heavily. “Follow me, my dear, and bring the vial with you, if you would.”
I followed Glenn across the living room and down a hallway lined with statues of sparrows made of gold, silver, bronze, and pewter, their glittering jewel eyes trailing me as I passed. The elderly wizard came to an abrupt stop at the end of the hallway, facing a blank wall, and I almost ran headlong into him as he retrieved his wand from the waistband of his Spandex pants, pointed it at the wall, and said, “Intrare.”
The outline of a door appeared, growing more solid by the second, and when it had fully materialized in front of us, Glenn opened it for me and stepped back with a cheerful little bow. “Ladies first, of course.”
