by Nova Nelson
She and Clifford left the restaurant and waited until she was home before sending an owl to Bloom. It was well past dinnertime, and Ruby was ready to call it a day.
However, there was still work to be done.
She wrote, “Spoke with Dalora Greyborn. Does Ignatius Hopper have an alibi for time of death?”
And then she sent the message on its way and plucked a few of her favorite vegetables from the garden boxes behind her house. A beet salad didn’t sound half bad. Especially when it didn’t cost her a thing.
Chapter Nine
Sheriff Bloom was grateful for the beautiful morning. As she strolled beneath the nurturing May sunshine, she carried a giant chocolate croissant with her. She’d been saving it for whenever she could get away from her desk and truly savor it. But a few minutes prior, she’d reached the point when all she could think about was the croissant sitting uneaten in its box. And so her progress on the stacks and stacks of paperwork around her office—some forms she had to fill out, others she had to review and sign, and others still that simply needed a moment of her time to be filed away—had come to a grinding halt.
Nothing to do about it except take her break a few minutes early.
She bit into the pastry as she descended the stairs away from the sheriff’s department and was forced to plant her feet firmly under her, at risk of falling over from the decadence. The taste was all encompassing, and it wouldn’t do to trip and fall down the stairs. Not only would it likely be painful, but if someone saw it, well, it would be just plain undignified and below the station she held.
But most importantly, it might damage the rest of the croissant.
After the initial wave of euphoria began to subside, she carefully scaled the stairs and made her way to Fulcrum Park where she was scheduled to meet Ruby True and recap the events of the previous day.
She hadn’t been able to do nearly as much investigative work on her own as she’d hoped, but she’d done about as much as she’d expected, which was virtually nothing outside of having Deputy Titterfield check on Ignatius Hopper’s alibi for Bron Danann’s time of death. Fortunately, a life in the bureaucratic realm of Heaven had prepared her well for her cloistered life within the confines of her office.
But Heaven didn’t have chocolate croissants. It didn’t have any food at all.
She paused momentarily in her progress, wondering if she hadn’t been in Hell the whole time after all.
But no. Way too many harps for it to have been Hell. She’d heard that realm preferred accordions.
Either way, she much preferred life in Eastwind. And it was while she was in the midst of her gratitude for her present place and time that she spotted Ruby walking down one of the spoke-like streets leading to the inner ring of town, the center of which was marked with the lively Fulcrum Fountain.
It was a perfect day to enjoy a walk-and-talk, and Bloom suspected that even though she didn’t have many pertinent updates, that didn’t mean they would have nothing to discuss regarding the case.
Ruby True was sporting her usual black attire from head to toe, and with her wild, fiery hair, at a distance she resembled a lit black candle. But up close, like she was now, she looked like the last person one would want to tell she looked like a lit black candle.
Only a fool would have observed the small stature of Ruby and mistaken her for anything other than a formidable opponent in whatever situation might arise. She had that look about her, a keenness in her eyes that Bloom had noted the first time she’d come to check in on Eastwind’s new Fifth Wind so many years before. And the fact that the witch kept that mammoth familiar with her wherever she went also tamped down the urge to do or say anything that would set her off.
“Did you bring enough for me?” Ruby asked, Clifford following just a step behind her.
“Nope. I didn’t even bring enough for me.” The sheriff popped the last bite into her mouth and licked her fingertips shamelessly. The real shame would have been in not licking them.
“Then how about,” Ruby proposed, “we stroll on down to the bakery to appease both of our cravings, and I’ll fill you in on my busy day yesterday.”
“Sounds like a plan.” They started down one of the long spokes toward the bakery.
“You know,” Ruby said, “it’s really not fair that you can eat as much as you want and never gain weight.”
“Who said I can’t gain weight?”
Ruby’s eyebrows raised in interest. “I guess I just assumed your metabolism was also unchanging. Plus, I’ve never seen an overweight angel.”
Bloom grinned. “Flying really burns the calories.”
Ruby chuckled. “Did you get my message about Ignatius Hopper?”
“I did. Titterfield looked into it.”
“And?”
“Hopper was in Avalon on the day Bron fell.”
Ruby arched a brow. “You’re sure?”
“He was there with a whole fuffle of werebunnies on their way to the Grand Vegetable Gardens of Golth. They backed up his story.”
Ruby grunted. “Figures. I couldn’t see someone like him pushing another living being to their death.”
“Me neither. It sounds like you got up to some trouble yesterday, though. Care to fill me in?”
Ruby provided quite a rundown of events, so that by the time they reached the bakery at the outer edge of the Emporium, Bloom’s racing thoughts alone might have burned off the calories of another half dozen chocolate croissants.
They ordered their pastries—only one each, plus a sausage wrap for Clifford—and stepped out of the delectably smelling bakery and into the Emporium. While many vendors had already set up their carts for the day, the place was mostly devoid of any shoppers. But it was early on a Thursday, so that was to be expected; those with plans to grab a bite to go or check off their to-do lists on their lunch hour hadn’t yet managed to make a break from their jobs.
Bloom checked the time on the large clock tower. It was only five past eleven. But her eyes remained glued to the clock face as a thought, previously buried under the rubble of her mundane daily tasks, surfaced for air. “What time did you say the play began?”
“Hmm?” The croissant hung half out of Ruby’s mouth as she turned her head then followed Bloom’s eyes up to the clock. She bit off the piece and chewed it hurriedly until she was able to speak around it, though her words were still rather muffled. “E-eh-en i-dy.”
Bloom let her gaze fall back to the quiet Emporium. “Seems like a strange time to start a play. Why not wait until noon?”
Ruby swallowed audibly. “Are you asking me to explain the behavior of actors?”
She wouldn’t dare. “It just seems strange, doesn’t it? An elf falls from a tower and no one sees it because everyone is watching a play that begins at an unusual time.”
“That seems to be the line I’ve heard from everyone I’ve spoken to so far,” Ruby said. “But I follow where you’re leading. You think the play might have been an intentional distraction.”
“A successful one at that.”
Ruby pulled off another flakey piece of pastry and popped it into her mouth. “Then I suppose speaking with the actors might be necessary.”
“First,” Bloom said, “we have to figure out who they are.”
“Oh! I know where to find that!”
Bloom jerked her head around. “You do?”
Ruby nodded. “But you’re going to want to hurry and finish that on the short walk over. You know the Lytefoots don’t allow any outside food.”
Bloom let out an “Ahh…” and nodded. “Of course. The bulletin board.”
It was a shame to rush through something as enjoyable as her chocolate treat, but that was how her life went as sheriff. Sometimes the best parts of her day had to be rushed, and the worst parts dragged on forever…
Chapter Ten
Before Ruby could enter the front door of the Pixie Mixie Apothecary, she felt Bloom’s hand on her shoulder stopping her. She turned, wondering w
hat dire warning the sheriff was just about to deliver. The angel loved dire warnings. She had a flare for the dramatic, that one.
Bloom stared her dead in the eyes, an air of urgency emanating from her large pupils. “Do I have any chocolate on my face?”
Ah. Not a dire warning then. “Just a little, there.” Ruby pointed to a spot above her own lip, and the sheriff wiped the corresponding bit of skin on her face. “No, no,” Ruby said. “A little higher. Just there.”
“Did I get it?” Bloom murmured, her eyes darting around to make sure no one else was witnessing the interaction.
“Yes, all better.”
Bloom rolled her shoulders back, her giant white wings extending slightly before folding again against her back. “Great.” She nodded for Ruby to go ahead and proceed inside.
“Not nice,” Clifford chided.
“What?” Ruby responded defensively.
“There was nothing on her face.”
“I know that. But far be it from me to forfeit an opportunity to provide an angel with a little humility.”
“Good point.”
The bell above the door of the Pixie Mixie jingled as they entered, and Ruby’s Insight bristled. But before she could take a crack at why that might be, they were spotted by Kayleigh Lytefoot.
The pixie was busy helping a customer in the fungus aisle, but she waved and said she’d be with them in a second. The customer, an ogre whom Ruby had seen around town, generally in the seedier parts, clearly noted who had just walked in, and his eyes went wide.
Ah yes. It was so nice to know that she wasn’t the cause of alarm this time. No, an ogre wouldn’t have any issue with a Fifth Wind. But a small-time criminal like the one next to Kayleigh would definitely be wary of the sheriff.
They approached the bulletin board off to the side of the entrance, and Ruby gazed over the various flyers, looking for the proper playbill.
Her eyes jumped from an announcement of free tutoring for Mancer Academy students struggling in aeromancy, to another that announced the grand opening of Eastwind’s first ever all-inclusive spa (Ruby wasn’t sure if that meant it included everything one could want in a spa for a single price, or that it didn’t turn away customers based on creature type). After a handwritten bulletin that simply said, “Meet me behind the entrance to the Parchment Catacombs at midnight. You know who you are!” held her attention for a long moment, Bloom said, “Here we go!” and pointed to a black-and-white sheet of parchment with a wooden thumbtack holding it to the board.
While none of the individual performers were listed, they did discover that the troop was called The Rambling Mummers. Quite a peculiar name, but when Ruby remarked that any group of performers could claim “rambling” in their title and not be wrong, Bloom shot her a look that told her the judgment wasn’t welcome.
The avenging angel had a lot of nerve indicating that. But perhaps she had a point; judging any person of interest based upon something as trivial as a troop name wasn’t helpful in an investigation.
“It says there’s another performance today. Same time,” Bloom said, pointing to the information. “Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. This week only.” She grinned. “What do you say, catch a show with me in a few?”
Ruby groaned. “I suppose it could be helpful. At least we can speak with the troop leader afterward.”
Ruby glanced down at the flyer again. If she knew anything about the way actors’ egos functioned, the leader of The Rambling Mummers would also be the star of the production, and that was likely to be the woman whose sketched image adorned the very center of the playbill. Her round fairy face was almost childlike, but that was par for the course with her kind. While the image was in black and white, the plumpness of the fairy’s lips led Ruby to believe she would regularly wear a shocking crimson lipstick to draw even more attention to her main facial feature. Meanwhile, the fairy’s eyes were nothing to write home about, just little beady things, each disappearing under a thick curtain of undoubtedly fake eyelashes.
No, if they succeeded in pinning down this woman for a word, it wouldn’t be the highlight of Ruby’s day. And not just because it had stiff competition against the chocolate croissant.
The ogre finished his transaction with Kayleigh and scurried out of the store, avoiding eye contact with both Ruby and Bloom as he went. He ambled with a slight hunch, like he was trying to conceal what he’d just bought, but it was tricky to be sure, since ogres were always a little hunched by nature.
“A word, Kayleigh?” asked the sheriff.
The pixie fluttered over, and they met her halfway. Her wings beat rapidly, but the rest of her demeanor spoke of a calm confidence. Kayleigh, with her waist-length flowing golden hair and regally sloped nose, was outstandingly beautiful, and if the woman had not also had wings and been all of three feet tall, Ruby might have felt a slight tinge of jealousy. But as it was, they weren’t competing for any of the same men. In fact, not only was it never actually a competition between women like the menfolk often wanted them to believe, but she and Kayleigh weren’t even both competing for men. Kayleigh had long ago settled down with her partner, Stella, and the two of them showed no romantic interest in anyone else—male, female, or otherwise.
Years ago, while Ruby was still in the tumult of her doomed relationship with Ezra Ares, she’d asked Kayleigh how she’d known Stella was the one she wanted to spend her life with. The conversation took an unexpected turn when Kayleigh explained that it wasn’t so much that she was never interested in men, just that if she was committing the rest of her life to a single person, she couldn’t see the sense in making it a man. Pixies were long-lifers, and she’d rather spend hundreds of years with a woman. Also, she’d gone on to say, she did love Stella like no one she’d ever met. And once Ruby had gotten to know the reclusive and science-minded Stella better, she could understand why.
Ruby had never told Kayleigh, or anyone for that matter, how much that conversation had changed the course of her life. Because at the time, she’d actually been considering the option Ezra had presented her of stopping the aging process along with him, so the two of them could not grow old together. Did she want to not grow old together with a man?
The prospect did seem a bit tedious. She had very few friends and had always felt more herself in the company of other women—Clifford excluded.
The heart-to-heart with Kayleigh long ago hadn’t necessarily made the decision for her on what to do about Ezra, but maybe, just maybe, the compelling argument had been the speck of dust that tipped the scales.
“Is anyone else in the store?” Bloom asked.
Kayleigh shook her head. “Official business, then?”
“Sort of. Do you know anything about the actors involved in this play?” she held out the flyer that she’d pulled from the wall.
The pixie inspected it for a moment, then looked up, a suspicious grin on her face. “Why would I know about this? You think faes all hang out together?”
Bloom’s lips pressed into a thin line as Ruby stifled a laugh.
“Of course I don’t think that,” Bloom chided. “But you see people come in and out of here all day and—”
Kayleigh held up a delicate hand. “I know, I know, Sheriff. I’m just giving you a hard time.” She paused and looked at the flyer again before continuing. “They’re fairies. Pixies and fairies don’t get on well. Not that I have a bias against them, but I would assume they’d have one against me.”
Ruby decided to step in. She generally did this whenever a strange cultural nuance was hinted at. Although Bloom had been around for a while, there were still plenty of things regarding the different groups that the angel hadn’t learned. Meanwhile, Ruby was a relative newcomer, and it required swallowing much less pride for her to inquire further into things like this than it would the sheriff. So she said, “I’m not familiar with this animosity. Why wouldn’t fairies like pixies?”
Kayleigh sighed. “It’s just a holdover from Fallia, our home realm. We’r
e all fae, so I don’t personally see why the details matter, but back home, what type of fae you were made all the difference to how you were treated. The elves run everything, even though they constitute the smallest subset of fae. They’re the tallest and the strongest, and so”—she shrugged— “you know how it goes. I believe ogres are technically fae, but they left the realm long ago and never looked back. I don’t blame them.”
“But the fairies and pixies?”
“Right. The two underclasses. Anytime the elves felt like they might be losing their power, they would launch subtle campaigns to turn the fairies and the pixies against one another. It was all propaganda, but the elves were great at it.”
Bloom nodded solemnly. “Can’t have an uprising if the underclasses are busy fighting among themselves.”
“Precisely,” said Kayleigh. “That’s all it was. But after millennia of it, people started to actually believe it deep in the fiber of their beings. That was just one of the many reasons Stella and I decided to relocate to Eastwind.”
Ruby said, “It’s not always better here.”
Kayleigh smiled politely. “It’s always better here. Even when it’s at its worst.”
“So you haven’t heard anything about the performance?” Bloom prompted again.
“Only that it’s engrossing.”
Bloom frowned. “Right. We’ve heard that.”
“Over and over again,” Ruby added.
After thanking Kayleigh for her time, they made for the Emporium. It seemed that watching the play had become an inevitable part of this investigation, no matter how little desire Ruby had to subject herself to it.
“I had a thought,” she said as the first sliver of the Emporium came into view between buildings down the road.
“That’s always a good sign,” replied Bloom.
“So far, no one we’ve spoken to who was in the Emporium that day saw Bron Danann fall because they all had their backs to the clock and were facing the stage.”
