The Minstrel & The Beagle

by Lila K Bell

  After Troy was called away for another order, I leaned in close to Ryan so no one nearby would hear me. “Thank you for your help. I know I wouldn’t have been able to make the last leap without you.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said, tapping his pint glass against my tumbler. “And I’m impressed.”

  “That I managed to piece it all together?” I asked.

  “That,” he said, “and that you didn’t steal the boat.”

  I laughed and gave him a shove, which sent him sliding off his stool. Before he had a chance to resettle, I grabbed it out from under him and planted my weight, giving him a wink in return.

  He rolled his eyes, but made no move to boot me off, apparently happy to stand close by, the warmth of him comfortable against my arm.

  When I finished my second drink, he nudged the glass out of the way. “Next one’s on me, little singer,” he said. “For a job well done.”

  I started at the endearment. Was it coincidence? A reference to my getting Coleman’s murderer to talk? Or was he revealing the fact that my other mask wasn’t as much of a secret as I believed it to be?

  But when I caught his eye, there was nothing in his gaze but a smile, so I relaxed and smiled back.

  Troy set two beers down in front of us, and Ryan raised his glass. I clinked mine against his and caught his eye.

  My heart jumped into my throat.

  Yes, I was happy just to have him in my life for the little moments like this — but maybe, just maybe, I’d leave room for the possibility of something more.

  18

  The next morning, I slept in later than I had in years. There was nothing I had to do, no drive to get me moving, so I lounged in bed and finished a book I’d started weeks ago and hadn’t had time to read.

  My growling stomach eventually convinced me to get up and get dressed. Even after two showers and too many drinks last night, I still felt cold from my stormy swim and couldn’t wait to get to the gym to work up a sweat. Anything to get the lake water out of my pores.

  When I finally made it to the kitchen, I took my time warming up a bowl of soup, scanning through the front pages of the newspaper to see how well Detective Curtis had kept her word.

  Very well, it seemed. I hadn’t been mentioned anywhere in the black-and-white print, and the storm had aided her discretion by keeping the press away. According to the story, Roger had been found at his boat thanks to an anonymous tip. Although he’d been reluctant to speak with the police, he’d finally confessed to the murder of Barnaby Coleman.

  Mention of On the Origin of Species had been left out of the article as well, which I found interesting. As far as I was concerned, the loss of the book was the centre of this entire tragedy. I believed Roger could have coped with being scammed for any other possession, but Coleman had taken him for the one thing he valued above everything else.

  It was a classic example of the people you love best being the only people who can really destroy you.

  A good warning against letting anyone get too close.

  Something my mother would no doubt take to heart when Gramps shared the bad news with her later that he had adopted a dog. I assumed the grand reveal hadn’t happened yet — I hadn’t been woken up with shouts of horror.

  Frankly, I was glad we hadn’t had to give Charles — Charlie, and Gramps was determined to call him — back. The poor pup had watched his owner get killed and been abandoned by the person who should have taken responsibility for him. All in all, barking aside, he was a good dog, and I wasn’t against getting to know him better. I doubted we’d ever be besties, but who knew — there was always the possibility the dog could nose his way into my heart.

  I set the paper aside and took my lunch to the dining table. I managed to get one bite in before the doorbell rang. With a groan, I pushed out of my chair and headed to the front door.

  On opening it and finding Sam on the front porch, I stepped back. My thoughts rushed with worries that Curtis had changed her mind about following up with me. Had I left evidence behind after all? Was she going to slam me with the hundred robberies that had taken place under her reign and that of her predecessor?

  It was only when my rational brain clued in that Sam was in civilian clothes and not in uniform that I relaxed. His blond hair was windblown and touched with rain. I’d woken to the sun streaming in through my windows, but at some point the sky had darkened again.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said, hoping my surprise justified my momentary speechlessness. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you mind if we come in for a minute?” he asked.

  “We?” I asked.

  After my run in with Curtis, my brain was still working on overdrive for the little details.

  Sam stepped aside to reveal a young woman standing behind him. She was wearing large headphones over her dyed black hair, and all of her focus was on the phone in her hands, her thumb scrolling through a timeline. The sleeves of her cargo coat stretched past her fingers and the bottom dropped down past the hem of her short skirt. Her leggings bore black-and-white skulls, which complemented the black coffin on her vibrant purple T-shirt.

  I placed her around sixteen years old with absolutely zero interest in being here.

  It was only when I placed her age that I recognized Sam’s younger sister, Sybil. I hadn’t seen her since she was two years old, running around the backyard of the Robinson house in a T-shirt and not much else because she refused to put on pants. I doubted she’d want me bringing that memory to mind.

  “Sure,” I said, thinking of my soup getting cold on the table. “I was just about to sit down for lunch. Did you want anything?”

  “No, thanks,” Sam said. “We won’t be long. I have a favour to ask you.”

  I eyed him warily as they came into the house. Sybil cast a cursory glance around her new surroundings, but I guessed it was more to check for anything she might trip on than actual interest because a moment later, she returned her attention to her phone.

  I led them through to the dining room and sat down at the table, though I left my soup untouched.

  “Also, while I’m here,” Sam said, pulling out the chair beside me while Sybil dropped into the one at the far end, “Curtis has decided you’re not interesting enough to pursue. I don’t think she believes your story about your after-hours jog, but she’s willing to let it go. For now.”

  I widened my eyes, the picture of innocence. “What does she think I do with my evenings? Roam around quiet neighbourhoods waiting for people to be murdered?”

  Sam arched an eyebrow. “Whatever your reasons, just make sure they don’t get you into any more trouble.”

  “If it wasn’t for me, you never would have caught Roger. He would have been at the bottom of Lake Ontario before you came up with enough evidence to bring him in.”

  “Maybe,” Sam said, nodding, “and we’re grateful for your help, but I hope it ends here. You’re not a detective, Fi. You’re not even a trainee. Leave the crime-solving to the professionals, all right?”

  I shrugged but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t about to make promises I didn’t know I could keep.

  “I know you’re bored,” Sam said. “You always have been. You were the one who refused to stay in school because you’d already finished the homework assignments weeks ahead of schedule. How many classes did I skip because you convinced me there was something more exciting to do?”

  “Wasn’t there?” I asked, smiling at the memories his words evoked.

  “Sure,” he said, “and I only just dragged myself through graduation and almost couldn’t get into the police foundations program.”

  I’d forgotten about that.

  “That’s why I’m here. If you need a new project, then I have one for you.”

  He nodded his head toward his sister, and a jolt of fear ran through me. “Sybil?”

  At the sound of her name, she looked up, and Sam gestured for her to turn off her music. She rolled her eyes and
slid her headphones around her neck.

  “Her teachers say she should diversify her interests. She’s a smart kid who knows computers better than anyone else in her school, but they can’t get her to pay attention to anything else for longer than thirty seconds at a time. You’re someone who knows how to keep herself busy, so I’m hoping you might take her under your wing.”

  “And do… what?” I asked, glancing in Sybil’s direction. The young woman was focused intently on the table top. I worried that in another few moments it might catch fire.

  “Teach her skills. Get her out of the house. Anything. You’ve got the time, Sybil has the need, and I think it’ll be good for both of you. It’ll keep you from sticking your nose into things you shouldn’t.”

  I hesitated. I didn’t have much experience with kids of any age, but if Sybil was anything like me at sixteen, I wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of handful. Already I appreciated her independence and unwillingness to do what other people told her to do, but that’s because it was SEP. Someone Else’s Problem.

  Sam cleared his throat, and I looked his way. He wore a hint of a smile, but otherwise his expression was grim. “Doing this will also guarantee my silence.”

  “Your what?”

  “There were two masked people in the neighbourhood that night, Fi. That’s one thing Coleman’s neighbour told me. One of them went through the front door, the other over the back fence. You were already in the house when I got there, and I’m going to guess one of them was you. I know you didn’t take anything — or even if you went with the intention of taking anything — but I know.”

  My tongue grew uncomfortable in my mouth, picking up every ridge and bump around my teeth.

  “Just hang out together for a few weeks. We’ll give it a trial run. What do you say?” He paused. “You have to admit, it’s better than a possible prison sentence.”

  I cast him a narrowed sidelong glance. “That’s blackmail.”

  He grinned. “Come on, you know you still love me.”

  Although I didn’t actually think Sam would follow through on his threat, he was right that I did owe him a huge favour. In the scheme of things, what he was asking was pretty small. Besides, I’d said to myself just last night that I was looking for a new adventure. While this was far from what I’d had in mind, maybe it would the challenge I needed to keep myself busy.

  “All right, Sam,” I said. “I’ll spend some girl time with Sybil. Who knows, it might even be fun.”

  Sybil raised her gaze to meet mine, and in her stare I knew we were both on the same page: neither of us were looking forward to this.

  The Minstrel &

  The Masquerade

  The Midnight Minstrel Mysteries Book 2

  Happy Birthday! Have a murder.

  Fiona’s Alice in Wonderland-themed birthday masquerade turns deadly when a local divorce attorney is found poisoned at the bottom of the stairs.

  Who would have the nerve to commit murder in a packed ballroom?

  Who, among the dozens of people who hated the woman, had motive enough to kill her?

  It’s not the birthday gift Fiona would have asked for, but with the puzzle laid out before her, she’s ready to jump down the rabbit hole to discover the murderer behind the mask.

  Hopefully before anyone else takes a tumble.

  Get it now

  THANK YOU FOR READING

  Thank you so much for picking up this book and giving it a chance.

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I can't believe the day is finally here!

  I fell in love with mystery stories when I was about ten years old and my father bought me my first Nancy Drew novel.

  Ever since, I've grown addicted to the likes of Agatha Christie. Father Brown, Miss Fisher Mysteries, and Midsomer Murders are frequent background noise in our house — and I never get tired of trying to guess whodunit.

  I am so grateful to my husband and my parents for their endless support, and to you, my new readers. I look forward to going on this adventure with you and see how many mysteries we can unravel along the way.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lila K. Bell is never as happy as when she's devising clever ways to commit crimes and reverse engineering how to solve them. She loves going for long walks to feed her imagination, reading mysterious plots into the most innocent interactions.

  She currently lives in Ottawa, Ontario with her husband.

  You can connect via her website:

  www.lilakbell.com

  Find her on Facebook:

  Www.facebook.com/LilaKBellAuthor