Good, because he’s a little scary.
“I thought you said he was a knucklehead,” I said.
The sheriff peered at me. “Who’s a knucklehead?”
I chewed my lip. “Um, whoever the actual thief is, obviously.”
Sheriff Nash shot me a quizzical look before deciding to let it go. “Have a good night, Rose. Try to keep out of trouble.”
I tried to salute him without dropping the carrier. “I’ll do my best. Thanks.”
Chapter 4
There was only one thing to do, and that was help clear my familiar’s name. PP3 and I walked Marley to the middle school like we usually did and then I walked the dog home before meeting Raoul in the woods. We decided to pay a visit to the Whitethorn and see what we could find out about the missing golden chalice.
The Whitethorn was one of the oldest establishments in town—a pub located near Fairy Cove and the Lighthouse. It was often said that patrons could feel ancient magic in the air there.
“Your claws are digging into my shoulder,” I complained, as we prepared to enter the pub. “Can’t you stay still for two seconds?”
Sorry, I’m not used to using human flesh as a perch, he replied. Forgive me if I don’t know the etiquette.
“The etiquette is don’t hurt me,” I snapped. I pushed open the door to the Whitethorn and stepped inside. The pub had a thatched roof and a rounded wooden door, which gave it a very distinctive Lord of the Rings flavor. Part of me wished I’d find Frodo and Gandalf seated on stools together, chugging pints.
The shriek of a parrot greeted us. “Bar the doors. It’s the washing-bear.”
I whirled around, nearly knocking Raoul to the ground. “Where’s a bear?” I asked in a panic.
“On your shoulder,” the patriot cried.
I froze. “Bittersteel, what’s a washing-bear?”
It’s me, Raoul said. It’s an old name for a raccoon. The Germans still refer to us as Waschbären.”
Duncan, or Captain Yellowjacket as he was also known, emerged from the back room. “What’s all the fuss out here?” His gaze alighted on us. “Evenin’, Miss Rose. Mind telling me why you’ve brought that filthy criminal back into my establishment?”
“Because he’s not the thief,” I said. “And I need to help him prove it.” Raoul scampered down from my shoulder and sat on a barstool, widening his eyes to make them appear as innocent as possible.
“He was seen with the treasure,” Captain Yellowjacket said, flashing his vampire fangs. “I don’t see how he’s not the thief.”
“Raoul is my familiar,” I said. “And if he tells me he’s innocent, then I believe him.”
The captain blinked. “Your familiar, you say?”
“That’s right,” I said. “Turns out he’s been living around Rose Cottage, waiting for me to return.” And stealing food from unsuspecting victims in the meantime.
Captain Yellowjacket inclined his head. “So you’ve come for information then.”
“We have. I need to know what happened so I can try and find the real culprit.”
“Why don’t you let your boyfriend handle that?” the parrot squawked.
I bristled. “The sheriff is not my boyfriend.”
Captain Yellowjacket glanced at his companion. “That’s right, Bittersteel. She prefers the vampire. Shows good judgment on her part.”
I knew he meant Alec. “I don’t prefer anybody. Where do you hear this nonsense?”
“I run a pub,” the captain said. “Where do you think I hear it?”
I leaned my elbows on the counter. “So let’s assume I’m right, and Raoul is innocent. Can you think of anyone else who may have had access to the cellar recently?”
“The sheriff’s naughty brother,” Bittersteel squawked. “Very naughty.”
Yes, the whole town knew about naughty Wyatt Nash. “What about him?”
Captain Yellowjacket wiped down the counter as he spoke. “I caught him in an unauthorized area here last week, near the time I noticed the chalice was missing.”
Great. Now the sheriff’s brother was implicated. That didn’t create a conflict of interest at all. Sheriff Nash would think I was throwing his brother under the bus to get Raoul off the hook.
“Thanks for the help,” I said.
Chapter 5
“Good morning, everyone,” I said, sailing into the offices of Vox Populi, the weekly newspaper owned by my aunt and my place of employment. It was, by far, the best job I ever had. Since my last job as a repo agent almost got me killed, the bar wasn’t very high.
“What’s with the Pollyanna routine?” Bentley said. Bentley was the associate editor and his antagonistic ways made the elf seem like the brother I never had.
I balked. “All I said was good morning.”
“And normally you grunt,” Bentley replied.
“Well, today I have big, important news,” I said. I plonked down in the chair at my desk, next to Bentley.
The elf pretended to examine me. “The unibrow is now an acceptable feminine trait?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Keep it up, Bentley, and I’ll find a new hiding spot for my wand.” I cleared my throat. “I now have a familiar.”
Tanya, the office manager, fluttered in front of my desk, eager to hear the news. “A familiar, did you say? Well, that is big news. How did it happen?”
Did I want to portray my familiar in a negative light? Probably not wise with this bunch. “At the cottage.”
“How is PP3 handling it?” the fairy asked. “Is he fond of cats?”
I hesitated. “To be honest, PP3 hasn’t been introduced to him yet.”
“Him?” Bentley repeated. “I assumed your familiar would be female.”
“Apparently, it doesn’t always work that way,” I said.
“What’s his name?” Tanya asked. “Maybe I’ll knit him a monogrammed onesie.”
“You don’t need to go to any trouble,” I said, with a dismissive wave of my hand. Somehow, I couldn’t picture Raoul in a knitted onesie.
“What kind of cat is it?” Bentley asked. “All black, I bet.”
I pressed my lips together, debating how much to reveal.
“Not a cat at all, apparently,” a velvety voice said. “He is a raccoon called Raoul.”
“Good morning, Alec,” I said to the editor-in-chief. He appeared behind us like the stealth vampire ninja that he was. “And how do you know this already?”
He gave a nearly imperceptible shrug. “I am the editor of Vox Populi. It is my job to know things.”
I frowned. “Sheriff Nash told you, didn’t he? I bet you all had a good laugh about it down at The Wishing Well.”
Alec’s sensual lips twitched. “Actually, it was Deputy Bolan and, yes, we found the situation highly amusing. How has your aunt taken this turn of events? Not in stride, I would imagine.”
“She’ll recover,” I said haughtily and squared my shoulders. “And I suppose Deputy Bolan also told you my familiar has been accused of a heinous crime.”
“Theft of treasure from the Whitethorn,” Alec said. “I believe that was also mentioned.”
Bentley burst into laughter. “So your familiar is a rodent criminal?” He slapped his thigh. “This is too good to be true.”
I pinched Bentley’s thigh. Hard. “Do not make fun of Raoul. He’s innocent.” Of this crime, at least.
Alec folded his arms, drawing my attention to his broad, firm chest. Ugh. Stupid perfectly sculpted vampire body. “And let me hasten a guess? You would like to investigate the crime and track down the real thief in order to clear your familiar’s name?”
“That about sums it up,” I replied.
“Very well then,” Alec said. “Bentley will assist you.”
Bentley’s round eyes bulged. “I will?”
“I don’t need any help, thank you,” I said. “You’ll need Bentley to cover the annual yodeling competition, or whatever lame event is happening around town today.”
“Now, my
darlings,” Tanya said in her most soothing tone. “Before this ends in fisticuffs, let’s agree that Bentley’s beat is far more interesting than yodeling competitions.”
I organized my desk before hefting my handbag over my shoulder. “I only came in to pick up a few things. I’m heading into the field to interview the first suspect.”
Alec cocked an eyebrow. “And who might that be?”
“Captain Yellowjacket said that he’d caught a patron in the Whitethorn in an unauthorized area. I’d like to speak to this patron in private.”
Alec examined me closely. “Why are you hiding the patron’s identity?”
I wore an innocent expression. “I’m not. I just like the word ‘patron.’ Is that a crime?”
“You’ll report your findings?” Alec asked.
“If they turn out to be relevant,” I said. Otherwise, I was keeping my big mouth shut for once. I didn’t need to get on the sheriff’s bad side. I already walked a fine line with him, despite our obvious attraction.
“Good luck, Miss Rose,” Alec said. He never called me anything other than Miss Rose. I thought of it as an affectation, whereas my daughter insisted it was Alec’s way of keeping emotional distance from me. She was a budding armchair psychologist, that Marley.
I pushed back my chair and stood. “Thanks, boss. Hopefully, I’ll have a good story for the paper soon enough.”
Bentley snorted. “That’d be a first.”
I gave him a swift kick under the desk on my way out.
Chapter 6
I located Wyatt Nash on Balefire Beach, toasting marshmallows with a petite young woman. Her blond hair was beauty pageant-ready, teased and sprayed within an inch of its life. Why she would go to such trouble for an afternoon at the beach, I had no idea.
“Look who it is,” Wyatt said, his lopsided grin reminding me of his brother. “The newest and most favored Rose in Starry Hollow.”
I slipped out of my shoes and let the sand warm the soles of my feet. “I don’t know about most favored. That label could easily be slapped on Aster or Florian.”
“Slapped,” Wyatt repeated. “Yes, that’s a word I like to associate with both of them.” As the womanizing ex-husband of Linnea Rose-Muldoon, Wyatt’s relationship with the rest of the Rose-Muldoon clan was fractured at best. He was, however, the father of Linnea’s two children and a necessary part of their lives.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” I asked.
Wyatt glanced at his companion and I quickly realized that he’d forgotten her name. Hahaha. This was gonna be good.
“She’s a modern woman,” Wyatt said, grasping at straws. “She can introduce herself. And here I thought you were some kind of feminist, Ember.”
Damn, he was slick. His companion gave me a vacant smile. “I’m Bonnie.”
“Nice to meet you, Bonnie. Do you mind if I have a word with Wyatt in private?” I asked.
“Sure thing.” She handed me a stick with a browned marshmallow on the end. “Have a bite. They’re delicious.”
“Thanks.” I sucked the marshmallow off the end, careful not to actually touch anything except the marshmallow with my teeth. I didn’t love the idea of picking up germs from Wyatt and Bonnie.
Wyatt and I walked to the water’s edge and I let my feet sink into the wet sand.
“What’s the deal?” Wyatt asked. “Looking for my blessing to date my brother?”
I bristled. “Absolutely not. I’m here on official business.”
Wyatt laughed. “You don’t have to act so outraged. Everybody knows you’re hot for each other.”
I balled my fists. “We are not…Forget it.” I shook my head. “Captain Yellowjacket tells me that you were found in an unauthorized area of the Whitethorn the other night. Can you tell me what you were up to?”
Wyatt glanced over his shoulder at Bonnie, who was busy burning her marshmallow to the point of melting it. He lowered his voice. “I wasn’t alone, if that gives you any indication.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you weren’t.” I shifted my gaze toward Bonnie. “And I suppose you weren’t with her either.”
“Nope. A siren called Shayla. She works at Starry Hollow Music Center.”
Of course she did. “Do I need to ask what you two were doing in the unauthorized area?”
Wyatt wiggled his eyebrows. “Only if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Did you meet her in the pub?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. She lured me back there, that seductive temptress.”
I inclined my head. “She was already in the back area?”
“No, we met at the bar. I got her another drink and when I turned around, she was gone. I caught sight of her in the back room, beckoning to me.” He adjusted his belt. “Wasn’t like I’m the kind of werewolf to refuse a lady.”
“How generous of you.” His self-proclaimed generosity was the reason he was now divorced from Linnea. “Did you notice anything unusual about her? Any bulges where there shouldn’t have been?”
He eyed me suspiciously. “What are you suggesting? That I like chicks with…?”
I waved him off. “No, no. Not that. Like maybe she had a golden chalice stuffed into her pants. If she stole the treasure, maybe she used you as a diversion to get out of there unnoticed, or at least noticed for a different reason.”
Wyatt looked thoughtful. “It’s possible. I can’t say I paid much attention to what my hands were doing. I was too busy…”
I held up a hand. “Thank you, Wyatt,” I interjected. “I don’t need to hear anymore.”
Chapter 7
This was my first visit to Starry Hollow Music Center. The building was located in the center of town, not far from the art gallery where I was once attacked by oversized fruit with teeth. Long story.
The place was relatively quiet for a music center, most likely due to the time of day. Students were still in school. I walked up to the reception desk and tapped the triangle. I had a sudden flashback to first grade when I ‘played’ the triangle in a school parade. At the time, I thought it was the best instrument ever.
“Hello there,” a sultry voice said. “Are you interested in music lessons?”
I turned around and was met with a gorgeous woman with auburn locks that cascaded down past her hips. “Hi. Are you Shayla?”
“I am.” She tilted her head. “I bet you’re here to sing, aren’t you? You look like you’ve got a bit of a drama queen in you. Come with me and we’ll see what you can do.”
“Wait…” Before I knew it, I found myself standing beside a piano in the main room of the music center. Shayla sat down on the bench and began to play a familiar tune.
“Sing along,” she encouraged.
My mouth popped open as though I’d been waiting for this moment my entire life. Shayla’s voice mingled with mine, creating a beautiful harmony. What was happening? I didn’t come here to sing. I came here to…My mind went blank. Why was I here again?
“That was lovely,” Shayla said, once we finished. “You have a nice voice. You should definitely be developing it.”
“Really?” Marley usually cowered in fear when I sang along to the radio, especially when it was 80’s or 90’s music. She considered my voice a punishment.
“Absolutely. The raw talent is there, waiting to be tapped. You don’t want to waste your potential. My parents were firm believers in that.”
“Raw talent? How about that?” Now that the music stopped, my head started to clear. “Thanks for the compliment, but that’s not why I’m here.” I felt like an idiot, breaking into song instead of asking tough questions. Some investigative journalist I was. “I wanted to ask you about your recent visit to the Whitethorn.”
Shayla tapped a few random keys and hummed along. “What about it? I love it there. Very atmospheric. And Bittersteel is a hoot. Who doesn’t love a smutty parrot?”
“Captain Yellowjacket says that he kicked Wyatt Nash out of an unauthorized area, and Wy
att says you were with him. What were you doing there?”
She offered a demure smile. “I think you already know. Wyatt likes to talk as much as he likes to…do other things.”
“Do you know that treasure went missing from Duncan’s collection?” I asked. I watched her closely to gauge her reaction.
She shrugged. “I’m not surprised. I’ve always felt he should do a better job of securing it. You can’t rely on ghost stories to keep people away. That’s not ideal security.”
“So you were aware of the existence of the treasure?” I asked.
“Of course. Isn’t everyone?” She smiled demurely. “Doesn’t mean I took it, though. I have a nice business here. Why would I need to steal from the Whitethorn?”
Good question. I had no idea. “Now that I’m here, my daughter might be interested in music lessons.”
“Oh? Which instrument?”
“I’d say guitar, but I’ll check with her first and let you know.” I glanced around the quiet room. “Are you the sole owner?”
“No, I operate it with my sister, Delphine. She’s not here until after three o’clock. That’s our busy time.”
“Good to know. I’ll get back to you about my daughter.”
Shayla wagged a finger at me. “Don’t neglect yourself. You should be honing your own talent as well. It’s never too late.”
I laughed. “Is that your polite way of saying I’m old?”
“Not at all,” Shayla replied. “You have an inner diva. You should let her out once in a while.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” I figured there were several people who would disagree with her on that score, but she didn’t need to know that.
Chapter 8
Sunday dinners at Thornhold were sacrosanct. Aunt Hyacinth expected the entire Rose-Muldoon brood in attendance, barring any life-threatening situation. Even then, she’d probably expect you to be wheeled in on a gurney. Since Marley and I lived in the cottage on the grounds of the estate, we couldn’t easily avoid the weekly event. Not that I minded, really. It was the one meal of the week my picky daughter was sure to plow through. Aunt Hyacinth had a knack for choosing the right meals.
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