“Yip! Yip Yip Yip!”
Ah yes... Blueberry Muffin. “What is it?” I whispered sleepily.
“Yip! Yip Yip!”
I figured maybe she had to pee. I was in need of a lavatory, myself.
I gathered her into my arms and together we emerged from my van. Once I clipped the little yipper to her leash and set her down, I stretched my arms up to the sky while giving a big, sleepy yawn. Blueberry trotted off, and I followed, figuring she was going to go search for a bathroom.
As we walked through the woods, a soft hoot from above alerted me to Skili’s presence.
While Blueberry searched for the perfect pee spot, I filled Skili in on the situation with The Miser.
“We must research him,” Skili advised. “On the magical web.”
Blueberry finally found the perfect patch of moss to do her business on, and then the three of us headed to a stream. I’d learned months ago about scrying, which was the art of foretelling the future by peering into a reflective surface. Skili taught me that I could not only access the future (which she advised strongly against), but also records of the past. She taught me how to access the collection of information known as the Record Keeper Reviews, which was a bit like the Akashic Records but more up to date.
I trailed my finger across the water’s reflective surface, and easily navigated my way to a whole slew of information about The Miser, King Midas, and their relatives. I scrolled through pages of information, feeling sleepier by the minute. “I need some tea,” I said after about twenty minutes of this. My legs were feeling stiff, since I’d been squatting on the stream’s shore in order to read all the info. “This is pretty boring stuff. Let’s get going and we can come back to this another time.”
“Hold on,” Skili demanded fiercely.
I had no choice but to do as she said.
She pointed a wing at the stream’s surface. “This is interesting. Look—it’s information about King Midas and The Miser’s mother.”
“So?” I said. I scanned the text that rippled across the reflective plane of water. It described the mother’s life in detail. Seeing as King Midas was so well known, his mother was a figure of public interest as well. The article about her described some of the activities she took part in, such as golf, a bridge club, and a museum’s board of advisors. It also went into lengthy detail about her most notable contributions to society. For example, it seemed she’d rallied her town to renovate a park, and had also spearheaded several other community improvement projects.
“She’s very involved with town stuff,” I said. “Good for her.” I shifted my weight so that I could stand.
“Good for her?” Skili said. “Child, you’re not reading closely enough. Look at the opinions she holds. Read between the lines.”
I read over the text again, this time slower. “She was on a committee that was trying to get elves banned from a section of town. And it looks like she’s very vocal about the necessity of having a town curfew so that nocturnal creatures can’t run about at night. That seems a little strange to me. Then there’s this whole thing about how all shifters should be required to have paperwork so other beings can identify them. She gave that quote about how shifters are dishonest and dangerous. Seems kind of mean to make a generalization like that.”
Skili nodded. “She’s afraid of beings that are different than she is,” she said.
“Yikes,” I said. “That’s too bad. I bet it was hard for King Midas and The Miser to grow up with her if she was always so discriminating towards beings who were different.”
Skili’s golden eyes flashed. “Either that, or they simply accepted her views as their own. That happens sometimes, too.”
“Hm,” I said. “Food for thought. But now I need some food for eating. Come on, let’s go get breakfast.”
I stood, and the stream once again looked like dark blue-green water running over rounded stones.
An hour and one tofu scramble later, all of us were ready for the day. With Blueberry appropriately dressed in a pink bow to match her pink leash, and me in my favorite tie dyed pants, tank top, and vest, and Skili on my shoulder, we headed toward the center.
I helped myself to a second breakfast off of the magical buffet center, and some more tea, though I’d already downed a cup back at my campsite. Around 7:30, guests started to trickle in, one or two at a time.
I figured I’d start my day of investigating by talking to whichever member of King Midas’ entourage happened to show up first. Briefly, I wondered if Hal’s strange behavior the night before earned him a spot on my suspect list. I was embarrassed to admit to myself that I wanted it to—because I wanted the chance to talk to him one on one again.
If Hal comes down those stairs, I thought as I looked up toward the third story, I’m going to talk to him. I’m going to ask him if he was lying to me last night, and why. I have to. I’m investigating a murder, for unicorn’s sake.
However, it was not Hal who descended the stairs to the lobby first. It was Polly.
She wore a green velour hoodie, and had matching green barrettes nestled in her frizzy hair. Her eyes had dark circles under them, just as they had the day before. I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t travel that had worn her out so much the day before. Maybe she always looks this tired, I thought. Or maybe she’s missing sleep because of guilt. When she neared the buffet table, which I was standing next to, Blueberry pulled as if she wanted to run right up to Polly.
I wasn’t sure if Blueberry wanted to nip her ankles, or lick her. Either way, I figured it would be best to keep Blueberry away from Polly, so I shortened her leash by wrapping it around my hand a few times.
Then I refilled my mug with hot water and steeped a chai tea bag as I waited for Polly to help herself to a cup of coffee.
Once she’d sipped it a few times, I approached her. “The quiche is delicious. I highly recommend it,” I said.
“Your dog is giving me a look,” Polly said with a nervous frown.
I checked on Blueberry, and she really was staring at Polly with her eyes more bugged out than usual. She continued to strain against her leash as if she wanted to run right up to Polly. Then she let out a series of rapid-fire barks.
I waited until the barking subsided. Since Blueberry wasn’t my dog, I didn’t feel comfortable reprimanding her for making such a ruckus so early in the morning, inside, no less. I was glad for a moment that my familiar didn’t have the type of vocal cords that barked. I was also happy that Skili had the good sense not to let out loud hoots inside.
“She’s actually not mine,” I said. “I’m taking care of her for my friend Cora, who’s traveling at the moment. Cora is wonderful with the budget, just like The Miser is great with numbers, too. Is it true that The Miser handles the King’s gold?”
Polly stiffened and appraised me warily. Apparently, my segue wasn’t as smooth as I’d hoped. “Yes,” she said finally. “Though I don’t see why that’s any concern of yours.”
“I’m sorry if I seem nosy,” I said. “But it is a concern of mine because—” I looked around. No one was paying attention to us. I lowered my voice. “Because a man was killed yesterday, in town.”
“I heard,” she said. “It sounds very unfortunate, but it has nothing to do with me.”
I took a deep breath. “Again, I’m really sorry. But I actually think it might have something to do with you, Polly. I think that the real person the killer was after was your brother-in-law, The Miser. And I think his life is still in danger.”
She paled.
I went on. “So I just want to have breakfast with you and talk over a few things, if it’s alright with you.”
She helped herself to some quiche, and nodded. “Fine,” she said. “But I can’t talk for long. I promised King Midas that I would bring him a cup of coffee, and I’m sure he’s waiting for me.”
She followed Blueberry and me over to an out-of-the-way table and chairs. Blueberry kept jumping around and trying to skitter over tow
ard Polly, who looked down warily. I couldn’t believe that Polly had a dog. She did not seem like a dog person at all, though Blueberry seemed so excited about her.
I gave Blue one of the little bones that Cora had packed in an attempt to calm her down. It worked! Blueberry Muffin laid down with the bone between her two front paws, and started gnawing on it, which gave me the opportunity to jump into questioning Polly.
“How did you find out about the murder in town?” I asked.
“The Miser stopped by our suite yesterday evening, right after he returned home,” Polly told me. “He said that a man was killed in the chair next to him at the bar, while wearing that dreadful top hat. The Miser is sure it was an attempt on his life. He was upset, so of course my husband was upset, too.”
“Are they very close, your husband and his brother?” I asked.
“Extremely close.” She rolled her eyes. “Ever since the initial troubles with food. The decree only made it worse.”
“What trouble with food?”
“Surely you know the legend of King Midas?” she asked me.
“I think I do, but I want to hear it again.”
“My husband is a very talented warlock,” she said. “As is often the case with brilliant beings, he was too smart for his own good. He found loopholes around the usual magical laws about money. You know, how magic must not be used for selfish means and whatnot. That usually prevents warlocks from becoming wealthy, but my husband found a way around it.”
I sipped my chai tea. The bag had steeped for a nice, long time, and the flavor was exceptional. I enjoyed the taste of ginger on my tongue. “What was the loophole?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Now, now, dear. Surely you don’t think that I could tell you—even if I knew? No, no. It’s a secret that he plans on taking to his grave. He tells no one. Not even me—his own wife.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone, though I could tell that she wanted to.
“I see,” I said. I wondered how Polly felt about the fact that her husband had a secret that he kept from her. My ex, Justin, had been my only serious boyfriend, and I recalled how much I hated it when he kept secrets from me—like the fact that he was planning a yearlong tour, for one.
It seemed that I’d been the last to find that out.
As it turned out, that was all thanks to Sarin, the woman who desperately wanted me to stay at her Inn in the Spirit Realm. She arranged a whole tour for Justin and his bandmates, just to get him out of town and break apart our relationship. His band was making it big. His songs were on the radio and everything. I was really excited for him. But at the same time, I missed him terribly.
I still didn’t understand why, exactly, Sarin went to such great lengths to recruit me, of all people. Before messing with my relationship, she’d sent one of her recruiters to the center for a bout of psychological warfare.
That was not a pleasant experience.
I felt proud of the fact that I'd been able to resist the recruiter’s manipulative attempts to lure me to book a stay. Sometimes, late at night, however, I still thought about things that the recruiter had said... like the fact that the Lazy S Inn was a place of peace, and tranquility. I’d have to leave all that I knew here in the Earth Realm behind, but she said that it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it would be.
She also said that she’d been planting seeds in my mind, and in my most honest moments I had to admit that I could feel the seeds, burrowed deep in my consciousness. They’d taken root, whether I liked it or not. And I had to admit that the pull to learn more about the Lazy S Inn, and the way of life there, was strong. When I gave in to it, even for a minute, I was filled by a deep sense of longing.
But I knew that I had work to do on Earth.
The beings of the Earth Realm needed me. I couldn't check out into a life of laziness. I had work to do. More precisely, healing work to do.
I returned my focus to Polly, who was now tucking into her quiche appreciatively. “This is good,” she murmured after finishing a bite. “The flavor is divine.”
“Polly,” I said, “Tell me more about the legend.”
“Ah yes,” she said. “That’s what I was talking about. I got sidetracked by this delicious quiche. Now. Where was I?”
“You said your husband is a powerful warlock, and thanks to his brilliance he found a secret loophole so that he could become wealthy with his magic.”
“Right. He cast a spell on himself, which made it so that everything he touched turned to gold. The first thing that he touched was his cauldron. It was filled with the potion for his spell. Well, with the touch of his hand, it turned to solid gold. The entire thing! Potion and all! He was beside himself.”
She paused to eat another bite of quiche, and then went on. “We weren’t married, at this point. King Midas was only eighteen. I’ve heard the story so many times, though, that I feel like I was there. He was so happy, he let out a yell. Of course his brother The Miser came out to see what was happening. The Miser brought him out a pint of beer to celebrate with. He set it down on a table. King Midas reached for it, and the pint glass and the beer turned to solid gold. It was then that King Midas and his brother realized that they had a problem on their hands.”
“It’s a good thing King Midas and The Miser didn’t hug,” I said. “That would have turned The Miser into gold.”
“Ha!” Polly spewed. It was a hearty belly laugh that I could tell was accidental. Her face took on a sheepish expression as she busied herself with getting another forkful of quiche. “Now that would have been ironic,” she muttered. “Imagine—that frugal, penny-pinching man made of gold!”
She looked like she wanted to laugh again, but she held it back by pressing her lips around the bite of quiche.
“What did they do—when they realized the beer turned to gold?” I asked.
“The first thing they did was to try anything and everything they could think of, to reverse the spell,” she said. “They realized how dangerous it was, you see. But nothing worked. They worked all day, all night... then a week, a month... a year... all trying to reverse King Midas' magic. But what was done was done. There was no way to undo it. As they worked, they found ways to mitigate the damage that King Midas caused. First, he touched nothing. The Miser carefully fed him every single bite of food that he took in. Then, after some time, they figured out a way to get gloves on him without the glove turning to gold. It is quite an involved magical process, I assure you. Eventually, they gave up on trying to reverse the spell. It was apparent that King Midas was going to live with his condition. He decided to make the best of it. He quickly began turning everything he could think of to gold. He became the richest person in the magical universe.”
I sipped my tea. I could picture the two young brothers working together to deal with Midas’s condition and growing richer as a team. I was curious to see how Polly fit into this picture.
Polly sipped her coffee, and narrowed her eyes in my direction. “I’m sure you know all of this already,” she said.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “Please, go on.”
She did. “Well, since he was making so much gold, the entire currency system in the Spirit Realm collapsed. Gold almost lost its value altogether. There was a massive economic depression. The government stepped in. A council of officials decreed that King Midas could only make a certain amount of gold per month. It was a very small amount, and of course King Midas was upset. He felt his freedom was being infringed upon.”
“Of course,” I said.
“King Midas almost went bankrupt. He was used to living a certain lifestyle at this point, and he had a hard time reining in his spending habits. So, The Miser took over the finances for both of them. He invested the small amount of gold that King Midas made each month into a peanut factory. Over the years, it’s become quite successful. It’s called Royal Roasters. Have you heard of it?”
“I read about it when I was researching your husband,” I said. “It’s the biggest pe
anut selling operation in the magical universe.”
Polly nodded. “That’s all thanks to The Miser,” she said. “He’s very good with numbers.”
“When did you marry King Midas?” I asked.
“A few years after the decree put a cap on how much gold he could make,” she said.
“You must have helped to make Royal Roasters successful, too,” I suggested.
She shook her head. A shadow of bitterness flitted across her features. “Oh, no,” she said. “The Miser is very controlling about that business. He makes all of the financial decisions for the company. He even makes decisions about my husband’s spending habits in his private life.”
“And what about you?” I asked. “Do you work?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “My husband lives day in and day out with a very dangerous condition. It’s best if I’m around to help him with daily activities so he doesn’t turn anything to gold by accident. It’s a full-time job.”
“I see,” I said. “How do you have money to spend?”
“The Miser gives me a monthly allowance,” she said. “It’s a pitiful amount, really.” There was that bitterness again.
I leaned in and watched her carefully as I said, “Do you get along with The Miser, Polly?”
She nodded, but her cheeks turned red and she stood up, even though she had a half slice of quiche left on her plate. “I’d better get King Midas his coffee,” she said. “Good luck with your investigation.”
“Thank you,” I told her, before she bustled away.
Unicorn poop, I thought. I didn’t even get a chance to ask her for her alibi.
Well, I’ll just have to talk to her again.
I watched her leave. She doesn’t get along with The Miser, I realized as I processed her abrupt departure. But does she dislike him enough to try to kill him?
Chapter Seven
King Midas' Magic Page 5
