by Susan Harper
An ambulance arrived in record time—evidently, they were incredibly near the local hospital—but that did nothing to help. Paramedics did all they could, but Darren had been discovered far too late. He had drowned. Officer Brian got the area secured as paramedics moved Darren to a stretcher in order to transport his body, but it seemed at this point the paramedics were waiting on a coroner. Monica watched Brian curiously. He was examining Darren’s head while they all stood around and waited on the coroner.
Brian stepped away, whispering to one of the paramedics who started shooing people away. Monica followed Brian as he walked off a bit, pulling out his cellphone. He stood near the front of the ambulance, away from where the crowd had gathered at the back. “Chief,” Brian said into his phone. “We got a problem… Yeah, I’m at the event… We’ve pulled a body from the water… Yeah, he definitely drowned, but… Yes, sir. He drowned, I think, but he was hit over the head. I think there might have been some foul play, sir. Okay, I’ll remain on the scene. Yes, of course. See you soon, sir.” Brian hung up the phone, spinning around in time to see that Monica had heard every word.
“You think someone killed him?” Monica asked, knowing she was probably turning a bit pale at the thought.
“I shouldn’t comment just yet,” he said. “Chief wants me to wait here and find out what the coroner says. Coroner should beat him here.”
“You don’t think he could have just slipped and fallen on a rock?” Monica asked.
“Possibly, but the wound…it’s pretty clean. I don’t know. I’m not a forensic pathologist or anything, but something about it just isn’t sitting right with me,” Brian said. He stepped around to the back end of the ambulance where a number of concerned onlookers were still standing. Janice was seated on a picnic bench nearby sobbing, her father having just gotten to the scene after someone had informed him what had taken place and how distraught his daughter was. The musicians from the band had wandered over as well, not returning from their break after all of the commotion, it seemed. It would be rather distasteful, Monica figured, for the band to jump up and start their second set at a time like this.
Once the coroner and on-duty officers arrived, it became increasingly clear to everyone that the police suspected some sort of foul play. That was when the whispers began. “We’ve never had a murder happen in this little town,” someone muttered. “Not in the past ten years or so, at least.”
“Stuff like this just doesn’t happen in Bankstown.”
“Can our police even handle something like this? I mean, they’re pretty much just traffic cops.”
“Do we even have detectives working at the local station?”
“Surely they’re going to call in someone who knows what they’re doing to investigate this?”
Monica wasn’t sure if Brian was hearing what all people were saying about the local police department, but by the time the ambulance and coroner left the scene, she was almost certain that he had, based on the looks of frustration he and the other officers had. The chief had his on-duty officers taking down names of people present, which seemed to be pretty much everyone in town. He told his officers to regroup at the station, and the next thing Monica knew, she was bidding Brian farewell.
“Sorry your first big outing in Bankstown turned out to be a major bust,” Brian told Monica. The vendors were all packing up, and people were being asked to leave. It seemed the party was over.
“It’s okay,” Monica said. “I just hope that whoever did this to Darren is caught.”
Brian nodded. “Yeah… Me too. Chief wants me leading the investigation…” She could tell that this made him a bit anxious.
“Have you ever led up an investigation before, Brian?” Monica asked.
“Not for something like this,” he admitted. “Stuff like this doesn’t really happen around here. It’s a pretty small town, you know?” He wrung his wrists slightly. “I enjoyed spending some time with you, Monica. Sorry, but…I have to get to the station.”
“Of course,” Monica said. “Thank you for my lunch and my candy cotton.”
“Cotton candy?” he corrected.
“Yes, that’s what I said,” she muttered, and he chuckled slightly before heading out.
Monica sighed and decided to head back into town. With the event being shut down so early, she figured she’d go and open the shop back up. People had planned to be out all day, so maybe she would get some walk-ins.
As soon as she entered her shop and flipped on the lights, she knew that something was amiss. Coffee grinds had been spilled all over the floor near the barista station and the whole place smelled like Columbian mix. She had left the place spotless. She walked toward the barista station, and she spied tiny little footprints all in the coffee. Her shoulders stiffened. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she snarled. “Troll prints.”
“Tee-hee!” a silly laugh echoed from behind her counter.
Monica darted around the counter, and sure enough, a troll the size of a small child’s shoe was shoveling coffee grinds into its mouth. The troll was bright orange with ugly, mossy green hair that fell in its face, and it was covered from head to toes in coffee grinds. “You rotten little troll,” Monica said. “Did you come through the back room?” she asked, stomping her foot. “Look at this mess you made!”
It stuck out its tongue, blowing a raspberry at her before running out from behind the counter. “Nah-nah!” the little thing shouted, its big round belly bouncing.
“Hey! Knock it off! You’re getting coffee grinds everywhere!” Monica snapped, attempting to catch up to the little thing. Monica couldn’t imagine what would happen if someone walking by peered through the shop window and saw the little troll. She needed to catch it quick. “Come back here!” she demanded. The little monster kept darting up and down the rows of books, knocking books off the shelf as it did so, laughing and taunting her the entire time.
Monica found herself growing more and more frustrated. The bright orange troll found itself a hiding place at one end of a bookshelf, and it covered its eyes as though this somehow made it invisible. It laughed so hard that it snorted—clearly the creature was having a lot of fun running about and causing her a headache. Monica tip-toed, and when she turned the corner, she threw herself down, landing flat on her stomach, but her hands managed to grab onto the little thing. “Gotcha!” she shouted, and the troll hissed and growled. She picked it up and began walking toward the back room when she heard the front door open. “Uh-oh,” she said under her breath, snatching a coffee mug off the barista station and shoving the troll inside. She flipped it over on the back counter and sat two books on top of the mug so that the troll was trapped inside.
Monica quickly whistled, and her broom came zipping out of a corner. She snatched it just in time to swoosh the coffee grinds to hide the little foot prints, and she proceeded to sweep with the flying broom as though it was just a normal cleaning tool. “Welcome to Back Room Books!” she called, catching her first glimpse of her new customer. It was Gerald Horn, Janice’s father. “Oh, hello,” she said. “I saw you earlier today at the event.”
“Yes… I was there,” he said.
“What can I do for you?” Monica asked. He seemed like the type who wouldn’t come to just browse—he had something specific in mind.
“Looking for books on grief,” he said. “For my daughter.”
“Janice?” Monica asked.
“You met her?” he asked.
“I saw her at the event. My friend Brian pointed her out to me,” Monica said. “I’m very sorry about her boyfriend, Darren.”
“Yes, I wish she would have let me go with her to the morgue,” he said, and he appeared to almost roll his eyes. “Says she doesn’t want me around right now. I know I never liked her boyfriend, but it’s not like I don’t want to be there for her after something like this. Figured I could read up on loss and that sort of thing.”
“What a wonderful thought, sir,” Monica said and began searching th
e bookshelves. The books were well organized, so she was able to point him in the right direction quickly.
He began looking through the books, grumbling to himself. “I’m not good at this sort of thing,” he admitted. “Not really sure what to say to people with stuff like this.”
“Loss is a difficult topic,” Monica said. “It’s very sweet of you to be worried enough to want to learn how to help your daughter the best that you can.”
The man pulled a book off the shelf, skimmed through it, then patted its cover. “I think this will do,” he said, and they walked to the back counter.
Monica eyed the coffee mug. She noticed it moving ever so slightly, so she plopped a little round paperweight on top to keep it still. She smiled at Gerald as she rang up his purchase and he was looking at her curiously as to why she had stacked a bunch of books on top of a mug. “There a spider under there or something?” he asked.
“Um…yes…” Monica said.
“Want me to take care of it for you, honey?” he asked, snorting slightly.
“No, I’m good. I’ll handle it when you leave,” she assured him.
He pulled out his wallet. “Got to say, while I’m sad for my daughter, this will probably be good for her in the end. She deserved a lot better than that oaf.”
Monica frowned as she took the man’s money. “That’s awfully cold, don’t you think?”
“I’m not celebrating a man’s death or anything, sweetheart. I’m just a little relieved, is all. I guess I just felt like she was throwing her life away with him,” Gerald said. “You got any kids?”
“No, sir,” Monica said, frowning.
“Then you couldn’t possibly understand,” he said, sighing. “I just worry about her, is all. Thank you for the book.” He left the shop, and almost as soon as he did, Monica could hear a snarling sound from under the cup.
“Oh, shut up,” she muttered under her breath, feeling like she could finally breathe after the close call.
5
The next morning, Monica and Abigail were back at the shop, and it was running smoothly as usual. Brian didn’t come in that morning for his coffee, and Monica was a bit disappointed. But she was sure that he was probably busy with the case. Around lunchtime, the shop became fairly empty. There was normally very little foot traffic around that time as everyone on the square was grabbing a bite. She knew it would pick up again shortly, but she used this time to study the organization of the shop a bit more.
Abigail was resting on the counter, finishing up her midday nap, when Monica came and set a few books on the counter. “These were out of place,” she said, pulling up a file on the computer. “Let’s see… This thing should tell me where they’re supposed to go, I think. I really need to start reading some of the mortals’ books so I can start to understand all this.” Monica sighed heavily.
“Stop all of that moaning and groaning,” Abigail said, standing on all fours and stretching her back. “If you sigh one more time, I might lose my mind. Just because your little boyfriend didn’t come in this morning isn’t any reason to get all gloomy on me.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Monica said. “And, besides, he’s busy. Why would that upset me?”
Abigail shook her head. “I imagine all the cops in this little town are freaking out after what you told me about yesterday. Wilma always told me this place was pretty dull. Not a lot of stuff like this happens.”
“That’s what everyone in town keeps saying. Seems like what happened to Darren is all anyone can talk about,” Monica said.
The front door opened, and Monica perked up for her customers. She smiled when two familiar faces entered. It was Isaac and Holly. “What’s up, Montoya?” Holly said, prancing straight back to the counter. “Aw! You have a cat! How precious!” Holly exclaimed, and she immediately began scratching Abigail behind the ears. Abigail went into cat mode, purring happily. “What’s her name?”
“Abigail,” Monica said. “But I call her Abs for short.” Monica could see Abigail shoot her a dirty look before returning to her petting session with Holly.
Isaac had hung back a bit, stopping at a collection of books near the science fiction area. “Why are these in the fiction section?” Isaac asked as he pulled a book on conspiracy theories off the shelf.
Holly laughed. “Ignore him. He’s here looking for books about aliens.”
“One of these days, I’m going to prove all of you wrong, and you’re the ones who are going to look crazy,” Isaac said.
Monica laughed. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Isaac.”
“Ah! A fellow believer!” he called.
“I didn’t say that,” Monica said, and Holly again laughed.
“So, crazy day yesterday, huh?” Holly said to Monica as Isaac continued browsing through books on alien sightings.
“You’re telling me,” Monica groaned, propping her elbows up against the counter. Between the murder and the escaped troll from the other side, her day had been filled with craziness. “I’m a little worried about Brian. He seemed anxious about taking on this case.”
Holly nodded. “I imagine so,” she said. “You know, his dad was some big-time city cop back in the day. He was a detective. I bet if his old man catches wind that his son is working a homicide case, Brian’s nerves are going to be shot.”
“He’s got a lot to live up to,” Isaac said, joining the ladies in the back of the store now with a book in his hand.
“I didn’t know his father had been an officer as well,” Monica said.
“Oh, yeah. He was a legend in his time,” Isaac said. “The man took down a sex trafficking ring in the state capital. He also solved a string of serial murders and took down a start-up drug ring completely on his own. The man was the perfect cop.”
“Brian sort of lacks confidence, I think,” Holly said. “He is a great cop, but he lives in his dad’s shadow.”
“How terrible,” Monica said. “Poor Brian.” She looked at Isaac. “Got everything you need?”
“I think so,” he said. “Just a bit of light reading.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “You’re so lame.”
“Why do you hang around me, then?” Isaac asked.
“Habit,” she retorted, and Monica laughed. Holly smiled at Monica. “So, we’re thinking about catching a movie one night next week or maybe this weekend. You down?”
Monica smiled. “You’re inviting me to hang out?” she asked.
“Sure,” Isaac said. “Clearly, Holly and I need a third person in our little group. Everyone always thinks we’re dating for some reason.”
“Eww,” Holly said.
“Okay, that hurt a little,” Isaac said.
Monica laughed, feeling quite giddy about the invite. “I just love moving picture stories. I’d love to.”
“Moving picture stories?” Isaac asked with a laugh. “Okay, sure.”
Monica blushed, realizing she had said something strange. They made plans for a movie night. When the pair was gone, Abigail began to laugh. “I just love moving picture stories! Can you be any more socially awkward?” the cat asked.
“Well, isn’t that what the term movie is short for?” Monica asked.
“No one calls them moving picture stories anymore, Monica. That is a really dated term,” Abigail said. “You might as well throw some feathers in your hair and start calling yourself a flapper.”
“A what?”
“Never mind,” Abigail moaned. “You probably need the social interaction with those two. Maybe you can pick up on what’s normal and what’s not by hanging around mortals more.”
“What do you want from me, Abigail? Unlike you, I don’t have a lot of experience on this side,” Monica grunted. “Ugh. I need to go check out a book from my sister’s side of the shop.”
“You’re not leaving me in here again,” Abigail huffed.
Monica rolled her eyes and went to lock the front door, putting up a Back in Five sign before she and Abigail walked through the back room.
There was the flash of light, and then she was standing behind the counter of her sister’s side of the shop. She spotted Mona chatting with a friend of hers, but upon seeing Monica, she excused herself and scurried over. “How goes it?” Mona asked.
“Not bad,” Monica said, glancing at a bird cage in the corner where the troll she had caught the other day was currently trapped. “No one has claimed the little troll yet?” she asked, and the thing growled at her and shook its little prison, causing it to sway on the hook.
“Not yet. I hate miniature trolls. They’re even dumber than the big ones,” Mona whispered. “That thing has bit me twice.”
“Sorry, but you know I can’t keep it on my side of the shop,” Monica said.
“What are you doing over here in the middle of the day anyway?” Mona asked.
“Looking for a book that I don’t believe I’ll be able to find on my side of the shop,” Monica explained. “Something from the Emotion Potions collection?”
“Ooh, a classic!” Mona said. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled. The next thing Monica knew, a bunch of books were zipping off a shelf from high above their heads. Four or five began fluttering around them, flapping their covers like a bunch of birds. “Let’s see… Emotion Potions for Beginners… No, you’re definitely more advanced than that in potion work… Emotion Potions Volume Six… That’s got some interesting ones… Emotion Potions for the Emotional… That one’s more with dealing with the complex… What are you looking for specifically?”
“A confidence spell,” Monica said.
“Emotion Potions for Daily Living would probably have what you’re looking for,” Mona said, snatching one of the books out of the air. “Are you having trouble with confidence, sister?”
“It’s just for research purposes,” Monica fibbed slightly. “My confidence is just fine. Plus, you know me. I’m always looking to learn about new potions.”
