by Susan Harper
“Okay, so what sort of information do you two have?” Abigail asked.
Monica tapped her wand against her chin as she thought.
“Well,” Holly said. “What about anyone who was at the game we know of?”
“Okay,” Monica said. “Let’s see… We ran into Madam Warz, Imelda, and Nud.” Monica tapped the corkboard, and a photograph appeared pinned up against the board with each tap.
“Don’t forget about the players on each team,” Holly said.
“Right,” Monica said, having to tap the board several times for each member of the two teams. She enlarged Deimus’s photograph a bit, seeing as the authorities did consider him a suspect. “Okay, who else?”
“Well, there’s the referee, Xana,” Holly said. “She was there. And you forgot the coaches. What was Deimus’s coach’s name? Coach Joanne-Jo, the sprite.”
“Right and right,” Monica said, tapping the board and causing pictures to appear.
“There were a lot of centaurs at the game,” Abigail said.
“Misty, Trapper’s girlfriend,” Monica said. “And there were more centaurs other than her and Nud. Maybe we can figure out a list of people who attended the game?”
“Good idea,” Holly said. “Maybe we can talk to the coach?”
“Coach Joanne-Jo would be at the stadium, I bet,” Monica said. “She used to coach Greengrith Griffins before she moved to Wysteria. She probably would have known Trapper. Maybe she could answer some questions about any of his friends or people he didn’t get along with on his team.”
“Coach Joanne-Jo used to coach the Greengrith Griffins?” Holly asked. “That might have been worth mentioning before. Do you know why she moved to Wysteria?”
“Got married,” Abigail said. “Moved out this way, and the Wysteria Werewolves recruited her quickly.”
“Okay, so it’s not because she had any sort of spat with someone on her old team?” Holly asked. “Because, if so, that might just make her a potential suspect too.”
“I suppose I didn’t think about that,” Monica said. “But from what it is sounding like, Trapper wouldn’t be the type to get into any sort of serious spats with anyone. He sounded like he was someone who was easy to get along with.”
“That’s true, but maybe it wasn’t his fault?” Holly asked. “Either way, I think we should go talk to Joanne-Jo tomorrow.”
“I agree,” Monica said, staring at the board now covered in faces. She kept looking at the picture of Madam Warz. Could she had been responsible? She had seemed legitimately upset about what had happened to Trapper, but then again, maybe she was worried about everyone finding out that she was his mother? The thought made Monica rather uncomfortable.
As they were getting a bit tired, they stepped away from the board and wound up back on the couch. Eventually, they settled on a comedy and popped the DVD in. They only halfway paid attention to the movie as Monica had gathered some more books on mystic ancestry from Mona’s side of the shop. They spent time flipping through pages, trying to figure out what might have gone wrong with the cauldron potion the council members had used to try to make a discovery. Despite the complicated nature of the potion, Monica had enough confidence in the Sorcerer’s Council to feel that they should have been able to accomplish the task at hand.
“Do you think we could retry the potion ourselves?” Holly asked.
Monica frowned. “I don’t know,” she said. “I feel like if the Sorcerer’s Council had a hard time with it, then an unnatural witch like myself couldn’t possibly figure this out.”
“Don’t sell yourself so short,” Abigail said. “Cauldron work is basically advanced potion making. And you are an incredibly skilled potions master, Monica.”
“Was that an actual compliment?” Monica asked. “You’ve been pretty full of those lately. It’s a nice change of pace.” Abigail simply huffed.
“Do you think you could?” Holly asked hopefully.
“I mean, maybe?” Monica said, not feeling too confident. “It would take some time, but maybe I could figure something out. I’d have to get a book that details the concoction with great detail if I’m going to pull that off.”
Holly looked at Monica with big, pleading eyes.
Monica sighed. “Fine, fine. But, first, let’s try to put this Trapper case behind us.”
11
Monica was busying herself sifting through a book on cauldron potions that she had borrowed from Mona when she heard the bell above the door of her shop ding. She quickly hid the book under the counter, and upon glancing up, she saw Brian. He was actually smiling. “Brian!” Monica said happily. “You look like you actually got some sleep last night. Is the chief calming down some?”
“Yes, actually,” Brian said, laughing slightly. He came back and propped his elbows up on the counter. Holly came out from behind a bookshelf she had been dusting.
“Something happen?” she asked.
Brian had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I really shouldn’t say, but honestly, I can’t help it. So, you know how you brought me dinner the other night?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Monica said.
“Well, you left right around shift change. It was pretty much just me and Chief Tollr at the station when this thunderstorm came out of nowhere,” he said. “The man lost it!”
“What do you mean?” Holly asked.
“Chief Tollr is scared out of his mind of thunderstorms,” Brian said, shaking his head. “I know I really shouldn’t be laughing about it, but I kid you not, I found that man hiding under his desk in his office!”
“What!” Holly exclaimed. “He’s a cop! He’s been shot at! And you’re telling me that he is scared of a little thunder?”
“Enough to go hiding under a desk!” Brian exclaimed. “The man was absolutely shaking. I tried to be respectful and everything, but it was just so ridiculous. It was like trying to coax a kid out from under his bed during a storm. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”
“The poor man,” Holly said. “He must have been so embarrassed.”
“Yeah, he was,” Brian said. “He was terrified I was going to blab to the whole station about what I saw. Once the storm settled down, I made him some coffee in the breakroom, and he was in a much clearer mood to actually hear me out about all the extra hours he has been putting us through lately. I think he only listened to me because he wanted to get on my good side after that. Worried I’m going to be telling everyone what I saw.”
“But you did. You just told us,” Holly said.
“Yeah, I know, but I’m not going to tell anyone at the station,” Brian said with a smirk. “But you’re probably right. I probably shouldn’t have told you two. I just can’t believe it. I feel like I had to tell someone.”
“So, he let you come in at a usual hour this morning?” Holly asked.
“Exactly,” Brian said. “And I’m getting off during my normal shift this evening, and he’s backing up off everyone else too. I even got somewhat of an apology from him for his behavior. Crazy.”
Holly had just finished up with Brian’s usual coffee order. He paid, smiled brightly at Monica, and headed toward the door. “Thanks, ladies! Maybe now that Chief Tollr is backing off, Monica, you and I can plan another date night soon?”
“Definitely,” Monica said as Brian made his way out the door. At this point, Monica began to giggle.
“What did you do?” Holly asked, cringing slightly. “Did you use a spell to give the guy a ridiculous fear of storms?”
“No,” Monica said. “So, when I was there the other night, I had a little one-on-one time with Chief Tollr. Turns out, he’s a troll.”
“What!” Holly exclaimed. “He doesn’t look like a troll!”
“He’s a huldrefolk troll—they look a little more humanoid,” Monica explained. “And he’s half-mortal. So, he passes for human fairly well. But after what happened with Kevin, his troll-like temper came out. That’s why he’s been so crazy acting t
owards Brian and the others. And he had the audacity to get snippy with me too after I brought it up to him.”
“So, you caused a thunderstorm,” Abigail said. “Not cool.”
“Wait, what’s the deal with thunderstorms and trolls?” Holly asked.
“Scared out of their minds of thunder,” Monica said.
“Really?” Holly asked. “Why is that?”
“Thor was an avid troll-hunter. Used lightning to take them out,” Abigail said.
“Thor…as in…the Norse god of thunder Thor?” Holly asked.
Monica smirked. “The term god is probably a bit extreme. Thor was one of the celestials. They’re all extinct now, but he was pretty well known to hunt them back then.”
“I feel like I learn something new about the ways of the world every time I talk to you two,” Holly said. “So, are all the celestials gone?”
“Been gone for probably five hundred years or so,” Abigail said. “The mystics took them out during a big war. Celestials were too powerful for their own good. Took advantage of mortals and mystics alike. Like we said, Thor hunted trolls for kicks.”
“That’s a shame,” Holly said. “So, now that Brian is gone, what’s the plan for today?”
“Well, I’m thinking I’m going to leave the shop to you today,” Monica began. “Then Abigail and I are going to head to Wysteria to see if we can find out anything more regarding Trapper.”
“Excellent,” Holly said, clapping her hands.
“In the meantime, whenever you’ve got some downtime today, you can look through this book.” Monica reached under the counter and pulled out the book she had been reading that morning before Brian had entered. “This is all about advanced cauldron work. See if you can find anything on the potion the Sorcerer’s Council used for your ancestry test. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I can definitely try to duplicate it.”
“Perfect,” Holly said. “All I ask is that you try.”
Monica bid farewell to Holly, and she and Abigail headed through the back door, reappearing on the other side of Backroom Books where Mona was helping a family of elves pick out some books on childrearing. Monica gave Mona a nod, deciding not to wait around for her to chat before heading out with Abigail. “I think Mona would prefer that I just get going, since I’m looking into Trapper’s case, rather than waiting around,” Monica said, and Abigail seemed to agree.
They hopped on Monica’s broom, heading towards the Romp-A-Roo field. “Do you think Coach Joanne-Jo is actually going to be here?” Monica asked.
“So long as the offices are open, I’m sure she’ll be there working on any paperwork for the team and maybe planning out new game tactics,” Abigail insisted. “Head towards the stadium’s office building in the back, though. Doubt she will be out on the field. From what I heard from Lenore the other night, no one has been on the field except for mourners since Trapper was killed.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” Monica said as she spotted the stadium in the distance. She wasn’t quite sure where the office building was, so she had to circle around a second time before spotting the small building just outside of the field. They landed out front, where there was a statue of a wizard holding a Romp-A-Roo ball in one hand as though he was about to throw it. Monica looked at the plaque in front, realizing the statue was of a former athlete named Ulric Rogers, a well-known Romp-A-Roo player from Wysteria.
“I remember watching him play once,” Abigail said.
“He played like a hundred years ago,” Monica said.
“Um…you know I grew up during the Salem witch trials, remember?” Abigail said with a huff. “You know, serving a five-hundred-year sentence as a cat? Did you forget all that?”
“That’s right, sorry,” Monica said. “I sometimes forget.”
“Glad you have that luxury,” Abigail said with a huff as they walked into the building. Once inside, Monica paused to admire some of the pictures hanging on the walls of various Romp-A-Roo players and awards won by the local teams.
“I’ve never actually been in this building before,” Monica said as she continued gazing from trophy case to trophy case. “I mean, I like Romp-A-Roo and all, but I never followed it as closely as Mona did. I didn’t realize how good of a reputation Wysteria had. Looks like they’ve made quite a few wins. I mean, just look at all these trophy cases!”
“Wysteria is usually the team to beat,” Abigail said. “The past two years, they’ve been doing exceptionally well.”
Eventually, after walking around a bit distracted for a few minutes, they came across the coach’s office. Monica knocked, and there was a soft “Come on in!” from the other side of the door.
Monica opened the door to see a little sprite fluttering around a desk far too large for her. She walked on top of it, attempting to sign some paperwork with a quill that was taller than her. “Are you Coach Joanne-Jo?” Monica asked.
The little sprite stopped and sat herself on the edge of her desk, her legs hanging over the side. “Why, yes, is there something I can help you with?” she asked.
Monica smiled. “My name is Monica Montoya,” Monica began. “I was hoping to ask you some questions about what happened at the last Romp-A-Roo game.”
Joanne-Jo sighed, her little sprite voice squeaking as she did so. “Yes, a very unfortunate turn of events indeed… Montoya… Why, yes, I know the name. You must be Mona’s twin, am I right? Please, sit.”
Monica sat in the large chair in front of the desk, and Abigail hopped up in her lap, causing the sprite to jump a bit in her seat. “Oh, a familiar,” the sprite said. “Sorry, I had a bad run-in with a cat once. Tried to eat me.”
Abigail snorted, so Monica pushed her out of her lap for being rude. “Abigail is my familiar,” Monica said. “She can be rude, but she won’t eat sprites. You know my sister?”
“Yes, though not too well. She has been dating one of my star players, so she’s been at a few practices,” Joanne-Jo said. “What can I do for you, Monica?”
“Well, we heard you had once coached the Greengrith Griffins, so we were wondering if you could tell us anything about Trapper? I’m looking into what happened—doing my best to help clear Deimus,” Monica explained.
The sprite nodded. “Yes, I’d love to get my star player back on the field as soon as possible, so if there is anything I can do to help with that endeavor, I will. I did use to coach out in Greengrith before moving here. Met a lovely pixie fellow, and I moved out this way after we married. I can’t say I knew Trapper particularly well. I only coached him for half a season before moving to Wysteria. He’s a fairly new player, but even then, I knew that he was not to be taken lightly. You don’t usually see centaurs playing Romp-A-Roo because their horse-halves are a bit prone to injury in that sort of game, but he was incredible! Definitely learned to use his strength to his advantage.”
“Did you ever have any problems with him as his coach?” Monica asked.
“Not a bit,” Joanne-Jo said. “Very friendly young man. Took the game seriously. Knew when it was appropriate to joke around and when it was appropriate to get serious—a lot more than what I can say about many of my players.” She smiled, laughing slightly.
“Can you tell us who knew about Trapper’s ancestry?” Monica asked.
Joanne-Jo stared for a moment. “His ancestry?” she asked. “Whatever do you mean? Is he secretly part-onocentaur or something?”
“No,” Monica said, though it was evident that Joanne-Jo had no idea what Trapper was. “He’s a half-breed. His mother was a witch.”
12
Joanne-Jo crossed her legs and straightened up a bit upon hearing this news. “A half-breed,” Joanne-Jo said. “Extraordinary. I had no idea. You don’t usually see centaurs mixing with anything other than onocentaurs, especially not something as humanoid as a witch. Very surprising. Especially with the way Trapper looked. His father’s genes must be very strong, because I would have taken him to have been a purebred centaur without question.”
“Incredible, really,” Joanne-Jo said with a smile. “Good for him, though, honestly. I am proud to say that I coached him. Need more mystics like him making a show out of all the old thinkers, you know? I mean, I’m married to a pixie. In my circles, that’s quite surprising of a statement. You see fairies occasionally mingling with a pixie but not a sprite. No, no, very unusual indeed. I’m all for the inner-mystic relations.”
“Obviously,” Monica said with a smile, stealing a glance of a small photograph sitting on Coach Joanne-Jo’s desk.
Joanne-Jo jumped up, using her wings to pull her up to her feet, and scurried over to the picture frame that was taller than herself, making her photographed self tower over her as she forcibly turned the frame for Monica to see more clearly. “My husband,” Joanne-Jo said with a grin.
The difference between the C/C/P folks were all very telling. Pixies were perhaps the most rambunctious of the bunch with their beady black eyes and pointed ears, known to be a bit troublesome at times. Fairies were somewhere in the middle, though they were the most diverse of the Fae and came in various sizes from tiny pixie to full humanoid, and they possessed much more power than your average pixie. Then there were the sprites who at times, usually when flying, seemed almost spirit-like, and each one, depending upon their hive heritage, possessed some control over various elements. To see the beautiful Coach Joanne-Jo standing next to the menacing-looking pixie was quite a contrast.
“Handsome, isn’t he?” Joanne-Jo said. “Friendly pixie, I’d say. Most of them are. They just have a terrible reputation because they don’t put up with larger-folks messing with them in quite the same fashion as us sprites. Met my husband after he cursed an onocentaur I was having lunch with, all because the fellow didn’t see him and knocked him over when he waved his tail. It was actually a bit funny, and he wound up apologizing to the gentleman afterwards, but those pixies are a bit more hot-tempered. You should meet my in-laws…but he’s a wonderful chap, my husband.”
