by Zoe Arden
I sighed. I’d hoped talking to Snowball would somehow lighten my mood but all it did was remind me that I was under surveillance. I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and walked to the window. Detective Hudson was standing beside his car, looking more alert than I would have thought for this time of night. I guessed the peppy extract he’d mentioned really worked. I’d have to ask him more about it later. Maybe I could use it for the bakery. Snickerdoodles for students who had to cram for tests sprang to mind.
I watched the detective as he stood perfectly still in the starlight, alert to his surroundings yet careful not to seem too interested in any one thing. He kept checking his watch, and I realized he was trying to give off the impression that he was waiting for someone, rather than staking my place out.
When he wasn’t checking his watch, he looked like a statue. If I hadn’t have known him, I might have thought he was handsome. His light brown hair, normally cut close to his head, had grown out since last I’d seen him, framing his face and softening his harsh features.
Looking at him closer, I realized that the harsh features normally present on his face were surprisingly absent. Maybe it was the fact that it was night or maybe it was the fact that he was alone. Whatever it was, it changed him for the better. He was a couple years younger than Damon and it showed. When he wasn’t sneering or sighing or snarling, Detective Hudson looked kind of sweet. Like someone I might have liked to know.
Suddenly, he flung his hands up in the air, exasperated, and got into his car. A second later, he was driving away from the house. A twinge of panic seized me. Why was he leaving? Maybe he’d finally gotten tired and decided to go get a hotel room somewhere. Or maybe he’d decided I wasn’t worth protecting.
I walked slowly back to bed and pulled the covers up. I hated to admit it, but knowing Detective Hudson was outside had been comforting. Knowing he was gone was more upsetting than I would have liked to admit. Sleep didn’t come to me until dawn, and even then, it was only a doze. When I finally got up for the day, I thought I might fall over from exhaustion.
Eleanor, Trixie, and my dad were already downstairs. Tootsie was purring at Trixie’s feet as my aunt fed her a bowl of tuna. Snowball came running at me. “Mama, Mama, Mama!”
“Whoa,” I said, as Snowy jumped into my arms and licked my face.
“Auntie Trixie says Snowball was very good last night and can have tuna with Tootsie if Mama approves.”
I laughed at my furry friend’s excited face. “Mama approves.”
Snowball jumped out of my arms and ran to her food bowl, where Trixie gave her the other half of the can. I looked around for Rocky. The wolfhound was asleep in the corner.
Eleanor looked at me from over her newspaper. “You don’t look like you got a wink of sleep last night.”
“I didn’t,” I said, pouring myself some stale coffee. I took a sip and winced.
“Maybe you should take a cup out to Detective Hudson,” my dad said from his seat at the table. “I don’t like the man, but anyone who spends the night sleeping in his car deserves at least a cup of coffee.”
“Detective Hudson didn’t sleep in his car,” I said. “He went home around two.”
My father tightened his brow. “I think you’re mistaken, honey. Detective Hudson was out there all night. He’s still there.”
I looked out the living room window and sure enough, Detective Hudson was sitting in his car, looking even more exhausted than I did.
“He must have come back,” I muttered. I opened the door, curious as to when he’d returned, and saw Lucy Lockwood walking up the driveway. She was carrying a coffee tray in one hand and a cup the size of a two-liter of soda in the other. Working at the Coffee Cove had its perks. She handed me a normal-sized cup as she got to the door.
“Here, take this,” she said. “It’s my own creation. Appletini alert latte. Let me know what you think.”
I took a sip. “Wow,” I said, my eyes widening. A jolt of caffeine hit my brain and suddenly I felt more awake than if I’d slept a full eight hours.
“Thanks,” Lucy said, taking my expression as a compliment. She slipped past me as I took a second sip of my appletini latte. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be bouncing off the walls.
When I got back to the kitchen, Trixie was already halfway through the Brass Monkey Lucy had brought her. She had to hold the oversized cup with two hands, but she clearly thought it was worth it.
“Thank you again,” Trixie said, coming up for breath. “If I could drink these instead of water, I would.” She lowered her mouth back to the straw and sucked.
Lucy laughed as she passed out the rest of the lattes. She frowned when she got to the last one. “I didn’t know what Detective Hudson would like, so I went with a classic vanilla latte. A bit boring, but still delicious.”
“You take it to him,” I said.
“Oh, come on, Ava. He doesn’t bite.” She grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the door. “Besides,” she whispered when we were out of earshot of my family. “He’s kind of cute.”
“Cute?! You’re not serious.”
“Oh, yes, I am. He may need some help with his manners, but looks-wise, he’s in the right department.”
“I’ve already got Damon. One man is enough.”
Lucy shot me a look. “If I thought he could ever really accept you as you are, I’d be the first one in his corner. I used to think he could.”
“But now?”
“But now I just don’t know. He still seems hung up on the whole witch thing. And you deserve better than that.”
I bit my bottom lip as we approached Detective Hudson’s car, which was parked at the curb. Lucy tapped lightly on the window, and his eyes sprang open.
“Oh, thank you,” he said when he saw the latte. I guess the peppy extract had finally worn off.
“Lucy brought it,” I told him.
“Thank you to Lucy, then,” he said.
Lucy smiled at him. For some reason, a pang of jealousy washed through me.
I pushed it away. “My aunts and I are leaving for the bakery soon.”
“Good. I’ll walk with you. I could use some air.”
He got out of the car and started toward the house.
“You don’t need to do that,” I told him. “We’ll be fine on our own.” But a half hour later, he was still at my side as Eleanor, Trixie, and I headed for work. Lucy had gone back to Coffee Cove. We walked mostly in silence, but it finally began to get to me.
“Are you a robot or something?”
Detective Hudson looked startled. “I’m sorry?”
“Can’t you talk? You know, make conversation like a normal person?”
“Of course,” he said, but we continued in silence.
I sighed, realizing I would have to be the one to draw information out of him. Eleanor and Trixie had gotten ahead of us, anxious to get to Mystic and open for the day. We were almost there.
“So,” I asked. “When did you come back last night?”
He looked at me blankly. “I never left.”
“Yes, you did. Around two. I saw you drive off.”
“You were watching me?”
I blushed. “I was checking up on you. Making sure you weren’t setting out cameras on our lawn or something.”
The corners of his mouth crept up, and I couldn’t help but notice the light that shined in his eyes.
“I only pretended to leave. When you’re watching a place, it helps to move around so no one gets suspicious. I moved my car several times last night. It was only when I heard from COMHA that Polly was spotted on the other side of the island that I allowed myself to rest for a bit.”
“Polly was spotted in Mistmoor?” I asked.
“Mistmoor Beach,” he corrected.
That wasn’t far, but it wasn’t here. “Did they get her?”
Detective Hudson frowned. “No. The agents chasing her... she got away.”
“How can someone without any powers evade COMHA off
icers?”
Detective Hudson opened his mouth, but his reply was cut off by Eleanor’s scream. Up ahead, she and Trixie stood with the door to the bakery hanging open and a shocked expression on their faces.
“Hurry!” Trixie cried, turning toward us.
Detective Hudson leaped into action. He was at the bakery in half a second, pushing my aunts aside as he stepped in.
“What is it?” I asked, but as I turned my head I saw for myself.
Paisley Mudget lay on the floor of the Mystic Cupcake. A crumbled cookie lay to her left. A smashed cupcake lay to her right. She was dead.
* * *
0 4
* * *
Sheriff Knoxx screeched to a stop in his car, Otis Winken following behind him in a rusty Volkswagen. Otis stopped just in time to avoid colliding with Sheriff Knoxx.
“Otis, where’s your deputy wagon?” I asked as he got out.
Sheriff Knoxx shot Otis a look. Otis hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on his pants and pulled on them. “Well, uh,” he said, “I, uh, had a little accident.”
Sheriff Knoxx’s expression told me that whatever it was, “accident” was not the word he would have used. “A skunk,” Sheriff Knoxx said, shaking his head as he opened the door to the bakery.
“A skunk?” I whispered to Otis as we followed behind the sheriff.
“My new familiar,” Otis whispered back. “I named him Tadpole.”
I’d never heard of a skunk being anyone’s familiar, but if it was going to happen, Otis was just the sort of person it would happen to.
Inside the bakery, Detective Hudson and Sheriff Knoxx were already bickering.
“Did you touch anything?” Knoxx demanded.
“Of course not,” Detective Hudson replied, his lips tight.
“Move anything?” Knoxx continued.
“I already told you I haven’t touched anything,” Detective Hudson said.
I couldn’t blame Sheriff Knoxx for taking an attitude with Detective Hudson, considering their history.
“So, everything is exactly as you found it?” Sheriff Knoxx barked.
Eleanor put a gentle hand on his arm. “Zane, Detective Hudson’s been waiting for you.”
Sheriff Knoxx immediately softened. He regained his composure and stopped wagging his finger in Detective Hudson’s direction.
“Well then.” Sheriff Knoxx cleared his throat, took Eleanor’s hand, and turned gently toward her. “Do you have any idea what Paisley Mudget was doing in your bakery when you were closed?”
“No clue.”
Detective Hudson said, “Perhaps we should question each of the women separately.”
Sheriff Knoxx puffed out his chest. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Detective Hudson puffed out his out, too, trying to match the sheriff’s. He didn’t have a chance, though. Sheriff Knoxx was part goblin and could puff out his chest better than anyone. Detective Hudson realized his failure and immediately stopped.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Otis said, holding his hand out for Colt to shake. “I’m Otis. Otis Winken.”
Sheriff Knoxx grunted. “Otis, you’ve met.”
“We have?” Otis asked, scratching his head.
“Yes. He was here over summer. When Ava first arrived. Remember?”
“Oh, right,” Otis said. He still looked puzzled though.
“Did Paisley Mudget ask any of you for a key to get in?” Detective Hudson asked, ignoring Otis.
“No,” we all replied at once.
Detective Hudson frowned.
Dr. Dunne showed up just then and took Paisley’s body away. “I’ll let you know what I find,” he told the sheriff, virtually ignoring Detective Hudson, who seemed eager for discussion on the body.
I caught one last look at Paisley’s face before she was carted off. It was turning blue.
Everyone seemed to be doing their best to pretend that Detective Hudson simply didn’t exist. I was beginning to feel a little bad for him. He’d really dug himself into a hole the last time he was here. I wondered if he could dig his way out.
Dr. Dunne left with Paisley, her smashed cupcake and cookie still stuck to the floor.
“There’s no sign of forced entry. No broken glass. No door hinges snapped,” Detective Hudson said.
“What about the cupcake and cookie?” I asked.
“It’s obvious that Paisley did that herself when she fell,” Detective Hudson said irritably.
“Have you tried a magic baiter?” Sheriff Knoxx asked.
Detective Hudson’s face turned crimson. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I have one in my car. Otis, would you get it for me?” Sheriff Knoxx asked.
“Right, right, Sheriff Knoxx,” Otis said and strolled languidly outside. His lithe figure barely blocked the sunlight that streamed through the open door. When he returned, he was holding a strange-looking contraption that resembled a carpenter’s level.
“What is that?” I asked. I’d been on Heavenly Haven for several months now, but I was still discovering new things about the magical world every day.
“It’s called a magic baiter,” Sheriff Knoxx told me as he took it from Otis. “It measures magic against everyday items, like doorknobs and pin cushions. It will tell me whether any magic was used to get inside the bakery. It’s a common tool in law enforcement.” He shot Detective Hudson a look.
“I should have thought of that,” the detective murmured, his cheeks burning.
Sheriff Knoxx began circling the bakery, going into the back room and scanning the walls until he was satisfied.
“I can’t find a thing,” Sheriff Knoxx said, utterly perplexed.
“Are you sure you’re using that right?” Detective Hudson chided.
“Yes, of course, I am,” Sheriff Knoxx snapped, but he looked down at the magic baiter and gave it a gentle shake.
“What’s that?” Trixie asked, bending down behind the cash register. When she rose back up, she was holding a key. “This is our skeleton key for the bakery. In case of emergencies.”
“But we never leave it out,” Eleanor said, grabbing it from her sister. “It’s kept in the back room.”
“Is it normally locked up?” Sheriff Knoxx asked.
“No...” Eleanor said. “We never thought it had to be. Who would steal it?”
“The party!” I blurted. “Paisley could have lifted it last night during the party.”
“But why?” Trixie asked.
“Maybe she had a sweet tooth?” Otis chimed in. We all looked at him. He grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. “Just a thought.”
“Paisley had a sick sense of humor,” Sheriff Knoxx said. “Maybe she wanted to play some sort of prank.”
“Prank us?” Eleanor asked.
“If Polly Peacock was here last night...” I said, voicing the biggest concern looming in my head.
“She might have seen Paisley in the bakery and mistaken her for you,” Trixie finished for me. She was wearing bright purple tights that began to sparkle as her feet did a nervous little jig.
“She wasn’t here,” Detective Hudson said. “COMHA agents spotted her in Mistmoor.”
“Yes, but they lost her. What if she made it to Sweetland?”
“What are you talking about?” Sheriff Knoxx asked, his eyes alert. “Polly Peacock was seen last night?”
“At Mistmoor Beach,” Detective Hudson said.
“And your agents let her escape? Again?”
“They are not my agents,” he said. “They are agents for the Council on Magic and Human Affairs.”
Sheriff Knoxx snorted.
“What about Anastasia?” Eleanor asked the sheriff. “Did you talk to her?”
“Yes. She had no idea that Polly had escaped until I told her.”
“She wouldn’t admit it if she did, though,” I pointed out. “Maybe I should talk to her myself. We have a history.”
“That’s it,” Detective Hudson said, fin
ally getting fed up with so many voices chiming in with their own opinions and ways of doing things. “Everyone out. This is a crime scene.”
“But it’s past opening time already,” Eleanor said, peering through the front window where a line had started to form. They were here for our baked goods as much as they were for the gossip. I was certain that a police cruiser parked out front and the hearse-like vehicle Dr. Dunne had taken Paisley away in more than amounted to rumors that were already being spread.
“There’s been a murder here,” Detective Hudson said. “Until further notice, The Mystic Cupcake is closed.”
* * *
0 5
* * *
The doorbell rang the next morning. I looked out the window before answering and saw Lottie Mudget standing on our doorstep. Behind her, Detective Hudson was standing beside his car, watching us closely. He was ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble.
“Is it him? That so-called detective?” Eleanor called from the kitchen. She’d been especially bitter about Detective Hudson closing our shop up.
“How can we earn a living if the bakery’s closed?” Eleanor had asked after getting home last night. “He didn’t even say for how long.”
“Maybe we can talk to someone higher up about it,” Trixie suggested. “Sort of get the verdict overturned.”
“I went to school with Dean Lampton,” my father had said. “It’s been a while, but perhaps if I called him he could help.”
“Dean Lampton?” Eleanor cried. “You mean from the Council on Magic and Human Affairs?”
“Yes. He was always a bit of a sourpuss, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
“That would be wonderful!” Eleanor cooed. “Thank you, Eli.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Ava!” Eleanor called. “If that’s Detective Hudson—”
“It’s not,” I called back. “It’s Lottie Mudget.”
Eleanor was at my side almost instantly. “Poor Lottie. She must be heartbroken.”
Eleanor opened the door and her face fell. “Oh,” she said simply. “What do you want?”
I stepped away from the window, wondering why Eleanor was treating Lottie like she was a fallen soufflé. Then I saw why.
