A Bunch of Monkey Malarkey (AC Silly Circus Mystery Series Book 2)

by Ann Charles

  “I don’t get it.” Eugene spoke first. “Is this part of your act?”

  “No.”

  I frowned at Marco. “Then why are you keeping Donatello in this trunk?”

  “I’m not. He’s in there of his own will and he won’t come out, not even when I try to force him.” Marco pulled up his sleeve, showing us what appeared to be a bite mark on his wrist.

  I looked back at the ape in the box. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Marco said. “That’s why I need your help.”

  “Did he do a magic trick on himself?” Eugene asked.

  “Maybe,” Marco answered. “But since I can’t get him to talk to me—or even use sign language—I have no idea.”

  “How long has he been in the trunk?” I asked.

  Marco took off his hat and scratched his bristly flattop. “I don’t know the answer to that, either. I was out at the front gate helping get things ready for our opening, and when I arrived back here a half hour ago to practice at our usual time, I couldn’t find Donatello. I assumed he was running late doing his pre-show rounds, so I started setting up for the show. That’s when I found him in the trunk where we keep the white rabbits we use in our show.” He glanced around at the other trunks. “To add to the mystery, the rabbits are missing.”

  I stepped closer to Donatello, waving my hand in front of his eyes. He stared right through me, blinking every so often. “It’s like some sort of trance.”

  “Maybe it’s a curse of some sort,” Eugene said, poking Donatello in the cheek several times and getting no response.

  “Stop messing with him, Eugene.” Marco put his hat back on and checked his watch. “What are we going to do? The show starts in under an hour. I can’t work with him like this.”

  I rubbed my jaw, trying to think. The only sort of magic I’d heard of that could put a person in a trance was the dark sort. My grandmother, who had taught me all about being a seer, had told me to avoid dark magic at all costs. The toll on a psychic’s aura is too great, she’d tell me when I pressed for more answers, warning me that sticking even a single toe in those waters risked being pulled in over my head.

  “For now, we need to come up with a different opening act.” I glanced around the tent, zeroing in on a pink trunk with kittens painted on the lid. “Marco, can you use Lemon Drop and Lolli Pop as your assistants and do enough of your magic act to appease the audience until the rest of us are set up and ready for our usual shows?”

  Lemon and Lolli had been adopted by the monkey brothers years ago. The guys had taken them in when the two werecats had shown up after running away from an orphanage. Under the brothers’ stern but loving hand, the two girls had grown into beautiful young women with a contortionist act that astounded all who attended their show. Their cats-in-boxes act sold out almost every night, especially to families with young children.

  Marco puffed his round cheeks. “I guess so. The girls helped us when they were young.” His eyes softened at the memory.

  “Good. Eugene, go round up the girls.”

  Eugene lumbered off, leaving me alone with the two brothers.

  “We need to let security know about this,” I said, pointing at Donatello. “There might be foul play involved.”

  Marco’s thick eyebrows wrinkled. “You think someone did this to Donatello on purpose?”

  I shrugged. “It’s possible. Magic works in different ways. In the wrong hands, it can be deadly.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a sorceress.”

  “No, I’m a psychic.”

  “Close enough.”

  I swallowed a scoff. In what universe were those two close to the same? The panic in Marco’s eyes kept my mouth shut. For now, I’d let him hold onto that thought if it gave him the hope he needed to get through the opening show.

  “There has to be something you can do for him.” Marco pressed, wringing his hands together.

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure where to start. I was accustomed to helping those who could talk and ask me and my crystal ball questions.

  “Maybe.” I wondered if Ol’ Blue would be able to give me any hints on where to start with this mystery. “First, we need help from someone who’s good at sniffing out crimes.”

  Marco groaned and dropped onto one of the trunks. “We have to keep this quiet, Electra. If word gets out to the local police, they’ll come and take Donatello away to a lab somewhere to poke and prod. He’d rather die than go through what Mother warned us would happen if that day ever came.”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “Nobody is taking anyone to a lab. I was talking about Bruno.”

  Head of the freakshow division’s security, Bruno Maska was the ideal mixed breed to sniff out trouble and take down criminals. His mother had been a St. Bernard shifter and his father like me, a werecoyote. Their genes had blended to create the perfect law dog, both in the flesh and fur form. The big hunk was easy on the eyes, too, with those long dark eyelashes, brawny shoulders, and tight …

  But I digress.

  “Go get Bruno and bring him here,” I ordered Marco, trying to snap him out of his sudden despondency. “Between the two of us, we’ll figure out what’s going on with Donatello and if someone else is behind this.”

  After one last frown in his brother’s direction, Marco rushed out of the tent, leaving me alone with Donatello.

  I returned to the rabbit trunk, studying the unresponsive ape. Why had he shapeshifted? Had someone forced him to change to his were-form? Or had it been self-inflicted? Or self-defense? Was he hiding from something when it happened? Or was he like Eugene, who shifted whenever his anxiety red-lined?

  Once again, I waved my hand in front of the wereape’s eyes.

  Still no reaction. I took a deep breath, focusing outward, feeling through the dark with my mind. I had a strong notion that Donatello was stuck in his body somehow, unable to penetrate the wall blocking his conscious self.

  “Who did this to you?” I asked. “Did you piss someone off with your nickel-and-diming? Or does this have to do with something else involving money? Did you double-cross someone you shouldn’t have?”

  I knew plenty from experience when it came to betraying a criminal mind. My past screwup was the reason I was standing here trying to make a catatonic ape speak.

  Donatello blinked, his expression remaining lost, unfocused.

  My chest tightened as a thought flitted past. Had somebody come looking for me? Had they tried to get Donatello to talk and he’d resisted? Was his current state my fault?

  My knees felt a little quivery all of a sudden. I moved to a trunk with the big top tent painted on it and sat. “Please, not again,” I whispered.

  After a moment, the wave of unease passed. My fault or not, I needed to work out what was wrong with Donatello before everyone else found out and started panicking again. After the fiasco we had at Tinkerville, the last thing this freakshow needed was another dead shapeshifter.

  Chapter Two

  I was still sitting on the big top trunk, practicing my tarot card memory exercises while I waited for Marco to return, when Bruno came striding into the monkey brothers’ tent. He wore his black security T-shirt, faded blue jeans, and a cocky grin.

  “Marco says I’ve been summoned by the great and mysterious Madam Electra,” Bruno said. He’d taken to coming up with various monikers for me lately, especially after sex when he was lying next to me wearing nothing but a satisfied smile. When he took a closer look at my face, his grin slipped away. “What’s going on?”

  I stood and pointed at Donatello.

  Bruno’s gaze followed, his brow wrinkling. “There’s a monkey in the box.”

  “Exactly.”

  He walked over to the trunk. “Shouldn’t he be in a barrel?”

  “Not funny,” I said, even though it was, a little.

  Marco joined us, his face glistening with perspiration.

  “I don’t get it,” Bruno said, his gaze bouncing from me to Marco. “Is this part of yo
ur show opener?”

  Marco crossed his arms, his scowl abrupt. “You’ve seen our act. It’s far more sophisticated than a mere monkey in a trunk.”

  “My job is to watch customers, not the show.” Bruno moved next to me. “To keep an eye out for troublemakers.”

  “Which is why I requested your presence here,” I said. “Something’s wrong with Donatello.”

  Bruno harrumphed. “I know. He keeps sticking his nose in places it doesn’t belong, like the budget for my security team.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, noticing Marco was avoiding Bruno’s glare.

  “Scrooge McMonkey over there in the box stopped by my office yesterday and wanted to take a look at our list of expenditures and inventory spreadsheets, asking all sorts of questions about our monthly budget allowance. I had to remind him that my security team doesn’t fall under this division’s umbrella.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  He shook his head. “We work for corporate—as in AC herself. Donatello and Marco have no jurisdiction when it comes to my department.”

  I frowned at Marco. “Has Donatello been going around to everyone in the circus and pestering them for inventory numbers and other accounting shit like that?”

  The wereape’s nod was slight. “We want to boost our profit margin and look good on paper for our next management meeting with AC.”

  Bruno growled, wrinkling his upper lip in Donatello’s direction. I resisted the urge to bare my teeth and join him. The monkey brothers had been in charge a little over a week and they were already acting mad with power.

  “You know what this means, Marco?” I asked. “If your brother is the victim of some sort of foul play, then everyone he’s harassed about cutting costs and reporting numbers is a suspect.”

  Marco squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I told Donatello that we should focus our energy on building profits with marketing, but he insisted that tightening our belts would have a quicker effect without spending more money.”

  “I’m going to need a list of all of the staff members Donatello badgered lately,” Bruno said, taking a wide-legged stance that came natural to the circus’s top security dog.

  Marco nodded. “But what are we going to do about my brother’s condition? I can’t keep him in that trunk all night.”

  “Maybe Bruno and you can carry him to his bed for now,” I suggested. “As soon as we close the gates tonight, I’ll return with Ol’ Blue and see if I can find out anything more.”

  With a temporary plan in place, Bruno and Marco moved Donatello from the trunk. Lemon and Lolli arrived shortly after, wearing their matching contortionist cat suits, their faces tight with worry for Donatello. I tried to console the two petite girls, assuring them Bruno and I would dig into this after the show was over, but for now they needed to help Marco. As always with the circus, the show had to go on.

  Bruno followed me out into the warm afternoon sunlight. As soon as we were out of earshot of Marco and his girls, I asked him, “How come you didn’t mention anything last night about Donatello stopping by your office?”

  “You were naked when I walked into your tent.”

  “First of all, it’s our tent now,” I reminded him. Our current living arrangement was agreed upon partly for my protection, but mainly because Bruno liked to frequent my bed and I didn’t like him leaving it until the next morning. “Second, I wasn’t naked.”

  He grinned. “Until you take some of that girly stuff off the walls, it’s your tent. No testosterone-filled male would dare to lay claim to all of those veils and beads and sweet-smelling candles. And you were too naked.”

  “I was wearing a camisole and underwear, and you never seem to mind the veils and beads when I’m wearing them in our bed.”

  “That’s different. I get to strip those off of you and play with what I find under all of that sexy packaging.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

  “When it comes to you, gorgeous, I’m a full-on catastrophe.” He caught my hand as we neared my tent, pulling me to a stop. “I need to keep an eye on the front gate. How about you wait for me to wrap up and return here tonight before checking on Donatello?”

  “No way. You take too long.”

  “I’ll make a point of hurrying.”

  I could tell by the intensity in his stare that this was more of a command than a request, but Bruno knew I tended to buck when he used vinegar instead of honey. “Why don’t you want me over there without you?”

  He shot a frown in the direction of the main gate, and then he took a step closer, lowering his voice. “What if this deal with Donatello is tied to your other situation, Nora?”

  His use of my real name spoke of the gravity of the situation. I wasn’t surprised that Bruno had jumped to the same suspicion I had regarding the contract out on my head. The real reason I was hiding behind my Madam Electra disguise was never far from his or my thoughts. Bruno’s protection played a big role in why I was able to stay at the circus, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, while hiding out from the bounty hunters after my skin.

  Bruno being my fated mate as well as my protector was a bonus we both enjoyed, although I tended to fret about his future more often than not. Sometimes I used Ol’ Blue on the sly to keep an eye on him. I knew Bruno would stand between a bullet and me in a heartbeat. The thought of losing him now that we’d found each other made it hard to breathe at times in the middle of the night when the worry demons were performing the Mexican Hat Dance on my chest.

  “Okay,” I conceded, squeezing his hand. “I’ll wait for you to come to my tent before going over there.”

  “Our tent,” he corrected with a small grin. He lifted my hand, brushing his lips over my knuckles. The warmth in his gaze made my pulse palpitate. “Don’t forget to keep the stun gun within reach.”

  “It’s strapped to the underside of my parlor table.”

  “What about the pocketknife I gave you?”

  “It’s tucked under the cushion on my chair.”

  One of his dark eyebrows rose. “The canisters of pepper spray?”

  “I put one next to the bed and the other in my chest of soothsayer accessories.”

  “And the brass knuckles?”

  “They’re in my underwear.”

  His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  “Would I joke about brass in my panties?”

  A smile spread slowly along his lips as he leaned closer. “Maybe we should go inside the tent so I can see for myself.”

  The radio attached to his belt squawked, followed by someone calling his name over the air.

  “Save it for later, Romeo.” I shoved him back a step. “The show’s about to start and somebody just tugged on your leash.”

  He caught me by the shoulders and pulled me back, giving me a thorough kiss in spite of another crackle from his radio. “Be careful tonight, Madam Mayhem.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Focus on Donatello.”

  He groaned, staring down at my cleavage. “I wish I didn’t have to analyze anything other than the current state of you and your body.”

  “My body and I are still alive, thanks to you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I patted his chest. “Go to work, Bruno. I’ll think of you every time the brass knuckles rub me the right way.”

  He cursed at the sky and then strode away without looking back. I enjoyed the view of his backside in those faded jeans until he slipped between two tents and disappeared.

  Inside my parlor, I prepped for another afternoon and evening filled with telling fortunes and predicting love or heartbreak. Before long, my waiting room was filled with customers anxious to sit across from Ol’ Blue and me.

  It was nearing midnight by the time Bruno returned. I’d wrapped up with my last customer a half hour prior and sent the lovesick werewolf on her way with predictions of babies—many babies—in her near future with the alpha male she was currently dating. Although the crystal ball h
ad shown me the alpha’s brother, too, whose domineering nature she’d complained about incessantly while I tried to focus.

  “You ready?” Bruno asked after stepping through the velvet curtain into my parlor. But a frown creased his face. His gaze moved from me to Ol’ Blue as I settled it into the lockbox my grandmother had handed down to me along with the crystal ball. “Let me carry that for you.”

  I stepped back so he could take it, leading the way out of my tent. Bruno closed the flap behind us.

  He was quiet as we walked, oddly so. “Did something happen at work tonight?” I asked.

  He glanced my way. “No, why?”

  “You seem troubled.”

  His gaze lowered to the ground. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, I pressed. “Bruno, what’s wrong?”

  “I feel like I’m rushing you.”

  We weren’t walking that fast. “You mean now? On our way to the monkey brothers’ tent?”

  “No, I mean with you and me—us. I’m rushing you into a relationship.”

  I stopped in my tracks and looked up at the sky. Was it a full moon? Nope.

  Bruno looked back at me, slowing to a stop as well.

  “Where is this coming from?” I asked. In my mind, I was thinking somewhere from the vicinity of planet Neptune.

  “I told you, I was thinking about us.”

  “Why would you do that?” It wasn’t like Bruno to think much beyond sex. Wait, that wasn’t fair to him. His thoughts delved deeper than that in many ways, not to mention he was funny and caring, but still sex was up near the top most of the time.

  “I don’t want you to leave me,” he explained.

  “Why would I leave you?”

  He came closer, lowering his voice. “Because I’m the one who initiated our relationship and pushed you to exchange you-know-what.”

  We’d exchanged plenty of things since the first time we’d met—from insults to bodily fluids. “What in particular are you referring to?”

  “The love bites.”

  It was actually more of a love nip that shapeshifters exchanged with their fated mates, sealing a monogamous deal between them. Sort of like vows, but with a deeper level that involved chemistry. Once we’d bitten each other, we were mated heart and soul, a fact that made me smile whenever I thought about it. I didn’t know why he was having issues with this all of a sudden.