Point Muse Cozy Paranormal Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Kelly Ethan

  “Like I said, you won’t be meeting the Penne heir. But good old Ronald is in the bar.” Rose gestured to the frosted door on the left. “He’s sitting in the back, in one of the booths. She turned away but spun back. “Word to the wise, Alexandra. Ronald’s smooth and slick and people always find themselves doing what he wants in the end. Be careful what you agree to.” With a swish of her nineteen fifties style petticoats, Rose sashayed into the dining room opposite.

  “That’s encouraging,” Xandie murmured to herself. She pushed the door to the bar open and blinked furiously, adjusting to the dim lit interior.

  The bar was more elegant than she’d expected from a descendant of Aphrodite. Comfortable, plush leather chairs dotted around plain dark wood and black steel tables filled the room. Muted lighting encouraged an intimate atmosphere without overpowering. Brass pendants hung from the roof and gave the room a metallic cool ambience. Nothing tacky about the bar at Mayweather Inn.

  Xandie headed for the bar and asked for a soda. When facing a smooth operator, impaired senses weren’t the way to go. Reaching for her drink with a nod of thanks to the bartender, Xandie turned and faced the seating area. Scanning for a lone dragon, Xandie nearly threw her drink in the air when someone tapped on her shoulder.

  “Apologies, Ms. Meyers. I didn’t mean to scare you.” A polished older man offered a self-deprecating smile.

  “Mr. Penne, I take it?” Xandie brushed droplets of liquid off her plain blue shirt. The high society dragon would have to take her as she was. Jeans and a clean shirt were the best clothing she owned nowadays. Business wear had gone out the window after she quit working at her father’s college library.

  “Yes, I am. Would you care to take a seat in the back?” Not waiting for an answer, he nodded to the bartender and strode toward a table in a dim corner of the room.

  “Of course, Mr. Penne, no problem.” Xandie arched an eyebrow and followed. So far, Mr. Penne wasn’t impressing.

  He waited for Xandie to settle into a chair and gestured to the bartender for his drink, taking a long sip once delivered. An obviously expensive glass of red wine for an expensive man.

  Xandie refused to breach their silent consideration of each other. He wanted her here, he could talk first.

  Giving in, Ronald Penne opened the conversation. “You’re wondering why I called for a meeting?”

  “I was wondering why you had your daughter deliver the invitation and when will your wife would be joining us?”

  “Ah, yes, Esmeralda.” The dragon moved his wine glass around the table, transfixed by the glow of red liquid through the glass. “She’s at a difficult age and frankly the only person she listens to is my mother-in-law, Marjorie. But for some reason, you interest her. I allowed her to deliver the message for that reason.” He stared straight at Xandie and smiled, a practiced twist of the lips with an expected outcome.

  One she wasn’t interested in. “And your wife, Adelind?”

  Ronald coughed slightly. “Adelind doesn’t care for the ambience of Mayweather Inn, she’s happy to let me deal with business.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. Xandie politely refused another drink from the bartender and leaned forward. “And what kind of business are we doing today, Mr. Penne?”

  Ronald glanced around the room and lowered his voice. “It’s about the gallery and Archibald.”

  “You mean the art fraud and black-market scam Archibald Penne and Iris Malone had going on with dragon artifacts?”

  Ronald Penne look surprised at how much Xandie knew. Recovering, he continued, “Yes, I had no clue when Marjorie ordered me to help with the gallery what was happening.”

  “Marjorie ordered you to oversee the gallery project?” Why would Marjorie want all their dragon artifacts on show? Not to mention selling them. Marjorie Penne was cranky, closemouthed and preferred to stay out of the limelight. According to Es, Adelind and Ronald dealt with anything that was social related. So why bring the spotlight to the Penne clan by selling off family artifacts?

  “I don’t understand why she did it. It’s not as if the clan needs money.” Ronald downed his red wine in a long swallow. He flicked his finger for another. “My mother-in-law always has a reason for everything she does. The last few months she’s become erratic. Forgetting things and becoming secretive.”

  Dragon dementia? Wouldn’t Es have mentioned it if Marjorie were losing her dragon marbles? “Are you saying she knew about Archibald selling fake artifacts? Selling the originals on the black-market?”

  He nodded glumly. “I think so. I heard them arguing. Not long before Archibald died. He wanted more money. I had no clue what he was raving about and then he turned up dead.”

  Everyone seemed to have an issue with Archibald, not to mention a motive. Not a popular guy. “You think Marjorie had something to do with the artifacts and Archibald’s death?”

  “All I know is artifacts have disappeared from the Penne hoard. Yet others that have nothing to do with the Penne clan has appeared.” He paused for a sip of his newly delivered red wine. “Some of the artifacts that have disappeared from around town might be in our hoard. I know I saw a pipe in the hoard that isn’t ours. In fact, I think it might even be a Harrow family artifact.” He looked expectantly at Xandie.

  She shrugged. “I have no clue what Elspeth or the others might have squirreled away, but I can ask. Have you told anyone else about this?”

  “Adeline, as she’s the heir, but she doesn’t want to move without evidence.” Ronald looked ashamed for a moment. “I’ve left anonymous tips for the police, but they’re as scared as Adelind is to move against Marjorie.”

  “Iris Malone and Archibald argued before he died. He told her he wanted out. I got the feeling he wanted to branch out on his own. Cut the middle person out. What do you think?”

  “I wouldn’t have been surprised. He was ambitious. And Marjorie has a short fuse.”

  Xandie tapped her fingers on the table. “We now have Marjorie and Iris as suspects.”

  “What about the suspect the police arrested? Priscilla Makepeace? She was found over Archibald’s body. Or so I heard.” Ronald narrowed his gaze on Xandie. “Or do you have other information?”

  Ignoring his question, Xandie posed her own. “Have you heard of any Penne hybrids?”

  Ronald paused for a moment and chuckled. “It’s common knowledge, dragons are incompatible with other species. There’s no way there are any Penne hybrids polluting the gene pool.”

  Xandie wrinkled her nose. Prejudice much? If you ain’t dragon, you ain’t. “What if Melinda Penne had a child. If her mate had some kind of latent dragon DNA? Could it be possible?”

  Ronald Penne drew himself up. Every line of his body bristling with offense. “Dragon hybrids are not possible, especially from a dragon slayer. Marjorie banished Melinda because she refused to give him up. I’m sorry about her death. But there is no way Priscilla Makepeace is her daughter.” Angry, Ronald stood and drained his wine. “I asked you here to help me get to the bottom of Archibald’s murder. You have a reputation for that type of thing.” He sneered the last few words out before continuing, “Obviously it’s beyond your human capabilities—”

  A woman broke through into his tirade, silencing him mid word. “Ronald. I’ve tried to contact you numerous times. But you haven’t answered.” A tall, emaciated, silver-haired woman glared at him.

  Looking flustered, Ronald pasted a smile on his face. “Adelind. I apologize; I was having a meeting with the librarian, Alexandra Meyers. This is my wife, Adelind.” He performed a brief introduction.

  Xandie smiled sweetly. This was Es Penne’s mother and the current heir to the Penne clan. “Nice to meet you, Adelind.”

  Adelind Penne ran her gaze over Xandie’s disheveled brown hair and snagged on her holey blue jeans. Baring her teeth in a perfunctory grimace of greeting, Adelind nodded to Xandie. “Librarian. Esmeralda’s quite complimentary about you.”

  “Hard to imagine Es complimenta
ry about anyone.” Xandie replied with a wry smile. For a moment, Adelind’s face softened at the mention of the pouty dragon teenager before sliding back into bland dragon face.

  “Es can be difficult at times.” Dismissing Xandie, Adelind focused on Ronald. “Belle has been notified. She’ll be flying in for Archibald’s funeral. Please make sure the arrangements are made at the compound for her and whatever playboy she brings with her.”

  Belle Penne. Archibald’s mother. “Will the town be able to attend the funeral? He was well liked.” Surely the killer would be at the funeral. Gloating over his misdeeds.

  “There will be a ceremony at the funeral home followed by a private family one. Details will be forthcoming and—” Adelind squealed mid-sentence and leapt onto a chair.

  The old girl was surprisingly agile. Xandie peered under the table, wondering what had set the dragon off. A high-pitched trill of a pipe had Xandie wincing and covering her ears. A line of gray fur wound its way through the bar. Patrons screamed or jumped on chairs. Xandie lowered hands and straightened as a river of rats charged at her. Skittering nails on wood floors beat any horror movie special effects for maximum effect and impact. A rat launched itself at Xandie as the pack marched past.

  “Argh,” Xandie screeched and joined Adelind on the couch, but at the opposite end to the panicked dragon.

  Ronald had already shifted away from the mass of writhing rodents and used the booth as a barrier. He shoved a chair in the way of the rats. “What do we do, librarian?” he screamed at Xandie.

  “I am not a pest exterminator. Use your dragon kung fu and take them out,” Xandie hollered back. A greyish-white rat with evil red eyes ran up the couch toward her. Without thinking, Xandie shot out a foot and punted it away. Right into the silvery shoulder-length hair of a hysterical dragon.

  The same Adelind Penne, who without a thought, belched radioactive dragon breath at the rats. Xandie gagged as the bitter smell of singed fur and skin hit the back of her throat. The rest of the rats whirled around and scooted out of the bar. Except the one rat that still struggled, entangled in Adelind’s hair.

  “I am so sorry.” Xandie stepped over to the dragon and tried to untangle the rodent but the Penne heir bared her teeth.

  “Ronald,” Adelind hissed her husband’s name.

  Ronald Penne appeared from the side of the booth, and helped his wife down from the couch. He extended a wicked sharp claw and speared the rat. He drew it from its dragon hair nest and flung it on the floor where he stomped on the animal, cracking its back with an audible snap.

  Adelind stormed out without a sideways glance to her husband or Xandie.

  “I told you I saw a pipe in the Penne hoard. Now do you believe me?” He swept a hand over the mess of dead rats left behind.

  “How can a pipe make rats attack us?”

  Now she knew why Es avoided her parents. Xandie wanted to avoid Adelind and Ronald pronto.

  “Are you dense? The pipe belonged to the Pied Piper of Hamlin.” He paused, waiting for a reaction. “He called the rats and lead them out of town? It’s a Brothers Grimm tale. And it belongs to Elspeth Harrow. You need to do something about this before the clan decides you are no longer suitable for your position.” With that threat, he left, picking his way through the dead rat minefield.

  Xandie grabbed hold of the side of the booth and slid to a sitting position. She had no choice, her position as the librarian was, once again, under fire.

  “Bartender, I’ll take that drink now.” Xandie slumped and stared off into space.

  Some days she wished she could go back to a plain old human...

  Sometimes.

  Nine

  “Dragon stalking is a thing now with the youngsters, hey?” Elspeth hip-shoved her daughter, Amelia, out of the way and settled in front of the window.

  Amelia scowled and stomped over next to her sister, Winifred.

  “Surveillance, not stalking.” Holly adjusted the blinds of the bakery picture window. Then opened the gap to peer out at Main Street.

  “Surveillance, court order. Same thing.” Elspeth waved the definition way and guzzled from a rhinestone-bedazzled flask.

  “And that’s why you’re not allowed within a hundred meters of old man Herb.”

  “Lila Harrow, you know full well I was just brushing a bee off him.”

  Lila threw her hands up in disgust. “He was inside the church at the time and it was a fly, not a bee.”

  “It could have been. I’m old. I get confused.” Elspeth cackled and snapped her fingers like a crab’s pinchers. “Besides, you’d think a descendant of Hercules would have some gumption.”

  Amelia, Elspeth’s oldest daughter, covered her eyes and breathed long and slow before opening and focusing on her daughter, Lila. “She won’t listen. Just give in and practice your apologies to the town. That’s what we do.”

  Priss snorted her coffee, spraying the back of Xandie’s neck. “Wish she was my grandmother,” Priss whispered to Xandie.

  Wiping the back of her neck, Xandie took a sip of hot chocolate. She was used to people’s reactions when they met Elspeth. Wouldn’t be the first time someone sprayed drink on her over Elspeth’s antics. Her mother had never mentioned the Harrows, Elspeth or anyone from Point Muse. It was as if the woman had blotted out her past and made herself over to make her husband happy. And that was the problem.

  Xandie was five when her mother disappeared, but she still had memories of their family. Of her mother and father cuddling in the kitchen or having a picnic outside. It was only after Miranda Harrow’s disappearance that her father had become the emotionless, pompous librarian she knew now. Xandie stared at the table, tracing the cracks in the surface over and over.

  “Try living with her.” Holly grimaced and added, “Or my mother. The dead are more restful than those two together.”

  “You’re spending time with the wrong dead people, sweetie. Trust me, some of them are real partiers.”

  “A penny for them, cousin?” Lila tapped the table to get Xandie’s attention.

  “Not sure about the value of my thoughts yet. I’ll let you know.”

  “Are you okay, Xandie?”

  She grimaced. “I’m okay.” Xandie made a decision and leaned close to Lila, lowering her voice, “I took a call from a troll investigator a couple days ago. Sera paid him to investigate my mother’s death.”

  Lila whistled. “Wow, I had no clue Sera had done that. What did he say?”

  “That’s the thing. He wanted the rest of his fee and told me he had a file on my mom. I did tell him about the Sanguis knight, but he said there were still unanswered questions about her death. Well, he called it supposed death.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Pay him his money, I guess.”

  “And the file?”

  “What file are you nattering about, favorite grandchild?” Elspeth raised her voice from where she stood at the window.

  Lila shook her head and yelled back, “A file about your criminal activities. Xandie’s connected, she knows all about your scams.”

  “The dead tell no tales.” Elspeth cackled and turned dramatically, pointing a painted nail, complete with a skull etched on it, at Xandie. “Are we spying or not? I got things abrewing.”

  Xandie flashed a small smile of thanks at Lila for her misdirection. Then she settled her drink on the table and joined her family at the bakery window. “Dragons have been coming in the last two days since the rat incident.” Xandie shot an accusing glare at Elspeth, putting her mother’s death and the troll’s investigation on the back burner. For now.

  “Hex me. I forgot I had the pipe. It’s not my fault.” Elspeth dramatically threw her hands up.

  “It’s not your fault you collect cursed objects used to attack your granddaughter?” Lila wondered out loud.

  “Depends on the granddaughter, I guess.” Elspeth bared her teeth, cackling to herself.

  “Sometimes, Mother, I wonder why we haven’t been run
out of town with flaming torches.” Winifred sniffed a cotton wedge of material soaked in lavender oil.

  “They wouldn’t dare. I know where all the bodies are buried, of course.” Elspeth took a drag from her hip flask again before turning to Priss. “So halfling, you met the dragon bi...” Elspeth coughed. “Ah, dragon beast? The head honcho, Marjorie, yet?”

  “No. I’m kind of avoiding dragons right now. The police have cleared me officially of being a suspect in Archibald’s death, though.”

  “Considering the dragon jam out the front, I think you’ll be able to blend in with the crowd at the funeral anyway.” Elspeth nodded at the backup of black cars jamming Main Street. Waiting for the one stoplight in town to change.

  Xandie checked her watch. “We have an hour before the funeral starts. Plenty of time to head back to Harrow house and change into our funeral finery.”

  Elspeth pushed away from the window and exclaimed grandly, “I decided my grandchildren would benefit from my protection at the funeral. I even have my special cape washed and ready to go.” She lowered her raised arms and paused, as if waiting for the gratitude to pour forth.

  Holly groaned and begged her mother, Winifred, with pleading hands outstretched, “Mom, please. Not the cape.”

  “Now, now, dear. If your grandmother wants to be involved in your life, we have to encourage it.” Winifred smile beatifically at her daughter. “Especially when it’s your lives, not ours.”

  Amelia smiled and agreed. “She’s your responsibility now. Just don’t take your eyes off her and that hip flask. She doesn’t know when to say no.”

  Everyone turned and stared at Elspeth, surprising her mid chug. “What can I say? You’re here for a good time, not a long time.” She jiggled her flask, listening for a lack of slosh. “Anyone got any witchshine I can top this up with?”

  Xandie couldn’t help thinking Archibald’s funeral wasn’t going to end well.

  “Pink velvet hooded cape with pockets isn’t exactly funeral attire or blendy.” Xandie created a new word on the spot as she stared gob-smacked at her grandmother’s attire.