Hexes and Vexes

by Laura Greenwood

"So, do you want to come?" he checks when I don't say anything else.

  "Yes, please. But I hope you're not inviting me just so you can get a ride."

  He chuckles. "Give me some credit, Amy. I'm bringing you along because I know you'll simply badger me for the information once I've got it anyway."

  He's not wrong. That sounds exactly like the kind of thing I'd do. I don't point out that he doesn't have to tell me any of this. We both know the official reason he wanted my help has gone out of the window. Whatever his motives are, he seems to enjoy my input.

  "All right, then. Let's go. The sooner we get there, the quicker we might get a lead."

  Now that's the kind of enticement I like to hear.

  16

  Unfortunately for us, Doctor Riffin's results are a bust. She identified some unique parts to the magic, but all she can tell is that it's from a witch, something we've worked out already. The culprit isn't on any database Ambrose has access to, though that doesn't mean anything. With how new the Paranormal Police Department is, there's barely any criminal or magic DNA databases to go from, and most paranormals are hard to catch, which means they aren't on any of the human ones.

  Just another dead end. Though at least it does mean we'll be able to verify we've got the right person when we finally do catch him.

  "There's one thing I don't get," I muse.

  "What's that?" Ambrose asks, looking away from his computer screen. I'm not sure why he hasn't asked me to leave yet. I probably would have done in his position, though I'm grateful he hasn't.

  “What kind of idiot uses their own wand for crime anyway?”

  "I don't know. Maybe they didn't plan it very well."

  "That doesn't fit with the rest of the crime," I point out. "This witch has done powerful magic that not everyone is capable of. And to do at least two such powerful spells back to back, they'd probably have had to rest for days beforehand. This isn't something anyone does on a whim."

  "Okay. So why did they use their own wand?"

  "Hmm." I lean back in my chair, considering his question and all the potential answers to it.

  If I was going to do something nefarious, I’d get a cheap generic wand from a factory which mass produces them. They're far inferior to anything a master wand maker can create, but with thousands of them in existence, they're much harder to trace. Except to perform this kind of magic, I’d want a really good wand. It would make the spells much less taxing.

  Ah! That’s it.

  “Ambrose! We need to get another list from the CWC.”

  The detective looks confused. “Why?”

  “I was just thinking about how I would commit this crime myself and I realised something. I wouldn’t use my wand.” Though I think he probably inferred that from my earlier question, but that is beside the point.

  “I didn’t realise witches were allowed to have more than one wand,” he muses.

  “We’re not. But that doesn't mean there aren't people who don't listen."

  "I hope they're the minority," he mutters.

  "They are," I promise. At least, I think so. I've never personally met a witch who flouts the rules, though that doesn't mean anything.

  "How does that help us though?”

  I clap my hands in excitement as I realise how useful my knowledge of wands is yet again. "The CWC tracks any violations so we should put that list next to the owners of a H grade heartwood pine wand. That shouldn’t leave us with much overlap.”

  “Genius,” Ambrose says before he can stop himself. “I mean… if it works out.”

  “It will," I promise.

  "All right, let me make a call and I'll have that list. Hopefully, they'll assume the old warrant is still active."

  "Isn't it?" I really should do some reading up on how things like warrants work. It'll help next time I need to know.

  "Yes and no. It should stand, but if they want to contest it then they can make our lives difficult. If it comes to it, we should be able to get a second warrant though, it'll just take time."

  Not time we have, though.

  I wait patiently for him to place the call.

  "Hi, Tabitha, we need a list of wand user infractions from the CWC… Yes… No… Yes… No… Thank you." He hangs up with a satisfying click. "They're going to send it over now. Do you want another tea while we wait?" He nods to my empty mug, which is sitting next to his full one.

  I frown. Again? At least that suggests it isn't my coffee that's the problem. But why does he ask for it if he doesn't like it.

  "Amy?" he prompts.

  "Oh, no thanks, I'm okay," I assure him with a smile. I don't want anything to interfere with us getting that list.

  He leaves me alone in his office, and it's all I can do to resist the temptation to start tidying everything. Something tells me that he won't react too kindly to that. Maybe after we've gotten to know one another a little bit better I can do it. Only time will tell on that front.

  I pick up my handbag and search through it for the print out of the original list the CWC sent. It may not be any help, but if I can flag up some of the other wand owners who I think could be persons of interest, then it may save us some time once Ambrose gets back to with the new one.

  After ten minutes, I've highlighted a couple of witches on the list, but I don't have anything to go on besides my gut instinct, so I'm not sure it's any use.

  "Sorry, I got caught up filling out a form," Ambrose says as he bustles through the door with a surprisingly thick wad of paper in his hands.

  I groan when I realise what that must be. "Don't tell me..."

  "Yes."

  "Great, because I don't have better things to do on a Thursday night," I mutter.

  "Do you?"

  "No. But I might?"

  Ambrose chuckles. "If you want to help solve crime, then you need to get used to it. Criminals never stop, so we don't either."

  "You can't work all the time," I counter. "Unless you're the all-work-no-play type?"

  "I play," he mutters.

  "Really?" I raise an eyebrow.

  "I'll have you know, I have a dog." I don't think I've ever seen a grown man pout before, but that's definitely what Ambrose is doing.

  "Hey, why are you knocking me for having Herbert when you have a dog?"

  "Because my dog is made of flesh and blood."

  "That doesn't make Herbert less real," I counter.

  The hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and I narrow my eyes at him. Is he teasing me? We really are getting somewhere.

  "I think you owe me a meeting with your dog," I announce.

  "And what makes you say that?"

  "You've met Herbert. It's only fair."

  Ambrose chuckles. "All right. Once we close this case, you can meet my dog."

  "Deal. Now hand me that stack of paper and I'll do my thing."

  He shakes his head. "No need. This time, we're just checking for names on both lists. I have a much quicker way of doing that."

  He clicks away at his computer, then sits back. "We should have the results in a couple of minutes."

  "Couldn't you have done that with the list before?" I mutter under my breath.

  An amused expression flits over Ambrose's face. "Yes."

  "But you wanted to make me suffer."

  "No, I wanted to test how serious you were."

  "Hmm. Don't think I won't get my own back for that." I cross my arms, but secretly enjoy this lighter side of me.

  "I look forward to it. But now, we have some alibis to chase."

  "Oh good, that sounds fun." Especially because asking people what they do with their time sounds like a good way to get ideas about what to do with my Saturday night. Except that one of them murdered someone. That's not a great choice of activity. I think I'll be skipping that one.

  17

  Six names, and three have rock solid alibis already. I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing at this stage. I suspect that will rest on the woman sitting in the bre
ak room of the station opposite me and Ambrose.

  I take in her general appearance, not at all convinced this woman is a killer. She doesn't have the right vibe for it.

  “So where were you two weeks ago at around midnight?” Ambrose asks, his boring, regular pen hovering above his notepad.

  The woman frowns, the expression more genuine than it would be if she'd been killing someone. I think. I haven't met enough killers to know that for sure.

  “I don’t know… I think I was out?” she stammers.

  “Out… where?” This calm and commanding Ambrose is a little different from the mage I'm getting to know. I like this side of him.

  “Oh, we went to a club! Dragon… something. Dragon Soul? There was a party.”

  “What were you doing in a dragon bar?” he asks without a hint of surprise in his voice. Which is better than I'd have managed. Why was she at a dragon bar? Dragons are notorious for sticking to their own kind under any and all circumstances.

  “One of my friends is a dragon.”

  “And is there anyone that can corroborate your story?” he asks.

  I’m chained watching Ambrose interrogate our suspect. It’s just like on TV but better. It’s really happening and I’m right here, helping him. Nobody could’ve predicted this, even if they had a crystal ball. Not that those things really work. Most crystal balls are nothing more than props used to divert human attention away from the actual magic being done.

  The woman nods. “Yes, the bartender will have seen me and about a dozen people when I danced on the bar.” She chuckles proudly. “It was a wild night.”

  I bet it was. The only thing dragons are known for more than their solitude is their partying.

  “All right, we’ll verify that. Thank you for your time," Ambrose dismisses her.

  The woman is on her feet and out of the door within seconds.

  "What do we do now?" I ask.

  "We call the bar and check her alibi," he says as he collects his notes and gets to his feet.

  Oh right. Yes. Just like we've done with the other three suspects. I was hoping for something a little more fun, like going to the dragon bar. I've not seen one before and my curiosity is piqued.

  "You coming?" he checks once he's at the door.

  "Right, yes." I scramble to follow him.

  Ambrose has the number for the bar within seconds of returning to his desk, and types it straight into his desk phone. Luckily for me, he hits the speakerphone button so I can listen in.

  “Hola?” a male voice says.

  “Hi, this is Detective Ambrose with the Paranormal Police Department. I’d like to speak to one of the owners of Dragon Soul.”

  “Speaking,” the man replies. “I'm Hector. What can I do for you?”

  “We’re trying to verify someone’s whereabouts. Was there a party two weeks ago in your bar?” Ambrose asks.

  “Yes, we celebrated a holiday. What’s this about?”

  I can sense the dragon switching the phone from one ear to another.

  “Were you at the party?”

  “Yes, I worked the bar together with my mate," Hector says slowly, sounding suspicious.

  “Do you happen to remember a witch at the party? Brown hair, medium height, medium build.”

  “Remember? I remember a bit too much of her. She gave a free strip show on top of the bar. Is she in trouble? Or was she trouble?”

  My eyebrows shoot up. A strip show? The woman we just interviewed didn't seem like the type. Then again, it's always the quiet ones who are the craziest deep down.

  “Do you happen to know when she was there?” Ambrose asks, skillfully avoiding the questions of the owner. “When did she arrive and when did she leave?”

  “Now you’re asking me something. Hang on,” Hector sighs. He muffles the phone but we can hear everything as he addresses someone else. “Hey! Lola! Do you remember the witch from last week’s party?”

  A female voice shouts back. “The one that made the tables float and flashed the boys?”

  “That’s the one! When was she here?”

  “I don’t know when she came but she was there for the firework. I remember her using magic on the sparklers. Why?”

  “The police is asking about her.”

  “The police? What do they want?”

  “I don’t know!” Hector shouts.

  I want to ask Ambrose if they know we're still here and listening in, but I don't want to ruin whatever the dragons are remembering when it could be useful.

  The phone crackles as he removes his hand, not that it helped much. “Hello? You still there?”

  Ambrose holds back a chuckle. “Yes.”

  “My mate says she was there for the fireworks, which we’re completely legal, by the way, you can check.” Hector says, seemingly oblivious that we just heard the entire conversation.

  “I’m sure they were. When did you set off the firework?” Ambrose inquires.

  “I think… Midnight?”

  This time Ambrose covers the speaker. “That’s right in our kill zone. This bar is on the other side of town so she couldn’t have made it to the victim’s house either before or after.” He moves his hand. “Did anyone take photos?”

  “Sure, we had a pro in,” the bar owner says.

  “Would you mind sending us the pictures of the party?”

  “I’ll get that done.”

  “I’ll send you the details. Thank you very much.”

  “No problem, brother.”

  The call ends.

  I gesture to Ambrose’s phone. “Is that all? Shouldn’t we go down there and show him a picture of the suspect? Or maybe sit him down with a sketch artist?”

  Ambrose chuckles. “You must think we have unlimited resources. This woman isn’t a suspect, she’s barely a person of interest in the investigation. We don’t have her picture and we certainly can’t personally verify the alibi of everyone we come across. They’ll send the photos, we’ll check if she’s there, and that’s it for now.”

  I scoff. “No wonder people slip through the net all the time.”

  “Hey. Do you think this woman is our killer? Did her wand suggest it had been recently repaired?”

  I shake my head. “No, it didn’t look like it.”

  “Then we move on. We have two more people on our list. If that doesn’t pan out, we can dive deeper.”

  I sigh. "Why is solving murders so boring sometimes?"

  "Every job has its downsides," Ambrose points out. "Besides, if it's really so boring, then why are you here and not at your shop making wands?"

  Ah, now that's a good question. Though not one I want to answer.

  18

  Something in my gut tells me that this time is going to have a slightly different outcome. Maybe it's because we haven't been able to get hold of suspect number five.

  Then again, we haven't been able to get hold of suspect number six either. That's why they're at the end of our list.

  "So, what's the plan with this guy?" I ask.

  "The plan is that you hang back while I..."

  "Absolutely not," I cut him off. "I get it in American cop shows when the second person is a civilian..."

  "You are a civilian."

  "A civilian with a wand that can do things to protect me," I point out. "I'm just as capable as you are."

  Indecision wars over his face. "Fine."

  I try to hide the satisfaction I'm feeling, but it's hard. I like being right at the best of times, but right now, even more so.

  The building in front of us is surprisingly run down, but still functional, with a tired grey façade and dirty windows. It's not the kind of place I'd want to live in. The inside isn't much better. It's not that the place is dirty, it's just old and run down, like no one has bothered to take care of it in a long time.

  The sound of rattling bottles in bags announces a man around the corner and Ambrose and I make sure to introduce enough space in the small hallway. A scruffy-looking man carrying two
trash bags hurries past us and grunts in acknowledgment.

  We continue to the end of the hall, checking the numbers on the doors until we’re at the right flat.

  “Umberto Vice, PPD, please open the door,” Ambrose calls as he knocks on the door.

  We wait in tense silence, listening for any sound or indication our fifth person of interest is home.

  Ambrose knocks again, louder this time. “Umberto Vice?”

  I take a step back, hoping he’ll kick in the door if there’s no response but probably not. We don’t even know if this man is our killer and we can’t just barge into innocent people’s homes. Well, semi-innocent. He does have an outstanding violation for using a second wand.

  “Maybe he’s not home?” I suggest, looking around for a neighbour who might know where to find him. I spot the man from earlier in the hallway coming back up. He freezes when he sees us and pulls a wand from his sleeve.

  I nudge Ambrose in his side. “Ummm… I smell trouble.”

  “You’re trouble—” he jokes until he realises I’m serious. He steps away from the door, towards the man. “Detective Ambrose, PPD, I want to ask you some—”

  The man bolts before he can finish his sentence.

  Shit.

  This is what Ambrose was talking about. Running people are guilty and if he’s the killer, I’m not going to let him get away. He’ll pay for what he did to Grandpa Dobromir.

  I bolt after him, determined to bring him to justice. I didn’t get a good look at his wand but from the colour, it matches the sliver.

  “Amy! Wait!” Ambrose calls after me but I’m already halfway down the stairs.

  The sound of my feet thudding on the ground echoes through my ears. I catch the front door of the building falling in its lock and I burst through, spilling out onto the street. Left. Right. Where is he?

  A figure turns the corner on my left.

  That has to be him.

  I chase after him into an alleyway, drawing my wand in the process. I can take care of myself, but if he’s the killer, I still need to be careful.

  A dumpster rattles and I wave my wand just in time to block the brick flying my way. It changes course and crashes into the wall next to me, exploding into pieces.