by Vreni Fox
“At any rate,” Sabine continued, collecting her coffee and belongings, “let me know if you plan to commit a mass murder with this wedding cake. I’ll need to take on extra cleanup staff.”
With that she was on her way.
“Bye Sabine,” Mitzi yelled after her, “have an inoffensive day!”
I couldn’t suppress my laugh. Sure, it wasn’t funny that half the town thought that I was a modern day Giulia Tofana. Mitzi had a natural talent for raising my spirits, though.
“Call me petty but I actually hope that her entire day is full of minor offenses,” Mitzi told me in a low voice. “The check engine light comes on in her car, she steps in dog poop, and then her favorite TV series gets cancelled in the middle of a cliff hanger.”
“Oh come on,” I chuckled. “Is she really that bad?” I was trying my best to be magnanimous.
“Yes?” Mitzi raised her brow. “But what are you going to do, Fraulein? She’s not the only person in town whispering about you.”
“I know,” I was feeling overwhelmed and defeated. “I’m just not quite sure at this point. I’ve never exactly been in this position before.”
“Me neither. I’m prepared for a lot of things in life, but not this. What a curse upon our town.”
“I need to clear my name,” I stated, with a renewed conviction as I cleared and wiped down the tables in my dining room. “I wish that I had a lead. Or even just an alibi.”
“Yes,” Mitzi added. “Last anyone saw the girl, she was headed here for a private cake tasting.”
“I know,” I groaned in despair. “And I was here alone all afternoon making that stupid, stupid cake for her. The store was locked up early and there were no witnesses to collaborate my whereabouts. Then, the next thing everyone knows, I’m finding this girl’s body in Heinrich’s pen.”
“Things don’t look so good for you,” Mitzi admitted. “You think you could have been set up?”
I considered the possibility. If it was a set up, it must have been the world’s most elaborate plan. It would have had to involve someone convincing the victim to argue with me in public, then somehow planting the idea in my head to lock up my shop and spend the afternoon working alone.
“I don’t see how it’s possible,” I answered truthfully. “I think I just had really, really bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“I don’t see how you can prove your innocence,” Mitzi polished off her muffin.
“So I’m going to have to turn my complete attention towards proving someone else’s guilt,” I finished her train of thought.
“Hey,” Mitzi had an idea. “What about Officer Dreamy? Is he helping you with this?”
“Eh, sort of?” I wasn’t sure. “He seems to be keeping the detectives from Munich off my tail, but I think there is a tiny seed of doubt planted in his head about my innocence. Plus he gave me strict orders to mind my own business and keep my nose clean. He thinks that if I start digging around on my own, I will look even more guilty to the force from Munich.”
“He’s probably right,” Mitzi agreed. “Anyhow, if things get even worse and you need to flee into a cave in the woods to live out the rest of your days in hiding as a fugitive, let me know. I can provide you with some canned soup.”
“Thanks Mitzi,” I rubbed her shoulder and picked up the dirty dishes on the table. “I appreciate it.”
It wasn’t long before I was blessed by my lunch rush, which kept me busy enough to take my mind off of my troubles for a few hours. I worked as fast as I could, slinging flavored lattes and thick slices of quiche to my hungry customers. Then I spent another two hours or so washing dishes in scalding water and scrubbing the daylights out of my kitchen. The more I kept active, the more I could keep my anxiety at bay.
At about 4PM I glanced around my kitchen. It was so shiny and clean at this point that it glanced right back at me. This wouldn’t do. It was still hours from bedtime and there was no way that I was going to spend the remainder of the afternoon and the evening alone with my thoughts.
I knew exactly what needed to happen — my ultimate comfort food — a chocolate cinnamon babka.
Now, usually the babka was a special occasion treat that I only indulged in in the winter time. The ultra rich chocolate cinnamon filling just immediately warmed my body and my soul and it was the perfect treat to enjoy in front of a toasty fire, maybe with a warm drink.
Since I was currently under extreme distress, I reasoned, I was entitled to an out of season emergency babka. One by one, I pulled the ingredients from my refrigerator. Eggs, chilled butter, yeast, sugar. All things every baker kept on hand, but they were about to be transformed by magic.
I worked up an enriched dough similar to the one I used for cinnamon rolls and I let it chill in my freezer for ten minutes while I cleared some space for my favorite part of this process. Then it was time. I generously floured my surface and I beat that dough like it owed me money. I punched, kneaded, and folded until long after I was satisfied with my results.
It was cathartic to me and I desperately needed the release. Before I overworked the dough and ruined my babka, I set it aside to proof while I made a simple filling of melted butter, cinnamon, sugar, and extremely high quality dark chocolate from my private stash.
By the time I was done it was time for assembly, my second favorite step. I rolled out my dough to a flat rectangle and spread the filling across nearly to the edges. Next I rolled up my creation tight like a Cuban cigar. I cut it in half and braided the two halves, swinging them quickly one over another like I was turning a double Dutch jump rope.
And that was it… twenty five minutes in the oven and a quick glaze and I had a pan full of hot, fluffy, rich deliciousness. I contemplated popping my finished product into the refrigerator and calling it a night and decided… nope. This baby was coming home with me.
Chapter Nine
“I can’t keep going on like this,” I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Oh my God, Pudding, why did you let me do that?”
He didn’t bother to respond. He just sat on my bathroom, glaring at me with his one eye. He didn’t need to say anything; I knew exactly what he was thinking.
Last night, one slice of babka had turned into two which somehow turned into me peeling off chunks with my fingers until half the babka and an entire bottle of red wine was gone. It wasn’t the first time that had happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last, unless I went to prison for murder. I flinched. They probably didn’t serve babka in prison, and I was pretty sure they didn’t serve wine.
“Ugh,” I moaned, my hangover and stomach killing me. “How am I supposed to work today? I think I can handle selling coffee and cake, but I swear to God if one more person walks into my place of business and accuses me of poisoning someone before buying a muffin from me I am going to completely lose my mind.”
Put on a pot of coffee. Pudding was clearly disgusted with me. And get yourself together.
There was nothing for me to do but follow his instructions. I brewed up a full, hot pot of filter coffee and I was actually beginning to feel better before I even took a sip. The scent alone revived me and I sat at our kitchen table sipping away before work.
“I meant it,” I told Pudding, who sat across from me in his chair. “I can’t do this. I can’t sit around and watch while my life is destroyed for something I didn’t do. Plus, there’s a murderer on the loose. Everyone is in danger, and the investigation is going nowhere.”
What is it you think you’re going to do?
I stared at Pudding. He might have been my closest friend, but he wasn’t always exactly my biggest supporter.
“I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”
Now it was his turn to stare again.
“I have to. Otherwise God only knows what’s going to happen next. I only know that it’s nothing good.”
Just spit it out.
“I need to get into Mandy Unterwegs’ room at the spa to look for some serious clues. Look, we kn
ow that she had a lot of enemies but we barely have any proof. Just some rumors about her arguing with Eno Saputra and that’s barely any kind of evidence. I need to get in there and find some concrete stuff.”
How are you going to get into her room? Saputra isn’t going to just let you in there to search through her things. Plus that guy she came here with is still presumably in the room. What do you think he’s going to do? Just stand aside and allow you to search his belongings?
“No, obviously that isn’t going to work. I need to get in there. Secretly.”
Breaking and entering? How are you going to pull that off?
“Not exactly,” I answered, stalling. I knew that Pudding wouldn’t approve.
Okay what exactly then?
“Astral projection,” I spit out.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
It came as no surprise to me that Pudding wasn’t impressed with my plan. I’d never actually successfully projected anywhere on my own. Everyone knew that I was the weakest witch on the mountain, and to be completely honest, I wasn’t exactly a devoted student of the dark arts either.
So are you going to ask Uncle Conrad to project you? At least he’ll be happy.
“I have no doubt that he would. He’s been disappointed in my development… basically for as long as I can remember. But no, I can’t. I don’t want to involve him in this. You saw how he got when he thought that there was a chance that I’d suddenly embraced the old ways. I don’t want to encourage him.”
So who is going to help you with this? This has got to be one of the worst ideas that you’ve ever had.
I gave Pudding my most beseeching gaze. “I thought…”
Really? He knew what I was about to suggest. And what are we going to do if something goes wrong? Do I need to remind you that I’m a cat? Look, I can send you, but if absolutely anything at all goes awry, a candle tips over, someone interrupts us, you’re a goner.
“I know,” I replied, already resigned to the risk. “I just don’t see any other choice.”
Fine, Pudding answered. I hope that you understand that you’re putting us both at risk though.
I understood, but I had no choice. I slogged through my day at work so that nothing looked suspicious to my fellow Drachenfelsians. Besides the inherent risk of projecting, I didn’t want to add the risk of unusual behavior. I never closed up the shop, and I didn’t want anyone asking any questions.
Late afternoon finally arrived and I locked the front door. I joined Pudding in my bedroom and after one last valiant effort to persuade me not to risk our lives, he conceded and watched as I set up the ritual.
I couldn’t do it from memory. Fortunately the actual steps listed in my family recipe book were very easy to follow, especially for a more advanced spell.
I lit six candles around my bed and sprinkled a mixture of iron fillings, arrow root, and sea salt around my room. Once I had projected, my body would stay in a deep sleep in my bed. I wasn’t expecting anyone to enter my bedroom to disturb me, sadly it had actually been a long time since I had any visitors to my bed aside from Pudding, but I wasn’t the type of person who took shortcuts on safety measures.
“Are you ready?” I asked Pudding, smoothing down my floral sundress before climbing into position in bed.
Do I have a choice?
“I promise that everything will be fine and I’ll make it up to you. It’s just really important this time. Our lives could depend on it.”
Pudding didn’t attempt to dissuade me again. He knew how stubborn I could be. I closed my eyes and he chanted the spell, asking the Earth for protection and wisdom.
It had been at least fifteen years since I had tried projecting and I only had vague memories of what it was like. I got sleepy, but not the kind of sleepy I felt when I was physically exhausted. It was more like being put under twilight anesthetic, I thought, though I had never actually experienced that. Strange but pleasant dreams floated through my head. I lived in a cottage by the Irish seaside. I was riding a beautiful black and white horse. I had a daughter.
“Oh my God,” I was more than a little shocked when I snapped back to reality. “It worked.”
Pudding wasn’t the only one who had assumed that this idea had no chance of success. But there I was, alone in a giant suite at the Drachenfels Hotel and Spa.
I’d actually never been inside any of the guestrooms, and this one was massive and luxurious. Or, at least it would have looked luxurious if it wasn’t in a state of total chaos.
At first I wondered if someone else had ransacked the room first, but as I looked around it dawned on me — Mandy Unterwegs was a pig.
There were so many full shopping bags and piles and piles of clothes that the suite looked like a hoarder house. No wonder Saputra hated her. His maids had surely informed him of the state of the room, if she had even allowed any maids inside.
I couldn’t be quite sure. Besides the piles of clothes — most of which still had their tags on — the room was full of half eaten food and empty bottles of prosecco. I could see at least a dozen, which is remarkable since they had only occupied the room for a week.
I spotted a plate of molding chocolate covered strawberries and was immediately glad that it was impossible to smell anything while projecting. I could see but I couldn’t physically interact with anything, which meant that the only evidence that would be available to me was anything that Mandy had left out. It was basically the same as moving through the world as a ghost.
Where to start…
I struggled to figure out what could possibly be valuable information in this mess. Although I recognized a lot of the brand names on the piles of clothes, and I knew that most of them would never be in my price range, everything just looked like piles of junk because of the way it had been seemingly discarded.
Even the bed was completely covered, aside from one person-sized strip where the laundry had been pushed away. I guessed that’s where the assistant must have been sleeping, though since there was only one bed in this room he was probably more than just Mandy’s assistant.
Interesting. I recalled the way she treated him in my shop and wondered what kind of relationship they had.
I was pleased with myself for having already collected a clue when I saw the writing desk.
Papers! All kinds of papers! Documents were important. Everything I knew about investigations and the judicial system led me to believe that documents, especially official ones, were very important when it came to evidence.
I looked the papers over. There were a lot of receipts. And then…
Jackpot.
I found exactly what I needed. It was a paper listing every resident of Drachenfels and then next to our names were figures. Some were over ten thousand euros and some, to my surprise and indignation, were just a few hundred euros.
I scrutinized the list, trying to make sense of it and memorize the information. I saw my own name with no figure; this must have been amounts that people had already paid rather than Mandy’s demands. All of the low figures were from shops that sold expensive luxury goods, so maybe they had also provided her with gifts? She did seem to have a lot of brand new, very expensive things.
I saw Saputra’s name with no figure… good for you, Herr Saputra. You didn’t let her extort you.
If only I had been able to access that invoice in the flesh! The lower portion of the page was obscured by half of a leftover salami baguette sandwich.
I couldn’t see all of the information, so I made a desperate attempt to memorize what I could see, going down the line, but I had to keep starting over and over again. I was never good with numbers.
Click click click.
My head jerked up. Someone was at the door! Presumably Mandy’s assistant lover or housekeeping. Either way, I had to get out of there, and fast. I couldn’t touch anything while projecting, but I was visible.
I panicked. I had to get out, but now that I was under pressure, I was choking. My mind was drawing a complete
blank, both when it came to the list and the words for my restoration spell.
The door open and I kicked myself for not studying harder when it came to anything but herbs and potions. Ugh, why had I been such a bad student? Even if I didn’t want to use my magic powers, it wouldn’t have hurt to know how.
This wasn’t working. Thank God the room was huge; whoever had entered was in the bathroom. I needed to find somewhere to hide before I got busted. My eyes darted around the room. There was just so much stuff everywhere, but none of it was piled high enough to conceal a full grown human woman. Maybe I could have pulled something off if I had been able to do some rearranging, but as it stood, things were looking dire.
Chapter Ten
I saw only one possibility, and it wasn’t a good one. The king sized bed; it was just high enough off the ground for me to fit under.
This was clearly a stupid plan, but I saw no alternative. I laid down on my stomach and shimmied under. My butt was barely able to squeeze in, and it was a tight fit. The bed must not have been as raised as it looked from above. Either that or my butt was bigger than I remember it being.
I held my breath and peered out from my spot. It was two maids, pushing a cart full of clean linens and fancy little bottles of shampoo. They chattered about the state of the room while mopping up the bathroom.
They were absolutely right and I didn’t envy them; this room was gross. In fact, the area under the bed seemed to be the cleanest spot in the entire suite.
I froze as the realization hit me. Of course. This was a five star luxury resort. Eno Saputra probably personally gave every single one of his rooms the white glove test, especially the expensive suites. The floor under the bed was so spotless that I could eat off of it because these maids cleaned it every day.
I needed to get out of there and fast. Otherwise these poor women were going to get the shock of a lifetime and I was going to be in deep, deep trouble. Probably with the police and the Chamber of Commerce. Getting caught in this room would make me look guilty as sin, plus it was strictly forbidden by the Drachenfels Chamber of Commerce to appear in front of a human in astral form.
