Once Upon a Crime (The Sisters Grimm, Book 4)

by Michael Buckley

  "No… I'm not talking about this mystery. I don't want to be a Grimm."

  Granny sat quietly for a long time and Sabrina prepared herself for a lecture about responsibility and doing the right thing. "You don't have to, Sabrina," Granny finally said. Sabrina was stunned.

  "You were deposited into this life against your will. I thought that after some time you would get used to being a Grimm and see what a rewarding life it can be. But I realize now that I'm forcing you to do it and that isn't fair. You do have a choice and I should have explained it. Many in our family have walked a

  way from their heritage. If you've ever read any of Douglas Grimm's journals, he often wrote about how miserable he was; even your Opa Basil had his doubts. Obviously, your own father made a choice to pursue a different life. You can do the same if that is what you want."

  "Sure, and you'll be disappointed with me. You'll give me that look you give me when you're angry," Sabrina said.

  "I'll miss sharing the time with you," Granny said. "And I truly believe you are becoming an excellent detective, but you can retire if you want. Perhaps it is best if you stay at home from now on and keep an eye on your parents."

  Sabrina wondered if her grandmother was pulling a trick on her, but the old lady just smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

  "I can still help find a way to wake up Mom and Dad?" Sabrina said.

  "Of course," the old woman said.

  Sabrina felt like the sun had come out and was shining just for her. The gnawing pain in her belly subsided for the first time in months.

  "I can't wait to tell Daphne we don't have to do this anymore," Sabrina added.

  Granny frowned. "Sabrina, you get to make your choice and you have to let her make one for herself."

  "She's only seven years old," Sabrina argued. "And you're only eleven, but I'm trusting your decision," the old woman said. "But--"

  "Now, unfortunately, we're in the middle of a case to which I have committed us all. So, let's make a compromise. When we get home you'll be done with being a fairy-tale detective, but right now, we have a mystery to solve. Can your sister and I count on you for one more case?"

  Sabrina nodded. Still, she was happy; in fact, she was grinning from ear to ear. She hadn't expected her grandmother to understand her choice, let alone support it. She could walk away from the Grimm family legacy. No more Everafters, monsters, and lunatics. Now all she had to do was convince Daphne to make the same decision.

  Granny Relda kissed Sabrina on the top of her head. "Let's go join the others."

  The two women got up and left the bathroom. They found Mr. Hamstead had arrived. He explained that Mr. Canis wasn't feeling well and had gone to bed.

  "Ernest," Granny Relda said. "I'm afraid we're going to be staying through tomorrow at least. Mustardseed has asked us to find his father's killer."

  "Of course we'll help," Mr. Hamstead said.

  Daphne clapped her hands. "What's the plan?"

  "The plan, Daphne, is to get some rest. Tomorrow we're going to track down a killer."

  "Where are we going to start?" Sabrina asked as she looked out the window at the massive city.

  "At your old apartment," Granny replied.

  * * *

  The plan for the morning was to split up. Hamstead would search the lower part of the city and the Grimm family would handle the upper part. Mr. Canis was staying at the hotel for the day. When they had knocked on his door, he'd opened it just a crack and told Granny Relda that he needed time to meditate. She agreed that he should rest. Sabrina wondered if she'd noticed the new wolfish whiskers on the old man's chin.

  When the group finished breakfast and met in the lobby, they were surprised to find they had a visitor. Bess was sitting in a chair by the fireplace. She had on a long winter coat and a silver backpack. She also had the coats Sabrina and Daphne had abandoned at the Golden Egg.

  "Care for a little help?" Bess asked as she smiled at Hamstead.

  "Of course," Hamstead stammered. "But won't this cause some waves with your boyfriend?"

  Bess winked. "Ernest, I don't have a boyfriend anymore."

  "We're happy to have the help," Granny said, shaking Bess's hand. "Why don't you team up with Ernest?"

  "An excellent plan," the blonde woman said.

  As the group stepped out of the hotel, they found that two feet of snow had fallen in the night, turning the city into a winter wonderland. Hamstead and Bess went in one direction while Granny, the girls, and Moth searched for a cab. After ten minutes without success, they caught a bus that took them uptown to the girls' old neighborhood on the Upper East Side. Unfortunately, where Moth went, Puck's smelly cocoon went, too. No one wanted to sit next to the slimy thing, which had begun to leak a funky gas not unlike rotten eggs, so the family spent the trip avoiding the angry looks of other passengers.

  "Well, it seems as if your mother had a secret life," Granny Relda said as the bus headed up Madison Avenue. "Several of us have gotten into the family business through marriage. I'm a very good example, myself. So, if Veronica was working with Everafters like every other Grimm since Jacob and Wilhelm, she probably also wrote down what she was experiencing."

  "You mean a journal? Do you think she kept one?" Daphne said. It was the family tradition to write one's adventures down so that future descendants might learn from them. Sabrina had a journal, too, though she rarely kept track of what she had encountered. Writing it down made it real. Daphne on the other hand was working on her second volume.

  "I bet she did," Granny said. "And I suspect Veronica kept her activities secret from your father. When he left Ferryport Landing, he was dead set on building an Everafter-free life. If she had a journal she probably hid it. So it might still be in your old apartment."

  "Is this place nearby?" Moth groaned. "The constant jostling of this vehicle is upsetting my delicate constitution."

  "What did she say?" Daphne asked her sister.

  "She's complaining," Sabrina explained. "Again."

  After several stops, they finally reached the corner of Eighty-eighth Street and Madison Avenue and started walking east, toward York. This was a quiet little nook of the city filled with families, dogs, and older people. As Sabrina looked around, a wave of memories flooded over her. There was the little deli that sold the roast beef and gravy sandwiches her father snuck out to buy late at night. Down the street was Carl Schurz Park, where her family had spent many afternoons looking out on the East River or playing with the puppies in the little dog run. Across the street was the luxury apartment high-rise their mother often dreamed they'd live in one day. Sabrina spotted Ottomanelli's

  Italian Eatery with its amazing meatball pizza, the dry cleaner where the Cuban lady always gave her lollipops, and the magazine store owned by the guy who let his three cats sleep on stacks of the

  New York Times.

  Sabrina could even smell the world's best brownies from Glaser's Bakery a block away. Little had changed, except that the old skateboard store was now a manicure shop.

  They walked up Eighty-eighth Street, past a group of five-story brownstones, and quickly reached their old apartment building at number 448. It had recently been painted a gray-blue in place of the dirty yellow she remembered.

  "We can't get in," Sabrina said, as they climbed the freshly salted steps. "The police took our keys when they sent us to the orphanage."

  "Sabrina, those old keys wouldn't work anyway," her grandmother said. "There's a new family living here and I'm sure they've changed the locks."

  Sabrina stifled a cry. She had never imagined that strangers might actually be living in their home.

  "So someone else lives here?" Daphne whispered. Sabrina could hear her own dismay echoed in her sister's voice.

  Granny nodded as she pushed on the buzzer that rang their old apartment.

  "Hello, who is it?" a voice crackled from a speaker.

  "Um, yes, so sorry to bother you, ma'am, but my name is Relda Grimm. I'm here with my g
randdaughters, who used to live in your apartment."

  Suddenly, a buzzer sounded and the door unlocked. The group stepped inside the building and walked down the hall to the girls' old apartment. Halfway there, they were greeted by an excited woman with huge red glasses.

  "I'm so thrilled to meet you," she said.

  "I hope we aren't imposing," Granny Relda said. "We were in the neighborhood."

  "Nonsense, I've always wanted to meet the previous owners," the woman said, holding out her hand. "My name is Gloria Frank."

  "I'm Relda Grimm. These are my granddaughters, Sabrina and Daphne… and Moth."

  "Hello, peasant," Moth said, awkwardly hoisting Puck's cocoon onto her shoulder.

  Gloria Frank looked confused but smiled. "Please, come in," she said, ushering them down the hall and into the apartment.

  For Sabrina, stepping into the living room was a shock. Their once colorful home was now painted in drab shades of wheat. The hardwood floors had been redone, stealing all their old charm and personality, and many of the antique light fixtures had been replaced with austere, modern lamps. All of the furniture Sabrina remembered was gone. Their big puffy couch had been replaced with a sleek chocolate-brown sofa that looked more like a work of art than something to sit on. Every photograph of her family was gone. Even Daphne's finger paintings were no longer hanging on the refrigerator.

  Just then, a teenage boy walked out of one of the bedrooms. He was a lanky kid wearing a rugby shirt and carrying a handheld video game. He had curly blond hair and a pair of headphones in his ears. When he saw the visitors, he took off the headphones and regarded the group curiously. "Mom? What is that awful smell?"

  "His Majesty's healing vessel gives off an unusual scent but it is not by any means awful," Moth said. "You should be honored to have found its aroma in your nose, you undeserving wretch."

  "I'm so sorry," Granny said, stepping between Moth and everyone else. "My granddaughter is in a play and she's been practicing her lines nonstop. Unfortunately, they're using some unusual props and she feels its best to carry one with her."

  "She's a method actress. How delightful! My son is an actor, too," Mrs. Frank said as she turned to her son. "What was the last play your school did? You were incredible in it. What was it called?"

  "A Midsummer Nights Dream."

  "He played Puck. Do you girls know that play?"

  "We're living it," Sabrina murmured as the cocoon gave off a particularly noxious blast of gas.

  "Phil, these girls used to live here," Mrs. Frank said, waving her hand in front of her nose, and then seeming to realize that this might be rude, pretended to smooth her hair instead.

  "Wassup?" the boy said,

  "You have my old bedroom," Daphne said, quietly.

  Phil raised his eyes and nodded, then put his headphones back on and wandered out of the room.

  "I'm sorry. Since we bought him that game we can't get it away from him," his mother said. "Can I take your coats?

  "We can't stay," Granny said. "We just wanted to come by and see who lived here now."

  "Oh, we really love the apartment. I hope you think we're taking good care of it," Mrs. Frank said.

  Sabrina didn't answer. She kept glancing around the room, trying to find something she recognized. The whole experience was making her dizzy.

  "Mrs. Frank, there is one other thing. We were wondering if you happened to find anything in the apartment when you moved in, say, for instance, a journal or a book of stories about fairy-tale characters?" Granny said. "The girls' mother may have kept one and we'd love to get our hands on it."

  "Oh, we found a few things when we redid the kitchen and the closets," the woman said. She rushed out of the room and returned with an old shoebox. "My husband told me I was crazy to keep this stuff. He says I'm a pack rat, but they seemed personal and, well, it felt wrong to throw them out."

  Sabrina took the box and flipped open the lid. Inside were a few yellowing love letters their father had written their mother, some scattered pictures of Sabrina and Daphne in the bathtub when they were little, and a ladies' wallet with pink roses sewn on the front.

  "No journal," Daphne said with a sigh.

  "Oh, dear, it's not here," their grandmother said. "Do you think you might have overlooked it?" she said to Mrs. Frank.

  Gloria Frank shook her head. "We did a lot of work on this place when we moved in. If there were a journal, we would have found it. I'm sorry."

  "Well, we appreciate you hanging onto these things," Granny said. "We should probably be going."

  "It was so nice to meet you," Mrs. Frank said. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of this place."

  Granny and the girls waited at the bus stop until the next bus c

  ame. They climbed inside and found a seat in the back. Moth chattered on about how ignorant human beings could be, but the Grimm women were silent. Sabrina sat by the window, watching her neighborhood disappear.

  * * *

  Back at the hotel, the little group waited for the elevator. When the doors opened, they were startled to see Mr. Hamstead and Bess inside, locked in a passionate kiss. When the couple finally noticed everyone staring, Hamstead's face went pink and his snout popped out. He quickly put his hand over it, eyeing Bess nervously as if he didn't want her to see. Bess on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear and holding him in her arms like they were lost at sea and he was a life preserver.

  "Uh, hello," Granny said as the couple stepped out of the elevator. "Is Mr. Canis awake?"

  "Yes," Hamstead said, his face still pink. "He's in his room and wants to speak with you. I asked him if everything was OK and he nearly bit my head off, literally." He blushed even more brightly when he noticed that Daphne was giving him playful winks.

  "We just stopped by for some hot cocoa," Bess said. "Wall Street was a bust. It's incredible how fractured our community is. We live such separate, secret lives. We're going to try SoHo and Chinatown next." The blonde lady turned to Hamstead and gave him a big, over-the-top smooch on the cheek. "Sugar dumpling, I'm going to go freshen up. Mind if I borrow your room key?"

  "Not at all," Hamstead said. He dug into his pocket and handed the key to her. A moment later, she was back inside the elevator and on her way upstairs.

  "Mr. Hamstead, I do believe you are smitten with her," Granny said.

  "What does smitten mean?" Daphne asked.

  Sabrina turned to answer but then noticed something unusual. The little girl was asking Granny Relda instead of her.

  "It means he's got a huge crush on her," Granny said.

  "Which is a huge problem," Mr. Hamstead said. "When she finds out who I am… what I am--"

  "Ernest, she's an Everafter, too, obviously," Granny Relda said.

  "A human Everafter," Hamstead said. "I'm a pig. There's a big difference."

  "But there are lots of mixed-Everafter couples. You're forgetting Miss Muffet and the spider."

  "Miss Muffet is a crackpot," Hamstead said. "Bess is beautiful and funny and the most amazing woman I've ever met. She's not going to be interested in me when she discovers I'm just an unemployed pig from upstate."

  Granny smiled. "I'm sure that Bess likes you for who you are."

  "If this pointless conversation is over," Moth complained, "I'd like to get His Majesty back to the room."

  "Of course," Granny said. "I'm going to pop in on Mr. Canis. I'll meet you soon."

  The girls went up to their room and closed the door. Moth climbed onto one of the two queen-sized beds and propped the icky cocoon onto a pillow. "I need silence, humans," she announced.

  Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said turning to her sister. "I need to talk to you." She gestured to the bathroom and Daphne followed her inside.

  "Daphne, Granny and I have talked and we've come to an understanding--"

  "I know all about it," Daphne said, stiffly.

  "Then you know I'm not going to be involved in this detective stuff anymore."

  "I kn
ow you're quitting."

  "I don't want you to do it, either. We should be trying to find out how to wake Mom and Dad up, anyway. Once they're back to normal, we can move somewhere normal and be a family again. Doesn't that sound good?"

  Suddenly Daphne burst into tears. They streamed down her face and onto the shoebox Gloria Frank had given them, which she still clutched in her hands.

  "Why are you crying?" Sabrina said, dismayed. "Don't you want to get back to normal?"

  "No!"

  Daphne yelled. "This is our destiny."

  "You don't even know what the word destiny means." For the first time in Sabrina's life, she saw rage in her little sister's eyes. Before Sabrina knew what had happened, Daphne set down the shoebox, opened the door to the shower, turned on the water, and shoved Sabrina inside.

  "You little--!" Sabrina sputtered. "I'm trying to protect us."

  "No you're not! You're trying to protect yourself. You haven't once asked me what I want. You're a… jerkazoid and I don't need you. I'll be a fairy-tale detective all by myself!" Daphne turned and stomped out of the room, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

  Soaked to the bone, Sabrina climbed out of the shower, took off her clothes, and put on one of the fancy white robes the hotel had left hanging on the back of the door. She wrapped her head in a towel and thought about what her sister had just said. Daphne was mad, but Sabrina would make her understand. She was doing this for both of them.

  The little girl had left the shoebox sitting on the toilet tank. Sabrina picked it up and opened the lid. The photos were the embarrassing bathtub shots that parents love to take and kids wished would be lost in a fire. But they made Sabrina smile. They represented happier times. She flipped through the yellowing love letters, tied in a small red ribbon, and then opened the pink wallet. Inside was her mother's driver's license, some expired credit cards, a couple of pictures of her father, and a photo of Veronica sitting with her daughters. Sabrina and Daphne had their faces painted with stars and rainbows and were smiling. Sabrina remembered that day clearly. Her mother had taken them to a fair held at the South Street Seaport--it had been a good day.

  It was odd to hold something her mother had owned. The girls didn't have a single item from their old lives; even their clothes were gone. Sabrina lifted the wallet to her nose and sniffed deeply, hoping to find some hint of her mother's perfume, but all she could smell was old leather.