by Mara Webb
“Hello Chelsea,” she said in her French accent, somehow knowing it was me without looking over the paper. “I see you have a fluffy little friend. Who is this?” She folded her paper away and Artemis skipped across the floor and straight into her lap, purring while she scratched the back of his head. Sophia wasn’t a witch so Artemis had to act like a normal cat around her, meaning he couldn’t talk. It was quite perfect actually.
“Artemis, my cat. He’s being very clingy today sorry, is it okay to bring him in?”
“My store my rules, and I say yes. Health inspectors be darned!” she laughed. “How is your world today?”
“Confusing and full of questions. You?”
“Don’t read the news,” she said with a note of disinterest. “It’s full of war, misery, and adverts for personal injury lawyers. The world is grim, bleak, and built on suffering.”
“But hey, it’s not raining outside!” I laughed nervously. Sophia was something of a hopeless existentialist, but her wonderful baking skills more than made up for her dreary outlook.
“This is very true,” she said, standing up and setting Artemis on her chair. “I know just what you want. A grilled cheese with a brownie for dessert. And this little guy, something tells me he would like a bowl of warm milk.” Artemis made a strange sound; I think he was trying his best impression of a meow. Sophia seemed to buy it and smiled. “Get comfortable the pair of you, I will be back shortly.”
Not long after that a very content Artemis and I were melting into a comfy chair by a fire, our meals fresh in our bellies. Sophia stuck around for a bit to talk philosophy with us, but if I was being honest, I didn’t understand most of it. I just smiled and tried to steer her back to light-hearted topics—with little success.
A steady trickle of customers came and went while Artemis and I lounged by the fire. After an hour or so I finally felt recharged and took a deep breath before throwing on my coat and moving to leave, as I did the door jingled and a woman stepped in. Her face was familiar somehow.
“Oh, hello!” she said with a bemused smile. “How are things?”
“Do I know you?”
“Sylvia,” she said, “Sylvia Brown, head of creative over at Moon Drop Studios. We talked briefly the other day. You were with the police, right? You’re looking into Tyson’s murder…”
I did recognize her now she said it. “I was, but you must have heard, they arrested my mother.”
Sylvia rolled her eyes in a suggestive way. “Yes, but… that was just a distraction, right?” she said in a hushed whisper.
“…How did you know that?” I said with narrow eyes.
“Call it intuition, my husband was a policeman for years back when we lived on the mainland. I told him all about the arrest, he thinks it’s a classic bit of deception, so you can keep on investigating and the real killer will relax.”
“Well I tried to get back in the studio today, but Marty himself doesn’t want me in there.”
Sylvia laughed. “That paranoid old coot. I suppose that makes him look suspicious, doesn’t it?”
“He was on my list, but he’s moved down somewhat.”
“Found out about his arthritis, did you?” She laughed again. “Yes he’s not a likely candidate when you take his health issues into consideration.”
“Why keep me out then?”
“He doesn’t want any more interruptions with the production. The studio wants this done ASAP and poor old Marty, well, let’s just say he needs the rest of this to go well.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice further. “Let’s also just say he’s got money problems!”
“I’d heard. What about you? I know we already talked briefly, but did you have any issues with Mr. Bryce? Do you know anyone who did?”
She shook her head. “No, like I said before I know how to work Tyson, we have a long working relationship. I don’t have problems with anyone at the studio, well, apart from that new piece of his.”
“Winnie? The female lead? What’s the problem there?”
“Not a problem from me, I should say, but she hates me for some reason, perhaps because Tyson and I were once romantically linked.”
“Huh. Recently?”
“No, a long time ago, and we’ve been amicable friends ever since. I think perhaps Winnie is a little, I don’t know, intimidated by me? She thought I was trying to blackmail her.”
“Were you?”
“Heavens no! I have a good job with benefits and a decent pension. I’m not jeopardizing that! I have no quarrel with the girl!”
“Blackmail for what though?”
“Someone left a piece of incriminating evidence in her trailer a few weeks ago, photographs, I think. I’m not sure. She just confronted me one day after shooting. She told me to back off, that the blackmail wasn’t funny. I told her I had no idea what she was talking about.”
“Her secret relationship with Sam Lopez,” I said. “Someone was trying to use it against her.”
Sylvia looked intrigued. “Sleeping with her co-star? Well I can’t say I’m surprised. The two of them are practically all over each other, even if they share a romantic connection in the film. Anyway, did you want to ask me some questions? I’m sure I can provide you with some useful information. I’m happy to help!”
“I think you already might have actually. Thanks Sylvia!” I said as I headed out of the café, Artemis following quickly behind me.
11
The following morning Deacon and I pulled up outside my house, Artemis still in the back of the car. I was relieved to see my house was back to its normal color, but I didn’t quite understand why the front of it was now covered in vines.
“Looks like things have fallen apart here without my fine guardianship,” Artemis observed while he stretched out his paws.
“Yes, because it was such smooth sailing before you left.” I glanced over and saw Deacon looked overwhelmed again. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, I’m just still getting used to the whole ‘talking cat’ thing.”
“Hey, the cat has a name you know!” Artemis shouted from the back.
“Come on,” I said to the two of them. “Let’s run inside. I just need a quick change of clothes and a shower. Maybe you two can handle whatever chaos mom and Serena have dished up this morning.”
Old Mad John flew by as I opened the front door, belting his familiar greeting. We all said good morning in turn and made our way into the kitchen. Mom, Serena and Adam were all sitting around the kitchen table, talking and laughing as they ate breakfast.
“Chelsea!” mom sang. “Good morning!”
“Morning mom,” I said, kissing her on the cheek as I walked past to grab some coffee from the pot. “You look chirpier this morning. How’s your romance with Diego going?”
“It’s Frankie, Chelsea, and things are going swimmingly. He took me out for dinner last night, and… oh, look!” She held up her hand, revealing a large ring on her finger.
“Woah,” Deacon said. “That was quick. Isn’t this the taxi driver you just met the other day?”
“Word of advice Deacon, for my mom this is a pretty standard timeline.”
“Oh Chelsea!” she said, playfully tapping my shoulder. “Stop being such a tease. Deacon you’re right, things might be moving quickly, but sometimes love just puts its foot to the floor!”
“Amen to that!” Serena said, lifting her cup of coffee in mock cheer. “We’ve just been planning the wedding. Your mom thinks the house will make a great venue!”
“Do you now?” I said to her through my teeth.
“Chelsea relax, I was just floating the idea around, but look at the back garden, it’s so big, and Adam has done such a wonderful job of the scenery! He said he could get benches and an altar from his carpenter friend.”
My daggers set their sights on Adam. “Is that true Adam?”
The giant lumberjack shrank into his seat a little. “I thought we were just playing make believe.”
“Oh! I have to be
the singer!” Artemis shouted. “I’ve been practicing my Sinatra; do you want to hear?!” He drew in a long breath, but my mom cut in before he could sing.
“Sorry Artemis darling, but Frankie’s family isn’t magical, there can’t be any hint of magic at the wedding.”
“Aren’t you going to tell him before you get married?” Deacon asked.
“Well I…” Mom faltered.
“That’s a good point actually,” Serena said. “Doesn’t he know yet? Most witches share that sort of thing before settling down to happy ever after.”
“We just met though!” She laughed defensively. “We haven’t had time to sit down and talk about important things like… oh.” Mom drifted off, seeming to come to some sort of realization by herself. I would have taken a picture for the record books if she didn’t seem so disheartened. “What am I doing? I can’t marry him. We just met for heaven’s sake!” Mom stood up from the table and smoothed more non-existent creases from her dress. “I’m going to call him. It’s off. I can’t believe it, what was I thinking?!”
She walked out of the room, her heels clacking over the kitchen floor. I pulled the paper over and took a piece of toast from off the table, munching happily for a few seconds until I realized everyone was staring at me in expectation.
“What?” I said through my mouthful of toast.
“Shouldn’t you go after her?” Serena said. “Check that she’s okay?”
“Guys this is extremely normal,” I laughed. “Trust me. I grew up with this. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen this exact scenario play out. One day I saw mom accept proposals from four different men. You know what happened the next week? We left town in the middle of the night, so she didn’t have to dump any of them. If anything this is progress, she’s actually letting the guy down!”
“I can’t help thinking this might be my fault,” Deacon said. “I’m the one who brought up the magic.”
“It’s my fault really,” Serena said. “I got excited about the thought of weddings, and then my mouth started jabbering.”
Adam took a sip of his coffee and stared thoughtfully at the table. “Perhaps I should have tried to reign things in a bit.”
“Look you’re all being ridiculous. This isn’t anyone’s fault but moms. This is classic her. If it’ll make you all happy, I’ll go check. She’s probably already planning her next date.”
I stood up from the table and walked out of the kitchen to find mom on the phone in the hallway. She looked back at me for a second and smiled. “I know it’s hard Frankie darling, but you have to see things from my point of view. It’s nothing personal, I think it’s best we just go our separate ways. You can still drive me around if you like. Frankie? Frankie?” She looked at the handset and set it back down on the cradle. “He hung up.”
“Imagine that,” I said as I walked over to her. At first, I’d thought this was business as normal for mom, but from the phone call alone I could tell that something was wrong. She was lying. “Such a nice ring too. It looks expensive. On a taxi driver’s wage as well?!”
Mom laughed. “Well, what can I say, obviously he thought I was worth it.”
“He’ll want it back, right? You’ll have to arrange that at some point. I could drive you over to him, moderate the exchange.”
“Not necessary, he said I can keep it.”
“Wow… that sure is generous,” I said as I stepped forward to lift her hand and take a closer look at the ring. “It’s just funny, because this looks an awful lot like one of the rings in Griselda’s jewelry box upstairs.”
“Does it?” Mom said, her voice high and questioning. “Frankie said it was from Palmer’s. That’s the nicest jewelry place on the rock you know.”
“I bet. And does this ring make broken phones work?”
“I—what?”
I lifted up the cable running from the phone to the wall, revealing a severed cable. “Serena cut through it two days ago. Said she was ‘pruning the cables’, I haven’t had a chance to fix it yet.”
“…Oh,” mom said with a glum note of realization.
“Frankie never proposed, did he?”
“No,” she said. “We went out for dinner and had a wonderful time, but the entire meal I was waiting for him to pop the question, and he just didn’t!”
“Mom, you’ve literally met the guy like two times.”
“I know Chelsea, I know, but my magic is fading! I can feel it. Do you know what a proposal can do for me? I’d feel like I was twenty again!”
“I think we both already know the answer to this one mom. If you’re finding it hard to keep up with these fleeting romances, then maybe you need to start thinking about settling down. With the, you know, the one.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please let’s not get back into this one again. Say, did you have any luck with Zandino? Charming old toad, isn’t he?”
“He’s dead,” I said. “He’s been dead for fifteen years, and something tells me you already knew that. You said your power is connected to your muse, so you would have felt it if he died.”
“Ah well… yes,” she laughed nervously. “I must admit I had heard about the poor soul’s passing.”
“Which means you sent me on a wild goose chase, which leads me to believe that you really do know who my father is, and you’re just stalling for time.”
“Chelsea! Would I ever lie to you!” she said, a look of shock on her face.
“Just give me a name, come on, you’ve already drawn it out enough at this point.”
She shook her head firmly and pursed her lips. “No. It’s for your own good. It’s better you never find out.”
“Your magic is starting to fade, and you literally need this person to survive. How long do you think you can hold out on me?”
But mom just threw her head back and laughed. “If there’s something you should know about your dear old mother Chelsea it’s that she’s never yielded!”
“I know you’re trying to sound cool, but I already know that. I’ve spent my life fighting your stubborn ways.”
“Oh let an old witch have her moment for once!” she said. “Where’s your sense of fun? Where are you going?!”
“I’m going to shower and get a fresh set of clothes. And then I’m going to go and solve this murder, because it looks like everyone else has already given up!”
“I’ve picked out a veil for the funeral!” she shouted up the stairs after me. “I’m thinking red lipstick too!”
“I’m so glad you’ve figured out the important details!” I said before slamming the door to my room.
“Thanks for the ride,” Deacon said as I dropped him off at the station. Clark—or Mark—Stark ran down the stairs and thrust a lanyard through my driver window.
“Thanks…Mark?” I hazarded.
“Clark actually! Deacon said the studio wouldn’t let you in yesterday, so we got this printed up. They can’t stop you now, you’re an official investigator on the case.”
“Ooh, official investigator, that sounds important.” I pocketed the lanyard and nodded my thanks at Clark.
“Let me know if they give you any more trouble. That badge will get you in anywhere, and if they stop you, they’re impeding a criminal investigation.” Deacon leaned in through my driver side window.
“I like it when you act all tough,” I joked. He kissed me on the cheek and patted Buttercup on the roof. The rearview mirror dropped at an angle and Deacon stepped back.
“I’ll take her to a mechanic this week,” I said. “There’s a chance she might need a checkup.”
“Just a small one. See you later.”
I was only a little further down the road when my phone started ringing, from the screen I could see that it was Rudy. I answered the call and put my phone on speaker.
“Hey, what’s up?” I said. “Did you want to meet for that coffee?”
“Coffee? Oh, yes. Sure. That’s exactly why I called you.”
“Something tells me you’re
lying.”
“Okay, I called you for a reason, but we can get a coffee when you come and help me out.”
“Help? With what?”
“I’m at the hotel looking over the ocean, The Rock on Sea, can you meet me there?”
“No clues?” I asked.
“Great, thanks Chelsea, see you in five!”
The call ended and I found myself wondering why everything in my life was so complicated. Initially I’d been excited at the prospect of having a real life sibling, but I quickly sensed Rudy was just going to become another thorn in my side.
I’d been to The Rock on Sea before, so I knew my way, I looped around the block and headed for the opposite side of the town. The hotel was a big wooden building perched right on top of some perilously high cliffs. My lawyer was based in the building, and I’d spent a bit of time there recently while solving a—surprise—murder.
Five minutes later I pulled up at the hotel and headed inside the lobby, I found Rudy straight away at the reception, trapped in some heated debate with the staff. I knew the woman behind the desk too, her name was Rona and she had trained me on a trial shift here not too long ago.
“Rudy! Rona!” I said as I approached the counter. “What’s up?”
“What’s up is that this gentleman here has clocked up quite the room service bill,” Rona said, “and he doesn’t have the money to pay for it.”
“Really Rudy?” I said in disbelief.
“Hey, do I look like someone that drinks Appletinis! I fell asleep and a guest of mine ordered two dozen of the things! At hotel prices! She split before I woke up!”
“Rudolph here claims he is your brother,” Rona said. “He said you would pick up the tab.”
I looked at the counter and saw a framed picture sitting there. Behind the glass was a cutting of a newspaper article, featuring a story with my picture. Local girl solves hotel tragedy mystery!
“I wonder where you got that idea?” I glared at him.
“Come on sis, I’ll pay you back when I get the money. This time of year is when I make my most money. People approach me for painting commissions.”
