by Bella Falls
I didn't appreciate his demanding tone. “Then I'll make up my own mind and my own decision at that point.” A small part of me hoped that maybe the wardens would request my help in figuring out what had happened to my old teacher. “Now, go.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Dash replied, all sense of flirt flirting gone from his response.
Left behind, I returned to the matter at hand. With careful steps, I walked around the disheveled body. I mentally took notes on as many details as possible, saying them out loud in order to cement them in my head. “Did you find a cane anywhere near here?” I asked.
“No,” replied Horatio. “Why?”
“She needed one to get around. When she waved it around on stage, she would lose her balance. No cane means that she didn't come here under her own power.”
“Nicely observed,” said Horatio. “What else?”
“She's dressed in a nightgown. Clearly, that adds to my suspicion that she was brought here rather than making the journey on her own.”
“She might have been sleepwalking,” offered the troll.
“It's possible,” I conceded. “However, I've never known the woman to step out into society without being appropriately clothed. Look at her neck.”
The troll leaned over the body as best he could. “I don't see anything.”
I pointed at some purple marks on her pale skin. “That looks like bruising to me.”
“Somebody put their hands around her neck. Poor woman,” lamented the troll.
My eyes roamed over the dead woman's body, looking for any other noticeable clues. I avoided going above the neck because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to handle looking into her open eyes again. Yes, I wanted to help, but knowing the victim might render me useless.
The unnatural bend of her body more than suggested that she didn’t fall on her own. “Somebody definitely laid her here.” I crouched down to look at the soles of her feet. “See? No dirt.”
“So she was placed here on purpose.” Horatio frowned.
“Looks like it.” The stench of her perfume and the mortification of her body overwhelmed my senses. I closed my eyes and covered my nose with my hand.
“Here.” Horatio handed me a handkerchief. Instead of using it to block out the smell, I thanked him and used the fabric to pick up her lifeless hand. “See here? She has blood on her fingertips and under her fingernails.”
“And I think we can take it from here, Miss Goodwin,” called out a familiar voice. Mason rounded the corner. “I’ll ask you to let go of the body and back away.”
I placed Mrs. K’s hand down with gentle intent and held up my own, showing the detective the handkerchief. “I didn't touch her with my bare hands.”
“You shouldn't be touching her at all,” admonished Mason. “As I said, we can take it from here. And you,” he turned his attention to the troll. “It was you who found her?”
“I did.” Horatio looked at the body and back at the detective. “I feel most bereft for the poor lady.”
“I’m sure,” muttered Mason, taking out his notebook from his pocket. “And when did you find her?”
“When I came in to open the library this morning. Ten o'clock, I believe, Detective,” answered my friend.
Mason glanced at his watch. “It's almost lunchtime. Why have we been brought in now?”
“I will admit, I did not discover her right away. It took the re-shelving of a few books for me to stumble upon her.”
“And so the first person you contacted was Charli and not a warden.” The detective’s point came out as a statement rather than a question.
“I did not search specifically for her,” Detective Clairmont. However, when I exited the library initially, I found her within the area. For whatever reason, I asked her to verify who the lady is. Was, I mean,” stumbled Horatio.
Mason instructed both of us to step away from the body to give the other wardens a chance to do their job, continuing to pepper us with questions. With each one, it became clear whom Mason suspected.
“Horatio didn't do it, Mason, if that's what you're trying to imply,” I protested.
“And what makes you the expert in this? Were you with Horatio so that you can vouch for him?” His professional gaze chilled me.
“No. But there is nothing to suggest that he did do it other than she was found in the library,” I pointed out.
“By him,” said Mason. “And he did not alert us to her presence right away, which calls him into suspicion at least.”
“And while you're asking him questions, you're not the one taking notice of the important things,” I insisted.
“Like what?” Mason asked.
I filled him in on my observations. The detective listened and wrote things down in his notebook. “Thank you for doing a job that doesn't belong to you, but I must insist that you leave now. And Horatio, I would like you to accompany me to the station.” He turned his back to us and ordered the other wardens to get the body onto a nearby stretcher.
With a warden on either side of the body, they used their magic to lift her into the air. When she settled on the stretcher, her head lolled to the side in my direction. Her empty, glassy eyes stared at me while her mouth gaped in horror as if still trying to draw in a final breath.
“Wait a minute,” I called out.
Mason rushed to me. “Charli,” he hissed. “That’s enough. I don't need you here, and I don't need your help.”
His words stung, but I brushed them off. “No, I mean, look at her mouth.” Something white was blocking was sitting in her open jaws.
“Tweezers,” commanded Mason. “Does anybody have any tweezers?”
“Horatio, grab me two pencils,” I ordered.
“Don't move,” countered Mason. “Here, you two. Give me your pencils.” The nearby wardens handed over their writing implements.
Holding them in my hand like a pair of chopsticks, I approached the body. With care, I clasped the white object between the tips of the two pencils and pulled on it gently. It came out and fell, a line of sticky saliva snapping away from it as it hit the floor.
Mason gestured his hands at the object, and it lifted in the air. With a few twists of his wrists and a flourish of his fingers, the article unfolded and grew larger, revealing a wrinkled piece of paper. “There's something written on it,” the detective said.
I edged closer to it. “Looks like a poem.” I read the lines out loud.
“Turn, turn, my wheel! All things must change
To something new, to something strange;
Nothing that is can pause or stay;
The moon will wax, the moon will wane,
The mist and cloud will turn to rain,
The rain to mist and cloud again,
To-morrow be to-day.”
“I know those words,” declared Horatio. He broke the command of the detective and ran off with heavy stomps. When the troll returned out of breath, he held out a book in his hand. “It's Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.” He opened the hardback to reveal the torn page. “I believe it came from here.”
“I’ll take that.” Mason gave orders for a warden to bag the book. He made another flourish with his hands, and a shimmering protection layered over the book and sealed it. He took it from the troll, handing it off to one of the other wardens, and issued orders for them to take the body out the back of the library instead of out the front door onto Main Street.
Mason turned his attention back to the two of us. “I’m going to lock this place down under warden protection. You, you're coming with me,” he directed at Horatio. “Charli, you need to go home.”
“But don't you want my help?” I asked. “Perhaps there’s something I can help you track down?”
Mason escorted me to the front door. “If there’s something to find, then I might be in contact with you. Until then, let me do my job.”
I pulled on his arm to stop him. “Mason, what's going on?” More questions popped into my head, but I focused on the one that mattered. �
��Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Charli. It's not you who did something wrong.” He cast his eyes down and scratched the back of his head.
“I don’t understand. That implies that you did something wrong, and for the life of me, I can't think of anything.” I wanted to shake him out of whatever mood affected him.
Without another glance at me, Mason opened the door. “Let me handle things my way for once. Please.”
The sun hurt my eyes. Already a crowd had gathered in front on the steps of the library. Linsey forced her way through the crowd and confronted Mason. “I heard you found a body. Care to elaborate?”
“No comment,” replied Mason.
Lily's younger sister turned her attention to me. “How about you? Are you involved in another murder, Charli?”
Back off, Linsey,” I grated through my clenched teeth. “Or I will hex your hiney.”
“So, that's not a no?” challenged the annoying reporter wannabe.
“Miss Goodwin was assisting me inside. And that is all you need to know. Good day,” Mason dismissed her.
Inquisitive eyes burrowed into me, and I needed a quick getaway. A shrill whistle snapped me to attention. I ran in its direction and found Dash around the corner. He stood shirtless beside the two bikes, sweat dripping down his muscled torso. Pulling his shirt over his head, he covered his muscled skin.
“Were you naked?” I asked.
“How else do you think I got to the warden station so fast? I don't shift with my clothes still on.” The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement.
People started heading our way to ask more questions. I straddled the bike and flipped the switch. “Let's get out of here.”
We took off down the street, leaving the rest behind. About halfway back to my house, I turned the switch off, wanting to burn some energy with the burn of my own muscles. My mind raced through the details I had noticed. I replayed Mason's treatment of Horatio and me over and over again, getting angrier at each replay. I stopped the bike in the middle of an inner section.
“What are you doing?” asked Dash.
“I’m sorry. I've gotta go.” Turning my bike in the opposite direction, I headed toward the warden station.
Chapter Six
I arrived at the station and parked my bike, running inside in a huff. When I got to the front desk, I didn't know what to say or why I was there in the first place. I stood in indecision, contemplating whether to stay or go home for too long before someone noticed me.
“Oh, hey, Charli,” called out Zeke. “You lookin’ for your brother?”
“Not exactly.” I panicked, unable to come up with the reason why I was there. “I’m here to speak to Mason. I mean, Detective Clairmont.”
“He's busy at the moment, but I don't think he would mind if you wanted to wait.” Zeke offered a nearby seat.
“Thanks,” I uttered. Sitting down, I did my best to be patient. But I couldn't stop the replay in my head, and I found myself more steamed than before. By the time Mason’s deep tone echoed down the hall, I was in tune with it and ready to go on the attack. However, he escorted Horatio out, and I wanted a chance to talk to my friend.
“Charli,” Mason said in a calm voice. “Why am I not surprised? You have a habit of not taking my advice.”
“I want to talk to you in a second,” I demanded. But first, I took the troll by the hand and pulled him outside. “Tell me,” I insisted. “What did they say or do?”
Horatio reassured me. “I am not under arrest, if that is your concern. I have, however, been informed not to leave Honeysuckle anytime soon, which is not an imposition due to the fact of my involvement in the election. So it shall not change my future plans more than to add more grief and concern to my life. I do not believe that they have any idea who might have brought harm to the old woman.”
“As long as they follow the evidence that points away from you, then I'm okay with that,” I exclaimed.
“That's the problem, my dear. Your detective is acting under the philosophy of Occam's razor. The simplest explanation is usually the best. If I were him, then I would suspect me as well. She was found in the library, which is my domain. If you are right and she was choked to death, it would not be an unreasonable leap to think that a troll with as large of hands as I possess could easily manage her delicate nape.”
“What about the poem?” I asked.
Horatio sighed. “My affinity for language and the written word is renowned. Although the American masters are not my forte, it does seem as if somebody is trying to make me at least a suspect, which they have achieved to great success.”
“But the words and their meaning. I think they're talking about change, right?”
“You are indeed correct. The entire poem speaks about how nothing can remain the same,” he commented.
“If I didn't know better, I would think that it was a political statement,” I observed.
“Another pointed arrow aimed in my direction, I think.” The troll rubbed his chin in contemplation.
“It could be for any of the candidates, Horatio. Or meant as a message to anyone who believes that our town shouldn’t change at all. But none of those pieces of evidence definitively call you into suspicion.” I intended to say exactly that to Mason in a few moments. “And what about the blood under the fingernails? Did the detective say anything about that?”
The troll shook his head and smiled down at me in amusement.
“What?” I asked.
“I cannot help but think of a quote from the Victorian author Elizabeth Gaskell. ‘There is always a pleasure in unraveling a mystery, in catching at the gossamer clue which will guide to certainty.’ You are a marvel to watch, Charli. You definitely have a magical knack for finding things, including clues,” he complimented. “It's a wonder that you don't make a living at it, for if you did, you'd be the first I would hire.”
Juniper arrived at the station and flung herself at Horatio. I left the two to their lives and headed back inside. To my surprise, Mason waited at the front desk for me.
“You had something you wanted to add?” he asked.
Too surprised to respond with words, I nodded.
The detective escorted me back to his office and closed door. He offered the seat in front of his desk for me to sit in, but I refused, choosing to stand. I paced around while he sat down in his chair and leaned back, waiting.
“Horatio thinks that you are going with the simplest explanation, which is why you think he might have killed Mrs. K,” I started.
“Occam's razor. I'm familiar with the philosophy. However, that doesn't always present the actual truth. I will follow the evidence to where it leads, Charli.” He paused to give me the floor again.
“But that's the thing. There is evidence that already proves he didn't do it.”
“Like what?” challenged Mason.
“The blood on the fingertips and under the fingernails. Mrs. K scratched at whoever did this to her,” I said with excitement.
Mason leaned forward on his desk. “I’ll wait for the doc to make that discovery official. But what do you think it means?”
“It means that whoever did this should have scratches on their arms. And Horatio did not. On top of which, he's a troll.” I noted my friend’s biological status as a benefit. “His skin is so tough that it would take more than a fingernail to breach it.”
The detective lifted an eyebrow in appreciation. “That's an astute observation. One that I had already made, however, which is why he is going home rather than spending the night here.”
“Oh.” I couldn't think of anything else to say in defense of my friend. I stopped pacing and sat down.
“Was there something else?” Mason pushed.
I opened my mouth a couple of times to try and breach the barrier between us. Unable to be brave enough, I closed my mouth.
Mason relaxed into the back of his chair with a sigh. He folded his hands in front of his face, his fingers tapping on his mouth.
“Listen, I'm sorry for my demeanor back there in the library. It caught me off guard to find you with another dead body.”
“I promise, I don't go looking for them,” I said.
“I don't know. Two dead bodies in the time I've been here, and both times, you've somehow been involved.”
“At least this time, I'm pretty sure I don't have the death curse trying to take my life,” I joked.
“Probably not,” admitted Mason. “But your involvement with the body could have been noticed by the person who committed the crime. Did you think of that?”
The detective had me on that point. “No.”
“Well, I did. You shouldn't be involved. It could put you at risk. Any help you give me or the department could put you at risk.” His voice softened. “That's the last thing I want to do.”
“Is that why you stopped asking me to help? It's been ages since we…” I trailed off. The more he pushed me away, the more I was certain that I had imagined any connection to him in the first place.
“Partially that. And more my behavior at that one event,” he added.
He caught my attention. “Which one?”
“The one with your cupid friend, Skeeter.”
My eyes widened at his confession. “Are you talking about the one with the lemonade? Mason, nobody that was involved was in their right head. I don't think anyone could be held responsible for their actions that night.”
Affected by many love potions mixed together that had gone wrong, both Dash and Mason had clashed over my attention. Although I questioned the validity of their professed emotions at the time, I didn’t take anything that was said that evening seriously. However, it seemed that the detective regretted his actions.
“Whatever happened, Mason. It doesn't matter,” I insisted.
“But it does, Charli. This job comes with its downfalls. If I want to do it right, then I need to make it my focus. I can't let any obstacles get in my way.”
My heart sank like a rock. “And that's what I am to you? An obstacle?”
“No. Yes. I don't know what I mean.” Mason wiped his face with his hands.
