The Infiniti Investigates: Hattie Jenkins & the Infiniti Chronicles Books 1 to 5

by Pearl Goodfellow

  I couldn’t resist: “I just had a feeling something was ‘off’ with you,” I leaned across the table scrutinizing the phony man’s face.

  “Well, aren’t you a regular Inspector Clouseau?” The alchemist mocked, turning his icy stare to me.

  “Why, Norris?” I asked. “Why kill your supposed best friend and ally? I mean, you only just announced that he would be the Godfather to your daughter, Ambronia. I don’t get it.”

  “Ambrosia!” Copperhead screamed. “Her name is Ambrosia!” He got up from the chair and began pacing the length of the room. “The Godfather announcement was a sham. I thought it might provide a modicum of cover. Guess I was wrong.” He kept up his pacing. “How did that fool ever get the Golden Chair spot in the first place, that’s what I want to know,” he seethed, as he ramped up his fidgety stepping. “He told me, you know? The idiot confided in me that he was trying to temper Dragon Steel. Ha! Dragon Steel!” Copperhead threw up his arms and turned to us, his face incredulous. “I mean, the old goat couldn’t even distinguish pig-iron from fools gold, and yet he’s invited into some secret organization to take on the task of Dragon Steel?! I mean, c’mon, give me a break.”

  “So, what, you killed him because he didn’t know his metals?” David asked, his face impassive. I cast a sideward glance at the chief. He still looked like a complete loon, what with all of the black balefire-backlash that plastered his cheeks and forehead. I had to admire my friend though; he knew how to give good interview.

  Norris stopped his pacing and dashed over to the table. Planting his palms on the surface, and leaning dangerously close to us, he hissed. “I killed him because he was a pathetic, clueless moron who somehow managed to trump me when it came to being awarded the Golden Chair.” The alchemist glared at us, his face twitching with livid energy. He took a step backward, pacing once more, “And, why did Nugget get the esteemed spot instead of me?” He whirled toward us, expecting an answer.

  “Uh, because he was the better alchemist, and also the more liberal politician?” David guessed.

  “No, Inspector, no. Aurel got the Chair only because everyone liked him. And, despite what others say of his genius, I’m here to tell you the man was incompetent!” Copperhead leaned back against the wall, panting from his outburst.

  “If he was so incompetent, how do you think he managed to get the job with this super-secret society you just mentioned? Wouldn’t they have vetted his credentials pretty thoroughly?” I knew full well that Portia would never have chosen a Custodian who didn’t have spectacular expertise in their field. What we had before us here was just a green monster. A power hungry one, who couldn’t bear to see his gentle, kind friend get all the gifts that life could throw at him.

  “Think what you will,” the vice chair said, finally pulling a seat. He flopped into it, his whole body weighted with defeat. “Everyone knows that it’s Orville with the REAL talents. If Dragon Steel COULD save you, poor wretches, then Orville would be the one to give it the good old college try, ” Copperhead finished.

  A shiver shot through my spine. ‘Could?’ I looked at David, and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. We couldn’t let this vile man get a reaction from us, from his below-the-belt intimidation techniques.

  “I understand that you’re related to the Blackfeather’s?” David asked, steering us away from Norris’ veiled threat. “Why would a member of such a prominent Warlock family risk dragging the family name in the dirt with the murder of an allegedly clueless best friend?”

  Norris raised his head, and his words were clear and sinister. “Do you have any idea whatsoever of what’s going on in these Isles, Chief Inspector? Do you have the slightest clue about the power and magic at work here? You think finding my map, and your little foray into Mag Mell has told you anything? Anything at all?” Norris’ eyes glittered with contempt. We must have looked surprised at him knowing of our journey to fairyland because he spat “What? You thought I wouldn’t find out about your intrusion into the Fae realm?”

  “Well, as you seem to be chummy with the Faerie’s, Mr. Copperhead, why don’t you tell us what’s going on over there on that charming little Isle,” Nice try, friend. I loved the way he handled people with big egos. He knew they couldn’t resist feeling important, and so divulging more than was healthy for their prison sentences. Norris leaned back in his chair and sniggered.

  “Ah, the Unseelie's will provide enough clues soon enough, my friend,” he scoffed menacingly. “That’s all you need to know for now.” His face was beaming in a repulsive mask of smug satisfaction. “I confess, it’s a tragedy I was caught. If I’d have held the Golden Chair, I’d have directed my influence wisely. To ‘the cause’ as it were.” He shook his head and whispered just loud enough so I could hear him. “We could have come so far.”

  “Okay, Mr. Copperhead, we’re going to wrap this up now. So we didn’t get answers about the Unseelie plans, but we have enough to remand you in Steeltrap Penitentiary until trial.”

  David put away his notebook. “Who’s your lawyer?” Copperhead lifted his head and gave a crafty smile.

  “Morag Devlin is my counsel,” he replied, almost happily. I looked at David, puzzled. I knew most of the law force on Glessie, and I’d never heard of a Morag Devlin. David looked as mystified as I felt.

  “Well, it’s been nice,” David said pushing away from the table. I stood to follow his lead. “Spinefield will make you arrive safely at Steeltrap,” the chief said opening the door. We were about to leave when Copperhead barked “How did you get into Mag Mell if you’re not Fae?” He looked at us, face calm and expectant.

  “It was a fluke,” I responded, pushing David to complete the exit from the small room.

  “Impossible,” Norris grunted. “Only Fae-kin can gain entry into the Isle.” He shouted after us as we left the room and closed the door.

  “Are those furballs really…..”

  “Cait Sidhe?” I laughed at my friend's expression of wonder. "Don't be ridiculous, CPI Trew."

  "But, what about --"

  "David, you're not thinking straight. Shade? Gloom? FRAIDY? They seem like king of the cats to you?”

  "Ha! You're right," the chief put his hand around my shoulders, and we walked together along the corridor of the station. "I think some pixie dust got in my brain."

  I smiled up at my friend and wrapped my free arm around him. And like this, we strolled into the fragrant and balmy night of our beloved Gless Inlet.

  Two days after Norris Copperhead was thrown into Steeltrap, to await trial for the murder of Aurel Nugget, the town braced itself for the Faery Queen Hinrika Jonsdottir's arrival. The pier at Nessie beach was festooned with brightly colored streamers, color coordinated to match the flag of the Faroe Islands, where Hinrika hailed from. Children chased kites, the size of bald eagles up and down the beach to the sides of the pier, while they waited for the Royal yacht to drop anchor.

  "You okay in their, buddy?" I looked down to my agoraphobic cat, nestled into a papoose at my chest, his head covered with what looked like an executioner's hood.

  "Yep, yep, yep, all good, boss," Jet sputtered. He insisted on coming out for the arrival of the Queen. Spurred on by an increased dose of catnip, and the promise of full coverage for his body, we convinced our zippy cat to make the trek with us.

  David reached under the hood to give Jet a scratch of the cheek.

  While we walked the length of the jetty, David, at the cat's insistence told his version of events at disabling the balefire beacon.

  Verdantia had instinctively known where to find the signal and our elven friend had guided David straight into the heart of the Phlange Range. A craggy, hellish cluster of mountains at Phlange's northern end. The beacon, no larger than a basketball, stood wedged between a sharp outcrop of smaller rock at the highest point of the mountains. The radio waves were unbounded in each direction, given the beacon full power to transmit its mayhem far and wide across the isles.

  In an a
ct of manly heroism, David pounced on the flare, trying to shield Verdantia from any harmful rays. He didn't realize that the signal would have no effect on her, so he needlessly took the brunt of the impact as soon as he landed on the thing. It exploded in his face. Luckily, Verdantia was lightning quick and threw out a pixie heat shield just as the blast reached David's face. He couldn't escape the scorch marks, but he did avoid the severe burn he'd have gotten had Verdantia not been there.

  Together, the two had to take an arduous, slow moving journey over the higher peaks of the range, carrying the beacon as they moved deliberately through the icy air. David and Verdantia had to act as bookends almost. Both of them behaving like human walls on either side of the tag, so they would block any harmful emissions from the device as they flew over Phlange's capital, Cragghead. Having to keep their exacting positions on either side of the signal, with the Phlange range blocking the other two sides of the beacon, they bumped their way on mountain thermals to the Grimlock Bog at the foot of the range.

  Grimlock was the deepest salt marsh in the Isles. Possibly the world. It was said that you could hide at least thirty dragons piled high on top of the other in that swamp, and nobody would be any the wiser. To date, anything that had been dropped in the bog was lost to the bog. There have never been any recoveries of lost objects. Or bodies. Or dragons. Hopefully, a basketball sized beacon would be as equally lost to the world.

  The cats were proud of David. I could tell by the way they kept rubbing up against the Police Chief's legs as they trotted alongside him. Much to Millie Midge's chagrin, I might add. The poor girl was pulled in a myriad of tangled directions as my kitties happily made a morass out of the cat leashes.

  I looked ahead and saw the yacht bump up against the end of the jetty to a throng of joyful cheers. I could see Portia Fearwyn standing first in line to greet the Queen. Hmm, I wonder what's going on there then?

  I waved to Violet Mulberry, who was standing with Maude and Horace Mangler, the latter holding a parasol over the two ladies, so their faces were shaded and kept cool in the heat of the summer afternoon.

  We passed Verdantia, who was gliding like a heavenly vision down the length of the pier, her gauzy pink dress flowing behind her. She dipped her head at us and gave each of the cats her brand of elven love.

  "Boss! Cop! C'mon!" Shade called back as David and I paced the wooden boards leisurely behind the cats and Millie. "She's here! Let's get up there!"

  My Romeo was very excited. I wondered vaguely if one of his siblings had told him Hinrika was beautiful. Shade was an incorrigible flirt. Jet started straining at the makeshift papoose. "Hey, boss, can we go any faster?" his little head peeking out from under his hood. "I mean, I don't want to miss this either, you know?"

  "Okay, okay. Goddess, you guys can be so demanding!" David laughed.

  "Best we get in line before we have a feline uprising," he suggested.

  The gangway dropped with an almighty clang just as we were arriving. I sidled up alongside Portia, David keeping a respectful distance from the old witch. She gave a respectful little bow to the group of us.

  "Hattie, Lemniscate, Ms. Midge," she addressed us all and took the time to look over my shoulder to give David a hard, cold stare.

  There was motion from the boat then. An outrageously tall blond woman shimmied down the gangway, offering dainty royal waves as she came. The cheers erupted again as she smiled and curtsied and bid the crowd well wishes.

  Once on the pier, the Queen made her way over to Portia almost immediately. They shook hands and hugged in that order. My mouth fell open. They clearly knew one another well, and they were obviously very good friends. I couldn't hear what they were saying, given the volume of the hollering going on, but it looked urgent. They talked very quickly right into one another's ears, both gesticulating wildly to highlight whatever information they were sharing.

  My cats were enrapt. They sat staring up at the royal arrival, perfectly still except...

  "...Eclipse! No!" My mind wiping moggie was swinging from Hinrika Jonsdottir's ultra, mega, uber expensive dress, claws fully extended. He wasn't being mean. He just wanted to be closer to the woman.

  I ran to recover my cat because Millie was pretty useless to me, snarled in a cat leash trap as she was.

  "Your Highness, I'm so, so sorr--"

  The fairy queen ignored me completely. She had snagged Eclipse from the hem of her dress and was covering his faces with faery kisses. My cat was wrapped around her neck, leash dangling, butting his head up under her chin. I could hear his purr over the whooping crowd. She lifted him then, by his underarms, and extended him out in front of her, her face full of love and admiration. The other cats couldn't hold back. Dragging a poor incapacitated Millie behind them, they all flew at the woman's flowing dress, dangling by their claws as they desperately tried to summit the new arrival's robes. Before I even noticed, Jet had leaped to join his siblings aboard the fairy queen.

  I felt I could die with embarrassment right then. This was not a good first impression. I was going to have some stern words with my moggies when we got home after this. I couldn't imagine what had them so excited that they'd misbehave this epically.

  Hinrika erupted in a gale of pixie giggles, grabbing each of my cats in turn, holding them, four each side, in her long willowy arms.

  "My cousins! My Cait Sidhe! What a lovely surprise!"

  David sauntered over to me, and bringing his manly hand to my face, he gently closed my gaping mouth.

  "So, like I said Hat. I think your cats are--"

  I croaked the words "Ket shee, yeah."

  THE END

  More goodness to be found on the following pages …

  Also by Pearl Goodfellow

  Book 6 of the Chronicles: The Chimera Charm

  Who knew murder could be this magical?

  Witch-in-denial, Hattie Jenkins, witnesses the horrific death of hard-headed lawyer, Morag Devlin. Along with her eight incorrigible moggies, Hattie and the cats must find out why Morag met her grisly end.

  Weaving their way through magic and mayhem, the crew discover Morag's sinister associations with chief warlock, Gideon Shields. The charismatic governor of Cathedral Isle has a squeaky clean record, of course. But, is there more to Shields than meets the eye?

  Follow Hattie and The Infiniti as they race to unravel the clues and thwart the murderer before they can strike again.

  Book 7 of the Chronicles: The Warlock Weapon

  Who knew murder could be this magical?

  The peace of the Coven Isles is disrupted yet again, and reluctant witch, Hattie Jenkins, has her hands full once more.

  Along with the help of everyone's furry favorites, The Infiniti, Hattie stumbles head-first into the murder investigation of Barnabus Kramp.

  The witch-in-denial assists the love of her life, Chief David Trew, in the race to find Kramp's killer. If they don't solve this case, and soon, then Hattie and the Chief will run out of time to find out what the real threat to the Isles is all about. As if a dead body isn't enough, the pair knows they're being forced toward a deep pool of dark magic. Because the sinister events that have befallen the Isle of late are proof enough that some terrible force is at play. And, it's still playing.

  Is it time for Hattie to release her inner witch-power now? For the good of Supernatural's and Human's alike?

  Find out in this tension filled and (thanks to the cats) laugh-out-loud funny seventh installment of the Chronicles.

  Map of the Coven Isles

  Sneak Peek of Book 6: The Chimera Charm

  The sun was just setting as we strolled along the boardwalk toward the Sugar Dunes and the Mabon Fair. A perfect blood-red orb dipping below the watery horizon of the Harbinger Ocean. I felt overcome by the beauty of it. How this solar giant, in its fiery descent, showcased Gless Inlet’s beloved dunes so beautifully was beyond me. David and I walked in silence, my seven black cats (minus Jet) straining at the kitty leash David had fashioned for me. He call
ed it the cat-o-seven tails; a singular strap with seven individual harnesses attached on the lower reaches. The improvised leash was supposed to make the cat’s easier to handle, but, as evidenced by the jumble of furry tails and legs before me, the cat’s still found a way to comically tangle themselves.

  “Will you stop standing on my paws, you klutz?” Gloom spat at Fraidy, the most timid of my cats.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to blend in, you know?”

  “Well, you’re not blending in, stupid. You’re cramping my style and ruffling my fur. So ...” My grumpy female feline ducked under her tether to untangle herself. She trotted, all hoity-toity, to the front of the clowder, lifting her tail in pencil-straight defiance as she departed.

  “So ‘what’?” Carbon asked, catching up to his sister.

  Gloom glanced back “So...you can kiss my black a--”

  “Gloom!” I shouted in horror, hopefully interrupting whatever else was about to whip from her sharp tongue. She turned to give me stink-eye, but mercifully her tongue was still.

  I glanced at David and offered him a sheepish smile. He barely acknowledged me; preferring to stare at his feet instead. My shoulders slumped. I was wearing the baby-blue cashmere sweater I’d picked up from Prettykins. I’d seen it in Pretty's window last month and knew I had to have it. However, I’d bought it with the express purpose of capturing the Chief’s attention for once. It wasn’t working. If David had noticed my new attire, he didn’t mention it. So much for Divinity Pretty's gushing about how it gave me a 'flattering accentuation of my curves,' I thought glumly. The dress shop owner probably praised and complimented everyone the same way. She had a bottom line to think of, after all.

  Chief Para Inspector David Trew was my lifelong friend. But, he also happened to be the love of my life. I've never, ever told him this, of course. I mean, c'mon, it'd be a pretty pig revelation to dump on someone if they didn't feel the same way, right? And, so far, I'm not filled with the conviction that he does feel the same way. For a while there, I had suspected his feelings for me might have been mutual. The kiss. I felt a warm tingle thread its way through my chest at the memory of David's tender lips. We had been investigating the murder of Glessie Isle’s head alchemist, Aurel Nugget, together. During this particular investigation, however, my best friend also had to extinguish a balefire beacon --almost singlehandedly -- a horror that the mischievous Unseelie had set up on Phlange Isle. The beacon had wreaked chaos across the isles -- too many strange events to mention, but let’s just say that we were all severely affected by the queer happenings under the balefire’s brief reign. Anyway, I digress … so, before David had zoomed off to deal with the wretched beacon, he had grabbed me and kissed me. No warning. Just tugged me into him and kissed me hard on the lips. I’d been naive, I guess. I thought it was finally the start of something between us. Something that neither of us had dared to mention. But, now, post-passionate-kiss, a shared feeling we could speak of out in the open. But, no. David didn’t even so much as hint at the fact that our lips had, only recently, joined in warm union. I checked my friend from the corner of my eye. He seemed distracted. Distant. And I was finding it pretty depressing. Especially as I’d just forked out a decent sum for this stupid sweater. I’d may as well give it to Fraidy for his snuggly sweater-tent under the bed. After all, he had the remainder of my most expensive yarns under there already.