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

by Pearl Goodfellow

  I stood still, deep in my morose thoughts, to give the kitties a chance to unravel themselves from their pile-up.

  Thank goodness the regular Unawakened passersby couldn’t speak ‘cat,’ because my moggies were having a lively quarrel about who was getting in the way of whom right now. My cats are immortal, in case you didn’t know. Immortal and magical. And they can talk. A lot. Their collective name is ‘The Infiniti,’ or, as Onyx prefers: ‘The Lemniscate.’ Don’t mind Onyx; he’s unbearably old-fashioned and formal. But, I can see why he refers to himself and his siblings by this archaic title. The lemniscate is the name for the symbol of infinity. The number ‘8,’ only horizontal; as if the numeral had fallen onto its side in a drunken tumble. The Infiniti also happened to have eight members. Although, my agoraphobic cat, Jet, was safe at home right now. He’d greedily consumed his allotted dose of catnip for the week, and, as he wasn’t allowed more, there was no way he had the courage to step into the outside world. Not without his ‘fix.’

  David and I, each in our own worlds, crested the hill, the boardwalk leading down now, to a fiesta of lights, colors, music, thrill-seeking screams and heady food aromas. The Mabon Annual Fair. The layout of the fairground was magical havoc. Rides, game booths, food stalls, all jumbled up, and leaning against one another. The traditional carnival-piped music trilling in the background of this chaotic spectacle, with the backdrop of the dunes and the Harbinger ocean, was enough to pull me out of my funk. I had always loved coming to the Mabon Fair, and the bewitching riot before me was splendidly cheerful. Yes, Hattie. You’ve come here for fun, not to get to maudlin over the Chief Para Inspector of Gless Inlet. I straightened my back, and lifted my chin, forced a sunny smile and skipped down the hill after the cats, leaving David to ponder whatever the heck he was thinking about. The fair was in full swing, and I could feel its good vibes reaching out for me. And, By Brigid, I intended to have some fun. With or without David.

  I heard my friend pick up the pace behind me then.

  “Hattie, wait,” The chief panted.

  “Oh, you’re back to the world of the living now, are you?” I couldn’t keep the acid tone out of my voice. I tried, but I couldn’t pull it off. I felt Midnight’s paw on my foot, kneading me into a calmer frame of mind.

  “I’m sorry, Hat,” David offered. “I’ve been distracted, I know. It’s just …" He shook his head. "I think I might be coming down with something, I guess. Not feeling quite myself, you know?”

  I searched my friend’s eyes, and I could see the weary truth glittering on the surface of his baby-blues.

  “It’s okay,” I confessed. “I know you and your department is under a lot of strain these days. With all these murders. It’s hard not to feel the pressure from the island’s inhabitants when you know that inside they’re screaming ‘keep us safe.’” I reached and squeezed David’s arm, immediately sorry for my childish outburst earlier. Goddess, I could get so wrapped up in myself sometimes. I smiled at my friend and cast my eyes to the carnival.

  “The Annual Mabon End of Summer Fair, Sir!” I bowed and swept my arm to the glory of the bright lights and the bustle of bodies below. David laughed, and this time his mirth reached his eyes. I relaxed a little. If, even as friends, we were going to have a good time. We were going to take our minds off murder for once.

  We wandered closer to the throng of the carnival. A cherished yearly event for both tourists and residents alike, the Mabon Fair was the wrapping-up of summer. The fiesta’s origins were in religious worship, however. The fair had started its life as a celebration to the Goddess. Prayer tents, private worship stalls, and big-top churches competed for space among the food stalls and games of the day. It was kind of a festival of magical merrymaking. Apart from a few token prayer tents that harked back to the days of old, and the opening and closing ceremonies, the fair was now a mainly commercial outfit. Still, I loved Mabon. Probably more than Yule, even. I loved the way it marked the transition into a more introspective time. Fall. The time to harvest and gather, and spend time indoors, canning, pickling, preserving, knitting. All the industrious activities that helped you prepare for the colder, more isolated months.

  Midnight trotted up alongside David.

  “So, now you’re in a better mood, chief, What’s this I hear about Hagatha Jinx languishing in the Serenity Clinic on Pandora?” Midnight raised his whisker-eyebrows at David in question. “I heard it from some mudglumpers in case you were wondering,” he continued.

  As only a weary cop could, my friend sighed and admitted, “Afraid it’s true, Midnight.”

  “And how exactly did that malignant dwarf earn a stay at the recycling center?” Gloom all but spat. True, Hagatha was an incredibly short lady, but 'malignant dwarf?' Every one of her brothers, even Fraidy, gave a disapproving growl of their own.

  Everyone's getting a case of bad juju.

  “Funny how the right amount of money and connections can buy an insanity plea,” David said, becoming more animated than I’d seen him during the entire walk here. This bothered him. He was the Chief of the Para Police and having a known attempted murderer wind up in the plush services of the Serenity Clinic, (whose credo, by the way, was ‘The only crime here is suffering alone,’) must have made his blood boil. David had fully expected Aurel Nugget’s wife’s failed attempt at murdering her late husband would earn her a cell in Steeltrap Penitentiary on Talisman. But, no.

  “Due to the recommendations of Dr. Skinsplit, and Morag Devlin's fierce defense, Hagatha was ruled to be suffering from PTSD from contact with the Fae.” He ran his hand through his hair, catching the edge of the white streak his hair had recently acquired. “Yep, PTSD from allegedly being coerced and bullied by the Unseelie’s. Hagatha Jinx was apparently so severely traumatized by her interaction with the faerie’s that she was deemed not of ‘sound mind’ when it came to plotting Aurel’s murder.” David concluded, his voice strained.

  “What?” I asked in disbelief. The kitty chorus of disapproval showed my friend he had an incredulous audience. Seeing that Hagatha had deliberately sought out the Fae to put a contract on her husband; to end Aurel Nugget’s life, it didn’t seem possible that the tiny witch would get a ‘stay’ at Serenity. Oh, and that’s what they called your incarceration there; a ‘stay.’ The word 'sentence' was never uttered in its spa-like halls and Nordic relaxation areas. I felt for my friend. This was a hard one to swallow.

  “Yes, it’s ridiculous. But the judge thought it sounded plausible enough to go for rehabilitation instead of incarceration. So, Hagatha has a one year ‘stay’ at Serenity, complete with a room overlooking the Crystal Sea to help her with her so-called recovery.”

  David’s earlier bad mood made perfect sense to me now.

  Midnight grabbed hold of the chief’s pant leg, forcing the chief to stop in his tracks.

  “But, do you happen to know who Hagatha’s attorney was?” Midnight’s face broke into a crafty smile. The chief sighed and shook his head in warning at Midnight. “Don’t say it.”

  “That’s right. Morag Devlin.” We all gasped. Midnight strutted, grinning proudly at the slick delivery of his intel.

  “Wait,” I said, holding up a finger. “THE Morag Devlin who is currently defending Norris Copperhead, the REAL murderer of Hagatha’s husband?”

  “The very one.”

  Wow. Odd.

  So, our last murder investigation, as I said, was that of Aurel Nugget’s. Aurel had been dispatched by his supposed life-long friend, Norris Copperhead. But at the SAME time, and entirely independently, Aurel’s vicious wife, Hagatha, had plotted with the Fae to have her husband killed. Poor Aurel. And, the thing is? He was a really nice man. I’d known him only briefly, but his altruism and kindness lived on in the memory those still alive. Such a loss.

  I scratched my chin. We walked the last hundred feet or so to the fair slowly.

  “Wouldn’t that be like a conflict of interest or something? I mean, the same target by two different killers, s
ure, but—“

  “Two separate killers who acted independently of each other,” Onyx countered. “As such, there is no conflict of interest, despite the obvious connection of their mutual target; Nugget. Shame to lose a good man to such venomous hatred. "

  “You ain’t lying, brother,” Shade piped up. “I mean, Copperhead was just pure evil behind that cheesy grin. And, Hagatha? You ask me; I’d say she was a worse bloodsucker than poor old Nugget’s vampire mistress.”

  I had to stifle a smirk at Shade's quip. In the last few years of his life, Aurel had taken up with Carpathia Alecto, a Bavarian ex-priestess-turned-vampire. Weirdly enough, she also happened to be one of the nicest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I was enough of a romantic to wonder briefly if there might have ever been a chance for Aurel and Carpathia. Another sad aspect of the case. The two were clearly and deeply in love. One good thing that DID come of Norris Copperhead being arrested was that Carpathia Alecto, in a surprise victory, won the Golden Chair at the Coven Isles Alchemical Society. Her alchemy entrance exam and her alluring persona made her a shoo-in. I smiled again. The first and only female member of the society, Carpathia was currently having a ball bossing all those learned men around. She was in her element, for sure. I knew inside she was sad at Aurel’s passing, but Carpathia knew how to put on a bold front, and make the best of things. So, I think we can all agree that holding the Golden Chair title is certainly making the best of things.

  We joined the throng of people now, as we moved our way into the carnival’s heart.

  “Come on guys!” I blurted out. “We’re here to have fun, not talk of murders and murderers. We’re at the fair, and there are no dead bodies here.” Everyone agreed, and with a new found pep to our step, we embraced the array of fairground attractions.

  Until a dead body showed up, that is.

  Continue reading …

  Afterword

  Hello!

  I’m on Facebook, if you’d ever like to join me there?

  https://www.facebook.com/PearlGoodfellowbooks/

  I’d also like to invite you to join my mailing list. In return for signing up I’m giving away this fabulous book straight from The Angel Apothecary; The Handbook for Healthy Living and Healing.

  100 all natural, make-at-home recipes for all aspiring witches of any level. Bring on the lotions and potions!

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  About the Author

  Pearl Goodfellow is an emerging author of political westerns. This is Pearl’s seventeenth book.Who is Pearl, anyway?

  Well, when she’s not talking about herself in the third person, she would likely describe herself something like this:

  I’m a borderline crazy-cat-lady and I have an imagination much bigger than my small head can contain. So, I write it all out! I genuinely believe in magic of the Universal variety. A magic that can be accessed by every single human that’s lived, living or will ever live. I write about all this from a Witch’s point of view, of course. : )

  I’m an English ex-pat living in Atlantic Canada in the magically beautiful province of Nova Scotia. I feel a Peggy’s Cove Cozy coming on!

  Other larger than life passions I have are:

  Concocting make-at-home, all natural lotions, and potions and teas.

  Nature in all it’s outlandish glory. If I could get away with it, I’d literally roll around in nature from dawn to dusk, whatever the season.

  Meditation and human connection are what drive me forward and what make me try to be a better person.

  Oh, and keep in touch if you can. She'd love it!

  Yes, Please!

  www.soarfreepublishing.com/pearlgoodfellow/