Moggies, Magic and Murder

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “Yep, there’s Verdantia now,” he pointed to the sky to the south of us, and there she was, her hair blowing seductively in the jet stream behind her. She was kneeling on what looked like a Persian rug, back straight, shoulders relaxed, just a flying Buddha, really. Pulling up alongside David’s besom, Verdantia gave me a polite nod and then turned to David.

  “Ready, Chief Inspector?” She queried, her mouth set in a line of grim determination.

  David unexpectedly reached across the air-space and pulled me into him, cradling the back of my head, while my face rested against his neck. I felt the tears pin-pricking at the back of my eyes, demanding to be released. I breathed in his woodsy scent, and murmured into his ear, “I want you back alive, CPI David Trew.”

  “Too much good stuff waiting here for me not to come back,” he said. He kissed my temple with a kiss too tender to have been brotherly. Or maybe I imagined it? With that, the love of my life and my elven green-grocer veered left toward, well, Goddess only knew what, while I made my way to Gless Inlet’s morgue, and to the wisdom of our dear Maude Dulgrey.

  I dropped the kitties off at The Angel, where my trusty friend and lab partner was looking after things. I hugged Artemus briefly, gave each of the cats a kiss on the head, and darted off to Maude’s. All the while I couldn’t stop thinking of David. I hoped he and Verdantia were okay. I hated the idea of the chief being in harm’s way. And, if that beacon wasn’t a whole way of harm, I didn’t know what was.

  “Hattie! Do come in, follow me, make haste!” Maude bobbed exuberantly down the torch-lit, stone corridor toward her state-of-the-art workshop. She seemed very excitable, and I have to admit, it was contagious. What had the old ghoul found?

  “I’d almost given up by midnight last night, but insight hit me finally, and I decided to have a more thorough study of the insides of dear Aurel’s stomach. And, Eureka!” Maude clapped her hands together for resounding emphasis.

  “What did you find, Maude?” I followed her toward her stainless steel lab bench, where she had a host of organic artifacts in a neatly arranged row of petri dishes.

  “Well, I do hope you’re not easily made queasy, and that you haven’t eaten anything in the last little while?” She raised her eyebrows -- whose disrepair resembled a pair of mangy gerbils -- at me. My stomach growled to the contrary of her suggestion. I felt the uncomfortable pang of empty hunger tug at my insides.

  “I’m good, ghoulfriend, hit me.”

  “Well, our good Mr. Nugget here had allegedly inhaled, ergo, ingested the Snake-Iron two nights ago, yes?” I nodded in agreement, and Maude pressed on. “Splendid, as I thought.” She turned to face me, “Now, while I fully expected to find at least some traces of food in Aurel’s gut, imagine my surprise when I found at least a full five days worth?” She exclaimed, clapping her hands again in a squeal of delight.

  “Huh?”

  “Hattie, one conclusive fact about Snake-Iron is that it counteracts the naturally occurring acids in one’s stomach, making the environment alkaline, and hence digestion unequivocally impossible.”

  “So …..”

  “Five days worth of food in our metal workers belly?” Maude questioned me with encouragement. “Food that should have long ago been digested?” For obvious reasons, the stare I gave my coroner friend was decidedly blank. She tried again. “And, Snake-Iron doesn’t allow for digestion?”

  Ignition! I finally got where my ghoulfriend was coming from.

  “So, you’re saying that Snake-Iron, or at least a variant thereof, has been in his system, in his gut rather, for at least five days?”

  “Bingo-Bongo!” Maude skipped a little ditty with her two left feet.

  “I found traces of the iron right alongside his rather rich meal choices. It’s categorically correct that this was some kind of ‘adapted’ Snake-Iron. One that has a much longer gestation period. The very same I pulled from the worm-parasite that had attached to Aurel’s heart, and also a match to what I had unfastened from my un-dead friend, who’d been so cruelly experimented on.” I was busy calculating timelines in my head when Maude gave me the kicker.

  “But, there’s more, Hattie.” Maude cooed. “Horace Mangler, whom you know is my beloved Foxtrot partner, has a brother at the ASCI. So, last week, oh, about seven or eight days ago now, we were invited for the charity dinner there. They were hosting the Mutley Crew organization, as it happens. So, plentiful bubbly, full brass band, you know how the club likes to put on a show.” I nodded; fiercely this time, urging her to go on. “And a menu to DIE for. Main appetizer?” She gave me an inquisitive smile.

  “Pandoran Truffles,” I answered, feeling my head about to explode.

  “Yes! Quite!” Maude burbled. “And, I know for a fact that the little fungi were only to be on the menu for a couple more days. You can’t store Pandoran’s; they have to be eaten fresh!”

  “And, they’ve been out of season since ….” I raced toward the door.

  “Oh my, Hattie, everything okay?” The coroner called after me.

  “Maude, you’re the best. I’ll speak to you later. There’s someone at GIPPD I have to speak to.”

  Spinefield showed me into the interrogation room, where a sulky Lye Werelamb slouched, impossibly low, in one of the beaten-up plastic chairs. I pulled the seat out across from him and sat down. The sullen teen cast me a baleful stare from underneath his greasy bangs. I reached across the table cautiously and squeezed one of the boy’s wringing hands.

  “Lye, I’m going to give it to you straight,” I started, making my voice as soft as I possibly could. “We don’t have time to play around now. There’s some stuff going down, and we need to get to the bottom of it so that we can protect ourselves. And our Isles.” I added earnestly.

  The teen blew a clump of greasy strands from his face. “I wanted to surprise dad, okay?” He pulled his hands into his lap to continue his wringing of them there. “He’s been banging on about a merman pond for months now,” Lye confessed. “I knew he couldn’t afford it, so I wanted to chip in some Sol’s so he could get closer to his dream.” I nosed the air between us, willing him to continue.

  “Dad’s wanted to open a merpeople rehabilitation center for ages. There’s only one on the whole of the Isles,” he explained. “Right up there on North Illwind. And it’s old and run down. Pa would make and manage a much healthier outfit.” He gave me another defensive glance.

  “Okay, “ I said, leaning back to give the boy more space. He looked like a frightened rabbit about to bolt from a magician’s stage. “So, what does this have to do with you being spotted outside Aurel’s estate?” I pressed.

  “Andal Blackfeather,” Lye mumbled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I wanted cash. Andal had a job for me.” The Blackfeathers. A dark lot, they were.

  “To do what? Break into the Nugget residence?”

  “Well, partly, yeah,” Werelamb junior muttered. “I had to meet a guy. I met him on the memorial bench out at the Sugar Dunes. Eight pm, eight days ago.”

  “Go on.”

  “His face was covered, and he had some kind of electronic voice scrambler thing going on under his scarf, so it ain’t like I can give you a description or anything.” Lye pushed back from the table, his hands white-knuckling the sides of the chair this time. “So, this dude asks me to break into Nugget’s lab at the back of his estate. Said, that no matter what it looked like, Aurel was sleeping, and all I had to do was mess the place up a bit and sprinkle some of that worm metal stuff about the room. Gave me a mask and gloves and everything.” The teen wiped his forearm across his nose. “Paid me two-hundred Sols. Upfront. Told me I’d never hear from him again and that the meeting had never happened.” Lye’s face reddened. “I didn’t think he was dead!” He screamed across the table. “I was told he was asleep. I knew he looked a bit funny lying there though. But I just kept my head down and did my job, you know?” Tears were running freely down the boy’s face. “So I finished with messin’,
and I completed the last parts of the job.”

  “Which were?”

  “To leave the unopened jar of that worm powder stuff next to Mr. Nugget’s body, and to dust a little bit of the stuff under his nose. So, that’s what I did. Guy said he’d find out if I didn’t do it properly, and threatened to have dad’s temporary vet license revoked. Any idea what that’d do to our family?” He cried. “We’d lose the farm. And dad would have to get rid of all the livestock!”

  “Lye, take a breath,” I whispered to the distressed boy. “Now, back to the stranger. Can you remember any detail about him? What he wore, the color of his eyes, anything?”

  “Nah, nothing, Miss. Jenkins, I swear. The guy was completely covered up, sunglasses the works. His hands were the only part of him that wasn't …” Young Werelamb squinted at a far away spot in the corner. “He wore a ring!” His announcement made me jump.

  “What kind of ring? Gold? Silver? Any markings?”

  “Yeah, I was kinda staring at it for a bit, actually. Thought it looked pretty cool, you know?”

  “Describe it to me,” I was getting that tingly feeling I get when I know I’m on the brink of a breakthrough discovery. Still, Lye’s next words were outlandishly thrilling.

  “Sergeant!” I jumped up knocking at the interrogation room door as loud as I could. I turned back to the boy. “You did the right thing, Lye,” I said, hoping he felt the truth in my words.

  “Ah, what’s another stint in Steeltrap young offenders wing? No biggie.” He hung his head then, and I rushed past a surprised Sergeant Spinefield who had kindly opened the door for me.

  “Quieten down! I can’t think!” I bellowed at my questioning moggies when I got back to The Angel. I couldn’t find a clear space in my head with all of their rapid fire questions.

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” Artemus offered from the door of the kitchen. I smiled at him gratefully.

  The cats sat in a row at my feet. Seven inquisitive faces peering up at me, all fidgeting, dying to fire their queries at me once more.

  “Finally. Thank you.” I leaned against the cash-desk. “So, first thing’s first. We have to wait until David gets back before I fill you in on everything,” I instructed my feline audience. “Only fair, as the intel’s particularly pertinent.” I squatted down then, so I could be at cat level. “Okay, now, how’s Millie doing?” It was Gloom who answered.

  “Brainwipe’s with her now,” she padded over to me, rubbing her cheek against my knee. She wasn’t being affectionate, she just had an itch that needed scratching. “They were getting a bit persnickety at Howling Mercy about the feline presence there. Said we were a health hazard if you can believe that?” My female kitty’s face puckered in indignation.

  “Yeah, ‘Clipsy’ll make ‘em forget there’s a cool cat there at all!” Shade gushed.

  “Good. Any of you hear from David or Verdantia yet?” Seven furry heads shook from side to side.

  “So, we wait,” I slid down the cash-desk until my rear was on the floor. The cats deciding now was a good time for kneading, bed making and headbutts.

  The Hawthorne tea Artemus had made me was stone cold, and the light was beginning to fade from the sky, and still no word from the balefire duo. My heart was trip-hammering in my chest, even though I had sipped a good portion of the heart-healthy tea. I didn’t want to freak out the cats, so I kept quiet, stroking them when they asked for it, being a bed for them when they demanded it.

  The Angel’s door tinkled, and a blackened face David Trew stepped in. An impeccable (as always) Verdantia, close behind him. I leaped up from the floor, creating a shower of kitties in my wake.

  “David!” I covered the distance between him and me in less than a second and landed in my friend’s firm, enveloping embrace.

  “You’re okay?” I pulled back to get a closer look at him; tears of gratitude already streaming down my face. Well, he’d definitely lost his eyebrows, and his streak of pristine white hair was visibly charred but other than that my friend looked whole and in one piece. David nodded.

  “I can explain everything later, but, yeah, we’re all good. Thanks to V here, we found the beacon, and, for now, at least, it won’t be giving us any more trouble.” David waved Verdantia into the room. “But, I hear from both Spinefield and Maude that you have something?”

  “Can you manage a little trip right now? Just a short one? I can explain on the way.” I said, pushing passed him so I could give my elven friend a big hug. “Verdantia, please. Sit down. Artemus was just making some more tea, and I’m sure the kitties are all eager-ears for yours and David’s story,” I motioned to the armchair by the fire. Carbon trotted over and graciously brought the stove to life.

  “You two go.” Verdantia urged from her chair, the cats already jumping on her, getting themselves comfortable. “I’ll fill in Artemus and the Infiniti; you go do what you need to do.”

  I smiled gratefully, and my friend and I departed.

  “Should be out any minute now,” I said, poking my head around the corner of the alleyway. David’s head bobbed out just above mine. “Yep, there he is.” He sighed. “Ready, partner?” David smiled down at me.

  “As I’ll ever be,” I responded, and followed my friend to our target. We got to him just as he stepped out from the silver door.

  “Ah, how lovely! Chief Inspector and Hattie Jenkins! Good Goddess, Inspector, whatever do you have on your fa --”

  “Norris Copperhead, I’m arresting you for the murder of Aurel Nugget,” David held out the cuffs. For one second it looked as though the vice chair might flee. But, the chief was too quick for him and had snapped the manacles into place before Norris could take one step.

  I sat next to David in the interrogation room. Norris Copperhead sat across from us, an undisguised sneer on his face. We had already told him that we had obtained his map from his locker at the club and that we had his prints all over it. That even if he weren't connected to the balefire beacon, he’d be charged with as having MADE it, unless we heard some definitive answers about what was going on on the magical Isle. After all, Norris having the map was the only concrete evidence of a person in collusion with the Mag Mellian Fae we had. We also had advised him that Lye Werelamb had offered a very accurate description of the alchemist’s ring: Wolf’s head encircled by a snake. The very one I’d seen Norris wearing on the day he first came into the apothecary, and also the ring I saw him slip into his pocket before he left the locker room at the Society. That was shortly after the badminton match with Orville, the deceased’s son. We shared with him we had a written statement on his paying two hundred sols to the young Werelamb for breaking into and messing up his best friend’s lab. To make it look like the chief alchemist had been murdered by ‘regular’ Snake-Iron, thereby skewing the investigation from the start. We told him we knew all about the new and improved Snake-Iron he had developed, with the help of kidnapped zombies, werewolves, and vampires as his test subjects. That THIS Snake-Iron wasn’t fast acting like it’s predecessor, but that it sat in the system for at least five days, undetected, before the parasite squeezed the heart to stillness. We impressed upon him that we knew Snake-Iron neutralized stomach acid. And that any food eaten just prior to, and for at least up to five days after ingestion of the poison-metal, would remain intact, not broken down. We showed him the photo of the perfectly formed Pandoran Truffle extracted from Nugget’s gut by our beloved ghoul coroner. A delicacy known to be digested far more rapidly than most food groups, and yet here it was. Whole. We proved to him that the last time Pandoran Truffles were served on the Isles, and indeed the last time that Aurel Nugget had eaten the fungus, was five days before the GC dropped dead. And the occasion for ingesting the expensive mushroom? A post badminton match lunch. Aurel had won the game and Norris had treated the Chair to a Society meal to prove that he wasn’t a sore loser. That that little truffle had rolled around in the Golden Chair’s stomach for nearly a week before Maude finally extracted it.

  �
�So, your little ‘family holiday’ in Pandora doesn’t really cover your murdering ass, does it, Mr. Copperhead?” David asked, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in the chair. “How’d you do it, though? And, when?” I looked at Norris. He looked like a caged animal. But, with what we had just laid on him, he knew he had nowhere to go.

  “It was quite simple, Chief Inspector,” Norris began, jutting a defiant chin at my friend. “Aurel loves his sports drinks. Thinks they keep him young. Ha!” He ran his fingers through his hands and continued, “It was easy to slip the powder into my friend’s drink when we were courtside after the match.” Copperhead squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face to the ceiling.

  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.”