Moggies, Magic and Murder

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “Well, be sure to advise us, Ms. Midge, as soon as you have anything even remotely promising,” Portia said.

  Millie brought her hand to her temple in mock-military fashion. “You know it, Ms. Fearwyn. Gabby’s helping me with some of the tougher, older tongues, so you never know … maybe we’ll pull something out of the bag.”

  “Very good, very good,” Portia mused. She clapped her hands again. “Well, I think we may have covered all we can for this evening, so now we just need to lay out our next moves.”

  “To the waterfall!” Shade enthused, weaving his way between every ankle in the room like the Romeo flirt he is.

  “That is correct, lover-boy,” Portia said. “Hattie, you’ll accompany me, Horace, and Dilwyn to Cathedral tomorrow afternoon.” She turned to the two faeries. “Vee, Hinrika, I’d like you to join us, please? I’m sure it won’t hurt to have as many eyes as possible on the terrain, to make sure we’re not spotted by the goons.”

  “Ahem!”

  All heads swiveled toward David. “If you think for a second you’re keeping me away from the action on Cathedral, Portia, then you’re very much mistaken. Although my friend’s face was horribly pale and drawn, his flash of anger crawled over his cheeks in a bloom of irate crimson.

  The Witch Fearwyn folded her arms and cast a flinty gaze at the chief. “You will NOT be joining us, CPI Trew. You will stay here, where you are safe from Warlock magic.” David opened his mouth to speak, but Portia got there first. “THIS IS NOT OPEN FOR DEBATE, CPI TREW!”

  David’s body stiffened, and when he spoke his voice was low and menacing. “You are correct, Ms. Fearwyn,” he said, in a constrained tone. “This isn’t open for debate, and I will be accompanying you to Cathedral tomorrow. End. Of. Story.” I reached out for my friend, and as soon as my hand met his arm, I had to pull back. A charge of hideously vibrant electricity swarmed my body as soon as I made contact with David’s skin. He turned to me, his eyes flashing. “Don’t, Hat. I mean it. Don’t.” So I didn’t. It was pretty clear the chief was in no mood for discussing this matter. I’d have tried to placate him too; only ‘Clipsy had caught the thing that had been troubling him from the corner of the room.

  “Put me down, ya great oaf!” Came the voice of Seamus, the brownie. “I’ve come here now to let ya know of important news I were asked to pass on from Sparky, and ya won’t be getting dis news if ya go ‘n’ puncture me vital organs, now will ya’s?”

  Eclipse didn’t let our little pixie friend go, however. Instead, he brought him into the center of the room to explain himself. “I can ‘splain meself,” he said with a high pitched whine. “Just back off a bit, why don’t ya’s? Let a brownie have his space, bejabbers!”

  Gloom, ignoring the little sprite’s lively pleas, pounced on him and held a controlled paw on top of the brownie’s head. “Talk,” she spat.

  “Okay, okay, jeez, take the pressure off a bit, why don’t ya? Your weight is enough to kill a man, me swears on it. What? You been eatin’ donuts all ways to Sunday, or what?”

  This ‘weight’ observation didn’t please Gloom one bit. She applied more of her weight to the tiny man’s head. I noticed she gave her body a brief appraisal before she did -- checking for unsightly bulges; of which there were plenty.

  “Talk,” she said again.

  “Okay, so it’s like this,” Seamus said. “Sparky sent me along to pass on an important message, to be sure.”

  “Who, or what is Sparky?” Portia demanded, squinting her eyes at the prone brownie.

  “Sparky!” He shouted. “You know, Cressida Dreddock’s little electronic sprite? The ol’ loonie has been trying to get in touch with Hattie here, but Ms. Jenkins hasn’t been too keen on answerin’ her phone, so it is.”

  Sparky. We had met this little tech-sprite on one of the last visits to Midnight Hill to see Cressida. Goodness only knows how she made this acquaintance under the watchful gaze of the asylum’s orderlies, but Sparky had proved invaluable in uncovering some of Gideon Shields’ electronic correspondences. Plus, the little imp had become somewhat of a companion to the crazy old witch.

  “Anyways,” Seamus continued. “Cressida tried to get Sparky to get into Hattie’s phone after Hattie ignored Lady Dreddock’s call attempts. But Sparky sensed there was some kind of secrecy thing going on in yous guys digital world, so he pulled back. They thought it’d be safer to send yours truly instead.”

  Gloom pressed down on Seamus’ head. “What’s the message, punk?”

  “Bejabbers, me hopes I gets it right, but it was something along the lines of Cressida has the link to all the murders that have happened in the isles.”

  The news forced Gloom into stunned silence. You could have heard a pin drop in the crowded room.

  Seamus fidgeted under Gloom’s paw, trying his best to crane his neck and look around the room. “What’s the matter wid you alls?” He implored. “Did I say something wrong, now, did I?”

  I looked at Gloom and flicked my head, and my kitty released her paw from the brownie’s head. Seamus jumped to his feet, and his head darted around the room, no doubt looking for an escape hatch. “I’m just the messenger, so I is. So, there’s, like, no use being mad at me just fer passing on a message. I’m just trying to help out as always, I swears it!”

  “It’s okay, Seamus,” I said. “You did well. Now, can you get back to Sparky or Cressida and let them know that David and I will be there to visit her in the morning?”

  “Oh, aye! I can do that, to be sure,” he wailed. “So yous’ll be payin’ the witch a visit tomorrow on the morn, yes? Yep, I can do that. I’d say there’s no time like the present, either, am I right, now?” He paused. “Fer what it’s worth, I fer one is ‘appy that yous guys is our only hope. Aw, to be sure, yous make a good team.” Seamus shuffled his little feet on the spot, and wrung his cap in his hand, repeatedly glancing at the corner of the room from where he was snatched.

  “Go home, Seamus,” I said, smiling at our tiny friend. “Thanks again for coming here and letting us know. “

  Without another peep, Seamus sprinted for his entrance point and disappeared through a gap between wall and floorboard.

  “David,” I said. “We can go there before the Cathedral trip. As Dilwyn said earlier, it’s a better bet for us to visit Cathedral in the afternoon, anyway.” I took a hesitant step toward my friend, but this time I did not reach out to touch him. “Sound good?”

  He didn’t look at me. “Works for me.” His words were snipped.

  “And, David?” I queried. “You were right.”

  The chief gave me a questioning look.

  “You said you suspected Shields of having killed Millicent Ponds and a few others. Looks like your suspicions are turning out to be true.”

  David shrugged himself into his coat. He still wouldn’t look at me or any of the other Custodians, for that matter. “Let’s just wait and see what Cressida has to say tomorrow,” he said. “But, for now … I’m bagged. I’m going home.” He zipped up his jacket and gave me a final look. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  I nodded slowly, almost on the brink of tears. Again. I don’t think I’d ever seen the man I loved so despondent and cold. I instantly regretted thinking I could control his movements and actions just because it worked for ME. I vowed to myself right then and there that I wouldn’t pull this kind of control again. As much as I wanted my man safe, it wasn’t my place to stop his movements from locations where he felt he was needed. Warlock hex, or no Warlock hex.

  David nodded to each person in the room and quietly slipped out the door. His body language shouting to everyone present that he did not want to be followed.

  I guess I’d have to wait until the morning to offer him my humble apologies. And later tomorrow morning, we’d be finding out the heinous link between the recent spate of murders that has plagued our beloved isles. Finally, we’d know the truth behind the deaths of: Cressida’s twin sister, Nebula Dreddock, the cantankerous old witch
of the Gorthland humps, Spithilda Roach, former Custodian, librarian and researcher, Druida Stone, celebrity eco-warrior, Millicent Ponds, Orville Nugget’s genius father and former Golden Chair of The Coven Isles Alchemical Society, Aurel Nugget, Shields’ former business lawyer, the hard-headed Morag Devlin, Shields’ former close cabinet member, and ruthless lawyer, Barnabus Kramp … and, maybe even finally -- HOPEFULLY, finally -- our dear friend, the awkward teen, Orville Nugget.

  My mind raced, trying to piece together something that would connect all of the deaths, but I was just too tired to think. So, gathering my kitties, I made like David and headed home. Tomorrow, two members of the world’s “only hope” would find out just what tied the murders together. Well, we were almost certain Shields was behind some of them, at least. But all of them? How could that even be possible, when each of the murderers -- each of which we had convicted, also -- were seemingly ordinary people with little to no ties to the Warlock Chief?

  And what reason did Shields have to want all the victims dead?

  CHAPTER 10

  “Do you think there’ll ever be a time when we don’t have to walk into a pit of danger every time we go out?” Fraidy asked, sticking close to my ankles, as we walked the length of the corridor toward Cressida Dreddock’s glass cell.

  “Sweetie, Cressida isn’t dangerous. She’s just confused,” I said, bending down to scoop my nervous kitty up. He began purring immediately, head bunting my chin as he vibrated.

  “Oh, sure, sure,” he said, between his rumblings. “They always lock up sweet, innocent ladies in maximum security wards, right?”

  “Oh, hush now. You know this is important. Any moment now, we may just find out how all of these murders are connected.” Fraidy headbutted my chin again, and, still purring, he let his feelings on the matter be known. “You’re not forgetting Cressida is a raving loony, are you? I mean … does she really have the ‘ins’ on these killings, or could it be just another of her lunatic ideas?”

  I didn’t answer my cat, I just tried to keep up with David, who was striding silently ahead of me. Fraidy, ‘Clipsy and Shade trotted behind me. I looked at the back of my friend’s head. Although David appeared to be reasonably ‘copacetic’ this morning, he certainly wasn’t his usual warm self. And I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Everything okay, chief?” I called out.

  He spun toward me. “Huh?” He looked confused. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”

  “David, I can do this alone if you want to go home and rest?”

  “What? No. Why would you say that? Are you trying to keep me away from Midnight Hill too? Is that it?”

  “No! Of course not,” I said. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just thought --”

  “You just thought you’d what? Report to control-command that I’m stepping outside my comfort zone again?”

  “David, I --”

  “Hat, save it. We’re here now. Let’s get this over with. I suspect it won’t be heartwarming news from Cressida.”

  I said nothing and followed him the last couple of steps to Nebula Dreddock’s mad twin’s cell. I hung back as I watched David tap the glass that separated Cressida from the visitor’s corridor. Shade joined him, sticking close to the chief’s ankles, but up on his hindquarters nonetheless, so he could get a better view into the mad woman’s cage. Shade’s jaw fell open, and my cat stared; mesmerized by the vision in Cressida’s lock-up.

  With Fraidy still in my arms, I joined the chief and Shade.

  “Uh-huh, we need to split,” Fraidy said as soon as he saw Cressida Dreddock behind the thick glass. The mad witch sat, like a prehistoric bird, perched on the end of her bed, shouting at the ceiling. Nebula’s sister looked tiny and frail under her swimmingly large state-issued orange coveralls. Her pale hands fluttered wildly in the air as she screamed sweet nothings in the air. I heard Shade chuckle at my feet. “Man, this broad’s barking mad. We sure we can trust her intel? Seems to me like she might be getting messages from the land of the crazies.” Shade pointed a paw at Cressida just as she started swatting the air, trying to bring down her imaginary intruder.

  David tapped the glass again, and this time Cressida fell out of her fugue state and wandered over to the glass smiling. David pressed the two-way intercom. “Ms. Dreddock, hello. We’re here because we understand you might have some information connecting the last eight murders in the Coven Isles? Is this true?”

  Cressida kept smiling. I stepped up to the glass. “Cressida? Hello? Cressida do you remember me? I’m Hat--”

  “Hattie Jenkins!” The mad witch said through her clenched smile. “So glad you got my message. And how lovely it is to see you again. I do so love visitors!” She made a little jump in her excitement.

  “Cressida, you said you have some information that could help us charge and convict Gideon Shields?” I asked, hopefully.

  “I didn’t say that!” Cressida’s trill was harsh. As if she might be at the tail end of her last hit of medication. “You’re making up stories in your head! Are you some kind of lunatic?”

  Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.

  “It’s true,” Eclipse said. “She said nothing of the kind.”

  I held up my hands. “Okay, yes, of course, you didn’t actually use the governor’s name, but I just … well, I assumed you had info that would tie Shields into all --”

  “Yes, dear, I do.”

  “Huh? So, wait, it is Shields behind all these killings?”

  “It is, yes. But you clearly jumped the gun. I never said anything about the governor. You shouldn’t just assume.” Cressida cackled.

  “Yeah, let’s split,” Fraidy said. “Someone’s gonna die here, and I don’t want it to be me.”

  I put Fraidy on the floor against his will, and pressing the palm of my hand against the glass in a gesture of surrender, I said: “You’re right, Cressida. You said nothing about the governor. It was just what I wanted to hear, that’s all. And something me and my … friends believe.”

  David glanced at me, and something in his eyes told me he was grateful for my swift action. I’d diffused a potentially volatile situation; we didn’t have much time so we couldn’t wait around for Cressida to fall into and out of a bout of mania before she spilled the beans.

  “Ms. Dreddock, can you tell us what you know? We’d really appreciate hearing anything you’ve found out.”

  I noticed, not for the first time since Orville’s death, that David wasn’t taking notes for this investigation. Not once had I seen him jot anything in his trusty reporter’s flip-pad. It wasn’t just unorthodox behavior, it was completely unprofessional. Why wouldn’t he be recording every single detail? Did David have something to gain by going ‘off record?’ Did he feel that he soon may have to engage in something unofficial or hush-hush, away from the prying eyes of Talisman, perhaps?

  Cressida Dreddock took a deep breath and brought me out of my ponderous head. “Do you remember my little friend, Sparky? My darling little electronic amour?”

  David and I nodded. How could we forget? The relationship Cressida Dreddock had with this electro-gnome bordered on the unhealthy. Let’s just say the two shared an unusually close connection, considering their respective organic-versus-inorganic sensibilities. Who knows how, why, when or where the pair began forming their strange bond, but there was no doubt that Cressida’s incarcerated life had been lifted substantially after Sparky had shown up. Sure, she was still a raving loon, but Cressida, once a broken, guilt-crushed woman, now exhibited a lightness. A hopefulness that I hadn’t previously seen in her.

  She shot her hands in the air and waved them about in a swirling motion. “Sparky inhabits such an exciting digital world. Truly, it’s thrilling!” A bit of spittle flew from Cressida’s cracked lips.

  I scanned her cell through the glass. “Where is Sparky? He’s not here?”

  Cressida brought her long fingers to her heart and slid them sensuously up her throat. “Why, my little man
is partying it up in one of Shields’ external drives, my dear! Sparky believes this drive stores all of the governor's financial transactions. I can’t tell you how pumped he is! He’s almost rabid to get tearing down those e-highways of banking information. Right now he’s sniffing in a “hidden” folder with a host of strange Bank of Alchemy transactions.” She air-signed the double quotes for the word ‘hidden.’

  Shade tapped the glass with one ejected claw. “I’m sure your buddy’s havin’ a blast in digi-electro-land, lady, but we’re here to get fast answers. Know what I’m sayin’?”

  A jolt of pride, similar to what I felt when Midnight took the floor last night, traveled through my body. My boy was gettin’ ‘er done, as they say. But, still, the governor’s financials were no doubt a fascinating world, and there could be something juicy for us waiting in the movement of Shields’ funds.

  “Please let us know right away if you … uh, I mean your friend, finds anything interesting,” David said. She beamed, her thin lips pulling back in a straight line over her jaundiced teeth. The old witch curtsied. “It would be my honor, Chief Para Inspector Trew. I shall come to the station straight away should Sparky uncover anything useful,” she said breathily.

  Cressida Dreddock had been sectioned to Midnight Hill Asylum for the Insane for no less than fifty years. She would die there too if the court ruled motion was followed to the word of the law. But the mad witch already had at least three breakouts under her belt, so her promise of coming to see the chief at the station wasn’t exactly said in vain. David held up his hands. “Just have one of the orderlies here call the station if you don’t mind, Ms. Dreddock. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, can you run through the details of what Sparky found regarding the murder connections?” The chief stuffed his hands into his pocket and gave Cressida an expectant look. The mad witch grinned again and batted her eyelashes at my friend. She giggled like a little girl. “Always happy to oblige a handsome man.” She pulled up her padded chair to the glass and sat down. “Well, it’s quite astounding really, but the evidence Sparky found on the murders was all in ONE place!” She slapped her thighs. “Can you even believe that? How sloppy could the Warlock Chief be, for Goddess’ sake? Sparky simply plucked it, copied it, and put it back. He left barely a footprint, and what marker he did leave, he cleared up immediately and thoroughly. Honestly, my boy’s finesse is otherworldly,” she gushed.