A Bite of Blueberry

by Melissa Monroe

  “He or she,” Arthur corrected her. “We haven’t identified any suspects just yet. We can’t rule anyone out. But yes, I’d say you’re right. Someone had it in for this kid from the start. He was doomed from the moment he set foot in that bathroom.”

  “But who would want to kill Benedict?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” Arthur said. “If we can answer that, we’ve caught our killer.”

  Somehow, Priscilla didn’t think it was going to be as simple as that, but she didn’t say it out loud. She bid Arthur goodbye and spent the next five minutes trying to hang up. Finally, Arthur took pity on her and hung up on his end, after much teasing.

  She crossed the room, kneeling next to the terrarium she’d purchased. She’d set it up with Anna’s help, though her assistant had kept her distance, only giving instructions from the bed. The sunlamp shone down on a very sulky frog. Could the transformation have happened only the day before? Joseph the frog was resting comfortably on a large rock, staring at her with big green eyes. She could swear she saw accusation in their depths.

  “Don’t blame me for this,” she scolded him. “You were the one breaking into my shop before working hours. You said you knew about Avalon when we met last.”

  The frog’s throat swelled indignantly and he let out a sound that made Priscilla jump. She wasn’t sure what he had said but knew it was probably nothing good.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t stay like this forever. Avalon’s spells don’t have a long shelf life. You can get back to harassing me in about a week or so. For now, I have a murderer to catch.”

  Priscilla selected an outfit from her dresser and, after a moment of consideration, went into the bathroom to change into her clothes for the day. She wasn’t sure just how cognizant of his situation Joseph was. But if he was even slightly aware, she felt uncomfortable with the prospect of stripping in front of him.

  When she emerged, she’d donned her favorite purple blouse and a skirt. It was dressier than she tended to like being in the bakery, but after the poor impression she’d left on the society members the day before, she figured she needed to look more professional than usual.

  To make things worse, after descending the stairs, she found that Anna had let her sleep in an extra hour. By eight, most of the dinner rush had come and gone, leaving her with little to do but replenish her fridge after the disastrous frog incident.

  “What did you serve?” she asked, peering into her fridge. Its only occupant was a covered dish that smelled strongly of fruit.

  “We had some bananas and blueberries leftover from the muffins yesterday. And I know you keep gelatin mix around to make your fondant, so I made my mom’s Jell-O salad. She loved making it for family get-togethers.”

  Priscilla’s chest ached at the mention of her late friend, Emily. Anna and Arthur didn’t mention her often. It was too painful to revisit the loss often. The fact that Anna had made it at all was a testament to how much she really did care about the restaurant. Priscilla knew that Anna at least knew how to make passable chocolate chip cookies.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “Is there any left?”

  “Some,” Anna said. “But I was going to take it home to Dad. Do you want to keep it? You could sell it.”

  “No, that’s fine,” Priscilla said, shutting the fridge door lightly. “Thank you for your help, Anna. I couldn’t do this without you.”

  When she turned around, Anna’s expression had brightened considerably. “Of course you couldn’t. I’m the pep that keeps this place alive and kicking, so to speak.”

  Priscilla smiled faintly. “I’m sure. What did I miss?”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Gossip. Tons of it. And I got a call from a reporter, asking for a statement. You going to give her one?”

  “No,” Priscilla said flatly. “I’ve had enough of the limelight for a lifetime.”

  “I wish your godmother felt the same way,” Anna said with a snort. “She was in here earlier, asking for you. Made a huge production of it, too. She was wearing a dress meant for the street corner and six-inch heels. She wanted me to give you a message.”

  “And what might that be?” Priscilla asked, heart sinking further. If Avalon was getting any ounce of attention, she’d milk it for all she was worth. She was afraid that a small town’s curiosity might egg the faerie on.

  “She’s found you a date,” Anna said with a wink.

  Priscilla shook her head. “If she thinks I’m going to date someone just to get her off my back, she’s even more delusional than she was when we met in 1665. There’s nothing she can do for me that would make me—”

  Priscilla cut off mid-sentence. Actually there was something she’d trade a date for. She wouldn’t trade a marriage, but she could certainly barter away a few hours of her life for it. She needed to find a murderer, and her faerie godmother was oddly adept at finding people, even those who didn’t want her around.

  “I need to call her,” Priscilla mused.

  “Do I need to give you a tutorial of the smartphone again?” Anna asked with a wry grin.

  “No. If Ava has a cell phone, I don’t know the number.”

  “Then how are you going to get in contact with her?” Anna asked.

  “I have my ways. Anna, can I get you to watch the store for another fifteen minutes? I need to make a call.”

  “But you said—”

  “It’s not that sort of call,” Priscilla said with an enigmatic smile, heading for the back of her store. She’d need privacy for what she had in mind. Avalon would be furious if she knew Priscilla had called her within earshot of a human.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Outside.”

  “Without a phone?” Anna asked

  “Yes.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” she said.

  “I’m aware.”

  It was not the most glamorous locale for a summoning. If she’d held her godmother in higher regard, Priscilla might have considered going across the street to the courthouse. The employees would be gone by evening, and the old building certainly held more gravitas than the alley between her shop and the grocer’s next door. The dumpster she stood by reeked of rotting cabbage.

  She took a deep breath. Faeries were capricious creatures at the best of times. Priscilla was about to do one of the few things that was guaranteed to put Avalon in a bad temper. She was going to use her name.

  A faerie’s name held power. To use a fae’s true name was to bind it to your will. But a name alone was not enough. The summoner had to be aware of the precise inflection of the name to make the command concrete. Otherwise a faerie could ignore it, or simply peek in on the summoner without appearing to them. Some faerie names were so famous that they were invoked all the time. Priscilla knew for a fact that Titania and Oberon did not pop in for a visit every time a production of A Midsummer’s Night Dream was being performed.

  Avalon’s true name, she’d come to learn, had to be said in a lilting sing-song, at precisely the right pitch. It was hard for her to master, because Priscilla’s singing voice was an alto at best, and a very off-key alto, at that. Avalon’s name had taken her years to perfect. It had to be called in a high soprano.

  “I summon thee to appear before me, Avalon Athlynn Greyheart, protector of the King’s Isle. I must parley with thee.”

  For a moment, there was no answer. Then, to her surprise, the small TracFone that Arthur had given her began to ring in her back pocket. She hesitated before pulling it out and flipping it open.

  “Hello?”

  “Ugh. Did you have to call me with my name, Priscilla? I thought I told you not to do that.”

  Priscilla stared dumbfounded at the phone for a second before asking the obvious question. “How did you get this number, Avalon?”

  “Magic,” she quipped. “Now cut the Old English crap and join the rest of us in the twenty-first century, would you? I swear, you vampires never adapt to linguistic drift.”

 
Priscilla bit back a waspish retort. This was not the time to further annoy Avalon. “I needed to speak with you. Where are you? Why didn’t you appear before me?”

  “I’m busy,” Avalon said. “And I’m not far away. I’m staying at a lovely bed and breakfast just outside your quaint little town.”

  She had to be staying at Noah Brown’s. There weren’t really any other hotels in Bellmare, unless you counted Robshaw Inn, which Priscilla didn’t. Robshaw could only be rented out by someone who could afford the absurdly high rates the historical society charged for it. Avalon might like to look flashy, but Priscilla sincerely doubted she was carrying five grand on her person.

  “Stay where you are then,” Priscilla said. “I’ll come to you. We need to talk.”

  “About what, dear? What’s so important that you’d use my name, of all things?”

  Priscilla took a deep breath, bracing herself for the squeal to come.

  “I’d like to make a trade. Your assistance in a matter of my choosing, in exchange for a date.”

  The noise that Avalon made probably perked up the ears of every dog in the county. Priscilla gritted her teeth and forced herself to endure it. After all, she was doing this for a good cause.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Dead serious,” she said. “When will your busy schedule be free, godmother?”

  “I think a spot just opened up,” Avalon chirped. “How soon can you be here?”

  “Give me an hour.”

  “Perfect,” Avalon squealed, then hung up.

  Priscilla stared at the phone once again and shook her head.

  Faeries. You just never knew how they’d react, did you?

  Red, White and Blue Fruit Salad

  This recipe was conceived of and prepared by my late friend, Emily Sharp. Anna and Arthur graciously allowed me to take down the recipe and share it with you lovely people. This dish is good any time, but best in summer. Please enjoy on a hot summer day with friends.

  —Priscilla Pratt

  Ingredients

  1 cup fresh blueberries

  1 cup fresh strawberries

  1 cup bananas

  1 cup raspberries

  1 package Jell-O (blueberry)

  1 package red Jell-O (strawberry banana, cherry, or strawberry, your choice)

  1 envelope gelatin (unflavored)

  1 cup heavy whipping cream

  6 tablespoons sugar

  2 cups sour cream

  1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

  Whipped topping

  Berries (Additional, for topping, optional)

  Directions

  Prepare the Jell-O as directed on the box. Before you refrigerate it, pour it into a serving bowl and add blueberries and raspberries. Then refrigerate for about 2 hours or until the Jell-O is firm. While this is chilling, sprinkle a small saucepan with the unflavored gelatin and pour in ½ cup of cold water and stir. Let this sit for roughly 2 minutes. tTen pour in your cream and sugar. Cook on low heat until gelatin and sugar are dissolved. Make sure you stir often. As this cools to room temperature, stir in the vanilla and sour cream. Then spoon this on top of the blue Jell-O. Place in the fridge for about 2 hours.

  Now prepare the red Jell-O as directed. Gently spoon the Jell-O on top of the cream and add the bananas and strawberries, and again place into the fridge for 2 hours. Once the Jell-O has become firm, spoon whipped topping over top and decorate using additional berries and bananas if you desire.

  Chapter Five

  Noah Brown answered the door on the second knock, despite the lateness of the hour.

  He was a man of average height and build. He looked tired, but then again, he always seemed on the verge of going to bed whenever Priscilla saw him. His eyes were a dull, sleepy brown and his hair was perpetually mussed. A smile stretched his lips when he caught sight of her on his front step.

  “Priscilla. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. How are things?”

  Priscilla forced a smile in return. “They’ve been better. I wish this was a purely social visit, but I’m actually here to see your guest. Do you know where she is?”

  Noah nodded sagely. “Sure do. Come in, Priscilla.”

  Technically, Priscilla didn’t need the invitation any longer, as Noah had given her an invitation last October while she and Arthur had been investigating one of the tenants of his bed and breakfast for murder. The only way she’d be barred from the residence was if she was specifically ordered out of it by a member of the family that lived within. Still, it was better to be polite and not mention such things to a man whom she’d once accused of murder.

  Priscilla stepped into the living room. It looked exactly as she remembered it. Two toffee-colored armchairs were pushed against one wall, with a small nightstand situated between them. The couch against the other wall was occupied by Rebecca, Noah’s wife, and his daughter Lily, who was fast asleep in her mother’s arms. His two boys, Damon and Tate, were sitting on the ground in front of the TV, watching an animated movie about talking fish.

  Noah held a finger up to his lips and beckoned her toward the stairs. Priscilla trod as lightly as possible, so as not to wake the little girl, though her brothers were making no effort to be quiet.

  The stairs creaked on her way up. The upstairs was also unchanged from when she’d seen it six months ago. Most of the house was kept scrupulously clean, with the exception of the occupied guest rooms.

  “She said she was expecting you sometime tonight,” Noah informed her. “She should be in the third room down.”

  Priscilla frowned. What had made her godmother choose that room in particular? She knew first door on the right led to a master bedroom, and was much larger than any of the others. Why would her flashy faerie godmother choose a smaller room?

  A high, girlish giggle interrupted her thoughts. Avalon’s voice drifted to her from down the hall, even through the walls.

  “Oh Romeo, behave!” she exclaimed. “There are children in the house.”

  “All asleep, by now,” a throaty male voice replied. “Come, stellina—”

  Priscilla strode down the hall, determined to stop whatever was about to happen before it had a chance to become embarrassing. She pushed the door open without knocking.

  What she saw inside was embarrassing enough. It was something similar to walking on a sibling or parent during the act. The fact that Avalon didn’t seem the least bit abashed made it worse.

  Her godmother was curled like a contented kitten in the lap of a very flamboyantly dressed man. It was hard to figure out where to direct her eyes first. Were they having a competition for who could dress in the most outrageous outfit?

  Anna’s earlier assessment of Avalon’s dress hadn’t been far off. Her godmother had donned a scandalously small, red, wrap dress. Probably a cosmetic spell—or a glamour as it was more colloquially called—in order to hide her wings. Priscilla was sure that “Romeo” would have noticed those. Diamonds glittered on her hands, at her throat, and dangled from her ears. Priscilla had a sneaking suspicion that all of the jewelry was real. The six-inch heels Avalon had been wearing were abandoned a few feet away, along with a pair of pantyhose.

  Oddly, the man was wearing the same amount of jewelry as her godmother, though he was decked out in gold chains rather than diamonds. There was a ring on every single one of his fingers. His shirt was an eye-watering shade of yellow, and his vest looked like it had once belonged to a clown. Patterned with multi-colored, glittering stars, it was possibly the most hideous thing that Priscilla had ever laid eyes on in her 353 years of un-life.

  The man, himself, was handsome enough, though he was shorter than Avalon usually liked her men, even sitting down. Standing, Priscilla would probably guess him at 5’6, if that. His dark hair was thick and, no matter how much product he used to slick it back, there was still a distinctive wave to it. His cheeks, and one corner of his mouth, were smeared with red lipstick. He grinned lazily at her as she entered the room, revealing a gold mo
lar near the back.

  “Who’s this breathtaking creature, stellina?” he asked her godmother in that same throaty tone. “Did you call her to join us?”

  “No,” Priscilla said flatly. “Get off of him, Avalon. I’m not having any serious discussions with you while you play twitter-pated teenager.”

  Avalon sighed and somehow managed to climb off of her lover without flashing everyone in the room. “You are always such a killjoy, Priscilla. Just because you insist on being a frigid old maid doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be celibate.”

  Priscilla’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “You were the one that told me to come out to meet with you, rather than simply answering my summons, godmother. Don’t blame me that you couldn’t act with decorum for a half hour.”

  “Ladies, do not fight,” the man said with a laugh. “You are both very pretty.”

  Priscilla turned her glare on the man. “And who are you, Romeo?”

  Her hostility didn’t seem to bother him. “I’m Martino Romano, the greatest magician in the Los Feliz area.”

  He gave a little bow and a flourish before returning his gaze to her incredulous one. She turned the unflattering stare on her godmother next.

  “You’re dating a magician? Don’t you think that’s a little ironic, godmother?”

  Avalon crossed her arms over her chest. “You said you wanted to make a deal. What are your terms?”

  Ah, so they were getting right down to it then. It was uncharacteristic for her godmother, who liked to lollygag and usually took hours to get right down to the point. Unless, of course, that point was about her suitability for marriage. That was a subject she could discuss at length.

  “Anna told me that you had a prospective date lined up for me. I’m willing to go along with that under one condition.”

  “And what’s that?” Avalon asked warily.