by Devon Monk
I’d already handled all the complaints. No one had taken things to the next level.
Unless stealing his spear from under god lock and key was the next level.
“Well, you didn’t say it was on sale,” Ryder put his hand over the bottom of the phone his gaze searching me out, as if I’d wandered off since the last time he’d tried to share cheese information with me two minutes ago. “They’ll do a deal,” he whispered.
I smiled and nodded.
“Cheese.” He frowned at me. “The good cheese, Laney.”
I gave him a thumb’s up and went back to my list.
“Well, screw you too.”
I widened my eyes. “What was that?”
He yanked the phone away from his ear and scowled at it while punching it with his finger several times.
“Coupons?” he snarled. “They’re gonna give me a 5% off coupon if we order the cheese now? I can find a 30% coupon on one of those online Big Deal pages. You know what? I’m calling the Better Business Bureau. This is my wedding we’re talking about here, and I’m not going to let some…some…cheese squeezers in bullpuck Oregon rip us off.”
Myra looked up from where she was going through the security video Odin had given us from his property. I hadn’t known Odin had cameras installed. They covered most of his front porch. Too bad the package had been dropped on the other side of the bush next to the porch, just out of the camera’s range.
Myra stared at Ryder, who was red faced and making a sound in his chest somewhere between a growl and a snarl. She mouthed: What the hell?
I made I-have-no-idea eyes, and stood away from my desk to go over to him.
“Hey,” I said, like I was approaching a snarling landmine. “Hey, honey. Hey, there big guy. Hey. How about,” I put my hand on his wrist, “we just put the phone down for a second.”
He stopped dialing and glared at me. “What?”
“We don’t have to get worked up over cheese.”
“Worked up?” It came out loud, and I just gave him a look.
He exhaled. “Okay, I heard that. That was…a little much.”
“A little,” I repeated. “Just a little worked up.”
“But this is cheese, Delaney. Did you hear what they said? Five percent off? For crappy brie and second-rate blue cheese?”
“I thought it won awards.”
“It’s obviously not the quality it used to be.”
I was really putting some pressure on his wrist now, and he was fighting it, the phone still clamped between his fingers.
“Okay. So we’ll find a different cheese.”
“But I liked this cheese. You liked this cheese.”
“Did I?”
“You said you liked it,” he insisted.
“I’ve never eaten Umpqua cheese, honey. Ryder, my love, my everything. Can you let go of the phone now? Just relax your fingers and…There you go. That’s good, I got it now.”
“Five weeks ago. On a Thursday. You came home from work late, and I had dinner ready. The charcuterie board. You ate the cheese. Don’t you remember the cheese?”
I did not remember the cheese. I didn’t even remember the charcuterie board. “Was that the one where you paired everything with chocolate or with beer?”
“I paired it with tarts, Delaney.”
“Tarts,” I said. “That’s what I meant to say. I remember they were so…fruity?”
He squinted at me. “You don’t remember any of it do you?”
“You’ve put together so many wonderful dinners lately.”
“I told you I’d handle the food. The food is important.”
“Yep. And you’re doing a great job. But this,” I held up the phone. “Fighting with an innocent cheese factory? Don’t you think that’s being a little much? You know I’m going to be just as happy if we get married in a shotgun shack with nothing but saltine crackers and spray cheese.”
He gasped and placed his fingertips against his chest as if I’d just said the most offensive thing he’d ever heard.
“Saltines and spray cheese?” He said like it was, well, like it was saltines and spray cheese. “That’s the kind of wedding you want? That’s what you think our love deserves? Spray cheese?”
“Well, not the cheap stuff. I mean I’d expect brand name.”
He leaned toward me, his face inches from mine and grinned. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m a little funny.”
“Give me back my phone.”
“No. You’re going to harass the poor cheese squeezers in bullpuck Oregon.” I stretched away from him on tip toe, which wasn’t going to do me much good because he was just that much taller than me and his long arms could out reach mine.
“Still think you’re funny. That’s a main stage act you got there, Delaney. Real Show Off material.”
“The cheese, Ryder. Think of the cheese!”
I was chortling now, and couldn’t seem to stop it.
Ryder had had enough, so he put that big body of his to use and charged forward, backing me into the wall, catching both my wrists in his hands.
I still had his phone, but it was now up above my head.
I could get out of this hold. Could get out of it half a dozen ways. Instead, I stilled.
But as the seconds piled up and ticked away, as our breathing settled down, as I got my laughter under control, something else happened.
Ryder slowly, slowly lowered himself toward me, erasing the space between us.
I shifted so that my stance was wider. He took the invitation for what it was and slotted his legs and hips into the space I made for him.
“Hey,” he said, and it was heat and sex, and I was straw under a magnifying glass, catching fire.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Hey.”
“You know we’re going to get married.”
“I’ve heard something about that. There’s going to be cheese.”
The flash of annoyance in his eyes made a corresponding wash of heat flood my chest. I liked it when he was riled up. Liked what it did to him. Liked what he did to me.
“I promised you. You agreed. We agreed I’d be the one to take care of this stuff. Catering.” He leaned down and suddenly my breathing had gone thin.
He pressed a soft kiss on the side of my throat, followed it with just enough teeth I had to press my lips together so I didn’t embarrass myself in front of my sister who was sitting at her computer typing away and pointedly ignoring us.
“Venue. Decoration. Cake.” Each word was delivered with another nip, bite, or kiss. I was getting a little dizzy, my knees gone soft.
“And cheese squeezers,” I gasped.
He lifted back, doing a very slow push up with his fingertips since his palms were still around both my wrists against the wall. It made his forearms flex, his biceps flex, and even though I couldn’t see them, I knew his pecs and abs were tightening too.
It was sexy as hell. He knew it, and he knew I knew it.
“That’s right,” he said in his bedroom voice, “and the cheese squeezers.”
I was nodding, but my mind was nowhere near the wedding part of the wedding, or the reception part of the wedding, instead veering toward the after party.
Sex. My mind was on the sex.
“You aren’t taking any of this seriously.” He pulled the rest of the way back, releasing me, and I made a noise of protest. I grappled for his hips, fingers hooking into his belt.
“I’m taking some of this very seriously.” I tried to tug him back toward me.
“No,” he said archly, turning his head to one side like a spurned debutante. “You’ve mocked my cheese.”
“C’mon. Just…let me make it up to you, babe. I’m super serious about cheese. You were trying to get the Gouda, right? That sweet, sweet Gouda.”
“It was blue cheese, and you are a terrible liar.”
He kissed me on the tip of my nose then took another step back and held out his hand. “Phone please.”
“Promise me you won’t go ballistic on any more cheese factories today.”
He took a moment to consider. “Fine. Today.”
Myra snorted.
“I’m going to make this the best wedding of your life, you know.”
“Since it’s going to be the only wedding in my life,” I said, “that’s a pretty low bar.”
He looked over at Myra. “Tell your sister to take this seriously.”
Myra didn’t look up, but she waved a hand like she was trying to fend off annoying bugs. “I am not getting in the middle of this. I have a crime to solve.”
“We have a crime to solve,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I have a wedding to plan,” Ryder said.
“Before you get on with all that,” a voice said from the door, “I want you to know this isn’t what it looks like.”
We all looked over. Crow, who was actually the trickster god Raven, stood in our lobby, holding a headless penguin.
Chapter Five
“So you aren’t holding a headless waterfowl statue?” I asked, as I strolled over to Crow.
Ryder was on his phone again. He thought he was being quiet, but I heard, “cheese master” and “complaint.”
“Delaney. Boo-boo. Have I told you how lovely you look lately?” Crow was full-blood Siletz, his short hair heavy and black, his eyes full of mischief. He had been an uncle to me all my life.
“What’s up with the bird?”
“I think someone is hunting me,” he said.
“Is it Mrs. Yates? Because apparently you have beheaded her famous penguin statue, and she’s gonna kill you for stealing her cash cow to fame?”
“This isn’t her penguin.” He held up the body, then dug around in the messenger bag slung below his hip. “This is one of the spares I made. I mean one of the statues I kept when you made me clean up that penguin mess that had absolutely nothing to do with me, and it was unfair of you to make me clean up so many concrete penguins, by the way. I didn’t put them in her yard. I’ve told you that, right? I’m innocent?”
“You’ve been telling me you’re innocent since I was five and caught you eating the center piece you’d cut out of the brownie pan.”
“That was the best piece.”
“The brownies weren’t for you, Crow.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong about that.”
“No, the brownies were a housewarming gift Dad was going to take over to the Persons when they moved in. I remember because I wanted a piece of brownie and couldn’t have one.”
“I offered you a bite.”
“I know.”
“I offered you half if you wouldn’t snitch.”
“I know.”
“You ratted me out to your dad.”
“And you had to bake a new batch of brownies. Pretty sure that’s when I decided to become a police officer. Dad gave me and Myra and Jean the pan of brownies you’d defiled.”
“Including the center piece,” he said. Then he half bent, not a bow, but leaning in like he was sharing a secret. “You’re welcome.”
I scoffed. “You did not do that so we girls could get a pan of brownies.”
“Didn’t I?”
I wouldn’t put it past him. Crow always had some kind of scheme going. He was a trickster god, and even though he was on vacation, there was only so long he could go before he was up to his ass in trouble.
“You just wanted to mess with my dad. The brownies were a means to an end.”
“I was always surprised at what little thing finally got to him.” He grinned, and lines spread away from the corners of his eyes.
He was trouble, but it was usually happy trouble.
“So what’s up with the statue?” I asked.
“It was left on my doorstep.”
“In a box?” Myra asked, coming up to us.
Ryder had taken his call back down the hall toward the storage room, ignoring us completely.
“No box. I was going to open the shop early. See if I could get some of those sweet tourist bucks. Talent show’s day after tomorrow, you know.”
“We know,” we both said.
“This was propped next to my door.”
“No box?” Myra asked again.
“Why are you so focused on a box?”
“Odin received a package he didn’t order,” Myra said.
“That’s a crime?”
“It was a weapon,” Myra said.
“Someone mailed a gun to Odin?” Crow’s eyebrows went up. “To Odin?”
“It wasn’t a gun,” I said. “It was a spear.”
“O-kay. Through the mail?”
“No,” Myra said. “Dropped off beside his doorstep.”
“What kind of spear?”
We didn’t say anything.
“Just a random spear, though, right?
“Why?” I wouldn’t put it past him to be a part of this. He might have found Odin’s secret spear closet and picked the lock. He might have left the spear on the doorstep just to brag about what he could do when Odin wasn’t looking.
But Crow was watching me, his expression calculating as if he were working through possibilities. I’d seen his scheming face all my life. I’d seen his lying face too. But this was his god face—or as close to it as I saw in Ordinary.
“It was magic,” he said. “He wouldn’t care if someone sent him a random spear. He’d use it as a prop for one of his carvings. Bear with a Spear. Dog with a Spear. Spear with a Spear.
“It was Gungnir, wasn’t it?” He wiped his hand over his mouth. “Hells. Grungnir?”
I nodded. “It was.”
“Who the fuck got into Odin’s realm? How did they even break into his realm? And who smuggled it into Ordinary without you noticing?”
“We don’t know,” I said. “But I don’t feel weapons—magical or otherwise—when they’re brought here. I only notice gods.”
“Did Odin say when it was stolen?”
“Just that it was delivered.”
“This is…Breaking into a god realm. Holy shit, how could…” His voice trailed off, and he stared into the distance for a second.
“You have some ideas on that?” I asked. “How it could have been done? Who could have done it?”
“First,” he stuck up a finger. “I would check that he didn’t send it to himself.”
“Why would he—”
“Shush-sha. He’s a drama queen, that’s why.”
“He’s not as bad as—”
“He is. All gods are. Trust me on that, cookie.”
“You did not just call me cookie.”
“Pumpkin? Sweetie? Cupcake?”
“Wanna try that again?”
“Trust me that gods are drama queens who always make every little thing about themselves, Chief Reed.”
I just shook my head. “I kind of want to go back to the statue you were so worried about so I can get rid of you.”
“No. Come on, Delaney, I’m just giving you a hard time. Things have been so boring. The busted penguin is the most excitement I’ve had all week.”
“Did you break it?”
“You learn quick, don’t you? But no. I found it knocked over on my doorstep. Probably just kids screwing around.”
“Where do you keep it normally?”
“In the flower pot out front. The penguin was busted, a couple flowers were picked, dirt thrown around. I’d say a dog had been digging in the dirt, but it’s a pretty tall pot. A dog couldn’t reach it.”
“What about that thing about you being hunted?” Myra asked.
He shrugged. “You weren’t taking the penguin seriously, so I lied.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Go away now.”
“But I was helping. Before you forced me to admit I was lying about being hunted, and confess I think the penguin is just some kids goofing off, and call you every delicious pastry on the shelf, which is a compliment when you think about how much I love pastry, I was helping.”
“Do you want to file a report about the statue?”
“I do not,” he said.
“Good. Go away.”’
“C’mon, Nancy Drew. Let me help you solve the mystery of the stolen spear.”
“No.”
“He’s a god. It’s a god item.”
“No.”
“I’m a god. I like stealing god items.”
I gave him a hard look.
“Well, not lately.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to play detective.”
“Consultant. I’m not going to tromp around dark alleys and chew on old cigar butts.”
“That’s not what a detective does,” I said.
“Which is why I’m not going to do it. I’ll consult.”
“Okay,” Myra said.
“What?” I turned on her. “What did you just say?”
“I think we need a consultant.”
Ryder’s voice rang out from the back. “Cheddar? What do you think this is, a retirement party?”
“We’re a little short-handed,” she went on. “And Crow knows how things can be stolen from gods because he’s stolen things from gods.”
“Allegedly,” he said. “Crow has allegedly stolen things from gods.”
“You literally just confessed to it a minute ago,” she said. “There are dozens of stories about you stealing from gods. It’s kind of your thing.”
“Talk about typecasting. I steal from other people, too, you know.”
“Not helping,” I said.
Myra pulled her phone out of her pocket, and it rang. “What’s up?” she answered.
“Look, Crow,” I said. “If you’re bored, Bertie could use some help.”
“Working for Bertie isn’t what I’d call fun.”
“Solving crimes isn’t fun either. It’s work.”
“We gotta go,” Myra said, striding back to her desk to grab a small backpack.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“There’s been another mailing.”
“Who?” I dug my keys out of my pocket and headed toward the door.
“Zeus.” She was across the floor, right behind me.
Ryder spun from the hallway, his whole body zeroing in on me even though he still had his phone to his ear.
