Muddled Mutt

by Willow Mason

  “Is that really you, Beezley?”

  He didn’t answer, instead waving her away from the car so he could exit unmolested. When a pat of his pockets didn’t turn up a house key, I moved ahead to let him in, hoping he wouldn’t then lock me out.

  “Wow,” Harriet said, joining me. “He seems even grumpier as a human than he was as a dog.”

  “He doesn’t remember anything about being changed,” I told her, feeling a morose tingle rush through my body. “It’s as though his entire time spent as a dog was wiped out.”

  “Who’s the other guy?” Harriet watched in amusement as Marlon extracted his tortoise from the back seat of the car, placing her on the footpath. “I hope he’s not planning on walking her home.”

  In the panic of Beezley’s sudden memory loss, I’d neglected to ask Marlon where he would stay. I couldn’t invite him to surf our couch until the homeowner remembered who I was.

  “Marlon?” I waved him over and introduced him to Harriet, then left them talking as I followed Beezley inside. Porangi gave a strangled yap full of FOMO and raced past me to jump onto the couch.

  “Is this your dog?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t bother to add anything more. There were far more urgent matters to discuss. “If you look at your bank records, you’ll see a regular payment for my services.”

  “Which are?” He arched an eyebrow, appearing so like his dog self I smiled.

  “Very good value for money.”

  He sighed and walked into the kitchen, returning a second later in complete confusion. “There’s hardly any food in the fridge.”

  “We tend to eat takeaways. The life of two private investigators is busy, busy, busy.”

  Harriet poked her nose through the front door. “I’m taking Marlon and his friend home. They live in Christchurch, so we won’t be able to drive there this late.”

  “I can take him home tomorrow.”

  Beezley bristled. “In my car?”

  “I have one of my own,” I said, ignoring the undercurrent in his voice.

  “Are you two going to be okay?” Harriet whispered, her brow creasing with concern. “Is this down to the neural network?”

  “It started well before we reached Fernwood. Marlon thinks a familiar cursed him with a memory loss spell.”

  She squeezed my upper arm. “I’ll need those library books back, so I’ll drop by early tomorrow.”

  I nodded in thanks. Even though I knew I had every right to be staying with Beezley, convincing him of that fact might be difficult.

  As if she’d read my thoughts, Harriet whispered, “If you need a place to stay tonight, the couch is free.”

  It took some effort to muster a smile, but I managed. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  When the door closed, leaving me and Beezley alone, that surety vanished. How was I meant to explain to a man who wouldn’t know about witches that an evil one had turned him into a dog? I picked up my phone and scrolled through the images. There was nothing about the grumpy French bulldog face or short body to show it housed the brain of a detective sergeant.

  “Who was the serial killer?”

  The unexpected question startled me, and it took me a few seconds to process the answer. “Wilson Banner.”

  Beezley gaped. “He was a friend.” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly distressed. “I mean, he was annoying and always popped up when I least… His sister was one of the victims!”

  “Yes. His first.” I perched on the edge of the couch, my feet pointing towards the door. “Wilson took me in, too. I thought he was a bumbling fool but instead he was the mastermind behind a killing spree.”

  “Tell me all about it. I want to know. Wait!” Beezley held up a finger. “Where’s his police file? Let me read that first.”

  If I’d been driving the road signs would warn of danger ahead. Falling rocks, maybe? “There isn’t a police file. The investigation was never an official police case.”

  “But that’s impossible. How can you catch a killer if there’s no…?” As his voice trailed away, Beezley’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about vigilante justice?”

  “Wilson disappeared.”

  “Then it’s even more imperative to get the police on his tail. If we don’t know where he’s gone, he could strike at any time.”

  “No, I mean—” Porangi exploded into a frenzy of barking, interrupting my sentence, and I had to agree. This wouldn’t get us anywhere. “How about we move on?”

  “You said we were private investigators?” After I nodded, he continued, “Where’s our website? How do new clients get in contact with us?”

  “We’re using word of mouth, mostly. There’s a card in the community centre.”

  “A… Card?”

  “On the noticeboard. Your old DI brings us occasional work, too.”

  “DI Jonson? What cases has he brought us?”

  I shifted my weight on the couch, making it creak. “It’s more like grunt work. Interviewing witnesses to minor incidents and stuff like that.”

  “That’s not enough to earn a living.”

  “A friend of mine also refers cases. They keep us busy. In fact, we just finished one for her.” In the confusion of being captured and meeting my disassociated father, the original cause of us being in The Briary had been lost. “We found a missing person.”

  “We did?” He ran a hand through his hair again, leaving the whole mess standing on end. “We’re good at it, then?”

  “Good enough.”

  Beezley turned on his heel and strode into the kitchen again. His frown told me he wasn’t handling the situation well. My phone buzzed, and I checked it—Glynda. “Harriet told me. Do you need a hand?”

  I texted back a quick yes, then put the phone away.

  “I think what I really need is just a good night’s sleep and a fresh start in the morning,” Beezley said, returning to the lounge.

  “Good idea.”

  He turned his frown on me, then gestured towards the door. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yes, you will. And for the rest of the night. I live here.”

  “In my house?” Beezley’s expression turned apoplectic. “I mightn’t remember everything, but I know myself. There’s no way I’d ever share a house with a woman unless she was my wife.”

  His eyes dropped immediately to my left hand, and I thought about pretending, but it would never fly.

  “Don’t worry. We’re not hitched. However, room and board came as a package deal with my employment, so I’m not moving out unless you want to start paying me a lot more.” I pulled Porangi into my lap, patting him but also using him as a first line of defence. “If you want me to move, I’ll need a new contract and at least a month’s notice.”

  I held my gaze steady, hoping he wouldn’t push hard on the contract front. With the French bulldog’s limitations, we’d never put together something in writing. An oversight I hoped I wouldn’t pay for.

  “This is ridiculous. I feel like I’m being scammed.”

  “Knock, knock,” Glynda said, actually having to knock on the door for once. “I came around to thank you for the great job you did tracking down Brianna. Her mother is thrilled to have her home.”

  She hugged me, whispering in my ear, “I’ll try a reversal spell. Stand back.”

  I gave her space only to find her staring intently at me. “What?”

  “Where’s your—?”

  With a wave of my hand, I dismissed her inquiry. We could discuss the loss of my magic abilities later. Right now, I just wanted to ensure I could sleep tonight.

  “Here goes nothing.” Glynda waved her hands, and I held my breath waiting for the magic glow of light. It took a second for me to realise it was happening, but I could no longer see it. My magic had gone and left me impervious to its use by others. A witch with no powers was worse than useless.

  A trait it shared with the spell Glynda cast. When her hands and lips stopped moving, Beezley was left with
the same moody expression on his face.

  Still, I hoped against hope. “Do you remember who I am now?”

  “No.” He blinked slowly as though emerging from a dream. “Should I? It’s only been five minutes since you told me who you were.”

  “Oh, well.” Glynda put her hands on her hips and gave Beezley an appraising stare. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

  “Whoever did what?” Beezley flung his hand into the air. “No, don’t worry. I can’t handle anything more tonight. I’m going to bed.”

  Judging from the sounds after he disappeared into the bedroom, he’d propped a chair under the doorhandle. The very idea pierced my aching heart. “What does he think I’m going to do? Ravish him?”

  Glynda took my arm and walked me into the kitchen. “Tell me everything.”

  I filled her in on the broad strokes, wondering whether to admit that my father—a man who she’d implied ruined my mother’s life—had been there. Not wanting to keep a lie straight in my tired head, I went ahead and told her. Glynda’s face remained a blank mask throughout.

  “This is outrageous. I didn’t like you having black magic but to think it’s gone to that piece of refuse is repulsive. Not to mention dangerous.”

  “Marlon said The Briary isn’t overseen by the supernatural council because there aren’t any humans in its district. Maybe we should…”

  My words trailed off as a shudder gripped Glynda. She held up a hand. “Please, no mention of the council. We’ve got enough to contend with.”

  “What if they—”

  The hand again cut me off. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep and I’ll ponder what to do about the scoundrels in The Briary. They certainly can’t be left to keep on with their crimes, but we don’t have to act right this minute. Careful thought will be our best ally.”

  And on that note, I called it a night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harriet and Glynda dragged me out of bed the next morning. One to collect her books and check on me, the other to have me as a witness.

  “When those two young women try to get around me with their double-talk,” Glenda explained, “and I know they will, I want you on hand to correct them.”

  “Unless they start to use magic, whereupon I’ll be blind, deaf, and dumb.”

  “You’ve already got the dumb in spades,” Harriet joked, bumping her hip into mine. “Should I come along? You know how I like a firework show.”

  “More than you like being paid for your actual job?” Glynda asked with one raised eyebrow. When Harriet’s shoulders slumped, she patted her on the arm. “I thought not. Why don’t you get to the library and leave this matter to us?”

  For once, I felt sorry for Harriet as she left us alone.

  After knocking on Brianna’s front door, Glynda clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It looks like she and her mother have had a rapprochement. That’s her car inside the garage.”

  It was Lucinda who answered the door and showed us inside a house that bore no relation to the pigsty we’d previously visited. The stench of discarded food containers and rotting fish in the pool had been replaced with a hefty dose of air freshener. A ranch slider to the back lawn stood open, letting through a refreshing breeze.

  “I must thank you for all you did for my daughter,” Lucinda said as she awkwardly clasped my hands. “At the time it must’ve seemed like we’d sold you down the river, but we trusted you’d make it out okay.”

  “She’s not okay,” Glynda snapped, putting the woman in her place before I had the chance to. “Her magic’s been stolen, and her co-worker has lost his memory. Neither of them will be able to work like this. You’ve just ended her career with one snap.”

  News to me. I didn’t know who to be more affronted by.

  “I’ll compensate for any residual damages, of course,” Lucinda cooed, much to my bank balance’s relief. “Having my daughter back, the way she’s meant to be, is worth any price tag.”

  “It’s not the money.” Glynda crossed to the woman and poked a finger squarely in the middle of her chest. “You placed coven member’s lives in danger. It’s a betrayal of everything we hold precious.”

  Lucinda’s carefully crafted smile slipped for a second and her eyes flashed, hot with rage. “I don’t remember you being all for one and one for all when my daughter was crippled.”

  “I gave her a job.”

  “Once a year.”

  “The coven paid her handsomely considering it was only four hours of work.”

  “And left her alone, to sit and stew in everything she’d lost for the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.”

  Glynda’s mouth curved at the edges, a smile designed to draw blood. “She had her good friend Delia, didn’t she? The coven can hardly force a friendship on someone set on pushing it aside. The housefly was a steadfast companion, though.”

  Lucinda stepped back—distaste prominent in the curl of her lip. “I’d hardly call that frumpy disaster a good friend.”

  “Mother!” Too late, Lucinda heard the light tread of her daughter entering the room, her slighted friend in tow. “How could you say such a thing?”

  Delia’s arms were folded in a defensive line, but I saw her lower lip trembling. The words had struck dead centre on their target. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, staring at the floor. “It doesn’t matter what the old hag thinks of me.”

  “It does.” Brianna marched across the room. “Apologise to my friend at once, or you can get out of my life for another twenty years.”

  A tiny blur whizzed by on the lawn outside, heading straight for the decorative fairy lights festooned over the squat pine tree near the pool. I was already running before my brain reconciled the image into Porangi, intent on destruction.

  “No! Bad dog.” I stretched out my hand but missed his collar by a millimetre as he sprinted past, jumping into the tree as though it was a bouncy castle. He growled and wrestled the string of lights, tugging it free, and headed back to the car with it snaking behind.

  “Those cost good money,” Brianna shouted, picking up the trailing end and giving it such a tug Porangi somersaulted backwards. “Get out of here, you menace.”

  “Sorry about the dog,” I said but Glynda brushed me aside.

  “You can deduct the ten bucks you paid for those things from the bill you owe. Or are you letting your mother pick up the tab?”

  “No one told you to chase after me,” Brianna grumbled.

  “If I hadn’t, you would’ve been the one to end up in the basement when Aloysius realised you were no use to him.” My face burned with the injustice and I wished Porangi had done damage to more than a simple decoration. “I could’ve died down there.”

  “You didn’t, more’s the pity.” Lucinda came to stand beside her daughter in a gesture of solidarity and Brianna forgot their argument as suddenly as she’d started it.

  Delia might still have held some trace resentment, but she chose to aim it at the carpet.

  “What use is a witch with no magic?” Brianna asked with a sneer. In the strong daylight, her face was lined with wrinkles. She appeared much closer in age to her mother, in stark contrast to the video from the pub. Perhaps having a rotten heart was affecting the rest of her body? I glanced at Delia and saw the same effect had struck her. If anything, her wrinkles and liver spots were worse.

  Glynda clicked her tongue. “I’ll invoice you, Lucinda. Make sure you pay it before the next coven meeting, or you and your offspring can look for another town to call home.”

  “Perhaps it’s time we moved on,” she agreed without rancour.

  “If you do, you forfeit both your houses, as per the coven agreement.” Glynda winked at my astonishment. “If Beezley does kick you out, how’d you fancy this as your new home?”

  I couldn’t work out if she was joking or not, so held my tongue. Lucinda and Brianna just glared until we left.

  “Come here, Porangi,” I shouted as the chihuah
ua hurtled past, intent on more mischief. He didn’t even flick a glance my way. “Heel?”

  “He’s got a traumatic brain injury,” Glynda said, getting into the driver’s seat. “If you want him to join us on the ride home, you’ll have to fetch him.”

  Cue fifteen minutes of me being run ragged in the mid-summer heat. It was only when I dug into my pockets and discovered an old chew treat that he showed me any interest. While he sniffed, I grabbed him around the middle and fell into the passenger seat with a relieved sigh.

  “There are these new inventions,” Glynda said dryly. “They’re called leads.”

  “You want me to leash a familiar? That’s a travesty.”

  She reached over and tickled Porangi under the chin. “Believe me, I’d be happier if he was restored to his former glory but if our fake Kris Kringle couldn’t bring about that miracle, I doubt you’ll have any luck.”

  “Can’t win, don’t try, eh?”

  Glynda laughed, a surprisingly joyous sound coming from her. “You can knock yourself out trying, it’s the succeeding that’ll be the struggle.”

  We were pulling up outside Beezley’s house when I gathered the courage to ask a question that had occurred to me the previous night. “You know what Lucinda said, about a witch with no magic being useless?”

  “Don’t worry what that old witch says. I’ll make sure she pays for the trouble she and Brianna caused.”

  “Good but it’s not that. I wondered if you still had the white magic you confiscated from me.” I tried to swallow past a lump in my throat but couldn’t. “If you were able to restore it…”

  The road must have proved more difficult to navigate than usual because Glynda’s eyes stayed firmly fixed ahead. I petted Porangi, letting his silken coat ease away some of my fears.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Glynda said when I’d given up hope of an answer. “But in return, I need a favour. I’m calling a coven meeting for tomorrow and I need your open and honest testimony about what happened during this case, from the moment I hired you until you rocked into town again, yesterday.”