Miss Frost Cracks A Caper: A Nocturne Falls Mystery (Jayne Frost Book 4)

by Kristen Painter

  “Okay, that sounds like enough for me to go on.” I blew out a breath. “Some night, huh?”

  “That’s for sure.” He glanced at his watch. “We still have time for pancakes.”

  “What time is it? Mummy’s doesn’t open until six. And what do you mean we still have time?”

  “It’s almost two in the morning. But my day starts at four A.M. No need for Mummy’s, though. I’ll make the pancakes.”

  “You start work at four in the morning?” That was a somewhat horrifying thought. At least for a person like me, who enjoyed sleep like a winter elf liked cake. And by winter elf, I meant me.

  “We open at six just like Mummy’s, and those doughnuts have to be ready, so I start early. I have dough to make, some of it has to rise and proof, there are fryers and ovens to turn on so they can come to temperature, glazes, fillings, and toppings to prepare. Lots to do.” He grinned. “You didn’t think I had a shop full of doughnut-making fairies, did you?”

  “No. I guess I just never thought about how much work it is. Don’t you want to sleep a little before you have to do all that?”

  “Not if it means missing breakfast with you. Plus, I can nap after the morning rush is over. My employees are perfectly capable of handling the rest.”

  As much as I loved and needed my sleep, I knew I was too wound up to drift off right now anyway. “Okay. Pancakes it is.”

  Smiling, he leaned back and rapped on the glass divider between us and the driver. The window whirred down, and Sinclair gave the guy the change of address.

  Twenty minutes later, I was wearing a pair of Sinclair’s pajama pants and a Zombie Donuts T-shirt (and my strapless bra, which I’d be tearing off the minute I got home), sitting at his kitchen counter and watching him make huge, fluffy pancakes. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he could make pancakes, what with all his doughnut skills.

  His apartment was above his shop, just like Willa lived above her jewelry store. It was a cool setup, and I liked that the Ellinghams had thought about stuff like that when they’d rebuilt the town. Or maybe I was biased because I lived in an apartment above my store, too.

  Either way, his place was nice. Lots of wood and leather like you might expect in a man’s home, but also a surprising amount of glass and art and plants. It felt very metropolitan to me. Like an apartment you might see in a chic new neighborhood in a big city. I liked it. His cat, Sugar, was sitting on the back of the sofa, watching us. She was a gorgeous little creature with big gold eyes.

  Sinclair had changed into pretty much the same outfit as he’d given me, but the pajama pants and T-shirt looked a lot better on him. He glanced in my direction, spatula raised. “I could throw some blueberries in these. Or chocolate chips. Or butterscotch chips. Or coconut. Or—actually, I could put pretty much anything you want in these. The shop is full of stuff we could add in.”

  “I’d be perfectly happy with plain. With syrup, of course.” He was already going to enough work, and who didn’t love regular pancakes?

  “Of course.” He put the spatula down to retrieve a jug of maple syrup from the refrigerator.

  There was a Canadian flag on the jug. That meant it was the good stuff. “That will do nicely.”

  He set it on the counter beside the butter. “You want coffee?”

  “I’m torn. Part of me thinks I should avoid the caffeine so I’ll be able to sleep, and part of me thinks sleep is just a dream.” I snorted. “No pun intended.”

  He snorted. “You should skip it. No point in disrupting the few hours of sleep you’re going to get.” He went back to the griddle, checking the edges of the pancakes.

  A phone buzzed.

  He looked up. “Is that you or me?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. My evening bag was about to vibrate off the coffee table. Sugar was giving it the side-eye. “Me.” I scooped it up and pulled the phone out. There was a text from Greyson.

  Complication with the job. Won’t make it back for another day. Sorry. Hope you had fun at the ball.

  That explained why he hadn’t shown up. I did. Lots to tell you when you get back. Be safe.

  “Everything okay?” Sinclair asked.

  “Yes.” I tucked the phone away. “Just a friend checking in.”

  “If you need to make a call and want some privacy, you can use the bedroom.”

  As tempting as it was to see what Sinclair’s bedroom looked like, I had no reason to. “No, it’s fine.” I came back to my seat.

  He slipped an enormous pancake onto my plate, then put one on his, added two more to the griddle and came around to join me while they cooked.

  We slathered the pancakes in butter and syrup. I finished before he did, happily stuffing the first bite in my mouth. “Hey, these are really good for plain pancakes. They don’t taste plain at all.”

  “Thanks. It’s the vanilla. I use really good vanilla. And I add a few drops of almond extract. Not enough to make them taste like almond, but enough to give them another layer of flavor.”

  “No wonder your doughnuts are so good.” He and Delaney could rule the world if they ever collaborated.

  He finished his bite, got another one on his fork, but then didn’t eat it. “You think Lark is guilty?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “Is she capable of doing something like this? I don’t mean physically. I mean is this kind of behavior in her nature?”

  “I think it could be. I never would have thought so until what happened in college. That upended everything I thought I knew about Lark. She claims to have changed now, but how do I really know that?”

  “You can’t, I guess. Not with your mutual past.”

  I sighed. “It certainly doesn’t help.”

  “Do you want her to be guilty?”

  I glanced at him. That was a loaded question. “No. I definitely don’t. I’d like to find out she really is a different person. But, man, things don’t look good for her, do they?”

  “No, they don’t.”

  “I’m in such a bad spot with this.” I stared at my pancake. “I could have kept Elenora from hiring her, but I didn’t. I basically gave Lark my blessing. So if she did do this, it’s partially my fault.”

  “Elenora won’t hold that against you.” He hesitated. “Will she? I haven’t been here long enough to know her well enough to really say that.”

  “You saw her at the ball tonight. Did she look like the warm, forgiving type to you?”

  “Not exactly, but you can’t be held responsible for someone else’s actions.”

  I ate another bite. “I hope not.”

  Several hours later (not enough of which had been spent sleeping), I was walking into the sheriff’s department, and I still didn’t know what to think about this whole mess. The best I could hope for was that Lark would talk to me and show me she didn’t have the death mark on her.

  The worst would be if she did.

  I fidgeted with the straps of the tote bag over my shoulder. Either outcome would lead to more questions, more accusations, more problems. But her not having the mark meant I would be free and clear. Well…sort of. Just because she didn’t have the mark didn’t mean she might not have been working with someone.

  Snowballs.

  Birdie greeted me with a smile that held a large amount of pity. “You okay, Princess?”

  “As okay as I can be.” I reached into the pocket of my jacket and used the tips of my fingers to spin the obsidian beads on the safety pin I’d hooked to my keyring. I hadn’t wanted to lose them or leave them behind, and I was mad about the bracelet being broken, so I’d figured out a way to keep them with me. It felt like righting a wrong. “All things considered.”

  “Sure, sure. How are your mom and aunt?”

  “Good, I guess. I haven’t talked to them since they got home.” I’d purposefully avoided the snow globe this morning, although I had put their luggage into the Santa’s Bag and sent it back to the North Pole. That was about all I’d gotte
n accomplished.

  I’d had roughly four hours of sleep, and I was feeling it. Talking to my dad about what had happened last night was super low on my list of things to do. At least until I had spent some time with Lark and hopefully had more answers.

  “You want anything? Coffee? Cinnamon roll?” Her smile widened. “I’d offer you some doughnuts, but I’m guessing you’ve had quite a lot of those lately.”

  Sheriff Merrow came out of his office in time to hear his aunt’s comment. “Leave the girl be, Birdie. She’s got enough on her plate.”

  “That’s for sure,” Birdie said. “And some of it’s doughnuts.”

  “Aunt Birdie.” He narrowed his eyes.

  I snorted despite myself.

  She held her hands up. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

  He sighed. “Try doing that filing I left on your desk instead.”

  With a hmph and a glare at him, she picked up a stack of files and marched off to the back room.

  He turned his attention to me. “What’s in the bag?”

  “A change of clothes for Lark. You have any problem with that? It’s just sweatpants and a T-shirt.” They were my big plan to check her for the death mark, so I really hoped the sheriff allowed it.

  He didn’t respond for a second. “Fine. But her old clothes leave with you.”

  “Okay, I can do that, thanks.” I hooked my thumb under the strap over my shoulder. These clothes were also my insurance policy against Lark not wanting to talk to me. She’d been in a silk bustier, cropped leather jacket, and leather pants last night. She had to be ready for something more comfortable. Unless she’d changed in the brief time she’d been home before being arrested. Hmm. I hadn’t thought about that until just now, but the sheriff didn’t seem to think Lark changing clothes would be weird, so she must still be dressed in all that leather.

  He just grunted, then said, “Follow me.”

  I did, and he took me to a door at the back of the station. It was about as nondescript as a closet door, except for the plaque that said Employees Only. He swiped a keycard through the lock to open it, then we went down the steps and came out into one of the main passageways of the Basement. The wide corridor was well lit and very industrial-looking with little directional signs here and there. Just like I remembered it.

  We walked along for a bit and came to the holding area. He used his keycard again to unlock that door. When it clicked, he nodded at me. “Five minutes.”

  That wasn’t very long. “What if she starts talking?”

  “Keep listening.” He opened the door and held it for me.

  I took that to mean I’d have more time if I needed it. I hoped that’s what he meant. I went inside. The space was bright and clean. Lark was in the last cell on the left. All the cells were fronted in thick plexiglass, but hers had been molded into bars whereas some of the others just had sheets of the stuff with air holes. The door was solid plexiglass, though. Different setups for different supes, I supposed, but I knew enough to know that what looked like plexiglass was most likely something much stronger and magically enhanced to be that way.

  She was sitting on a wide, molded bench. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and her arms were wrapped around her legs, her face down against her knees. Fortunately for me, she hadn’t changed her outfit. She lifted her head as I approached.

  By her red eyes and smudged makeup, she’d been crying. “Come to gloat?”

  “No,” I said. “I came to see how you’re doing.” I took the bag off my shoulder and held it up. “Brought you a change of clothes, too.”

  She dropped her feet to the floor. “Really?”

  “Yes. You want them?”

  “Totally.” She got off the bench. I realized that the dark circles under her eyes weren’t entirely from makeup, but lack of sleep.

  “You have to send your old clothes back out.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  There was a narrow slot in the solid plexiglass door with a little ledge on both sides. I guessed that’s where they put food trays through. I stuffed the bag in and took a few steps back. I wasn’t about to give her any privacy, though. I couldn’t.

  She picked up the bag and gave me a cold look. “You just going to stand there and watch?”

  There was an almost snarly edge to her voice. I brushed it off. I’d probably react the same way if I was locked up. Short on patience and ready to snap. “Just change already. I only have a few minutes. And it’s not like we didn’t change in front of each other all the time in college.”

  She frowned but shucked her jacket. Nothing on her arms, except for a tattoo on her shoulder of a crescent moon.

  “What happened last night, Lark?”

  “If I knew, I probably wouldn’t be in here.” She took off her pants next. Peeled them off, really. I guess leather pants worked that way. I’d never worn any, so I had no idea. I didn’t think I would be wearing them, either. No marks on her legs. Which wasn’t where Sinclair had thought the mark would be anyway.

  “I get that. How did your shimmer go so wrong?”

  She hitched the sweatpants up and rolled her eyes. “Again, if I knew—”

  “You realize I’m trying to help, right?” Lack of sleep and stress had made me a little short on patience too. “I didn’t need to come here this morning.”

  She sighed and pulled the T-shirt on. Over the bustier. Snowballs. She reached up under the T-shirt and started to unhook the bustier. Which was probably what I would have done.

  But I needed to see her rib cage. I had to think fast.

  She dropped the bustier onto the bench, giving me a glimpse of skin when she tugged it free.

  I pointed at her. “Did you have that bruise before?”

  She yanked the shirt up, giving me a good look at the front of her. “Where?”

  “Other side,” I said.

  She turned, lifting the shirt again and showing me half her back in the process. “This side?”

  Her right was unmarked. “Other other side.”

  She repeated the move on the left. “I don’t see anything.”

  Neither did I. And she wasn’t moving like someone who was in any pain, which she would have been, based on what Sinclair had said about the marks. I shrugged. “Must have been a shadow.”

  She pushed her clothes piece by piece through the slot, along with the bag. I picked them all up and stuffed them in the bag. “I’ll make sure you get these back.”

  She snorted. “You think I’m actually getting out of here?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “You heard Elenora last night. All that death-wish talk. She’s probably going to drain me dry and leave me for dead.”

  “I don’t think vampires really do that anymore.” Although, I wouldn’t put it past Elenora to threaten Lark with that.

  “Yeah, well, of course you’d think that. They like you. And you like them.”

  “That’s not a crime.” That last word hung between us like a flashing neon sign. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t do it.”

  She came right up to the bars. “I didn’t do it. And I don’t know why my magic went wrong.”

  “What about Lance? How much do you know about that guy?”

  “A lot. We’ve been together for a long time. We love each other. We trust each other. And he was with me all night last night.”

  “He never left your side?”

  “Only long enough to get me drinks and bring me some food. And then he was only gone for as much time as it took to do those things. He’s a good guy. A really good guy.”

  “Has your magic ever gone wrong like this before?”

  She sighed and sat on the bench. “Once. But not to this extreme. And it was like a year ago.”

  Interesting. I leaned against the bars. “What happened?”

  “I was tired. The night before, I’d done an extra show because the money was good. I ended up filling half the club with snow. The crowd loved it, but it was
definitely a malfunction. I snapped out of it, and the snow disappeared. Just like last night.”

  “What do you mean you snapped out of it?”

  She made a face. “Last night and that night a year ago, both times, it was like I was in a fog. Sort of. It came and went so fast that the memory of it is just a fleeting one.”

  “Were you under a spell?”

  “No. Didn’t feel like that. Felt like…being tired.”

  “Is there any way you could have left the booth while you were doing the shimmer?”

  “You mean so I could run around and steal everyone’s stuff?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “No. And even if I had, where would I have put it? I’m sure the cops have gone through all my stuff by now anyway. Which is how they found that loose diamond by my gear that isn’t mine. The real thief planted that. They had to. Where else could it have come from?”

  “Right.” I had my doubts about that. I thought through everything she’d said. “Who books your shows?”

  “Lance handles all of that.”

  He was more deeply imbedded in Lark’s life than I imagined. I rubbed my forehead. I was going to regret this, I just knew it. “I’ll…try to help you.”

  “You will?” Her hopeful look suddenly turned suspicious. “Why?”

  “Because my family’s royal jewels were stolen and because I’m partially to blame for you being here.” Not because I thought she was completely innocent. I hadn’t gone that far down the road yet.

  She made a face. “How so?”

  “Elenora asked me if you were trustworthy. Told me she wouldn’t hire you if I said so.”

  Lark’s lips parted and a soft, “Oh” escaped.

  I paced to the other end of the cell. “Don’t get all emotional about it. We’re still not going to be best friends when this is over. I’m just glad you weren’t the one stealing the jewels.”

  “You seem pretty sure of that.” She got up and came to the bars. “Which I’m glad of, don’t get me wrong, but why are you so confident about it?”