Savage Sourdough

by Mildred Abbott

  I started to respond, but Percival led me over to the counter and handed me a flyer. It was filled with pictures of furniture and dishware.

  “Anyway, I’d like you to talk some sense into that hardheaded husband of mine. You’d think after all these years together, he’d know by now just to let me win, but no, that head of his just gets harder. The man’s over seventy, and I’m still waiting for osteoporosis to kick in a little bit so I might win an argument every once in a while.”

  I laughed. It had been the right call to start here. Percival was ridiculous, but he and Gary definitely made life better. I handed him back the flyer. “What is this?”

  “Old Man Bentley died last week. They’re having an estate sale. I think we should make one lump offer for all. Circumvent the entire thing.” He pointed at the flyer to a picture of a dish with a floral pattern. “This piece alone is worth five or six hundred. Who knows what other treasures there are.”

  Gary joined us, Watson walking behind him. “First off, Old Man Bentley, as you like to call him, was younger than we are. Secondly, I’ve been in his house when Verona and Zelda moved to Glen Haven and were giving us tours of their homes. Remember? I think he felt left out and wanted to give a tour of his own. And third, that platter would be worth six hundred, but you can tell, even in the picture, that it’s been repaired.” He turned to me. “How are you holding up, sweetheart? Barry said you were pretty shook, thinking you found Katie yesterday.”

  Before I could answer, Percival poked a bony finger in Gary’s chest. “I don’t care how old Old Man Bentley was, he didn’t have his own teeth, so that makes him older than us—even if mine are capped. Two, you don’t have on your reading glasses, so there’s no way you can tell if that platter has been repaired. And three, we most definitely have never been in his house.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Unless you’re telling me you’ve been going into men’s houses without letting me know.”

  Gary sighed. “You were there too. He had that chandelier where he traded out all the crystals with wine corks.”

  Percival started to shake his head and then shuddered. “Oh. Yes. I do recall. I think I tried to banish that from my memory. It was horrendous.” He looked at the flyer as if it offended him, then crumpled it up and tossed it behind the counter. “I should’ve known. Only weirdoes live in Glen Haven where there’s no decent cell reception.” He shrugged in my direction. “No offense to Verona’s and Zelda’s families of course. But they are weird. It’s not a secret, right?”

  “So much so that you would think they were blood kin with you.” Gary rolled his eyes and refocused on me before Percival grasped the insult. “Any leads yet?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not really. I’m sure you heard about Carla raising a ruckus the other morning.”

  “Did we ever.” Percival stepped closer, managing to make Watson think he was in danger of getting stepped on, which caused him to let out a grunt and scamper away.

  “No, I have no idea why he hasn’t warmed up to you.” Gary patted Percival’s arm in mock sympathy.

  “The dog is dramatic. A quality I admire most of the time.” Percival waved a dismissive hand toward Watson. “I wish you had security cameras, Fred. I would love to see that show of Carla’s. You don’t have cameras, do you? Carla is another dramatic one.”

  “I wish we did. That would’ve solved this whole thing.” I studied them both seriously, giving my theory one last try. “You both have known Carla much longer than me. Any chance you think—”

  I didn’t even get the question out before they shook their heads.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. That’s what everyone seems to think.” I sighed. “Me included. I just don’t have any other leads at the moment. Not that I’ve asked around yet. Honestly, I feel bad saying it, but I didn’t know Sammy all that well. So little that I’m not even sure where to start. Which is why I’m here with you two.”

  Percival beamed. “Oh! We got top billing over Carl and Anna this time! I’m flattered.”

  Gary and I exchanged withering glances, but I grinned at Percival nonetheless. “That’s true, care to prove my gut instinct correct? Can you give me something on Sammy that could be a lead?”

  “You really don’t have another lead?” Percival looked like he was disappointed in me.

  I shook my head. “No, should I?”

  Gary came to my defense. “Not everyone’s as big of a gossip as you are, dear.”

  “And more’s the pity.” Percival grinned like he was getting ready to give me the best Christmas morning ever. “So you don’t know the connection to Sammy and your favorite police officer?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “She has a connection to Branson?”

  Percival blinked and then laughed. “Oh, Fred, darling. And here I thought the debate was over.”

  I thought maybe I’d heard him wrong. “What debate?”

  He reached out and touched my dangling silver earrings. “Well, I was judging from you still wearing the corgi earrings that our handsome park ranger gave you. I assumed he won. But if Branson comes to mind when you think of favorite police officer, maybe the game isn’t quite over.” He nodded in approval. “Like uncle like niece.”

  I touched the earrings. “There are no games. There are no winners or losers. Nor am I a prize to be won.”

  Percival rolled his eyes. “Darling, everyone’s a prize to be won.” He grimaced. “Unless they aren’t.”

  “Either way. Leo is just a friend. And any possible romance that might’ve been had with Branson is dead. Trust me.” My heart fluttered at the comment, though I wasn’t sure if it was for Branson or Leo. Maybe just residual effects from the horrid maple pecan scone.

  “Well, I’m not the one who referred to Branson as your favorite police office. That was you, but I’ll let you consider what that means later.” Percival touched his chest. “I was talking about Susan Green. Your other favorite police officer.”

  Gary snorted. “Right, because she would ever be Fred’s favorite officer.”

  “Sarcasm, sweetie. You have met me, right?”

  “Well, that’s one way to say it. My favorite officer is the one trying to pin Sammy’s murder on me. That would make Susan’s day to find out she was my—” I froze, realizing the implication of Gary’s words. “Officer Green? Susan has a connection to Sammy?”

  Percival tilted his chin. “Not firsthand, as far as I know, but indirectly. Sammy was having an affair with Mark.”

  “It wasn’t an affair,” Gary clarified with a sigh. “They were just dating.”

  “Wait a minute. Who’s Mark?” The moment his name left my lips I realized, and whatever fluttering had been going on a few moments before was replaced by my heart sinking. “Susan’s brother. The one who owns the magic shop?” The whole reason Susan didn’t like me or my family.

  “The very same.” Percival grinned. “How’s that for quality gossip? Does it make coming to us before Carl and Anna worth your while?”

  I didn’t bother responding to that. “Sammy was dating Mark. He’s quite a bit older, isn’t he?”

  “It’s called a May-December romance, Fred.” Percival tapped the side of my head teasingly. “I know you have your head stuck in your mystery books all the time, but you do own a bookshop. You might want to know one of the more popular tropes of the romance genre.” He chuckled darkly. “Of course, this trope is blended with another favorite—the other woman.”

  “What do you mean?” I considered for a second but couldn’t follow. Then I thought I did. “Sammy was the other woman?”

  Percival nodded.

  Gary shook his head. “Not really. Mark and his wife are separated. As far as we know, he didn’t start dating Sammy until after the separation was official.”

  Percival cocked an eyebrow. “Separation and divorce are two very different things. Maybe Mark felt like Sammy wasn’t the other woman, but I wonder how his wife saw things.”

  Wow, I had not seen that coming. Granted, I did
n’t know Sammy at all, but I never would’ve guessed.

  I didn’t know Mark or his wife, but even so, an affair, separated or not, was a much better motive for murder than Sammy turning Carla into the Better Business Bureau years ago. Much.

  We had motive.

  “I love that expression on Fred’s face.” Percival nudged Gary with his elbow. “See, we are related. I get that same euphoric feeling when I hear a juicy tidbit.”

  I doubted it was quite the same experience, but I didn’t see any point saying so. I was thrilled at the thought of having a lead and a possible motive. But of all people. Susan’s brother? No way that was going to end well. I glanced around and found Watson taking a nap in a ray of sunshine coming through the windows. With the crowded floor space there wasn’t quite as much room, but he managed to make do. I almost hated to wake him. No way was it going to be pleasant going over to the magic shop.

  Alakazam, the one shop I’d avoided since moving to Estes Park, was located on the most charming corner of downtown. Elkhorn Avenue ran straight for several blocks and then veered off to a winding road that after a couple of miles led into the national park. A large wooden waterwheel sat at the crook of that turn. During the winter months, it sat dormant in a frozen state, but during the spring, summer and fall, it rotated lazily with the gurgling of the water. Even frozen, it was rather beautiful. In some ways, it also offered me protection on the occasions I needed to walk a couple more blocks west to visit some of the outlying shops. It allowed me to pass the magic shop without worrying about Susan’s brother noticing me and coming to give me an earful.

  To be fair, I had yet to meet Mark Green. Perhaps he was a lovely individual. Maybe he had inherited all the charm from the Green family genes while his sister had gotten the brawn. From my impression of Susan, however, I doubted it. I also knew Mom and Barry found him a rather tiresome renter, but I was also aware enough that the two of them were tiresome landlords. So I couldn’t be certain.

  If Percival and Gary had offered me another lead, any other lead, I would’ve grabbed at it as opposed to finally having to talk to Mark. As it was, I couldn’t even justify going to speak to Carl and Anna at Cabin and Hearth before braving Alakazam. You didn’t get a much better motive than a scorned spouse.

  Watson either didn’t pick up on my nerves or couldn’t be bothered with them. As we crossed the street toward the waterwheel, he pranced along beside me, enjoying the gentle snowfall that had begun during our time in Victorian Antlers. He looked up at me happily with bright sparkling brown eyes—an expression that always made me wish I could’ve had him as a puppy. I couldn’t even imagine how adorable he had been. And I often wondered if his frequently grumpy disposition had been present even as a cute little pup, or if it was brought on by whatever experiences he’d had before wandering into my life.

  As we reached the steps that went up to the wooden walkway leading to the shops behind the waterwheel, he actually wagged his tail in enjoyment. From nothing other than bounding up the steps. A gesture that typically wasn’t demonstrated unless there was a snack nearby, or Barry, or Leo. Although, maybe he knew something I didn’t. Maybe he could smell treats wafting from the magic shop’s door.

  “I’m glad one of us isn’t nervous.” I paused behind the waterwheel and scratched his head. “It would be really great if you could speak and handle this one for me, since you’re in such a good mood.”

  He didn’t reply other than continuing to smile with a loll of his tongue, then refocused and headed directly to the door of Alakazam.

  Maybe he couldn’t speak, but at times like these, I was certain he overheard everything I said and understood most of it.

  Just as we reached the glass front door, I had a very soothing thought. Mark wouldn’t be working at Alakazam, not a day after his girlfriend was murdered. Surely.

  Maybe the relief that washed over me revealed I was slightly more of a coward than I wanted to admit. After all, if I really wanted to pursue leads, I needed to speak to Mark directly. Although… that wasn’t necessarily true. In fact it would be better to see if I could get something out of whoever was inside, who probably worked with Mark all the time, before speaking to the man himself.

  Feeling better, I shoved open the door, held it for Watson, and then followed.

  I paused just inside the door as I looked around, somewhat in awe. Any lack of charm Mark Green might have shared with his sister was more than made up for by Alakazam. The space was small, and the way the shop was built left it sandwiched between two larger properties, causing its walls to be angled in an almost haphazard pattern. The layout looked like it had been two triangles smashed together. Every one of those slanted walls was a different color—plum, crimson, marigold, and sapphire. Silver swirls and stars whirled over the walls, like a magic spell happening before my eyes.

  Once I looked away from the captivating walls, my gaze couldn’t decide where to land next. I’d thought Percival and Gary’s store was filled to the brim, but it was nothing compared to this. If anyone else had attempted to decorate the way this place was, it would look cluttered. But not here. It truly felt like I’d stepped into a wizard’s closet. Gadgets and gizmos were strewn over iron-and-glass shelving units. A collection of crystal balls glistened beside vials of dried herbs and flower petals. Vintage posters of magicians hung in gilded frames. Across the store, one of those old coin-operated fortunetellers sat behind glass, the lights around it flashing like a mini carnival. Costumes were spread everywhere, some on mannequins, causing it to appear as if a knight watched from one corner while a princess stood nearby as a court jester entertained them from the other side of the store. The new and old blended together perfectly. And I had no doubt I could spend three hours in here and still not begin to find every hidden magical treasure.

  By the counter, an old fairy watched me, her gossamer tunic crafted from dusty shades of lavenders, pinks, and blues. Large shimmery wings glittered over her shoulders. I flinched when she laughed.

  “Seeing someone come to the store for the first time never gets old.” Her wrinkled smile was friendly and playful. “You look like you’ve just fallen back into childhood.”

  I’d known she wasn’t a mannequin in costume like the others. At least I thought I had. But she blended in seamlessly and looked so otherworldly that somehow she’d just been another part of the shop. Even after hearing her speak, I struggled to come to grips with the fact she was just an old woman playing dress-up, and that I wasn’t truly speaking to a fairy. “I think I very well might have fallen back into my childhood.” I gave a little nervous laugh. “I think I’m struggling to come out of it, truth be told.”

  “Why would you even try? Just enjoy the sensation while it lasts.” The fairy straightened from her relaxed position by the counter, reached behind it, and withdrew something before walking toward us with a rustle of fabric. She bent and offered the back of her hand toward Watson.

  Watson hadn’t made a sound since entering. He wasn’t a fan of costumes, but to my surprise, even with the unusual material of her outfit and the large glittering wings trembling at her back, he didn’t growl or slink away. Instead he carefully extended his muzzle, sniffed her skin, and then licked her knuckles.

  Maybe she truly was a fairy to pull off that trick.

  At the lick, she turned her hand over and unfurled her fingers, revealing a small green dog bone.

  Watson snatched it up.

  I stared at him. He always knew. No wonder he’d been so excited crossing the street. The corgi was a little bit magic himself. Or maybe just clairvoyant where treats were concerned.

  The fairy straightened to her full height, which brought her almost to my shoulders, and smiled up at me. “I believe you’re Fred and Watson who own the Cozy Corgi, correct?”

  I searched for any shadow of annoyance or judgment that I’d expected to find within the shop of Susan Green’s brother. There was none. “That we are.”

  “I came in during your grand op
ening. But I’ve not been able to come back. Your shop is lovely, and the bakery is absolutely divine. Of course, my wings weren’t showing at the time, so I don’t expect you to remember me.” She extended her hand. “I’m Glinda.”

  I’d already taken her grip but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Glinda? You’re one of those who practices the method theory of acting, aren’t you? Really embodying your role.”

  “No, my true name is Glinda. I promise you.” Still, her eyes twinkled. “And if you remember, Glinda was a witch, not a fairy.” She released my hand, and this time a different gleam entered her eyes. “If you’re here for the reason I think you’re here, I’ll let you decide if I’m a good or bad witch, or just a flighty fairy peddling magic tricks.”

  No part of this was what I’d expected. The store or Glinda. And once more I tried to judge the intent behind the words. I didn’t hear a challenge or teasing or an accusation. Just intelligence and a sense of enjoyment. “I didn’t come to decide if you were a good or a bad witch at all.”

  “No, I don’t believe you did.” While still not hostile, her expression shifted again, suddenly a bit hardened, or possibly guarded. “You’re here to decide if the wizard is of the good or bad variety.”

  I wasn’t certain whether or not I would’ve been so thrown off having the same conversation with a woman in everyday clothes. On the one hand, I appreciated the forthrightness of her nature. On the other, I wasn’t entirely certain what to do with it. I supposed that was a bridge I’d have to get used to crossing. At this point, whether I’d met people or not, I had a reputation in town. Of course she didn’t see Fred Page walk through the door with her dog and think I was here to buy a magic trick for a child in my life. Obviously it wasn’t coincidence that the day after my assistant baker was murdered I entered the store that Sammy’s lover owned.