by Erica Ridley
His fleshy lip curled, revealing even more of his large front teeth. “You’re looking at the ‘tooth’ Miss le Fey sent to the Pearly States via magic pouch.”
“Exactly. I present the People’s Exhibit A.” D.A. Sangre’s fangs glistened behind her triumphant smile.
Murmurs rippled through the courtroom.
“Jackalopes have been running the Pearly States since the dawn of time,” Mr. Lagobovid said with a sniff of his little pink nose. “Miss le Fey is arrogant beyond the pale to believe us too foolish to recognize the difference between a rock and an incisor.”
Daisy leapt to her feet. “I can explain—”
“Mr. Squatch, control your client.” Judge Banshee banged her golden gavel. “The defense will have a chance for rebuttal once the prosecution is finished.”
“Urgh!” The shaggy white yeti shoved Daisy back into her chair. “Urrrrrghhhh.”
“Fine.” The back of Daisy’s head slumped against her chair. “Go on.”
“Oh, I will.” D.A. Sangre pointed a talon at the flickering image. “In no way does this abomination resemble a tooth. Miss le Fey presented an ordinary, fist-sized rock from the human world knowingly and maliciously, with intent to deceive and defraud the Pearly States, a highly-respected government body staffed by dentition experts like Jeremiah Lagobovid. Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Lagobovid. And thank you for bringing such shameless disrespect of Nether-Netherland authority to our attention.”
“That’s not true,” Daisy whispered to Mr. Squatch, who held a furry finger to his lips and rose to his feet.
“Urgh,” her lawyer began as he approached the witness stand. “Urrrrrghhhh.”
Mr. Lagobovid jerked a floppy ear toward Judge Banshee. “Which means?”
The judge climbed atop her golden table to peer down at the witness. “Can you prove the defendant’s act was planned?” she translated shrilly.
Daisy’s spine straightened. Good question, Mr. Squatch.
“Planned?” the jackalope repeated to Mr. Squatch in a mocking lilt. “You expect anyone in this courtroom to believe she labeled and delivered an Earth-rock inside a Pearly States delivery pouch by accident?”
Mr. Squatch glanced over one hairy shoulder at Daisy, who motioned him back to his seat. Absolutely nothing Mr. Lagobovid said could help her. Even if he knew the truth behind the odd package, she’d get worse sentencing in the court of public opinion for believing the lies of a sexy anthropologist.
D.A. Sangre tore through her files. “I now call Vivian Valdemeer to the stand.”
Oh, no. Daisy covered her face with her hands as Vivian was sworn in. Nothing said “goodbye, job” quite like your supervisor appearing in High Court to testify against you.
“Ms. Valdemeer.” D.A. Sangre checked her notes. “You are one of the top-ranking tooth fairies in all of Nether-Netherland, is that right?”
“I am the highest-ranking, yes.”
“And you recently took on the defendant as an apprentice, is that also correct?”
“Yes, it is.” Vivian’s eyes scanned the audience as though searching for something or someone. “Daisy is a joy and a pleasure to have in the office. She is naïve and ignorant of the rules and rigors of toothfairying. Under my tutelage, she can achieve great things. Daisy is both an eager apprentice and—”
“Ms. Valdemeer,” D.A. Sangre interrupted with a snarl. “Miss le Fey is on trial for defrauding and deceiving a government body, not running for governor of Nether-Netherland.”
“Urgh.” Daisy’s attorney patted her hand and grinned. “Urrrrrghhhh.”
“Oh, dear, was I going on about Daisy again?” Vivian’s eyelashes fluttered toward the crowd. “I just love her so much. She’s highly competent in many ways, if not fairying. Bless her heart. She tries so hard.”
From the furious expression on D.A. Sangre’s face, Vivian might single-handedly save Daisy from this mess.
“She may be new,” D.A. Sangre snarled, “but she’s not untutored. Is Daisy aware of the Two Rules of Toothfairying?”
Her mentor smoothed flyaway hair from her face. “Of course. They’re posted on placards throughout the office and marqueed on the bottom of all our training materials.”
“Very well.” D.A. Sangre gestured to the jury. “Please state those rules for the record.”
“Rule Number One: Deposit a boon in place of the tooth. Rule Number Two…” Vivian cast an apologetic moue toward Daisy. “Keep human interaction to a minimum.”
“Urgh,” Daisy’s lawyer whispered urgently. “Urrrrrghhhh.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Daisy whispered back, “but this sucks.”
“Keep human interaction to a minimum,” D.A. Sangre repeated smugly. “I submit exhibit B. Alarm records for Vivian Valdemeer’s private office in Tooth Fairy grid 418.”
Holy Hera, this was bad. Daisy slouched into her seat.
“An unauthorized teleportation attempt on the Tooth Fairy Transporter triggered the alarm on Monday evening. That’s yesterday, Your Honor, after you’d delivered the defendant’s injunction to remain with her parents.” D.A. Sangre smirked at Daisy. “I’d like the jury to notice the destination shown on the logs. This is the residence of one Trevor Masterson, well outside the Central American grid Apprentice le Fey was to be servicing.”
Mr. Squatch vaulted over the defense table. “Urgh! Urrrrrghhhh!”
“Sustained,” shrieked Judge Banshee. “Mr. Squatch, return to your seat. D.A. Sangre, you will not present evidence of misconduct taking place subsequent to the initial charges. Jury, please disregard counsel’s previous statements.”
Daisy sank even lower in her seat. Sure. The jury would forget everything the D.A. just said. And a sphinx might fly out of her sphincter. Curse that D.A. Sangre! Well, if vampires weren’t already damned.
Judge Banshee fixed her wild gaze on Mr. Squatch. “Care to cross-examine?”
Mr. Squatch shook his furry head with a defeated “urgh”.
The D.A. swiveled toward the crowd, the slash of a victorious grin splitting her face. “Then I’d like to call Miss Helicon to the stand.”
Daisy strangled on a cry of protest. Maeve? Maeve was a witness for the prosecution? Why hadn’t she told her? Daisy’s outrage sickened into defeat as she realized Maeve had no doubt wanted to discuss it at length. Unfortunately, Daisy hadn’t exactly been hanging out at her parents’ house as instructed.
Maeve trudged up to the stand, wings and muzzle drooping. Her pleading eyes met Daisy’s in abject misery.
“Miss Helicon.” D.A. Sangre strode forward. “Were you aware of Miss le Fey’s attempt to defraud and deceive the Pearly States with a common Earth stone?”
“No.”
Daisy’s spine straightened in sudden hope.
D.A. Sangre scowled. “No, you were not aware of Miss le Fey’s deception? I thought the two of you were best of friends.”
“Yes, we’re best friends.” Maeve’s lavender nostrils flared. “No, Daisy wasn’t trying to defraud anyone.”
“Is that right? Then can you tell us whether Miss le Fey made an unauthorized visit to earthling Trevor Masterson?”
Maeve tossed her head, violet mane flying. “No.”
Daisy leaned forward, elbows propped on the table before her.
The D.A. bared her long, pointed teeth. “No, you refuse to disclose this information?”
“No, I can’t say she did a single thing you’re accusing her of. I don’t follow her around on Tooth Fairy expeditions. I’ve got a job and a life of my own.”
D.A. Sangre’s skeletal fingers clenched her sheaf of papers. “Can you say with certainty that she did not visit human Masterson?”
Maeve snorted. “I can’t say with certainty that she didn’t jaunt to the North Pole to whittle toy trains with Santa’s elves. Like I said, I wasn’t with her.”
“Urgh.” Daisy’s lawyer grinned at Maeve. “Urrrrrghhhh.”
“Fine.” D.A. Sangre threw her file f
olders back into her briefcase. “Did Miss le Fey say or do anything to give the impression that she interacted with one or more humans, while out on assignment or unauthorized visit?”
“Objection,” Daisy called out.
D.A. Sangre whirled to face her. “On what grounds?”
“Uh…” Daisy faltered, sliding a desperate glance toward her lawyer, who just shook his head. “That I don’t want her to answer?”
“Overruled!” shrieked Judge Banshee. “Answer the question, witness.”
Maeve gave a low, whinnying sigh. “Maybe.”
“Your Honor.” D.A. Sangre stomped up to the golden desk, the heels of her thigh-high black vinyl boots clicking against the silver tiles. “If the witness refuses to comply with questioning, I will have no choice but to request a Truth Spell be employed.”
Yikes! Daisy shot straight to her feet. A Truth Spell would cause far more damage than just proving a human glimpsed her. She made mad “go ahead” motions to Maeve.
“Okay, yes,” Maeve announced. “Daisy was, er, seen by a human while on her mission.”
A Cheshire smile curved across D.A. Sangre’s narrow face. “And what was this human’s name?”
“Um…” Maeve slunk a beseeching grimace toward Daisy. “Trevor?”
“Aha,” D.A. Sangre crowed. “The very individual whose domicile triggered the alarm on the Tooth Fairy Transporter.”
The crowd gasped in titillated satisfaction.
“Urgh,” Daisy’s lawyer gurgled. “Urrrrrghhhh!”
“Livinia Sangre,” shrilled the judge. “The next time you mention an unrelated incident in this courtroom, you will be held in contempt of court!”
“My apologies, Your Honor,” the D.A. purred, looking anything but apologetic. “I’m done with this witness. Counsel?”
Mr. Squatch moved to rise, but Daisy tugged on his matted pelt. She couldn’t believe Maeve had managed to deflect the D.A.’s questions as well as she had. There was no point in pushing her luck.
“In that case…” D.A. Sangre stalked to the jury. “Today you have seen evidence that the defendant, Daisy le Fey, knowingly attempted to defraud and deceive a government body. Did she know she was supposed to collect a tooth? Yes, but she did not comply. Did she know she was not to interact with humans? Yes, and she went so far as to ascertain his name. That means conversation with an adult human, which is expressly forbidden to tooth fairies. Did Miss le Fey deliver the assigned tooth to the Pearly States? No. She delivered a rock. An ugly, grimy, misshapen rock. You have no choice but to find the defendant guilty of—”
“Wait!” Daisy cried. “This speech sounds suspiciously like… like closing arguments. Don’t I get a chance to defend myself?”
Judge Banshee peered over the golden desk at Daisy. “Is there someone you care to call to the stand to refute these charges?”
Was there? Daisy racked her brain. She hadn’t initiated contact with Trevor on purpose. He was supposed to be a child. And asleep. When he wouldn’t hand over the tooth, she’d been forced into trying to persuade him. But if she dared to press the point, D.A. Sangre’s line of questioning might uncover the kissing—or worse, Katrina the ice pumpkin—and Daisy’s hot water would get a whole lot hotter.
“No,” she admitted quietly.
“Do you have concrete evidence to present that will mitigate the prosecution’s claims?”
Daisy shifted in her seat. “Er, no.”
Judge Banshee harrumphed. “Then Mr. Squatch will present his arguments once D.A. Sangre finishes hers. Carry on, Livinia.”
Her yeti lawyer had to sway the jury? Great.
“There’s no choice,” D.A. Sangre snarled, pointing a long, white finger at Daisy while addressing the jury, “other than to find the defendant guilty as charged.”
A shocked hush settled over the courtroom.
Mr. Squatch rose to his feet. “Urgh,” he gurgled, casting a sweeping gesture around the courtroom, his voice deep and impassioned. “Urrrrrghhhh.” He patted the top of Daisy’s head. “Urrrrrrrrr—”
Heavens and Hades! At least half the jury didn’t speak Yeti and were frowning in confusion. The other half just smirked.
Daisy sprang to her feet.
“Look,” she began. “Yes, I knew I was supposed to collect the tooth. That’s what I was doing in that tent in the first place.” She straightened her shoulders. “It’s not my fault Trevor was awake when I arrived. It’s not my fault he’s an adult. And it’s not my fault he wouldn’t hand over the tooth. There’s no provision demanding tooth fairies manhandle the humans or force them to relinquish requested specimens. So, I decided to return at another time in the hopes of greater success and minimal human interaction.”
She gazed around the courtroom at all the wide-eyed faces. “When I did so, he claimed the tooth was fossilized within the rock. Seeing as I’d been transported to an archaeological dig, it seemed reasonable enough. In retrospect, I obviously should not have believed him. But nowhere in the training videos do any of the children lie about the location of their teeth to the tooth fairy!” Daisy turned to the jury. “I was wrong. I admit my gullibility. But I’m wiser now. I’ve learned not to trust humans. I can fix this. I will fix this.” Daisy faced Judge Banshee. “If you give me a chance.”
“A chance to what?” blurted D.A. Sangre incredulously. “Fetch the tooth and erase the human’s memory?”
“Excellent suggestion.” Judge Banshee slammed her gavel on the golden desk. “If we can eradicate these charges, there’ll be less paperwork for everyone. Miss le Fey, you have your chance. Report here tomorrow morning with the results of your mission. If, at that time, the Pearly States are in possession of the exact tooth you were sent to retrieve, and the human has no recollection of any magical happenings, I will instruct the jury to devise a punishment less than or equal to six months’ probation. But.” Judge Banshee scrabbled on top of the desk until her shadow loomed across Daisy’s face. “If you fail to achieve either of those objectives, I will recommend the jury to consider the full five-year sentence. And you will never make fairy.”
Chapter 6
“What do you mean you don’t have the laptop?”
Trevor had to remind himself that throttling grad students was expressly forbidden under the Anthropology Department’s professorial guidelines. Even if Katrina had eloped with freaking Enrique Iglesias, the least she could’ve done was hand over the laptop to Alberto before heading on her honeymoon. “Every photo, every chart, every spreadsheet, every everything is on that hard drive.”
“Not everything.” Alberto tapped his cellphone against his chin. “What about the backups?”
“What backups?” Trevor asked sourly. “We never had cloud connectivity because there was no internet service at the dig, and the version on my flash drive is from just before my flight took off.”
Alberto’s face fell. “Oh, right. From before we transferred the photos. And before all of Katrina’s data entry.”
“Exactly. Without that laptop, we’ve got nothing.”
“We’ve got our memories.” Alberto offered a hopeful smile. “Does that count?”
“Count for what? Publishing? Sure, sure. I’ll explain it just like that.” Trevor leaned back in his swivel chair and propped his booted feet on his desk. “‘Dear Editor, this article is only three paragraphs long and minus all supporting documentation because the details of the dig reside in the collective memories of my TAs and me.’ They’ll understand. No sweat.”
Alberto fiddled with his backpack. “Prof, are you mad at me?”
“No, no, not at all.” Trevor chucked his pencil across the room in frustration. The sharp graphite tip sank into the drywall partition separating his office from Joshua Berrymellow’s. Good thing he hadn’t had a baseball in hand—it might’ve gone straight through. “I’m angry with myself. I entrusted last-minute data entry to the one person who didn’t make the flight home.”
“Maybe she got side-tracked when she ran of
f with the hot chick.”
“She didn’t run off with the hot chick. The hot chick is here in Elkhart. If Katrina was home, she’d be in class today. Katrina is not in class.”
“The hot chick is here?” Alberto glanced around with delight.
“Concentrate. Where might Katrina go?”
“Gotta be partying,” Alberto said with a nod. “You know, live it up a little before the summer baseball team starts and all that.”
Trevor’s lungs filled with air and he let out a long, slow breath.
The situation could be far worse than a party-hearty grad student. And not just the ever-increasing likelihood that his job security was a thing of the past. After all, the only person that particular misfortune affected was Trevor himself.
But if Katrina wasn’t running around the lush rainforest drinking Centenario rum and indulging in an off-season Spring Break with a hot-blooded tico—Trevor’s feet slid off the desk and slammed to the floor. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to one of his students. Ever. As soon as Alberto left the office, Trevor was calling the Costa Rican authorities, just in case.
“Why, it’s Dr. Masterson,” came the ingratiating voice of the self-proclaimed master of applied socio-anthropology. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“This is my office, you schmuck. Where else would I be?” If Trevor hadn’t already speared his pencil into the wall, Berrymellow’s stringy bolo tie would’ve served as a far more satisfying target.
The red-goateed professor slipped into the doorway, clicking his tongue. “I’m shocked you talk like that in front of your students. Dear me, what would the dean think?”
“Alberto, go. I’ll see you in class.” Trevor raised an upturned palm toward the door. “Don’t want to warp your young mind with any more mean words like ‘schmuck’.”
“I’ve heard worse,” Alberto said cheerfully. “That’s why my abuela hates reggaetón. Daddy Yankee is always like, ‘We peeps don’t give a fu—’”
“Okay, that’s great,” Trevor interrupted, ushering him out the door. He swiveled to face Berrymellow, who edged a few inches backward as though he just realized he’d cornered a tiger in its lair. “What do you want?”
