The Chimera Charm

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “We’re going for a wander. Check the place out,” he murmured. I gave the briefest of nods, and I saw him, and Jet slink out the door and go bounding up the stairs.

  “Verdantia has been very kind, it’s true. I couldn’t have possibly managed this place without her little cousins here.” She smiled at a tiny pixie who was cleaning out the fire grate.

  “She’s certainly been more helpful than Governor Shields or his cabinet have been.” Infirma grimaced as if she had something awfully acidic in her mouth.

  “So they haven’t come by to see you?” I asked.

  “Oh, no, they came by both yesterday and the day before yesterday,” Infirma said, her tone becoming more bitter with the telling. “They were all sympathy and solicitations even as they asked me probing questions about Morag’s business. I had no idea how to answer any of them.”

  “What sort of business?” David asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Morag’s will, our private library, what artifacts were on the estate,” Infirma said, a frown settling into her thin lips. “Tell me, CPI Trew…what sort of person asks a grieving relative about these things?”

  David didn’t bother to hide his disgust or anger. “A snake.”

  She gave him a sad smile, one that threatened to give way to tears again.

  “Do you think they’ll be back today?” I asked, wanting to steer her away from sadness.

  “No,” Infirma said. “I have no proof of this, you understand, but the impression I got was that they had gotten all the answers they could from me. I expect they’ll make one last grand gesture at the funeral and that will be it.”

  “Who was doing most of the asking?”

  Infirma’s laugh was as bitter as her frown.

  “They all asked questions, Ms. Jenkins—“

  “Please. Call me Hattie,” I said, holding up my hand.

  Infirma nodded. “Hattie it is…anyway, while they all asked at least one question apiece, it was Shields who led the inquiries. The rest of his flunkies took their cues and follow-up questions from him.”

  David set his iced tea down. “Is there anything else we can do to help you out in your time of need, Ms. Devlin?”

  The surviving Devlin sister set down her own tea and looked pensive.

  “I would only ask that you perhaps come visit me once in a while.” She looked up at us, her frail frame small against the wing-backed chair. “Only when you have time, of course.”

  “You can bet on it,” I said. We stood and made our way to the door. Hopefully, my snooping cats had finished their recon.

  Before I could turn the handle for the front door, one of the house brownies started yelling from upstairs. Whoever he was, he sounded really pissed. It only took a few seconds to see why. Carbon was carrying the brownie in his mouth while Jet jogged alongside him down the stairs toward us. The tiny pixie cursed blue murder and flapped wildly in Carbon’s toothy trap.

  “Why, you flea-bitten oaf, I tell ya, you’ll be --”

  “Seamus,” I said, as Carbon dropped the brownie at my feet. “We meet again.”

  Seamus looked at me like a petulant teenager, smoothing his shock of red hair with a spit-moistened hand. “Lady, you should really control yer kitties, ya know? If you cannae keep the--” He swallowed when he saw the other furry body before him.

  “Oh, no,” the brownie said in horror, his eyes widening.

  “Oh, yes,” I smiled devilishly at him, and David burst out laughing by my side. His fingers brushed mine for a second and a jolt of electricity shot through my hand. Did he move closer to me on purpose?

  I squatted down to bring myself as level as I could with Seamus, the pixie who had broken Midnight’s rules.

  “Ah, you remember us now, do you?” I teased.

  “Look, no hard feelings ‘bout giving yous the slip, yeah?” Seamus asked, his hands up. “Did I no’ give you what I said I would?”

  “And it helped,” I said with a smile. “And I appreciate that very much.”

  Seamus lowered his hands and gave a cautious smile.

  “It’s why I know you’re the right Fae to ask for help once again,” I added, smiling like a fox at the little chap.

  “Faith, what are ya talkin’ on?” Seamus asked in dread. “Aren’t I already—“

  “I need to know where to find something the mistress’ sister hid,” I explained. “If she was keeping it safe, there’s a chance she might have hidden it here.”

  “‘It?’ It’s an ‘it’ is it?” He asked, opening his arms in mock hopelessness, looking for support from his audience. “Well, that’s grand, ain’t it? Oh, yes, I’m sure ‘it’ will be really easy to find in this teeny-tiny-micro mansion here!” Seamus’ face reddened from the effort of his outburst. “ We don’t know what ‘it’ is either. We just know it’s something. And, if it’s here you’re gonna find it.”

  “For Bran’s sake, how, woman?!” Seamus erupted. “If’n that’s all you gots ta gimme, then I—“

  Jet’s paw was a blur. Next thing anyone knew, the brownie was pinned chest-down on the floor.

  “So, yeah, buddy, you’ve gotta … you’ve gotta just shape up, and listen to the boss lady, yep, yep. She needs help, and you’re not being very helpful.” Jet grinned at each of us, as he smushed the pixies cheek into the hall carpet. “I was helpful earlier, myself. The chief here nearly fell of his broom, and I jum--”

  “Sweetie, let him go,” I said laughingly.

  Jet released his wee prisoner. “Seamus, do you remember Jet’s sister, Gloom? You met her the night you broke into our house. I believe she used your head as a seat for a while, didn’t she?”

  Seamus stood deathly still. He narrowed his eyes at me. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Look for ‘it.’ Find ‘it.'” I said. “Or you’ll be delivered to Gloom as her next ‘play date.’”

  “Aye, aye, okay!” Seamus slicked back his hair again and motor-boated his plump lips. “It’s just…you gotta understand, while every magical relic that’s e’er existed holds its signature spoor. That spoor, to be sure, will decay within a year and leave no trace of it ever havin’ existed.” Seamus looked at each of us, checking our understanding. “So, old Devlin has to have hidden ‘it’ within the last year, or there will be no spoor to find.”

  “We think it’s pretty recent,” David said rubbing his face. “And, even if it’s not, a year gives us a good scope. Start looking straight away, and be thorough,”

  “Aye, chief, I’ll be thorough-ly in the dark.” Seamus put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “It’ll take some time, to be sure,” he fretted.

  “Sooner would be better,” I said with a serious tone. “We’ve reason to believe that Infirma might be threatened.”

  Seamus’ eyes went from hangdog to fierce in an eye blink. “Not in this house she’s not. Swear by Mag the Ancient on that.”

  Carbon patted the pixie on the head and said: “Go.”

  The brownie dashed off at light speed.

  Me, the chief and the cats walked to our brooms by the crumbling gates.

  “You really think Infirma might be in danger? Like, do you think Shields is a threat?”

  “I don’t think it would hurt to add a bit of protection to this place,” David said wearily.

  Carbon piped up, “We’ll get Midnight to speak to some of his night-walking contacts. I bet they have eyes on the ground in this area.”

  I bent down and kissed my clever cat between the eyes. He chirruped in pleasure.

  My cell rang. I pulled it out and frowned. The number was a Glessie exchange, but I didn’t recognize it.

  “Hello?” I asked as I picked up the phone.

  “Ms. Hattie Jenkins, please,” an unfamiliar voice said on the other end.

  “Speaking.”

  “Sorry to bother you, Ms. Jenkins,” the voice said. “But this is Basil Flynn at Midnight Hill Asylum? Are you acquainted with one of our patients here ...ahem, Cressida Dreddock?”

 
I felt my stomach turn into an ice-ball. I had only run into her while solving her twin sister’s murder. So yeah, you could say I was acquainted with Cressida alright.

  “Yes,” I said. “ Is Cressida okay?” I felt like some bad news was coming.

  “Yes, yes, Ms. Dreddock is doing very well, thank you for asking. She wanted me to call you, actually. She wants to speak to you personally.”

  “What about?” I asked, I spun around and gave David a puzzled look. My friend raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

  “It has something to do with … just one moment, here … oh, I’m sorry, I thought I’d written it down. Anyway, if memory serves it has something to do with one Morag Deville? No, that’s not right. Hmm, Dorville? No, maybe D--”

  “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.” I ended the call.

  “Cressida Dreddock apparently has some information about Morag Devlin,” I declared to my friend. “That was a nurse from her psych ward. Cressida wants us to go to Midnight Hill and speak with her.”

  “Well, the way this case is going, we’re all going to end up in a nuthouse anyway, so might as well have a practice run.” Carbon grunted.

  “Dude! You sound just like Gloom … aw, man, that’s epic. Yep, yep, yep.” Jet beamed a happy smile and bounced on all four paws.

  Yeah, I think I’m gonna leave the cats at home for this one.

  Chapter Nine

  Walking down the corridor of plexiglass cells within the bowels of Midnight Hill Asylum was unnerving. It was as if we were strolling through a museum of ‘broken down’ people. Crying, hysterical laughter, blood-curdling screaming and incessant burbling from the cell’s occupants assaulted us as we passed. Cressida’s cell was at the end of this macabre hallway, and we found her there, rocking frantically and murmuring unknown secrets to herself. I did what I could to get that creepy scene from Silence of the Lambs out of my head. I was certain that more than a few inmates here would enjoy nothing more than to have my liver with a nice glass of chianti. The air in this wing was oppressive. It felt every bit as trapped as the inmates.

  “I’m still not sold on this, Hattie,” David said, shaking his head as we approached Cressida’s holding cell. “What could Cressida possibly know that we don’t already?”

  “No harm in asking, David,” I said, “Maybe she found out something during one of her escapes“ I suggested. Nobody knew how she did it, but Cressida had escaped from Midnight Hill at least ten times in the last year. The Asylum itself was locked-down with all manner of protection and security wards, and yet the old witch still managed to slip through the magic.

  I’d planned to leave the kitties at home, but, Fraidy and Eclipse cajoled me, last minute, into bringing them along. My timid cat shivered as he eyed the locks on the cell doors with evident suspicion. “How secure are these locks, I wonder?”

  “Extremely,” David said, shifting to his most soothing voice. “There’ve only been a few escapees from here in the last—“

  “Yeah and Cressida was one of those escapees, right? How do we know that she isn’t about to make another break for it?” My timid cat gulped. “And, that she won’t kill everyone who gets in her way in the process?”

  My own unease leaked into my voice as I snapped, “Fraidy! These people are more of a danger to themselves than they ever have been to others. So quit treating this place like it’s Arkham Asylum.”

  “Besides,” Eclipse added, keeping his own careful watch on the cells. “If anything gets out of hand, I can always memory-wipe the would-be attacker before they can do any harm.”

  Fraidy seemed to relax a little, confident in his brother’s ability to make a killer forget they were about to kill. ‘Clipsy’s Obliviscatur charm was one hundred percent effective, one hundred percent of the time.

  Two chairs had been set up for us in front of Cressida’s cell. We sat down at the same time Cressida, in a trance-like state, stared vacantly at us. The tiny television in the corner of her cell blared a cheery Mainland game show in the background. Looking at Cressida’s slack face, I remembered her more beautiful twin, the late Nebula Dreddock. Nebula had been Cressida’s obsession. Cressida had wanted to be her sister so completely that she tried to replace her soul with her own. I waved a hand in front of the glass to get the old witch’s attention. She shifted in her chair.

  “How WONDERFUL to see you both!” She blurted. Cressida spotted Fraidy and Eclipse. “You brought your adorable kitties too!” Whether it was the drool flying from Cressida’s mouth, or her make-up blackened eyes, Fraidy was having none of this introduction. He darted for his hiding spot behind my left calf. Eclipse dipped his head at Cressida in polite and subtle respect.

  David pulled out his usual notepad and pen. “So, Cressida can we start with a simple question? Great. Care to explain how you managed to get Hattie’s private cell phone number?”

  Cressida held up a finger. “It’ll be easier to show rather than to tell, CPI Trew. If you will indulge me just one minute…”

  David glanced at me. I shrugged. Millie had a good handle on the shop in my absence, so there was no rush. It didn’t quite take a minute for something to buzz through the TV speakers. Coming out of the screen was a little electric man. He made a heroic jump from the TV and onto Cressida’s shoulder, making sparking noises along the way. Cressida turned her head to kiss the homunculus, prompting more of the same noises as before.

  I saw Eclipse’s eyes widen in recognition. “An electro-gnome…I thought those little guys were extinct.” His pupils dilated to black saucers. “I bet Midnight doesn’t even know these guys are still around,”

  “Almost dead, but not quite,” Cressida said, taking on a hushed tone. “This little guy found me here about…what would you say, Sparky? A month ago?”

  While the electric flea replied in his own language, Fraidy popped his head out from behind my leg. “Sparky? Really?”

  Our ‘hostess’ sighed and offered a dismissive wave. “Oh, I know, I know; about as original as some of Nebula’s first films. Still, I didn’t know what else to call him, and he seems to like it. We’ve become such good friends,” she said looking at the electro-sprite fondly.

  Cressida’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh, silly me. I never did tell you how Sparky did it. He’s got a knack for running around and rewiring electrical devices. As a matter of fact, he just took out the camera in my cell so he could be seen by both of you.”

  I swallowed hard. “So he got into my cell phone?”

  “No, no, no, dear,” Cressida said, looking genuinely distressed that I would think such a thing. “A device has to be plugged in for him to be able to give it a ‘lookover.’ He went to your shop phone. I was able to get the number for that out of the public telephone directory. Then I asked him which phone numbers called your shop the most. I got lucky on the fourth try.”

  I found myself nodding in admiration. “That…actually is some pretty good detective work, Cressida.”

  Cressida gave a girlish giggle. “Why, thank you, Hattie dear. There’s still an ‘operator’ in here somewhere,” she said while rather alarmingly clawing at her head.

  “You do understand that we would prefer you never call Hattie’s number unless there is an urgent need, right?” David asked, his voice taking on a cop tone that skirted an edge between hard and conciliatory.

  “Oh, absolutely, Chief Para Inspector. Indeed, if it weren’t for Morag’s murder, I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

  She gave Sparky another kiss. “Better go, dear. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

  The electro-gnome gave her a jolt of energy dazzling enough to make her moan aloud. Okay, I did not need to see that.

  The little guy jumped into the TV screen and vanished back into his own private under- world of digital signals.

  David frowned, flipping to a blank page in his notebook. “And how do you know that Morag’s death wasn’t just an accident as reported?”

  Cressida waggled her finger and made a tsk-tsk soun
d. “You’re familiar with the expression ‘crazy, not stupid’, CPI Trew? While I doubt that I am anywhere near Hattie’s investigative caliber, I can read between the lines well enough to figure out that she was murdered.”

  “How did you know Morag?” I asked, leaning forward in my chair.

  “Back when I was…well, during my ‘vacations’ from this place,” Cressida said, folding her fidgety hands in her lap as if she thought this action might still their flighty dance for a spell. “Morag helped me. I actually had her listed as my emergency contact, so they’d always call her when I was out.”

  “How did she help you?” David asked.

  Cressida shrugged. “A lot of big and little ways…made sure I had clean clothes, brought me edible food -- the slop they serve here is inhumane, offered a bed for the night. That kind of thing…”

  “But how?” I asked in confusion. “She lived all the way over near Chalice. What did she have here that—“

  “She had a lot of real estate she didn’t tell anybody about…well, except me,” Cressida answered, licking her lips, and smearing her lipstick (a ghastly shade of orange) further.

  “One of Morag’s purchases was this abandoned cabin halfway between here and town. I think it was the house she grew up in. Spent a lot of nights there just…feeling like a normal person.”

  That fit with Reverend Peacefield’s account of Morag once being a regular parishioner at Saint Pendragon’s. “Were you ever her client?”

  “No, no, you’re getting it wrong, Hattie,” Cressida said with a sudden sharp tone.

  “I’m sorry…I’m just trying to figure this out.”

  Cressida smiled again. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right. I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s just…I knew Morag from before. We…we really hit it off in the old days. After all, both of us had twin sisters, you know? Not many twinsies in all the Coven Isles.”

  “Infirma is Morag’s twin?” I was shocked. I knew they were sisters, but I had no idea they were twins. To me, Infirma looked to be at least twenty years older than her now deceased sibling.