Murder, Magic, and Moggies

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “Herbs,” I said, feeling a pinging against the allergic comment Avery had made.

  “Yeah, Hattie, herbs,” Millie said, giving me a funny look. “Backbone of the business, the source of our material wealth, such as it is…that stuff.”

  That’s when I noticed that she still had the Ogham paper right next to the order list.

  Seeing where I was looking, Hattie assured me, “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t do anything with it other than putting it where we could both find it again. Though, you know…it’s funny that it inspired me to get started on our resupply.”

  “How is that?” I asked, not seeing the connection between a script in a dead language and our current inventory needs.

  “Well, while you were dealing with our last customer of the day,” Hattie explained. “I thought I’d kill a little time translating the Ogham just to see how much I still remembered. Wasn’t exactly easy…not just because I’m out of practice, but so was whoever wrote this thing in the first place.”

  “Did you figure out what it said?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Millie admitted with a shrug. “The spelling was simple enough. Turns out that the whole thing is a long list of herbs if you can believe that.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What kind?”

  “Oh, nothing threatening, really. The kind we’d use here in the shop,” Millie said. “Ginseng, garlic, rosemary…I can write out the translations real fast if you want.”

  “Could you?” I asked, feeling a little deflated that I thought someone's shopping list could be a valuable clue. But, still, while I had the tools here (Millie's knowledge of Ogham) I thought I'd may as well be thorough. After handing my assistant a blank sheet of paper so she could translate, I peered over her shoulder as she completed the list.

  When I saw the ingredient near the bottom of the list, the thought that had been bugging me since Avery came by finally clicked into the conscious part of my head. I tapped the table three times in excitement. Evidently, my finger tapping was too loud for some.

  “Uhh, did you HAVE to wake me up this early?” I heard Gloom complain from a corner. “Thanks to you working on this case, the rest of my siblings keep intruding on my sleep also.”

  “Yeah, well, at least you’re not getting an impromptu shower, sister.” Jet grumbled from the opposite corner, his eyes still like saucers from his last hit.

  “I’m sure that’s next week,” Gloom sniped back before feigning sleep so she could avoid further conversation.

  I barely noticed their griping. I had just found what could hopefully be the first clue to breaking this case.

  “Everything is done for the night,” the golem said, bringing back the mop and bucket.

  The sight of the bucket made me realize something. “Wait a minute, what kind of water did you—“

  “I filled it with the pump out back about an hour ago,” the golem explained, slightly lifting the bucket. “I had no reason to believe that it would be any less fresh after such time. Not for the purposes of mopping.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I just noticed that I hadn't seen you leave to collect from the pump.”

  “Along with other qualities,” the golem noted, “your observation skills are one of the reasons why I believe you are an excellent detective.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute, girlfriend,” Millie said with a smile and a raised hand. “Did you just throw my boss a compliment?”

  “Hattie uses the two basic tools of detective work, Millie,” the golem said as she poured the dirty water down the sink. “Watching and thinking.”

  The golem's musings nudged something else in my cluttered head, and I blurted out: “How close are you to being forty?”

  The golem turned to look at me with puzzled eyes. “I do not follow you.”

  “Well, you've never had a birthday exactly,” Millie explained. “But, from the time you were made—“

  “Ah, I see,” the golem said with a smile of understanding. “As it happens, the anniversary of my creation is tomorrow.”

  The smile faded. “I had such hopes for this day. My creator was supposed to give me a very special gift. A gift that can only be given on the decade mark of my creation. Tomorrow I will be forty. I guess I will have to wait another ten years. I will be fifty years old by the time I am free….” She trailed off, tears choking her discourse.

  "Why did your maker not set you free when you were thirty?" I countered. “Or twenty? Or, hell, even ten? He could have steered you clear of this life of indentured servitude." I felt the anger of this injustice bubble to the surface again.

  "The option for a free life is given first at the four-decade mark. And, then only every ten years subsequently, if the first offer is missed or declined. Don't forget, Hattie; I was made for service. Someone, somewhere commissioned my maker to create me. I naturally, as a service golem, had to pay my dues." Her words were resigned, yet gentle.

  Impulsively, I blurted out: “I know where he is right now,” deciding against telling her that he was in police custody. “If I could get him to you, would that be—“

  Before I could finish, the golem had strode across the room. She gave me a strong but gentle hug that surprised me for a second. I reciprocated with a couple of motherly pats on her shoulder. I noticed the clouds of clay dust cascading to the floor as I did so.

  As she broke off the embrace, she said, “It would mean the world to me.”

  “Then I’ll see what I can do,” I said, feeling something for this strange creature who had been dropped into my life so unexpectedly. I also felt a little nervous that I was about to request a police investigation be disrupted in the name of compassion. I was pretty positive that David wouldn't be thrilled at what I was going to ask of him.

  “We should go,” Millie suggested gently, touching the golem’s forearm. “I’m sure that Hattie would like to get on with her evening off.”

  I made like I agreed, but relaxing was the last thing on my mind. As soon as they were out of the shop I went upstairs to phone David.

  “Now that I’ve heard both of your requests,” David said on the phone. “I’m not sure which one is more insane.”

  “Insane or not, both are important, David,” I pushed back. “Do you think you can do those for me?”

  David sighed on the line. “They’re workable if I frame it right. But don’t forget that I’ve got Talisman looking over my shoulder on this. Any improprieties and—“

  “It’s your job, the case, the fate of the whole Coven Isles,” I said with exaggerated melodrama. “Please…you’d think that we were on the verge of restarting the Warlock Wars the way you’re talking.”

  “Yeah, it’s easy for you,” David snapped. “You get to flit around, playing girl detective and doing things that could get you killed while I’VE got to deal with the backlash on any mistakes you make.”

  “Who came to whom at the start of this case, Chief Para Inspector?” I yelled back. “The most your constables have been able to accomplish is preventing the escape of a known criminal who had nothing to do with your case. I’VE been doing most of the work YOUR sorry excuse of a police force should have been able to handle!”

  I immediately regretted that last sentence the moment it came out of my mouth. I winced and hoped that I hadn’t just burned the bridge between us.

  We were both quiet for a few minutes. Then David said slowly, “That golem I sent you…has she mentioned anything that might help us?”

  “Outside of telling us that Goldsmith was her creator, not really,” I said, my tone treading carefully. “I mean, I COULD ask her but she's a thorny one: suspicious of questions from an unqualified outsider. That’s why I want to look over her written testimony.”

  “Sure, it covers the twenty-four hours at the Spires before Nebula’s death,” David admitted. “But myself and my men have gone over that already; nothing useful.”

  Taking another breath, I said, “At the risk of sounding like I’m again accusing your people of incompetenc
e, I think it wouldn't hurt the case if there were some fresh eyes on the material.”

  David grunted in a way I recognized. He knew that it was a good idea but reluctant to say it out loud.

  “My day officially wrapped up about two minutes ago,” he said. “But, seeing as I’ve got nothing else going on tonight and I’d really like to put this case to bed, come on by the station house.”

  “Look, David,” I said with regret in my voice. “I’m sorry about—“

  “So am I,” he said back. “So, let’s just leave it at that, alright?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said. “See you in about fifteen?”

  He didn't answer, and I heard the phone click before I could say anything more. This case was becoming a strain for the chief of police. And, it was causing a considerable amount of tension between the pair of us too. I wondered if my role as consultant wasn't in fact hindering everything. Putting the chief under undue stress, what with all the attention he was getting from Talisman. I was fortunate enough not to have the attention of these big-wigs, so who was I to gallivant around, and expect every lead I fancied to be followed? I felt guilty at my behavior. I made up my mind I'd apologize to David Trew, but I wasn't yet ready to stand down from my quasi-position of consultant. Maybe Chief Trew was, if the call was anything to go by, but I, for one, wasn't yet done. I'd just be sure to tread a little more carefully now.

  “That was probably the most combustible expression of sexual tension I’ve heard between the two of you yet.” I was kicked from my pondering by my head cat's dry observation.

  I gave him a look that said, “Stop right there.” Then, looking around, I asked, “Anybody seen Shade?”

  “He-he’s out with his latest paw-candy,” Fraidy said from under the bed. “Told me he might be a couple of nights.”

  I sighed…of course he was. Shade’s priorities would need years of training before they approached the level of completely messed-up.

  “Then I’ll just have to ask you, Fraidy,” I said, crouching beside the bed.

  “Are you serious?” Fraidy squeaked. “I already told you that—“

  “You were the only other one who was first on the scene,” I explained patiently. “Shade’s not here, so I need you, sweetie. I need your backup just in case I miss something.”

  “What makes you think I can help you?” Fraidy asked. His tone told me that his being needed was starting to get the better of his innate fear.

  “Because, my little scaredy cat, you pay attention to EVERYTHING,” I said, leaning a little closer to the underside of the bed. “How else are you going to know what is and what isn’t a threat?”

  Fraidy moaned in despair. “You’re twisting my paw here, Hattie. I mean, I really, really want to help. But we’re going to be in a police station full of criminals.”

  “And cops,” Gloom chimed in from the other side of the bed. “Don’t forget the cops who can do anything they want to a hapless kitty like you. And, they can get away with it too.”

  “Not helping, Gloom,” I said with a stern tone.

  “Not meant to, I’d imagine,” Onyx said. “Really, sister, that was uncalled for.”

  “Hey, brother,” Midnight said from the foot of the bed. “Word I hear is you need to go.”

  “Wow, stop the presses,” Gloom said sarcastically. “My narcoleptic gossip of a brother has managed to arise before his self-appointed waking hour. Twice in one week.”

  “When it's important, I do, yes,” Midnight shot back, turning his back on Gloom. “And trust me, Fraidy, this is very, very important," he directed his words toward his trembling brother, this time.

  “Says who?!” Fraidy shouted. “More nightgaunts? Pognips? Infernal imps?”

  “The Seelie Court,” Midnight pronounced with comical severity.

  I did my best to suppress a laugh. Midnight wasn’t above the occasional tall tale, and this was definitely one of them. There was no way he was convening with the Seelie Court. It took years of committed loyalty to the court, to ever be seen by them. There was no way Shade would ever have the money to buy the outrageously expensive gifts for the Fae Queen, in order to even get a look-in. Besides, it was unheard of to have dalliances with the court, unless you had true faery blood running in your veins. Midnight did, however, have a good standing relationship with quite a few Fairy members there. The Lemniscate and the Fae have worked together as allies for generations now. It was a tentative, shaky relationship sometimes, but the thread of it had lasted all these years, so my moggies must have been doing something right. They were magical, and they had some prestige, and faeries liked both of these qualities.

  “Really?” Fraidy asked, sounding like he was buying into it.

  “Absolutely,” Midnight assured him. “I’ve gotten chatty with some fairies from the court there—“

  “You mean the miniature human mosquitoes who like to dance naked around toadstools?” Gloom snorted.

  “And they told me,” Midnight said, ignoring his sister’s snipe. “You were in a really good position to wind up advancing Fae interests by helping solve this case. I mean, where do you think we got the Scrye magic from?”

  “Oh, you’re terrible,” Fraidy moaned. “That means that Shade pulling me out of the house for that ride to the Spires was a setup for me all along. To get me out of my comfort zone. To introduce me to the so-called ways of the world, ” he concluded with a theatrical flourish of his paw.

  “So what if it was?” I added. “Coming with me now gives you a big opportunity to do some good in this world. Isn’t that what the Seelie Court is all about? And, more importantly, isn't that what The Infiniti are all about? Goodness, and self-governance and compassion?"

  Of course, the Seelie Court is rarely about HUMAN good, going by Grandma’s stories. Their trials and verdicts advanced Fae interests only, and, by proxy, human interests, but as Fraidy was the only Lemniscate to have not met with the Fairies, he didn't know this. I was hoping it would be enough to convince him. I waited patiently while he lifted and put down each of his paws in a kind of awkward, uncertain dance. I knew he was scared. His brothers and sister had fed him all kinds of nerve wracking stories of the Fae and their antics over the years.

  “Oh, alright,” Fraidy said finally. “But, promise me the second you see trouble, you’re going to protect me, Hattie?”

  “Only if you do the same for me and swear by Lady Bast on it too,” I countered, invoking the ancient Egyptian goddess of cats who also served as an oath-keeper for my menagerie of feline miscreants.

  “You’ll swear by her too, right?” Fraidy asked, pointing a paw at me.

  I raised my hand and said, “I swear by Lady Bast, Mistress of Cat-kind, that I shall do all in my power to protect my not-very-brave kitty cat, Fraidy.”

  Fraidy raised his own paw and said with a surprisingly steady voice, “I swear by Lady Bast, Mistress of Cat-kind, that I shall do all in my power to protect my braver-than-she-should-be pet, Hattie.”

  I felt something in the air at the exchange of oaths. Though I didn’t hear anything, I got the distinct impression that the air in the room was made of exhaling purrs.

  Then the moment passed, and I said, “Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way, can we go now, please?”

  Chapter 14

  I have to say that, at the station, Fraidy was a lot less intrusive than any of my other cats would have been; Onyx included. The moment David had put the written transcripts of the golem's testimony in front of us, my cowardly cat only clambered onto my shoulder, looked down at the page and didn’t mutter a single word as we both read it over. I did feel a slight tremor passing through my left shoulder, but, hey, this was still progress.

  We’d just gotten through page three when David made the observation, “I’m amazed that any of your cats can actually read.”

  “Of course I can read,” Fraidy shot back, offended at the implication. “How else would I understand warning labels?”

  “I can read
, and I STILL don’t understand most warning labels,” David joked with Fraidy, reaching out to tickle the bridge of his nose; an erogenous zone that Fraidy couldn't resist.

  “I think you brought us in to do a job for you, CPI Trew,” I said, glancing up from the page. “I can’t speak for Fraidy but I, for one, would appreciate it if you’d let me do it without the commentary.”

  David, being David, couldn’t leave it there. “You know, we have this little thing called a voice recording that would make this go a lot faster.”

  That did it. Slapping the desk, I said, “Do you want fast or do you want thorough?”

  The sound of flesh hitting wood made Fraidy dig his claws into my shoulder. While I winced from the pain, Fraidy said, “Don’t do that! He’s not helping my concentration, but that sure isn’t doing me any favors either.”

  Kissing the side of his forehead, I said, “Sorry, Fraidy.”

  “Ah, it’s…okay,” Fraidy said with a rare purr of pleasure. He pressed his furry, buzzing cheek against mine. God, sometimes I loved this funny little guy. I could tell from the cock of his head that he had gone back to reading the golem’s account of events.

  “Look, my impatience aside, I don’t get it, Hattie,” David said. “Why do you need to read this thing over to get what you need from it?”

  I felt a smile tug the corner of my mouth despite myself. “It’s just the way my mind works. When I was growing up, Grandma got me this Mainland tape recorder as a birthday present. I had a habit of forgetting things when she had me run errands. So Grandma Chimera thought if I put them on tape I’d remember them better.”

  “But it didn’t,” David deduced.

  I shook my head. “I spoke into that thing regularly, but I didn’t always bring it along, and so I was still as forgetful as ever. So, for Beltane, she gave me another gift: a notepad and a set of pens. That took care of my memory issues.”

  Looking back at the page, I added, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to read over some more recent history.”

  David must have gotten the hint because he didn’t say anything else.