Murder, Magic, and Moggies

by Pearl Goodfellow

  Kinda funny that a group of crows is known as a “murder.”

  A sizable portion of Cathedral’s tourist trade came from helicopter tours above the remarkable terrain. The black diamonds, as they were called, jutting proudly from the heart of the lava outcroppings, caught the sun's rays and refracted the full spectrum of rainbow light in such a way that the island seemed ablaze with multicolored fire. It was a wondrous sight to behold. The spectacle was at its pinnacle just as the burning sun dipped over the outer edge of the island's horizon. Before the dark horizon of The Crystal Sea put it out for the night. The phenomenon was particularly spectacular near the central crest of the mountain range, where the majestic outline of Burning Peak stood; Cathedral's highest point.

  The visual illusion of Dante’s Sixth Level of Hell, the specter of flaming tombs, had prompted the early-Cathedralites to erect the Black Diamond Cathedral at the base of the peak. Inside, they implored silent gods to keep their island home from melting into the sea.

  The lengths men will go to secure their future and preserve their lives never ceased to amaze. My heart went out to these superstitious pioneers. The human story hadn't changed. We all wanted the same things; love, security, stability. Still, the evident passion of the early Cathedralite's was truly magnificent. Black Diamond Cathedral was a glittering bulk of finely carved geology. Glinting and refracting light waves in a dazzling dance of color.

  Something darted at the brink of my vision. A quick and nervous movement in one of the recesses of the cliff face. A face. A pinched, squinty, sharply angular face.

  It blinked.

  So did I. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished.

  I grabbed David’s arm. “David! David! There’s somebody up there.”

  I pointed anxiously toward the sheer cliff face. David quickly stood. His keen blue eyes scanned the surface of the rock. “You feeling okay, Hattie?” I rubbed my eyes and peered toward where the motion had happened. Total stillness.

  Maybe I really did bake my brain in the sun today; I thought, remembering Fraidy’s earlier warnings about sun exposure. I adjusted the wide-brimmed hat over my auburn curls.

  “Yeah. No. I mean, I’m fine,” I replied.

  “What?” David asked, his voice rising over the sudden thundering noise from above. We both turned our faces up to the deafening sky.

  WHUMP – WHUMP – WHUMP!!!

  “I said I’m fine!” I yelled as the sleek, black helicopter came to rest a mere hundred feet from the crime scene.

  As the wind from the rotating blades stirred up gritty dervishes of sand, Mortimer was no longer just competing with Mother Nature to record the crime scene. David ran toward the landing bird, waving his hands wildly.

  “You can’t land that here! Are you crazy?! Go on! Get out of here!” David strained his voice against the whine of the whirlybird's engine.

  The pilot tapped his earphones and shrugged, indicating that the Chief's shouting was useless. CPI Trew had may as well been yelling from the moon. David made a less-than-friendly dismissive gesture and stomped toward one of the uniformed officers on the scene.

  “Whoever is in that chopper, I want them arrested as soon as their feet touch the sand. Do you understand me?”

  The pale rookie nodded in the affirmative, and the chief stomped back in my general direction.

  “Morons! They’ve compromised the entire scene!" He shook his head in frustration. "What was Millicent doing here, anyway?” He snapped as he stepped aside to allow free passage for Hector and his assistant to shuttle the body away on a gurney. He seemed uncharacteristically angry. David could get irritated pretty readily, but to see him flare up like this was actually quite unusual.

  “Haven’t you been watching the news? Millicent and her new group, E.R.G., have been lobbying against the mining here on Cathedral. She’s been camped on the steps of The Black Diamond Cathedral for weeks, talking to anyone who will listen!”

  A narrow channel tweaked between David’s dark brows. “E.R.G.?”

  “Equality for Rock Grumlins,” I offered by way of explanation. Something pinged in the back of my head.

  Shush. Shush. Click, click, click.

  “Rock Grumlins?” Shade suddenly piped up behind me. I jumped. I’d practically forgotten the cats were here. Then again, when David was around, I tended to forget about anything that wasn’t a touch over six feet tall with a striking lock of white shocked through jet black hair.

  Wait. Shock of white?

  “David?” I gasped. “What happened to your hair?”

  “Huh?” He put a subconscious hand to his temple. “What? This? It’s nothing. Really. You know Violet.”

  He made an off-the-cuff reference to the flighty owner of Glessie’s Glamour Emporium. Violet Mulberry was a self-professed coiffeuse and was prone to some interesting creative choices when it came to styling her clients’ hair. David should be glad he didn’t wind up with pink bows, I guess.

  I didn't buy his story, though. Not at all. There was something unsettling about this sudden appearance of this streak of petrified hair. I wanted to question him further. When did it happen? How did it happen? What are you hiding, David?

  “What are Rock Grumlins?” Shade interrupted, not the least bit concerned with human grooming habits. The fact we, as a species, had to go to someone else to preen had always boggled his feline mind. “Wait. You mean those funny little creatures with the slicey-dicey fingers?”

  He extended his claws and did a weird little Edward Scissorhands imitation, snipping dramatically, and cutting the empty air into invisible shreds. He finished in an oscar worthy flourish.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Shade. The indigenous inhabitants do have unusual hands. But, the sharp Gabbah Strata in their fingers make them ideally suited for mining black diamonds from the bowels of Burning Peak. The razor spikes of the mineral embedded bone deep into their digits are the only thing that can strip the ribbons of BD from the surrounding rock.” I was pretty impressed with my science-y monolog, even if Shade wasn't. Regular diamond was hard. Black Diamond was virtually invincible. If it weren't for the Rock Grumlins and their strange razor fingers, the BD deposits would never see the light of day. There wasn't a mineral deposit on Earth that could stand up to Gabbah Strata; the rare and ferocious rock that the grumlin's fingers were made of.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught another furtive movement from the rock face. I whipped around to face it head-on but, again, nothing was there.

  “Too bad they’ve gone on their third strike of the year. It’s literally ground production to a screeching halt. The New Yeti Supernatural Exchange is in an absolute uproar,” David commented.

  “I’ll bet the powers that be certainly have their knickers in a twist over that,” I snorted. I wasn’t much for politics. Much less for politicians. Even though they were elected by the people to act for the people, I found them to be more invested in their own interests. I did know that Black Diamond was an insanely lucrative commodity. It was used for all kinds of military applications and shady means. There was no way that the inhabitants of this wealthy island would stand by and watch the grumlin's strike. The riches of the Black Diamond HAD to flow straight to their pockets. And right now the production had come to an emphatic stand-still.

  “I wonder how the governor felt about Millicent rabble-rousing on the Cathedral steps, encouraging the halt to mining? And in an election year, no less?” I shook my head.

  David wasn’t listening to a word I said, though. He looked around at what was left of the wind-shipped crime scene and balled his hands into tight fists. “Damn it! What kind of jackass has a helicopter set down in the middle of an active investigation?”

  “Um…that would be you, sir,” the stammering, pimply-faced rookie interjected.

  “What are you talking about?” David snapped back.

  The door of the helicopter swung open. “You sent for me, Chief Para Inspector Trew,” a deep, smooth-as-silk voice interjected as
a figure stepped confidently down the steps to the beach.

  “And with some degree of urgency, I might add. But, since there’s no road access to the beach, as your medical team is finding out right now,” he gestured back toward the steep walking path where Hector and his assistant desperately tried to balance Millicent’s gurney up the precipitous grade. Hector's ill-fitting pants were slipping ever lower. Zombie plumber butt. I snapped my head toward the new arrival trying to unsee the terrible spectacle.

  “I had my air team bring me here right away.” The satin words came from the man's mouth in an effortless tumble.

  The Governor of Cathedral Isle, Gideon Shields, glided in between David and me. Correction. The cover model for a romance novel glided in between David and me.

  “Meeeeee-YOW!” Gloom brightened. Before I could scold her, she turned into a fur puddle as Governor Shields gave her a playful scratch under the chin. Something in that action bothered me. It just seemed so familiar. This man was unknown to us, and here he is, as confident and as bright as the sun, getting all intimate with my derisive cat. But then the Governor turned toward me and smiled.

  If I didn’t already have a sunburn, I certainly looked like I had one now. My chest and face flushed pink all the way to the tips of my ears. I was standing, half-naked, and full-thighed, in front of the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen.

  Rice cakes. Think rice cakes.

  I willed myself thin and pulled off another casual hand on hip pose. Thine muffin-top brimmeth over, dear one. Goddess, the voices in my head were worse than Onyx's intrusions.

  “And, Miss Jenkins, despite what you were just saying when I arrived, I was actually on Millicent’s side. Against the suggestion of my advisors, I might add. I felt she had made a fair argument for the Rock Grumlins and the preservation of The Black Diamond Cathedral. It is, after all, a historical landmark here on our charming Isle. The deep core mining does pose a credible threat to the integrity of the building’s architecture.” He paused. "Not to mention an adverse effect on the Grumlin's general well-being."

  My legs turned to jelly as the deep, syrupy baritone flowed from Gideon Shields’ lips. His full mouth moved, but I didn't hear the words. I just looked at those plump lips and pondered that they might just taste like decadent chocolate.

  I shook my head vigorously. More food analogies! I needed to get a decent meal in my system. And, soon.

  “I, um,” I began, fumbling for my words. I hadn’t meant to make the crack about it being an election year. Okay. So, maybe I did, but he didn’t need to know that. “My apologies. I meant no offense.” I said this with complete honesty.

  Gideon's features lit up in a warm and hospitable smile, and he extended both of his hands. He clasped mine in his, and the warmth flowed unmistakably through my skin, burrowing to my nerve endings. He kissed my hand with a regal grace. I felt the spark. Bordering on a shock. “None was taken, Miss Jenkins. None was taken. But, Chief Trew’s focus is off here. It’s you that should be arrested.”

  Both David and I perked suspiciously at that last. More so me, given that I’d come to Cathedral to rid myself of the stress of being a murder suspect on our last investigation! Was I now being considered a suspect again? I’d only found Millicent. I had nothing to do with her death!

  “Arrested? What are you talking about, Governor?” I blustered.

  His smiled spread even wider. “Why, for stealing, of course!”

  I blinked vapidly.

  “Stealing all my attention!” Gideon gave a rich, basso profundo laugh that I could feel in parts of me that had a few more cobwebs than The Angel Apothecary. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

  “When I was summoned to address a crime that had happened on my beach, I had not expected it would involve such a femme fatale. You look positively radiant in that suit, Miss Jenkins.”

  My inner fat kid did a Snoopy dance of joy.

  Score one for the rice cakes!

  At least somebody had noticed my efforts. “Why, thank you, Governor!”

  Gideon shook his sea-tousled honeyed curls. “No, no, no, Miss Jenkins. I won’t have any of that stuffy ‘Governor’ business. Cathedral is my home, and when guests come to my home, things are much more…intimate. Please, call me Gideon.”

  “Only if you call me Hattie,” I replied.

  Gideon smiled again. “Hattie.”

  “Ahem,” David cleared his throat, stepping in between the governor and me. He wasn’t quite ready to let the governor off the hook for destroying his crime scene. The Chief had to look up -- just a smidge -- as the governor had at least an inch on him. I’m not sure, but I think I saw David nudge up on his toes for a second. Of course, it could have been that he just lost his balance on the shifting sand.

  “While I am glad you got my call…Gideon.” David let the governor’s name hang in the air for a moment before he continued. “It wasn’t the most prudent thing to land right next to the crime scene. You could have destroyed critical evidence.”

  Honest horror blew Gideon’s pupils wide. “Lord and Lady, no! Chief Inspector. Please accept my humblest apologies! I meant no damage. Nor had I any intent on hampering your investigation. It’s just, our little island is quiet. The crime rate is virtually non-existent. So, when the call came from your people indicating that a homicide had taken place, I just assumed expedience was the order of the day! Anything I can do, any assistance I can offer to correct this most egregious error on my part…”

  David waved him off. “Just watch where you land that thing next time.”

  “Of course,” the governor replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

  David nodded and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, GIPPD protocol is to alert the governing body when a violent crime occurs within their boundaries. However, since Cathedral falls within the jurisdiction of the Glessie Isle Para Police Department, we’ll be taking Miss Pond’s body back to Gless Inlet for examination by our coroner, Maude Dulgrey.”

  Gideon gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Of course, of course, Chief Inspector. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  David’s face puckered. I don’t know if he expected more resistance from the governor, but he looked a little surprised at Shields' seeming indifference. “We will, uh, of course, be forwarding regular reports to keep you apprised of the investigation.”

  “Yes, of course," Gideon smiled. "I have the utmost faith in your investigative abilities, CPI Trew. Especially if you have the assistance of Hattie here. I understand she’s quite brilliant,” he added, turning my way with a dazzling smile.

  A fleeting question breezed through my mind. How would the Governor have heard about me? It wasn’t like David and I publicized my involvement in solving the GIPPD cases.

  “Well... yes." David replied slowly, "The GIPPD has called upon Miss Jenkins’ services on more than one occasion to help us with some perplexing cases.”

  “Really?” Gideon raised one perfectly arched eyebrow over bronzed, honey eyes. He locked his gaze with mine. “I do like a good puzzle.”

  Gideon squared his swimmer’s shoulders and set his jaw, leanly muscled and tanned to a yummy caramel brown. He looked as though he had come to a decision. As if to confirm, he gave a curt nod of his head.

  “Hattie, I would love to hear more about your work with the GIPPD. It will help me gain some insight and gather a better understanding of the Chief Inspector’s reports on poor Millicent’s death. I will actually be in Gless Inlet in a few days for business. Would you do me the courtesy of joining me for dinner one night? Lady’s choice.”

  My head bobbled back and forth between Gideon and David, two equally delicious men.

  Lady’s choice, indeed.

  Wait. Did Gideon mention dinner? Like, with food? My stomach gave a definitive rumble. At least, I think it was my stomach. My eyes drifted again toward the black rocks.

  Before I could answer, David stepped between us once again. “Governor Shields,” he interrupted, clearly hoping to
get Gideon's mind back on the case at hand. “Are you aware if Millicent had any enemies?”

  Gideon’s expression grew somber and serious. “I know almost all of my constituents, Chief Inspector. Millicent was passionate, yet she could be quite abrasive when it came to championing one of her causes. She has been particularly vocal in her defense of the Rock Grumlins. Grumlins, as you may well know, are not the most eloquent of creatures. They may be brilliant craftsmen when it comes to gem work, but their language is mostly a series of unintelligible grunts. Millicent gave voice to their plight – long hours, little pay, no healthcare plan. She’s the one who convinced the Grumlins to strike in the first place.”

  “With the mines shut down, hasn’t it affected Cathedral’s economy? Aren't the BD's the main export here? Bet your constituents aren’t too keen on re-electing a governor who has let their livelihood fall by the wayside,” David pushed.

  Gideon shook his head. “Well, it’s rather a moot point, Chief Inspector. In light of recent events, I expect the Grumlins will come back to work in due course.”

  I thought I could detect the trace of a grin tugging at the corner of David's mouth. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear the Chief Inspector was trying to thwart my dinner plans. “You do realize that makes you sound like a suspect, Governor.”

  Gideon nodded. “It would, I suppose. However, I have already sent a bill through the Cathedral Congress honoring every request Millicent proposed on behalf of the Rock Grumlins, and I expect it to receive unanimous approval. And we’ve agreed to halt the mining temporarily until we can have a team of engineers ascertain a way to preserve the structural integrity of the Cathedral. So, you see, I had no quarrel with Millicent. I merely conspired to hold up her wishes, by way of sending the bill through Talisman. I'm afraid, my dear Inspector, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”