by Lily Webb
“I know, it’s quite a different look for me, isn’t it?” Becker asked. “Honestly, that was part of the reason I didn’t want to see you. I’m not sure if I like it or not.”
He might’ve been telling the truth, but Selena’s words flashed in my mind: the masked murderer didn’t have a beard. Becker used to but now it was gone. Was it an unfortunate coincidence or…?
“But you don’t have to be afraid of me, I’m still the same old warlock. Come on in, but make it quick. I’ve got a lot of work left to do,” he said and though I worried I might be walking into a trap, I stepped into the shop and jumped when the door thudded shut. There was only one light on in the space, revealing stacks upon stacks of boxes, all of them positioned near the front door.
“Almost done?” I asked and Becker nodded.
“Yeah, finally. I have to be out of the building by Monday morning so I haven’t stopped for more than a few minutes at a time,” Becker said.
“Well, you stopped long enough to shave at least,” I said, stroking my chin like I might find his lost whiskers there. Becker chuckled.
“I had to for a job interview. No one would’ve even thought about hiring me with that caveman’s beard,” Becker said. An interview? That was news to me.
“Oh, where?”
Becker stared at the floor and scratched the back of his head.
“That new casino over in the Werewolves’ Quarter,” Becker said. “I saw an ad they had up online for a magical security expert and figured I’d apply. I didn’t think they would be interested in me, but they called me in for an interview this morning.”
“That’s great timing. How’d it go?”
“I got the job, so I guess it went well,” Becker said with a shrug.
“You don’t seem very happy about it.”
“I would much rather be here getting my hands dirty like I have for the last twenty years,” Becker said. “But I need a job, so I guess that’s the way the wand waves, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said.
“So, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Becker asked.
“There is, but you might want to sit down first,” I said, dancing around the subject like a ballerina.
“What is it? You’re making me nervous,” Becker said.
“Victor Thornheart is dead,” I said. Becker’s eyes shot open and he stumbled backward until his hands found one of his workbenches, which he clutched so hard I worried the wood might splinter in the vice grip of his fingers.
It certainly wasn’t the reaction I’d expected.
“What? Are you sure?” he asked.
“As sure as I can be of anything,” I said. “I went to the bank to talk to Victor and when I got there, police and FBI agents were swarming the place. I guess it happened on the front steps.”
“Who did it? Why?” Becker asked.
“Actually, I was hoping you might be able to help me figure that out,” I said, and Becker’s face hardened.
“What can I do?”
“Where were you today? Did you make any visits to the bank?” I asked, trying not to let the explosive confrontation I’d witnessed between him and Percy color my judgment. A bouquet of scarlet splotches bloomed on Becker’s cheeks and he hunched over like he might be sick.
“No. I told you, I regret the way I acted there recently, but I didn’t kill Percy and I most certainly wouldn’t have killed Victor,” Becker said. “As a matter of fact, I resent you weaseling in here to accuse me of it.”
“I’m not accusing you, I’m just asking questions,” I said. His defensiveness spoke volumes, and as I looked him up and down I realized just how well he fit the profile of the masked murderer I’d seen in the bank. How had I missed it the first time around? Was his beard that much of a disguise?
“Same difference,” Becker snapped. “But if you must know, I’ve been here all day packing, as I’m sure the dozens of boxes behind you prove. No amount of magic could help me pack up everything in the shop on its own.”
“I’m sorry, I had to ask,” I said. I wasn’t convinced that Becker was nowhere near the bank during the time of the murder, but I also didn’t have any way to prove he was.
“Why? I can’t figure out for the life of me why you’d think I’d want to hurt Victor,” Becker said. “He was the only reasonable one left in the management over there.” Selena’s face flashed in my mind, riddled with tears.
“Selena Thornheart witnessed the murder,” I said, watching his face carefully. To my surprise, it didn’t move. “She told me that before Victor was killed, the murderer said they’d made good on their promise that their path would cross with Victor’s again. If I remember correctly, you said something similar to Percy when the gargoyles escorted you out of the bank.”
Becker went rigid, so quickly his spine popped from the motion.
“So you think it was me based on that alone?” Becker asked.
It was flimsy, I had to admit, but it was too specific to have been a coincidence. If it wasn’t Becker who killed Victor, then it was someone else in the bank who’d heard Becker say those words — and then used them intentionally to confuse the investigation.
“Like I said, I’m not accusing you, I’m just asking questions,” I said.
“I repeat, I haven’t been to the bank today, nor have I been anywhere near it. I went for my interview at the casino early this morning, I came back to the shop around noon, and I’ve been here finishing up packing ever since,” Becker said. “I’m sure if you called the casino and asked around, they’d confirm I was there. I can pull up my shop’s security footage if you don’t believe me.”
“No need, but thanks,” I said. If he had video surveillance to offer, he couldn’t have been worried I’d find anything suspicious — and somehow, I doubted sifting through hours of a warlock packing up his things would lead anywhere.
“Then I’m not sure what else I can do to convince you I wasn’t involved,” Becker said. Truthfully, neither was I. His alibis were rocksolid, so I changed tack.
“Have you seen anything suspicious lately? You don’t work far from the bank, and I know you’ve been busy packing, but just by chance?” I asked. It was a long shot, and I still wasn’t sure I could trust Becker, but something was better than nothing.
“You know, now that you ask, I thought it was strange but didn’t make much of it at the time,” Becker said.
“What was strange? What did you see?”
“Well, while I was at the casino for my interview this morning, I saw that kid that was always hanging out with Victor at the bank. I don’t know what his job was there, but the two of them were practically inseparable every time I saw them,” Becker said.
“Do you mean Xander?”
“Yeah, that’s his name, thanks. This old brain of mine doesn’t keep up with names the way it used to,” Becker said, smiling as he tapped his head. What did that mean for his wand repairing skills then? I decided not to ask.
“What was Xander doing at the casino?”
“Well, considering he was all dolled up in one of those fancy red suits that the rest of them wear, I’d guess he was working there, but I didn’t know he was an employee until today,” Becker said.
When I talked to Xander at The Magic Touch, he mentioned having to look for another job. Given his experience bussing tables and waiting on customers at the pub, it was a logical transition for him to go to the casino. But why hadn’t he mentioned that to me when we talked? It was possible that he didn’t get the call for the job or interview until after I talked to him, but that was only two days ago.
No business hired that quickly, no matter how desperate they were for help. Had Xander been working at the casino under my nose all this time, possibly as a second job to keep himself afloat? If so, again, why hadn’t he mentioned it when we spoke?
“Why did that stick out to you as strange? Plenty of people work two jobs, right?” I asked. Becker shrugged and nodded.
“Tr
ue enough, but given how much Victor and Xander seemed to get along, I would’ve thought he’d move up in the ranks at the bank before he took on another job at a casino of all places,” Becker said.
He had a point there too. Maybe Xander couldn’t find another job after he got fired from the bank for allegedly sharing bank secrets — who’d want to hire someone who couldn’t be trusted with sensitive company information? Based on that, Victor probably wouldn’t have dreamed of being a good reference for Xander, so did Xander kill Victor for revenge?
“Yeah, that does seem odd,” I said.
“Right? It doesn’t make any sense. How could a kid who seemed to have it all going for him end up in a dead-end job like that?”
“And you’re sure it was him you saw, not someone else?” I asked.
“I’m positive. I’ve seen his face often enough to know,” Becker said.
“When do you start your new job at the casino? I mean, if I can ask?”
“Monday morning, bright and early. That’s another reason I have to hurry up and get things squared away with the shop’s closure,” Becker said. “It’s one thing to pack all this stuff up, but I still have to move it out of here and into storage somewhere until I can figure out what to do with it.”
“Do you think you’ll ever come back to the business?” I asked.
“I can’t imagine I won’t, but not for a while. Just because the business is closing doesn’t mean I get out of paying off the loan Percy gave me to help expand it,” Becker said. “Once that’s done, I might consider it.”
“I understand. I hope the new job works out for you, Mr. Bloodworth,” I said. “Even if it isn’t the most fulfilling thing in the world to do, it sounds like it’ll be interesting at the least.”
“Honestly, I’m stunned they decided to hire me. I know the ins and outs of wands as well as most people know the ins and outs of their homes, but I don’t see how that directly translates to issues of magical security, especially for a sitting duck of a target like a casino,” Becker said.
“It will definitely put your magic to the test,” I said, but something struck me: if Becker was smart enough to get hired to work in magical security for the casino, what did that portend for his skills in, say, cracking open a bank vault?
“I don’t doubt it. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get back to packing,” Becker said, gesturing at his boxes, which must’ve been what I heard scraping the floor while I waited for him to answer the door — certainly better than what I initially suspected.
I didn’t want to believe Becker was the vengeful type, but he had a lot of reasons to be angry with both of the Thornhearts. Percy and Victor took his livelihood away from him, and coupled with Selena’s description of what Victor’s murderer said, I couldn’t fully rule out Becker, though he clearly wanted me to leave.
“Right, yeah, of course. I’m sorry to have bothered you again,” I said and headed for the door. Becker followed after me and showed me out.
“I don’t know who killed Percy and Victor, but I do know it wasn’t me,” Becker said and he looked me straight in the eyes as he said it. He was either an excellent liar or telling the truth — but it was impossible to determine which.
“That said, I do hope you and the police find out whoever is responsible and bring them to justice. Lilith knows there’s been enough chaos in this town lately, we could do with a little bit of peace,” Becker said.
“Thanks. If you think of or see anything else that might be useful, don’t hesitate to give me a call on my work number over at the Messenger,” I said.
“Will do. I know it’s gonna be hard after all this, but try to have a good weekend, Zoe,” Becker said.
“Same to you,” I said and walked away as he closed the door.
Though I would’ve rather taken a dirt nap with vampires than set foot in Stubbe’s Palace again, I didn’t have a choice. I had to strike while the wand was hot, so to speak, so before I could talk myself out of it, I set off for the Werewolves’ Quarter in hopes of catching Xander at the end of his shift.
Chapter Eleven
As I strolled down the casino’s red-carpeted entrance and tried not to give in to my fantasy of being a superstar actress at a movie premiere, I held my head high and passed the registration desk with my breath held.
Thankfully, no one called to stop me as I entered the main gambling room where neon signs, flashing screens, and otherworldly beeps and screeches assaulted my senses. A gargoyle in a red suit, which stretched so tight around its marble-carved muscles it threatened to burst at the seams, stomped over to me.
“Welcome to Stubbe’s. Your wand, please,” he growled, one hand extended. Right, of course, Belinda the werewolf receptionist told me that magic was forbidden inside the gambling area. But how did they enforce that rule if they didn’t stop anyone at the doors to search them?
That was probably where Becker came in with his new job role as head of magical security. In any case, I rummaged in my bag for my wand and handed it to the gargoyle, careful not to touch his four-inch long nails out of fear they’d turn my skin to shreds at the slightest touch.
“See me when you’re ready to leave,” the gargoyle said and dropped my wand into his jacket pocket.
I nodded and, unsure of what else to do, wandered into the sea of sin. As I passed machine after machine, the neon and the noise blurred until I was completely disoriented. The room was a labyrinth, all twisting turns without signs to indicate where you were in relation to, well, anything. It couldn’t have been designed that way by accident, but it made finding Xander next to impossible.
Though I’d never been to one outside of Moon Grove, I’d heard that casinos often provided free drinks for anyone who sat down at one of their machines in an effort to get them to spend more money — so if I sat down at one of the infinite gambling apparatuses, would a waiter come to me instead? Or maybe Xander himself?
Somewhere in the middle of the room — or at least I assumed it was the middle — I plopped down onto a plush, red stool attached to a slot machine. It looked just like any other, magical or otherwise. The only real differences were the wolf-shaped knob on the lever and the reels themselves that consisted of wands, disembodied gargoyle heads, wolf fangs, and the like. It was cute, I had to admit.
To avoid looking like I had no idea what I was doing, I dug into my bag and scooped out a few lint-covered coins from the bottom. I dropped one into the machine and it whirred to life as the reels rolled into an indecipherable blur.
I reached for the lever, wrapped my fingers around the plastic tangles of the imitation werewolf’s fur, and gave it a pull. One by one, the slots dropped into place: a broomstick, a pair of fairy wings, and a pentacle. Unfortunately for me, or fortunately depending on how I decided to look at it, I hadn’t struck a match.
“Too bad. Maybe a drink will help ease the sting,” someone said from behind, startling me. I turned and Xander stood there, his eyes widening as the details of my face sank in. Xander wore one of the casino’s trademark ruby red suits, and I had to say it looked good on him.
“Zoe? What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Blowing off some steam after work. What about you?” I asked. Xander chuckled.
“I work here now, obviously,” Xander said, gesturing at his suit and the name tag hanging on his chest.
“Is that a new development?” I asked. “The last we spoke, you were unemployed. That was two days ago, so you must’ve said all the right things to the right people.”
“Today was my first day, actually,” Xander said. He smiled, but it was weak and uncommitted.
“Congrats. Do you like it?” I asked.
“It’s okay. It’s definitely better than that smoky, dingy pub. I really thought for a second I was doomed to go back there,” Xander said.
“Lucky break. How did you get the job?” I asked and crossed my legs to give Xander the impression I was genuinely interested. He didn’t seem happy to see me — not
that I blamed him; few people were — but now that I had him like a fly in honey, I wasn’t about to let him go.
“I heard through the grapevine they were hiring while I was hanging out at The Magic Touch. I figured I could get hired pretty easily based on my prior experience so I applied online, and the next thing I know, here I am,” Xander said. “I interviewed yesterday and they asked me if I could start today.”
“Wow, that really was a lucky break,” I laughed. “You’re here awfully late though, aren’t you? When did you start?”
“Early this morning. After the hours of orientation training they subjected me to, something I said or did must’ve convinced them I was good enough to be out on the floor on my first day,” Xander said.
“I see, so you must’ve had several breaks today then, right?” I asked. “I mean, I assume in Moon Grove there’s such a thing as work breaks, maybe even a paid lunch?”
Xander furrowed his brows. It was the only thing I could think of to try to pin him to the time of the murder. Fifteen minutes to an hour would’ve been more than enough time for Xander to run over to the bank to take care of business — a.k.a. Victor.
“Yeah, I had a break around eleven this morning, an hour-long lunch around two, and I took my last break at five,” Xander said. It took everything I had not to let my satisfaction show on my face.
“I’m glad to hear they’re taking care of you that way. How long are your breaks?”
“Fifteen minutes. I think that’s pretty standard,” Xander said, clearly still lost — or panicked.
“Did you stay here at the casino for all your breaks?” I asked.
“Why are you asking me all these questions?” Xander asked, his face hardening.
“Just curious. There was another murder this evening,” I said and all the color drained from Xander’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and tucked his drink tray under one arm.
“Who was it?” he asked, but I didn’t believe he didn’t already know. Even if he wasn’t the one who’d killed Victor, it was next to impossible for him not to have heard about it while working in a gossip’s heaven like Stubbe’s Palace.
