Alchemy and Arson

by Lily Webb

  “You do? Why?”

  “I saw some, erm, questionable photos of him last night,” I said.

  “I’m not sure I want to know but I’m going to ask anyway: what sort of questionable photos and where did you see them?”

  “He was at Hypnotic Tonics after hours, and I saw the photos when I went to speak to Marcel Desfleurs last night,” I said. Beau shook his head.

  “I knew introducing you two was trouble waiting to happen,” he said. “Is there anything else I should know about this?”

  “Well, actually…”

  “Spill it, Zoe,” Beau said.

  “Marcel’s coming too,” I said and Beau sighed.

  “For what? I thought we were on a date.”

  “We are. I already had plans to meet Marcel at Pupperoni tonight, but I hadn’t seen you in a while so I wasn’t going to say no when you asked to have dinner together. I thought I’d fly two witches with one broom,” I said.

  “I don’t understand. Why is Marcel coming?”

  “To do what he does best: take pictures,” I said.

  “Of Tony?”

  “Yeah, and who or whatever else might be interesting,” I said.

  “You never stop working, do you?”

  “Not when there’s an active murder case to be solved,” I said, shrugging. “But don’t worry, there’s a good chance Tony won’t even talk to me and no one will know Marcel is there, for obvious reasons.”

  “I don’t like this,” Beau said. “We’re gonna be in the heart of the Werewolves’ Quarter of town, and they’re gonna look at us funny.”

  “Why would they—oh, yeah, the whole werewolves hating shifters thing,” I said. “What is that? You’ll have to explain that to me someday.”

  “There’s that, but also because the two of us are well-known reporters, for better or worse,” he said. “We aren’t exactly incognito is all I’m saying.”

  “I’m not trying to be,” I said. “That’s where Marcel comes into play. Be cool, we’ll just share a pizza like we were on a normal date and everything will be fine.”

  “That’s what you always say but then you go running off in the middle of dinner,” Beau said. A fight with him was the last thing on Earth I wanted, so I bit my tongue.

  “That won’t happen this time, I promise,” I said and linked my fingers between his. “We’re just gathering some intel, you know, observing. Besides, I could use an extra pair of eyes to help — and a supercharged nose like yours.”

  Though I could tell he wasn’t happy, eventually Beau sighed and shrugged.

  “All right, I guess it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve asked me to help you with since we met,” he said and I laughed.

  “Thank you,” I said and pecked a kiss on his cheek. Beau flushed and chewed his lip.

  “Let’s get this over,” he said and started walking. It occurred to me I’d never set foot in Moon Grove’s Werewolves’ Quarter — I hadn’t had any reason to until now — and I had no idea what to expect.

  But when we turned left and walked along a road named Fang Street, I realized there wasn’t anything that could’ve prepared me for the experience anyway.

  Halfway down, the small brick buildings and iron street lamps that characterized most of Moon Grove gave way to darkness and run-down wooden houses, many with boarded-up windows and doors. Were they meant to keep intruders out — or to keep wild werewolves inside?

  A chill ran down my spine at the thought.

  “Are you okay?” Beau asked though he didn’t sound all that okay himself.

  “Y-yeah, just taking it all in,” I mumbled, staring at the wooden wall of the nearest house scarred by four distinct slashes I could only assume came from claws. “I had no idea the werewolves lived so…” I trailed, casting for the word.

  “Modestly? Well, turning into a wild animal once a month makes it hard to keep a job, even in a paranormal town like this,” Beau whispered. “But don’t dare let any of them hear you talk like that.”

  “Got it,” I said as we continued down the street.

  Oddly enough, not a soul passed as we walked, not even when we came to a dimly-lit village circle lined with shops and restaurants. They were all empty. A flashing neon sign with several burnt out letters attached to a dingy, sketchy looking building caught my eye: “Pupperni Pzza” it read.

  Modest, indeed.

  “That’s it,” Beau said, nodding at the sign to confirm what I feared.

  “Charming,” I said.

  “Oh, just wait. It’s positively cozy inside,” Beau said and led me toward the restaurant. I hoped Marcel was out in the darkness somewhere watching us in case we didn’t come out again.

  The smell of baking dough and marinara sauce invaded my nose as we approached and I had to admit it smelled delicious — though I wouldn’t have dreamed of eating anything in the place.

  A rotted wooden door swung precariously from rusted hinges as Beau pushed it open. Inside, a woman in a leopard print spaghetti-strap shirt sat at one of the half dozen card tables admiring her French-manicured nails. I couldn’t take my eyes off them; they had to be at least four inches long.

  She jumped when she saw us but came over in a hurry, her too-tall heels clicking across the tile in time with the bouncing of her black and bleach-blonde curls against her shoulders.

  “Hey, welcome to Pupperoni. I’m Adriana, your hostess,” she said in a thick New Jersey accent and I had to contain my laughter. She looked like a walking stereotype.

  “Is it just the two of ya?” Adriana asked and Beau nodded. Adriana clawed two menus out of a holster built into the wall and gestured for us to follow her.

  A man in chef’s garb stood behind a glass display case showing off various types of pizza, all of them drab and stale. His back was turned as he shoved a wooden pizza tray into a giant coal-fired oven. A tall white hat covered his head but I still couldn’t have mistaken him for anyone other than Tony Romano.

  As if he’d sniffed us walking in — and he probably had — Tony spun around with his nose wrinkled and his clothes covered in flour.

  “I knew I smelled something rotten,” Tony said. He dusted his hands off on his shirt and crossed his arms over his chest, revealing several more tattoos on each.

  “Oh my Gawd, Tony, watch ya mouth,” Adriana said, scowling at him.

  “Mind your business, Adriana. What are you doing here, halfie?” Tony asked and Adriana gasped, clapping a clawed hand over her mouth. More gold than I’d ever seen in one place flashed on her fingers.

  Beau flushed and stared at the floor. Halfie? Was that some sort of insult to shifters?

  “Nothing,” Beau snapped. “I just came to share some of your world-class hospitality and pizza with my girlfriend.”

  “Please, ignore him, doll. We’re all fahmily here so make yahselves at home,” Adriana said, waving us forward.

  She selected one of the rickety tables by the back and Beau pulled a folding chair out from under it for me. A plastic tablecloth in a red-and-white checkerboard design draped into my lap when I sat. Classy.

  Tony tossed his hat down on the counter as he stepped out around it, lumbering toward our table with a scowl.

  “I said, what are you doing here, halfie?” Tony growled, leaning over us. He reeked of stale smoke and alcohol and bags bigger than the one on my shoulder hung from his eyes. No wonder he had a temper. If I looked as rugged as he did, I’d be grouchy too.

  All of Beau’s confidence seemed to have run out of his ears, so I cleared my throat.

  “I’ve heard great things about your deep dish, so I think we’d like to order a large with pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese, please,” I said. Tony glared at me, his nostrils flaring, clearly not amused.

  “Order it somewhere else,” Tony said.

  “Antonio Gabriel Romano!” Adriana snapper. “We haven’t had a customuh all day, mind ya manners,” she scolded him.

  “Then you serve them,” Tony barked and stormed off through a
side door into what appeared to be his office. It was barely bigger than a broom closet from what I could see — though there was a tiny, uncovered window built into the wall. Hopefully, Marcel knew where to look.

  Smoke curled over Tony’s shoulder as he fired up a cigar and shook out the match. That explained the stench on his clothes.

  “Oh my Gawd, I’m so sorry,” Adriana said.

  “It’s okay. We should go,” Beau said.

  “No way. I didn’t come all the way here for nothing,” I hissed as I reached for Beau’s hand.

  “Please, stay. Tony’s just got a hair in his pizza today because business is slow,” Adriana said. “Ignore him.”

  “All right,” Beau sighed and sat down. Phew, crisis averted.

  “Excuse me, Adriana, do you have a restroom I could use?” I asked.

  “Sure, doll, it’s right ova there,” Adriana said, pointing one of her talons toward another door at the back of the restaurant. “Can I get ya somethin’ to drink in the meantoime?”

  “Two waters, please,” I said, though I had no intention of drinking mine.

  “You got it,” she said and clicked away behind the counter toward the humming drink machine, her long legs swishing in her jean skirt. I pushed back from the table and acted like I was going to the bathroom — but took a hard right into Tony’s office instead. Beau hissed at me to stop but I paid him no mind.

  Tony sat with his back to me at a lopsided desk lined by stacks of cash held together by rubber bands. My eyes went wide at the sight and it took me a few seconds to get my voice back as I watched him counting several hundred notes.

  His restaurant was as dead as my investigation, so where — and how — had he gotten all this money?

  “That’s an awful lot of money you’ve got there, Mr. Romano,” I said. Tony jolted in his chair and whirled around, his cigar bouncing between his lips and shaking ashes into his lap. He tried to block my view of the money but it was too late.

  “Whaddaya think you’re doin’ in here?!” he shouted, jumping up from the chair wild-eyed.

  “Sorry, I guess I took the wrong door to the bathroom,” I said. I wasn’t about to let him intimidate me. I’d faced far scarier.

  “Sure ya did. Why are you here, Ms. Clarke?” Tony snapped. When I didn’t reply, he laughed and shook his head.

  “You think I didn’t recognize you sitting with the halfie? I know all about you. Just another hotshot reporter making life difficult for everybody else trying to make an honest living,” Tony said.

  “You call this honest?” I asked, nodding at the money. Tony scoffed.

  “I’m a made man. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “Okay. Then where were you the night Circe Woods’ house burned to the ground?” I asked, hoping to catch him in a lie.

  “Right here, wasn’t I, Adriana?” Tony asked, jabbing his cigar through the air over my shoulder. I turned to find Adriana standing with her hands on her hips and her bottom lip between her teeth. She shrugged.

  “Yeah, sure, of course ya was,” Adriana said. “Where else would ya have been?”

  “So there you go,” Tony said and popped his cigar back into his mouth to take a long drag.

  “Then why have I seen photos of you inside Hypnotic Tonics after hours that night?” I asked. Tony’s mouth fell open, threatening to send his cigar tumbling to the ground, but he caught himself.

  “Zoe, what are you—“ Beau hissed from the table, but Tony raised a hand to silence him.

  “Wait a second, you what?”

  “You heard me,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. I didn’t think I could read a werewolf’s mind, but I wasn’t above giving it the good ol’ college try.

  “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re lying. I’ve seen the pictures. Why were you at Hypnotic Tonics after hours the night Circe Woods died?” I asked.

  “All right, fine. Not that it’s any of your business, but Hilda and I have a lil’ agreement,” Tony said, avoiding my eyes and drawing circles of smoke with his cigar as he waved it.

  “Which is?”

  “The Council’s been givin’ them a hard time about their shop and products and whatnot, so they agreed to pay me in exchange for getting the Council off their backs,” Tony said.

  “You mean because you were negotiating with Circe and Lorelei Riddle so you had some sway?” I asked.

  “You know about that too, huh? Doesn’t matter. Yeah, I had some weight to throw around. If the Council wouldn’t agree to ease off Hypnotic Tonics, I’d stir up some trouble for them politically with the werewolves,” Tony said.

  “And you got free tonics in exchange so it was a win-win,” I said. Namely, Mean Greens.

  “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours,” Tony said. I tried not to think about that image too much. Tony was hairy even by werewolf standards.

  “Right. But why did you keep going to Hypnotic Tonics after the shop was allowed to open?” I asked. “They don’t seem to need your protection anymore.”

  “They owe me money,” Tony said and my eyebrows raised.

  “For what?”

  “I gave Hilda a loan to start her shop. You didn’t really think a batty old witch like her came up with the cash on her own did you?” Tony asked.

  I hadn’t thought about it, but it made perfect sense. Hilda was asleep the first time I’d gone into Hypnotic Tonics so she didn’t strike me as being particularly ambitious. But then again, I still hadn’t figured out where Tony got all his money.

  “How much does she owe you?”

  “More than she’ll ever make at that hocus pocus shop,” Tony said. “But that’s why I keep coming by, to make sure she pays me one way or another.”

  “Even if it’s in the form of tonics?” I asked and Tony scowled.

  “That’s none of your business,” he said.

  “It is if one of them made you go AWOL and kill a Councilwoman — it would clear your path to power and scare your ‘client’ into paying up,” I said.

  “That’s crazy, listen to yourself. Look, I know things around here might seem a lil’ sketchy, but I swear I’m not up to anything,” Tony said.

  Sketchy didn’t even scratch the surface. Between Tony’s lies and the thousands of bills stacked in his office, I found it hard to believe he had nothing at all to hide — but whatever crimes he’d committed, I didn’t think he’d killed Circe. It would’ve drawn too much attention to his other, erm, enterprises — which was probably why he was so annoyed with me digging.

  “But I tell you what, I wouldn’t put it past Hilda to do something like that. Who knows what she’s putting in those potions of hers. I swear it’s killing her brain cells, and I’m sure I’m not the only one she owes money to,” Tony said.

  Could Hilda really have taken one of her own concoctions and gone postal on Circe? She didn’t seem like the type to hurt anyone, not even a fly, but I’d learned the hard way looks could be deceiving. Besides, Hilda wasn’t any less likely a candidate than Tony.

  I needed to find out who else Hilda owed money to — and why. It could’ve been the key to everything; follow the money, as the saying goes.

  “Zoe, maybe we should get going,” Beau said, clutching my hand in his and squeezing it desperately. I hadn’t realized he was there. Still, I’d gotten as much as I probably could out of Tony, so I gave in to Beau’s pleas.

  “Sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Romano,” I said.

  “Psh, please. Something tells me it won’t be the last time I hear from you,” he said as he flicked the ashes off the tip of his cigar onto the floor. Thank Lilith I hadn’t eaten anything made there.

  “We’ll show ourselves out,” Beau said, dragging me by the hand out of Tony’s office.

  “Oh, come on, you aren’t even gonna eat something?” Adriana asked.

  “Maybe next time,” Beau said with a perfect fake smile.

  “See you around, halfie,” Tony said, smiling back. Beau’
s face flushed and he walked me out of the restaurant and back down Fang Street in a hurry. When we were far enough away I was sure no one would overhear, I stopped him.

  “What’s the whole ‘halfie’ thing about?” I asked. Beau sighed and shook his head.

  “Like I said, werewolves don’t like shifters,” he said.

  “Right, but why? I don’t understand. Aren’t you part of the same family?”

  “Technically, yes, but the werewolves look down on us. While no one knows for sure, the story goes that shifters didn’t exist until werewolves started mingling with humans if you know what I mean,” Beau said.

  “So they hate you because they think you diluted the family tree? That’s ridiculous,” I said.

  “I know. Not many people — werewolves or shifters — believe it, but there are still a few traditionalists hanging around like Tony,” Beau said.

  “Wait, is that why you and Mitch don’t get along?”

  “No, no. He’s nothing like Tony in that regard. Mitch and I had girl problems years ago, but it doesn’t matter now,” Beau said.

  “Okay, it’s probably better I don’t know then. Anyway, did you see all the money Tony had? What the heck has he been up to to get that?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “No idea, but I bet it wasn’t legal,” Beau said.

  “Definitely not,” I said. “Do you think he could be in the mafia or something? I mean, he owns a pizza parlor…”

  “A werewolf mafia run out of a pizza parlor? Like Pizzagate? Seriously, Zoe?”

  “Hey, he had thousands of bills in there. Besides, it’s Moon Grove. Anything’s possible,” I said with a shrug. “I just hope Marcel got some shots of it all from outside.”

  “Speaking of, how do you even know he’s here?” Beau asked, squinting into the darkness like he had any hope of spotting a vampire after dark anyway.

  “I don’t,” I said, but something told me Marcel wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity like this.

  “So now what?” Beau asked. “That wasn’t much of a date.”

  “Sorry, I’ll make it up to you — and no more surprises, I promise. Wanna go grab a coffee or a MagiShake or something?” I asked.