Murder by the Cup

by Abigail Thornton

  Mrs. Droxon snorted. It was the first normal sound to come from the elf. “Atherton prefers his women a bit more...decorated.” With a toss of her head, the glass was emptied and Mrs. Droxon was working her way around the room. “So you want to know if he had any enemies?”

  “I do.” Wynona rose to her feet. She didn’t like feeling like the smallest person in the room, which she technically was, but she could pretend otherwise.

  Mrs. Droxon stopped at a vase of flowers, fingering the petals. They were just as red as the rest of the room and Wynona recognized them as a mix of chrysanthemums and cockscomb. Both held their color well, but considering it was mid-spring, both flowers were out of season. They must have been spelled to bloom this early.

  “I think the better question is, who wasn’t his enemy?”

  It took a moment for the words to penetrate. “He didn’t have any friends at all?”

  Mrs. Droxon grinned, but the look was malicious, not kind. “Not unless you count the endless string of mistresses.” Her look shifted to one of nonchalance and she shrugged. “But considering how fast he goes through those, I doubt they’d claim that title either.”

  “I suppose being the best baker in Hex Haven means stepping on a few toes along the way,” Wynona said carefully. Her eyes were caught on a shadow just beneath Mrs. Droxon’s left eye. When Wynona had first arrived, she hadn’t noticed anything odd, thanks to a superb makeup job, but now, at the angle she stood, she began questioning what she was really seeing.

  “I suppose,” Mrs. Droxon said dryly. She left the flowers behind and paced the large room.

  “Do you think any of his...paramours would have wanted him dead?” The more Wynona watched, the more she felt bad for the woman. Mrs. Droxon put on an excellent facade. The breathless beauty was probably the face she presented to the world, a way of hiding what really went on in her home. And now with Wynona, Mrs. Droxon had gone with haughty. It was a protective effort.

  Yet, Wynona felt sure that inside, the woman was crying. Lonely, hurt and obviously bitter, her name, unfortunately, went immediately to Wynona’s mental suspect list. Who better than a jilted wife would wish to kill a husband?

  A few odd questions remained though. If Mrs. Droxon did indeed try to kill her husband, why do it in Wynona’s shop? And why couldn’t she tell that the man she killed wasn’t her husband? Surely Mrs. Droxon knew her husband’s silhouette, even if they’d been in the dark.

  “I’m sure many of them did,” Mrs. Droxon continued.

  Wynona pinched her lips. “Did you?”

  The elf stopped, her eyes wide as she turned to face Wynona. “You’re very direct.”

  Wynona clasped her hands. “I believe it’s the best way to get a direct answer.”

  A slow smile crept across the elf’s face. “You may call me Maeve.”

  Somehow it felt as if Wynona had just been handed a gift, although she wasn’t exactly sure why. “Alright...Maeve. Were you mad enough to kill your husband?”

  She grinned. “My husband isn’t dead.”

  “No...” Wynona tilted her head. “But the man who was killed was wearing your husband’s clothes. I believe the killer thought they were killing Chef Droxon.”

  Maeve nodded and sighed. “You’re probably right.” She walked back across the room and sat on the fainting couch with an audible plop, her skirts poofing before settling around her feet. “And while I admit I wish I had the courage to kill him, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  Wynona took two steps to the right, putting her in just the right position to see the spot under Maeve’s eye. It was exactly what Wynona feared. “There’s places that can help women like you.”

  Maeve laughed harshly and put a thin fingertip to her eye. “Never trust makeup made by sprites.”

  “Would you like me to help you call them?” Wynona ignored her change of topic.

  “No.” The word was succinct but hoarse. “I’m afraid that isn’t a good idea.”

  Wynona stepped closer. “Why not?”

  “Because if I leave...” Her emerald green gaze met Wynona’s. “It won’t be my husband who dies next.”

  Wynona’s next words faltered. “Surely we can get you protection—”

  Maeve waved her off. “Don’t worry about me,” she said with a tight smile. “I made my bed long ago. Now, I have to lie in it.”

  Wynona didn’t answer. She knew what it was like to feel as if you had no choices and could never break free. But because someone cared, she had, and now she was working to make a new life for herself. There was no reason Mrs. Droxon couldn’t do the same. But it would only work if the woman wanted it to.

  “And just because I know you’re curious,” Maeve clasped her fingers in her lap. “On the night of the murder, I was here.” She nodded toward the door. “Gerall can vouch for my whereabouts.”

  Wynona looked over her shoulder. She hadn’t been aware that the butler had followed her inside the room. From the way the man was watching Maeve, Wynona guessed the woman had at least a little more support than she had first supposed. Nodding, she turned back to Maeve. “Thank you for letting me intrude in your day.”

  Maeve rose up and nodded regally. “Good luck to you in your search.” She arched an eyebrow. “My husband’s pastries might be well liked, but he isn’t. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  After another round of thanks, Wynona headed outside to her Vespa. She rode down the road for a minute before pulling over and grabbing her phone from her pocket. She had missed three calls and fifteen texts.

  “What in the world?” she muttered as listened to the messages.

  “Nona?” Prim’s voice was squeaky on the tiny speaker. “You’ve got to call me back, pronto!”

  Each message was another iteration of the first, except the panic in Prim’s tone grew exponentially by the end.

  “NONA! Get your phone out of your pocket and call me! This is big, girlie! BIG!”

  Wynona pulled the phone away from her ear and winced at the last shout. “Good grief,” she murmured as she dialed Prim back.

  “NONA!”

  Wynona rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s me. What in the world happened in the last hour that has you in such a tizzy?”

  Prim was panting on the other line. “I’ve got a hot tip for you, and you need to follow it up now.”

  “Why now?” Wynona pressed. “And who did you hear this tip from?”

  “My sources aren’t important,” Prim said, brushing the question away. “But you have to go now because she’s going to get away if you don’t.”

  “Can you please start from the beginning? I have no idea who she is.”

  “Oh. Right.” Prim took a deep breath. “Word on the street is that Chef Droxon’s secretary nearly had a heart attack when word got out about the murder. She’s been with him for five years now, longer than any other secretary, and news of the murder has her turning tail and running.”

  “Why would the death of a thief matter so much to her?” Wynona asked. “Did she know the man?”

  “No idea,” Prim answered. “All I know is that she’s making a big fuss and there’s got to be a reason for it.”

  Wynona pulled back her phone to glance at the time. “Do you know where she is now?”

  “She should technically be at work,” Prim said. “But my source said they saw her last heading into Shade Banking and Loan.”

  “Okay.” Wynona shifted on her scooter seat. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Oh, and her name is Delila Caseis. She’s a siren.”

  Wynona paused. “Oh, great.”

  “What?” Prim asked.

  “Nothing,” Wynona said quickly. “Talk to you soon, bye!” She shut off the phone and stuffed it back in her pocket with a sigh. That was all she needed was to confront another woman in Chef Droxon’s life. From Mrs. Droxon’s description and the fact that the baker obviously went through secretaries like he went through sugar, Wynona could only guess what kind
of a relationship they’d had.

  “Why can’t people just be good and honest?” she grumbled while getting her Vespa going again. Her heels weren’t the easiest thing to ride in, but the look had been important and Wynona was grateful she’d chosen to dress up a little when confronting Mrs. Droxon.

  Wynona could only imagine what the secretary was going to look like. But Prim was right. Running scared because someone else died was an odd reaction. Wynona tilted her face up, enjoying the warm sunshine as she rode into town. She would just have to see what was going on with the siren. And maybe add another possible suspect to her list.

  CHAPTER 10

  It took a good fifteen minutes for Wynona to get from the Droxon estate to the bank. If a human ever wandered into Hex Haven, at first it would look like a normal city with some unique residents. One look at Shade Banking and Loan, however, and every Halloween horror movie they’d ever seen would come to life.

  The building was as Gothic as they came and had been around for centuries. Snarling gargoyles sat on every corner, ready to rip thieves into shreds at the slightest provocation, or at least they looked that way. The creatures were made of stone, but Wynona had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t quite what they seemed. Their eyes in particular, were a little too...alive.

  The entire bank was surrounded by a stone wall and an iron gate, much to the consternation of Prim and every other fairy living in Hex Haven, since iron was poisonous to that particular species. The rest of the population were simply frustrated by the lack of doors.

  Since the bank was run by shades, the ghostly creatures didn’t require entrances into a building in order to go in or out, and apparently had felt to use that skill to their advantage when the bank was built.

  In order for any person or creature to enter Shade Bank, they had to be spelled by the attending security, which was usually a low level warlock with more brawn than brains. The setup kept everyone’s money extremely safe, but made it difficult for even the owner of the money to handle their accounts.

  Parking her bike just outside the gates, Wynona stayed seated for a moment, eyeing the group waiting to go inside. She didn’t want to wait in line unless she had to. If Ms. Caseis had gone in before Prim got a hold of Wynona, then odds were the siren should be coming out by now. If Wynona hadn’t already missed her.

  A loud catcall caught Wynona’s attention and she whipped her head around to see a group of teenage dryads staring all in the same direction. With their tongues practically hanging out of their mouths, Wynona figured she had hit the jackpot.

  Bingo.

  A redhead strutted out of the bank, her every move designed to draw the male eye as she headed toward the gate. The guard practically tripped over himself as he let her out, tipping his hat at her in the process. “Come again, Ms. Caseis,” the man stuttered.

  Wynona had to admit the woman was aptly named. Delila always brought to mind a picture of a femme fatale and this woman was definitely an asset to her ancestors. “Thank you,” she purred, touching the security guard’s forearm.

  Wynona shook her head when the man began nodding a little too vigorously. Sometimes living in a paranormal city was ridiculous.

  Ms. Caseis winked at the teenagers still drooling over her, then turned smartly to her right and began walking down the street. Her actions brought her right past Wynona, whom she ignored.

  “Apparently only men get her attention,” Wynona muttered to herself. She hopped off her scooter and was about to call out the woman’s name, when she paused. Ms. Caseis had changed. Her walk was less runway worthy and she ducked her head a little. Pausing in front of an alleyway, the siren glanced around, then darted into the darkness.

  Wynona’s interest was piqued. Scrambling quickly to lock her scooter, she hurried down the street and carefully peered around the corner. The alleyway looked deserted, but opened up on the far end into another street. Staying in the shadows helped give Wynona cover, but it also meant watching where she stepped.

  “Someone needs to put together a street cleaning team,” she muttered as she stepped over yet another pile of foul-smelling garbage. Such a venture would fall under the political leader of the land and Wynona snorted at the thought of her parents taking the time to worry about something so mundane.

  She reached the other street and paused before walking out onto the sidewalk. Just like Haven Main, which she had left behind, Runes Road was busy. Haven held most of the shops, but Runes was home to businesses. Skyscrapers towered over her on both sides, making Wynona feel small and insignificant. A feeling she wished she wasn’t so familiar with.

  Pushing back her insecurities, she looked around, hunting for bright red hair. It couldn't be that hard to find. Just as she was about to give up, a flash of sunlight reflecting off a glass door caught Wynona’s attention.

  “There you are.” Without another word, Wynona darted into the foot traffic and began working her way toward the large, almost solid glass building that Ms. Caseis had disappeared into.

  It took a little maneuvering, but Wynona made it across the street and casually went to pull on the bar. The door rattled, but didn’t budge. Frowning, Wynona pulled again. Still nothing. Glancing around, she looked to see if there was any sort of sign or instructions for visitors, but the front of the building was completely blank. Out of desperation, she tried pushing instead of pulling, but the door still didn’t open.

  Worried she was making a scene, Wynona tried to glance around, but luckily no one seemed to be paying attention to her. Stepping up to the glass, she tried to shade her eyes in order to look inside, but all she could see was darkness. “What is this place?” she whispered to herself. Her eyes wandered over the whole front, but there was no doorbell or otherwise in order to be allowed inside. Carefully, keeping an eye on the other people, she walked to the side of the building and darted around the corner.

  The alley was slightly cleaner, but no less creepy than the one she had already wandered through. This time, however, her aim wasn’t the other street. Slowly, Wynona ran her hand along the side of the building. There were no obvious doors or windows, since the entire building was glass. She began to wonder if there was a spell that protected it from outsiders.

  About halfway down the building, Wynona grew frustrated and turned around. A group of businessmen were standing at the entrance to the alley and she decided to ask them about the building. She didn’t come to this street very often, so perhaps these men knew what and who was inside.

  “Excuse me!” Wynona waved and walked back to Runes Road. “Do you live around here?” Several of the men looked her way and Wynona immediately dropped her arm. As she drew nearer, Wynona realized that what she thought were business suits were actually dirty hand-me-downs. She stumbled backward a couple of steps as three of the men broke free from the group and began prowling in her direction.

  There was something decidedly predatory about their movements, causing her heart to leap into her throat. This was not what she had expected at all.

  “You know what? Never mind.” Wynona spun and began speed walking toward the road at the back end of the alley. She wasn’t sure what it would lead to, but hopefully there would at least be other people. Safety in numbers and all that.

  As she walked, her ankle twisted in her high heel, and now she regretted dressing up for her meeting with Mrs. Droxon. Pain radiated with every step, but she didn’t stop. At least not until a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around.

  “Hello...” the man purred, looking her up and down. “What brings you to this side of the street?”

  The other two men chuckled and Wynona swallowed hard. She was in serious trouble. How had it all gone so wrong? It seemed as if her curse extended to more than just binding her powers, which, subsequently, would have been extremely useful right now. “Please let go of me,” she said through clenched teeth, pulling on her arm.

  “Those are nice manners,” the man sneered. His face was covered in stubble and dirt, and his ye
llow teeth matched his eyes. Wynona could tell he was some kind of shifter, but from the looks of it, he didn’t mix in polite company very often.

  It wasn’t unheard of for a shifter to go feral, or at least, mostly feral. From the smell of decay and the state of his hygiene, Wynona guessed this man and his buddies were some of them.

  “I said, let me go.” She pulled harder, but his hold only tightened, increasing the pain in her arm.

  “You asked us a question,” the man said with a wide grin. “What was it?”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Oh, but it does.” Her captor didn’t look away, but addressed his question to one of the watchers. “What was it she asked, Sim?”

  “I think she was curious about the building.” The man called Sim wiped at the corner of his mouth, as if picking up drool, and Wynona had to look away.

  Her stomach churned and she began to wonder if throwing up on the men would make them leave her alone.

  “That’s right. The building.” The man holding her pulled her closer and Wynona turned her face away. “Just to be nice,” he said, “we’ll answer your question, and then you can help us with ours.”

  “I don’t know anything,” Wynona said automatically. Her eyes began searching the ground for anything that could be used as a weapon. She might be able to hurt one of them with her heel, but getting it off and then stumbling around barefoot probably wasn’t going to be very efficient. There had to be something else in this dirty alley.

  “Oh, I’ll bet you do.” The man took in a long sniff of her hair and Wynona cringed away. “That there behind you is the Droxon Headquarters.” His yellow eyes flashed. “It’s said the gnome keeps his little black book inside.”

  Wynona stopped struggling. “You mean his recipe book?”

  A bushy eyebrow rose high. “That’s right,” he drawled. “His office and test kitchen are all inside, which is why it’s so hard to get in.” He chuckled. “Not that you’ll be needing in after we’re done with you.”

  Wynona’s neck instantly broke out in a heavy sweat. She needed to get away from these men, and she needed to do it now. Slowly, using every bit of control she had, she forced herself to relax. “What question did you have that I can answer?” she asked, trying to keep her shaky voice calm.