by D E Dennis
Monica turned to him. “What do you think? Should we talk to him about it?”
Chewing his lip, Michael replied, “And say what? He didn’t hide anything. We never asked him about his parents.”
“But he was connected to the case, if only through his father.”
“He would have been ten when all this happened. We have to assume his father tried to shield him from what went on just like Mom did with us.”
“Yes, but think about who he was married to. An investigative reporter who lost her sister to the man his father failed to put away. They must have talked about it. She could have told him about what she was doing to bring Antarr to justice. She could have told him about the article, and if she did—”
Brrriiing!
It was telling how little their office phone rang that Michael jerked in surprise again. He answered it.
“Hello, this is Grimm Investigations. What can I do for you?”
“Michael? Is that you?”
Michael sat up straight in his chair. He knew that voice. “Hazel? Is something wrong?”
She laughed. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just calling you about dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes, we were going to have dinner and speak about the case. Are you free tonight?”
Michael had no clue this had been a set plan. “Um, yes. Tonight. I’m free. Tonight is good for dinner because I’m free... tonight.”
Smooth.
Hazel giggled. “Perfect. Pick me up at seven?”
“Seven.”
They hung up and Michael was greeted with two sets of raised eyebrows.
Monica goggled at him. “Did I just hear what I think I just heard?”
“No.”
“Did you just make dinner plans with Hazel Antarr?”
“No.”
Her grin turned wicked. “Are you going on a date, brother mine?”
“No.” He pushed his chair back. “We’re going to discuss the case. Any information I can get on Liam Antarr is vital.”
“Hmm hmm.”
“Get serious, Mo. We have work to do.”
Her laughter taunted him as he fled into the breakroom.
DESPITE MICHAEL’S DENIALS, he knew this dinner was not just about the case. The feeling intensified when Hazel opened the door.
Michael sucked in a breath. She wore a cute dress that must have been her creation. Witch hazel flowers were stitched into the black bodice with the bottom half a light yellow. Resting on her throat was a black lace choker with a gem that glittered in the porch light. In the short time since he had last seen her, her hair had gone from full blonde to blonde with purple streaks, and her bare toes were covered with magenta nail polish.
“Good evening, Michael.”
“Hello,” he croaked. “You look nice.”
She laughed. “A girl doesn’t go through all this effort to get ‘nice.’ Want to try again?”
He swallowed. “You look beautiful.”
“Much better,” she replied, eyes dancing. “Come in. I just have to put my shoes on and add a few finishing touches.”
Michael nodded and stepped over the threshold. “No problem.”
“Where are we going?” she asked as she strode down the hall.
“Gracie’s. You ever been?” Michael called back, looking around.
“Ooh. No, but I’ve been meaning to. Everyone raves about that place. The first five-star restaurant to open on our side.”
“The owner is a friend of my sister.”
Michael drifted over to the mannequins. The two oversized dolls were exactly where he last saw them, but this time they were in new clothes.
Hazel’s latest creations?
He couldn’t help but admire them. Hazel was very talented. The female mannequin had on a black lace dress in the same pattern as the choker Hazel wore. The two would look amazing together when it was ready.
Michael stepped over to the male mannequin. This one wore a sleeve sweater vest with black pants. The vest had the same swirly style of the dress and there seemed to be something stitched in the collar.
Michael leaned in for a closer look.
That looks like a—
Michael grabbed the mannequin’s arm to turn it toward him and it promptly fell off, landing on the cardboard box at his feet.
“So what do they serve there?” Hazel called.
Scrambling, Michael yanked up the arm and forced the troublesome appendage back in its place. “They got a little bit of everything,” he said quickly. “Beef, fresh pasta, fish—”
He looked down. The hand had caught on the box, pulling the flap open to reveal its contents. A sewing kit, strips of fabric, and an old porcelain doll with lopsided ponytails stared back at him.
“I’m a vegetarian,” Hazel said, her voice sounded close, as did her footsteps. Michael quickly bent down and closed the box. “But fresh pasta sounds delicious.”
Michael was standing at attention just before the door when she stepped into the room. She glanced around the room then her eyes landed on him with a smile.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” he said, wiping his hands on his pants. “After you.”
They left and walked toward his car. Michael stepped up to the passenger door and held it open for Hazel.
“Such a gentleman,” she said as she slid inside.
Grinning, Michael opened his mouth to reply when a rustle sounded behind him. He whipped his head around. The sun was making its retreat, casting long shadows over the lawn. Hazel’s house, situated as it was on the edge of town, wasn’t in a regular cul-de-sac. The homes were farther apart. Large pine trees and hedges blocked the view of her neighbor’s home.
Michael was scanning those hedges when Hazel piped up.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, fine,” he replied, shaking himself. It was nothing, probably just a squirrel.
The drive to the restaurant was short, and they spent it making small talk.
“I like to test run all my designs before I put them up on the site,” she told him. “It’s also advertising. When people compliment my outfits, I thank them and tell them they can get one of their own by hitting up WitchHazelDesigns online.”
“Why did you choose that name?” he asked.
“Just going with what I was given. My mother named me Hazel after her favorite flower, so I decided it would work for the business too.”
“It’s a pretty name.”
She chuckled. “What about your name?”
“My father named me Michael after himself,” he replied. “His full name is Glenmore Michael Grimm. My middle name was also borrowed from my grandfather. Not a lot of originality in my family.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she teased. “I think founding an entire community is pretty original.”
Michael sighed internally. Sometimes he wished his last name was as indistinctive as his first. “Cat’s out of the bag, I see.” He tilted his head. “That’s kind of a strange expression, isn’t it? Who would put a cat in a bag? Unless you were desperate for a scratching, that doesn’t seem like a smart move.”
She laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder. “Have you ever thought about the origins of half of these sayings? They’re so disturbing. Like cat’s got your tongue. Why would your tongue be out of your head and in paw’s reach of a cat?”
He laughed out loud. “Or go on a wild goose chase? Why are you chasing geese? Leave the poor creatures alone.”
They kept this up as they entered the restaurant and were escorted to the table.
“...or raining cats and dogs,” Hazel said over her menu. “Why are pets falling from the sky?”
Michael laughed. “So, do you see anything you like?” he asked.
“There are actually some great veggie options here. I think I’ll have the eggplant parmesan. You?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“You don’t have to eat veggies on my account,” she said. “Get whatev
er you like.”
“I am,” he said mildly. “I love eggplant parmesan.”
She chuckled, dropping her menu. “So what else do you love, Michael?” She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them, peering at him with a smile. “Tell me about you.”
Pulse quickening, his nerves returned in a flash. “Not much to tell really. I like to cook and... run.”
Did that sound as pathetic to her as it did to me? Goodness, Mo was right. I am too young to be this old.
“I love a man that can cook,” she purred. “Where did you learn?”
“My m-mom.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “My mother. She learned from her father who learned from his mom. My favorite memories growing up were standing over a sizzling pan with my mom.”
“That sounds nice,” she said softly. “I wish I had memories like that. My mother died shortly after Greg and I were born.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “So, the case,” she said, changing the subject. “How is that going?”
“It’s been difficult,” he admitted. “We think Harper stumbled on something but her computers might as well be toasters for all the information we’ll be able to get out of them. We’ve been speaking to the people she interviewed but they don’t have anything new to tell us either.”
Hazel picked up her knife, and twirled it on the edge. “You mean about my father.”
Michael hesitated. “As of now, he is our main suspect.”
“Maybe you’ll finally be the one to do it,” she whispered. “Put him away for good.”
“We don’t have to talk about this,” Michael said gently. “I know this is hard for you.”
“It is.” She lifted her head, favoring him with a smile. “And I guess we both know I didn’t ask you out to dinner to talk about the case.”
He warmed under her smirk. “So, what do you like to do other than sew?”
“Let’s see, when I’m not designing I...”
The conversation, and laughter, flowed all night. Michael could not remember the last time he had this much fun on a date. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been on a date.
Michael slipped his credit card back in his wallet and stood. “Did you like the meal?” he asked as he helped Hazel into her coat.
“It was delicious. We have to come back sometime. I’ll buy.”
Michael blinked at how easily she asked him out. No hesitation, no nerves, no stuttering... so basically the complete opposite of himself.
She turned and looked up at him from over her shoulder, smiling.
“Sounds good,” he said, their faces inches apart.
He cleared his throat, stepping back. “So, I thought we’d go for a walk. The town square is beautiful at night.”
A cold hand found its way into his. “Let’s do it.”
They left Gracie’s hand in hand, strolling past his car.
“So, what’s it like being a private eye. A gumshoe. A flatfoot.”
Laughing, Michael replied, “Not as fun as the movies make it seem. It’s mostly talking, researching, running all over town, more talking, and the occasional cat thrown in your face.”
“What? A cat?”
“Long story...” Michael trailed off, glancing over his shoulder. He thought he heard footsteps, but the sidewalk was empty.
Hazel squeezed his hand. “Tell me about it.”
Shaking his head, Michael faced forward and launched into the story.
Hazel was in stitches by the time they arrived at the square. The Castle Rock town square was the centerpiece of their eclectic town. Fairy Tails on one side, Siren Woods on the other, the town proper in the middle, and then smack-dab in the center of it all was the square.
Surrounding the square were planted palm trees decorated with string lights that came on every night. There were benches, a playground, and in the middle was the Castle Rock fountain. Children played and splashed in the water like they were that night. They ran around a statue of goblins, fairies, leprechauns, centaurs, and other mythical creatures.
“Are y-you serious?” Hazel wheezed, trying to catch her breath. “That’s awful.”
“It was awful,” he grumbled, “but yet everyone laughs at me when I tell it.”
“Aww, poor thing.” She straightened, resting her hand on his cheek. “Well I, for one, am just glad no damage was done to this face of yours.”
He grinned. “What about my face? You saying you only like me for my looks?”
“Yep.”
He threw his head back, laughing.
“What?” she said, chuckling. “We’re still getting to know each other. I’m sure I’ll like other things too.”
He tapped his chin. “I haven’t hooked you with the cooking yet.”
“Oh no,” she said, putting her arm through his. “That was definitely big points in your favor.”
They drifted over to the water basin and took a seat on the rim. Hazel shifted to face him, crossing her legs. Her foot brushed against his leg and she let it stay.
“What about my sweet, charming personality?” Michael asked, his skin prickling.
“Hmm... I do like how playful you are. I mean, you would have no problem with me doing something like this.”
That was all the warning he got before she swiped her hand in the water and splashed him, drenching him in freezing cold water.
He cried out, half delight, half outrage. “I don’t have a problem with that,” he cried, “just like you won’t have a problem with this.”
He threw his arm around her, and flung himself back, dragging her screaming into the fountain.
They surfaced, laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.
“You’ve got a mean streak, Grimm,” she said. “But I admit that is another point in your favor.”
Michael laughed, rising to help her up.
That’s when he saw him.
Off in the distance, standing next to a palm tree with the string lights illuminating his face, was Liam Antarr. He stared back at him, looking Michael directly in the eyes.
“Michael, help me up.”
Hazel grabbed his hand and heaved herself up, throwing her arms around his neck. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Over there,” Michael said softly, all trace of humor gone. “Your father is standing by that tree.”
Hazel dropped her hands, spinning around.
“Hazel, I don’t want to alarm you, but I think he’s been following us all night.”
She turned her back to her father and crossed her arms angrily. “Of course, he is,” she snapped, reddening under the water droplets running down her face.
“Of course?”
She sniffed, eyes burning. “He’s been doing that since he moved here. Greg and I. We didn’t notice at first but, eventually, we realized we had a tail following us wherever we went.”
His eyes bugged out. “He has?! Why haven’t you done something about it?”
“What can I do? He hasn’t tried to approach us or talk to us. Nothing. He’s just always there.”
Michael shook his head as he got out of the fountain. “This isn’t right. He doesn’t get to do this. It was monstrous enough that he moved back here after all he did, but to be stalking you on top of it. This stops now.”
“Michael?” she called to him as he stomped off. “Michael! What are you going to do?!”
Eyes fixed on Liam, Michael crossed the square, marching across the lawn and skirting around a bench.
Liam watched him approach, face giving nothing away. He made no attempt to get away. He didn’t even twitch.
“Hey!” he shouted at him. “What do you think you’re...”
Michael trailed off, eyes darting to a figure behind Antarr, moving fast. Antarr didn’t seem to have noticed that he had another pursuer. He was still focused on Michael, but when a hand came up, clutching something that glinted silver in the string lights, Michael gave a shout.
“Antarr! Look out!” he b
ellowed. “Behind you!”
Liam came alive, swinging around just as Mrs. Engelbert brought her hand down, directly on his face.
“You! You killed my babies!”
They went down in a heap of screaming and gushing blood.
Chapter Five
“LOOK AT IT,” ENGELBERT screamed as Spencer struggled with her. “Look at them! Look at what you’ve done!” She waved the bloodstained frame at Antarr, who stood in the same spot Michael had found him in, this time surrounded by officers.
The uniforms were trained on him, making sure he did not make a move, but Liam just stood there, leaning against the tree and holding the tissue the paramedic gave him against his bloody nose.
“Mrs. Engelbert,” Spencer shouted. “Please, ma’am. You need to calm down!”
“He killed my babies! Arrest him! Why won’t you arrest him?! Why?! Why?!” She shook Spencer, rather roughly by the way his head was lolling, and Samira inched forward to help.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Engelbert,” Spencer said while holding up a hand to stay his partner. “I truly am. I’m just... so sorry.”
Bursting into tears, Mrs. Engelbert stopped her assault on Spencer and buried her face into his chest as she sobbed, clutching the framed photo of her daughters.
“I’m going to get her out of here,” Spencer said to Samira.
She nodded. “I can handle things from here.”
Michael stepped to her side, watching them go. “What’s going to happen to her?”
She sighed. “She technically assaulted him, although I don’t think breaking his nose was her intention. She just wanted him to face what he had done.” Samira glanced over at Liam. Still standing there. Still watching him. She shivered. “Something we all want,” she whispered.
“He could press charges,” she continued, “but I’m hoping this will be the end of it.”
“Charges should be brought against him,” Michael said. Water dripped down his balled fists. “This guy runs around town, stalking people, threatening—”
“Stalking? Stalking who?”
“Us! He’s been following us around all night.”
“Who is us?” Samira turned her back to Antarr, he now had her full attention. “You and Monica? You mean after I warned you to let us handle Antarr, you got on his radar and now have a dangerous killer following you around! Why didn’t you call me right away?”
