Magic and Other Misdemeanors

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Magic and Other Misdemeanors Page 5

by Michael Buckley


  “Mordred!” Morgan said sharply. “We have company.”

  “I see them,” he said without turning his head.

  “Well, turn off your game and say hello!”

  “Mom! I’m about to beat the level-fifteen boss! Do you have any idea how many experience points I can get?”

  “Fine, if you don’t want to socialize and act like an adult, then go to your room and clean it up. I have to vacuum in there, and you’ve got your dolls all over the place.”

  Mordred looked over at his mother with a murderous rage in his face. His pupils vanished and his eyes turned pure white and radiated energy.

  “THEY’RE NOT DOLLS. THEY’RE ACTION FIGURES!”

  He leaped up from the couch and turned off his game. “The exterminator is in the bathroom,” he snapped as he marched into a room and slammed the door behind him.

  “I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “Mordred is a bit—”

  “Geeky?” Uncle Jake interrupted.

  “Nerdy?” Sabrina offered.

  “Mucho lame-o?” Daphne added.

  “I was going to say aimless,” the witch replied. “I know he’s a bit old to be living at home with his mom, but he’s had a difficult time holding a job. He’s worked at Wendy’s, Taco Bell, and Burger King, but it always ends the same way—he challenges his manager to combat, takes over the restaurant, and enslaves his coworkers. Then it’s back to video games.”

  “We’d like to get right down to business, if possible,” Granny said without batting an eyelash. “You told us you have been robbed. What was taken?”

  “The Wonder Clock,” Morgan le Fay answered as she walked around the room picking up empty french-fry boxes.

  “No way!” Uncle Jake exclaimed.

  “Uh, what’s the Wonder Clock?” Sabrina asked. Her father had kept her and Daphne away from fairy-tale stories when they were little, trying to protect them. Unfortunately it put the Grimm sisters at a disadvantage in Ferryport Landing. It seemed as if they hardly knew anything about fairy tales. Lately the girls had made a serious effort to read the original tales as part of their training, but Sabrina hadn’t come across the Wonder Clock.

  “Howard Pyle wrote about it, liebling. The story goes that it was found in the attic of Father Time,” Granny explained, then turned her attention back to Morgan. “I was under the impression the Wonder Clock was a myth.”

  “So was I!” Uncle Jake said. He prided himself on being able to track down magical items, and he always had quite a number of them on his person. His jacket was sewn with extra pockets where he kept enchanted rings, wands, and potions.

  “Nope. It’s real and it works,” Morgan replied.

  “Works?” Granny asked. “In what way? Pyle wrote that its only function was to tell stories when the clock struck the hour.”

  Morgan le Fay shuffled her feet uncomfortably. “Well . . . it does something else.”

  Uncle Jake grinned eagerly. “What?”

  “It’s kind of a time machine.”

  Sabrina laughed. She never knew Morgan had such a great sense of humor.

  “No, really,” Morgan said. “It lets a person go twelve hours into the past.”

  “What good is that?” Daphne wondered.

  “It comes in very handy when you accidentally say yes to two dates on the same night,” the beautiful witch said.

  “Morgan, how long has the clock been missing?” Granny asked.

  “I’m not sure,” the witch replied. “I came home from your party and went straight to bed. It was on the kitchen table when I turned off the lights. This morning it was gone.”

  “And you didn’t hear anything?” Granny asked.

  “Nothing. The front door was wide open when I woke up, but I know I locked it.”

  “What about Mordred?” Uncle Jake asked. “Could he have taken it?”

  “No,” Morgan said. “He’s very honest. He says he has no idea what happened to the clock and I believe him.”

  Just then, a fat orange creature no more than a foot tall stepped out of the bathroom. It was wearing green camouflage pants, a green shirt, an army helmet, dog tags, and heavy boots. At first glance, it looked like a dressed up pet, but Sabrina realized it was much more. Walking erect on its hind legs, it seemed just as startled to see Sabrina as she was to see it. It shouted “Incoming!” and dove behind the couch.

  “Boots, it’s OK,” Morgan le Fay said, trying to calm the cat down. “It’s Relda Grimm and her family.”

  The cat peeked its head from around the couch. He looked nervous and his whiskers were frantically twitching. “You scared the bejesus out of me,” Boots said in a thick New Jersey accent. “I coulda had a nervous breakdown. You gotta warn a guy. I’m a veteran. I’ve seen terrible things. Makes a guy jumpy.”

  “So, did you find anything?” Morgan asked.

  “Well, Ms. le Fay, I’ve got good news and bad news,” Boots said. “I’ll start with the bad news. You have mice.”

  “Ugh,” Morgan groaned. She crossed the room to her handbag and showed it to the cat. “I knew it! One of them chewed through my purse.” She reached into the bag and poked a finger into a small hole near the bottom. “What’s the good news?”

  “There is no good news. I just thought it might help to have some hope. My advice is to pack your things, burn this place to the ground, and start somewhere new.”

  “You want her to abandon her home because she has a mouse?” Sabrina said incredulously.

  “It’s the only chance you have. There is nothing you can do to stop vermin. They just keep coming and coming and coming, haunting your dreams, eating your cereal! Oh, the horror . . .” The cat gazed vacantly as if trapped inside a troubling memory.

  “What’s ‘vermin’ mean?” Daphne whispered.

  “Vermin are pests like rats, mice, and cockroaches,” Sabrina explained.

  Daphne’s face contorted with disgust. “Gross!”

  “I’m going to have to check the basement to make sure you don’t have a nest,” Boots said, though Sabrina could see he was visibly trembling.

  Sabrina tugged on her grandmother’s sleeve. “We saw a mouse hole at Baba Yaga’s house,” she reminded her.

  Granny winked at Sabrina and then turned to Boots. “A mouse, you say? Mind if we take a look?”

  “What about my missing clock?” Morgan asked.

  “It’s possible that it’s connected,” Granny replied.

  Boots eyed the family suspiciously. “I have to tell you, Relda. This could get dangerous. We might not all make it back alive.”

  “Looking for mice?” Sabrina asked.

  “They’re vile, unpredictable creatures. They’re all teeth, fur, and claws.”

  “We’ll try to be careful,” Granny Relda said.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Boots cried.

  “If you find anything, please let me know,” Morgan said to Uncle Jake, running her hand down his arm. “Oh, strong.”

  “Yeah, I lift weights from time to time,” he bragged.

  Granny grabbed her son by the other arm and pulled him outside. “You can be so embarrassing sometimes, Jacob.”

  Boots led the family around the building and down a flight of steps to the basement. When he unlocked the door, he turned to the family and raised a finger to his mouth. “Shhh! They’ve got great hearing.”

  The basement was damp and cluttered. There were stacks of moldy cardboard boxes, a collection of poorly laced tennis rackets, an artificial Christmas tree still covered in tinsel, and an old coffee table with a wobbly leg. Boots weaved his way through the room, staring up at the cobweb-strewn rafters. He explained that he needed to be directly under Morgan le Fay’s apartment. Once he found the spot, he took a flashlight off of his tool belt and shined it along the walls and ceiling.

  “What are you looking for?” Daphne whispered, peering into the shadows.

  “A nest,” Boots purred. “Or a hole in the ceiling. They could be chewing their way into Morgan’
s apartment.”

  “A mouse can chew through a floorboard?” Sabrina asked. It seemed impossible that a tiny creature could do that kind of damage.

  Boots shook his head. “Only a fool would underestimate a mouse’s capabilities. They can squeeze through a hole a quarter of their size. They can chew through concrete and jump up to twelve inches. Plus, they’re ravenous. They’ve got to eat fifteen to twenty times a day, so they’re highly motivated. When you combine that with how many babies they make in a year—upwards of a hundred—you can see we are under assault. They’re coming for us, kid. They’re going to take over the world. It’s not a matter of if . . . it’s a matter of when.”

  Just then, Daphne brushed against a cardboard box, knocking it to the ground. There was a heavy thump and clang, but Boots acted as if someone had just set off an explosion. He leaped behind a chair and shouted for everyone to get down.

  “We’re under attack!” he shouted.

  Granny helped him back to his feet and assured him the invasion had not yet begun. When he had calmed himself, he went back to his search.

  “There’s no holes down here and no tracks upstairs. I suspect it was only one mouse. Morgan probably carried it in from outside. They can leap onto a coat and cling to it for days. Mice are sneaky. In fact, their name comes from a Sanskrit word for thief.”

  “Could it be something other than a mouse?” Uncle Jake asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know—a little person, perhaps a Lilliputian?”

  “Sorry, Jake, that’s not my specialty, but anything’s possible.”

  Granny reached into her handbag and found a pen and a small scrap of paper. “Would you call us if there are any other unexplained situations like this one?”

  Boots nodded. “You on some big case, Relda?”

  Granny smiled. “We are Grimms. This is what we do.”

  “I can’t believe the effect that woman had on me,” Uncle Jake said as they drove through town. “I think she’s got some kind of magic over men.”

  “I half expected you to offer to scrub her floors,” Granny grumbled.

  Uncle Jake laughed. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not going to bring a witch into the family. I’ve got my eye on a princess.”

  “You should have had your eye on finding clues,” Granny scolded him. She turned in her seat and looked at the girls. “Well?”

  Sabrina and Daphne gaped at her.

  “What are you asking us for?” Sabrina sputtered.

  “Because you two are detectives. This is your case. What have you detected so far?” the old woman asked.

  Daphne shrugged, causing Sabrina to grimace. She was hoping her little sister had noticed something she hadn’t.

  “C’mon, girls,” Granny begged. “What do these two robberies have in common?”

  “Stolen magical items,” Daphne said.

  “Correct!”

  “Um, both were robbed by someone that the victims never saw?” Sabrina added.

  “Excellent!”

  “Both of the people who were robbed were witches,” Daphne added.

  “And both have a mouse problem,” Sabrina said.

  “So you have been paying attention,” Granny said with a grin.

  “You think mice broke into their homes and stole their stuff?” Sabrina asked with a snort. “You sound as crazy as that cat!”

  “Uh, hello? We’re in Ferryport Landing,” Uncle Jake said. “It’s more than possible.”

  “The Three Blind Mice live in the town, as well as the Mouse King of Oz and his people,” Granny said. “In fact, there are quite a number of mice living in this town, but I have what detectives call ‘a hunch.’”

  “You think the criminal is something other than a mouse?” Uncle Jake asked.

  “Possibly. You mentioned Lilliputians back at Morgan’s house. We did have to put an end to one of their crime sprees a while back.”

  “But all the Lilliputians are in the town jail,” Daphne said.

  “Then I suppose it’s time to pay them a visit,” the old woman replied.

  Sabrina and Daphne exchanged a look.

  “The new sheriff is not exactly one of your fans,” Uncle Jake said. “Do you really think he’ll be cooperative?”

  “Perhaps not.” Granny Relda sighed. “But it can’t hurt to ask.”

  “Actually, I think it could hurt a lot,” Sabrina said. Before Sheriff Nottingham was elected, the legendary villain of the Robin Hood story swore that when he became sheriff, he’d devote every waking hour to locking the Grimm family behind bars.

  Uncle Jake drove the family to the police station and parked the car on the street. The first thing Sabrina noticed was that the bicycle store next door had closed. A big sign in the window said GOING OUT OF BUSINESS.

  “I guess I can cross that off the list,” Sabrina said. One of her birthday wishes was for a bicycle.

  “It appears times are tough all over,” Granny Relda said as she pointed across the street. An antiques store and a florist were also boarded up, each with signs hanging in the window that read SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED.

  Entering the police station felt like climbing into the mouth of a lion. The new sheriff was cold, calculating, and carried a dagger with him wherever he went. Luckily, he was not in the lobby when the family stepped inside. Christmas decorations hung from the walls and a needle-less pine was rotting in the corner with a few multicolored bulbs still clinging to its decaying limbs. These were decorations Sheriff Hamstead and his deputies, Swineheart and Boarman, had set up back in December. It was just one example of the office’s neglect. An inch of dust covered most surfaces, leaning towers of files spilled their contents onto the filthy floor, and many of the desk chairs were broken and lying on the ground. There was no one at the front counter or anywhere else. The only new addition to the station was a full-length mirror leaning against a wall.

  “Hello!” Granny called out.

  “Maybe he’s gone,” Sabrina said hopefully. “We should come back.”

  Before anyone could take her advice, a door at the far end of the room opened and Sheriff Nottingham entered. He was a tall, angry man with long black hair that fell past his shoulders. He had a jagged scar that ran from the bottom of one of his dark eyes to the corner of his lips. A goatee framed his wicked mouth.

  “What do you want?” he growled as he limped over to the desk. Sabrina remembered that the injury was the result of one of Robin Hood’s well-aimed arrows.

  Granny forced a smile onto her face. “Sheriff, we haven’t had the opportunity to talk since you were elected. I thought it best if we came down and said hello. I’m sure you’re aware of my family’s history in Ferryport Landing. I know the previous administration found our unique talents very helpful. I wanted to extend my hand with the hope we’ll be able to work together for the good of the town.”

  “Extend your hand, woman, and you’ll find me lopping it off with a sword,” Nottingham seethed.

  Uncle Jake stepped forward. “You talk like that to my mother again, pal, and you and I are going to have a big problem.”

  The sheriff pulled his coat aside to reveal his shiny dagger. “Our problems have yet to begin.”

  Uncle Jake pulled his jacket aside to reveal hundreds of blinking rings, wands, and jewels. “If you’re feeling froggy, Sheriff—take a leap.”

  The two men stared at each other tensely.

  “Why are you here?” Nottingham demanded.

  “We’re investigating a series of robberies—”

  Nottingham quickly cut her off. “I haven’t received any reports about robberies.”

  “I suppose you will once the citizens get to know you,” Granny said. “But these are close friends, and we’re just helping out. Our investigation has led us here. We’d appreciate it if we could speak to the Lilliputians.”

  Nottingham laughed. “I’m afraid I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. I released all the Everafter prisoners when I became sheri
ff.”

  “You did what?” Granny cried. “Some of those people were dangerous.”

  “Says you. This town is no longer your playground, Mrs. Grimm,” Nottingham barked. “You and your meddling family have had your fun, and now it is over. Luckily, you won’t be around much longer.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Uncle Jake asked, already reaching into his pockets for a weapon.

  “I’m talking about the tax.”

  “The tax?” Sabrina said.

  “The property tax,” Nottingham said with a smile. “What? Didn’t you get the letter?”

  “What letter?” Granny said.

  Nottingham reached into a desk and pulled out a typed form. He threw it at Sabrina, who scanned it quickly and then read the first paragraph aloud. “‘Property Tax Assessment. The town of Ferryport Landing has recently reassessed the value of your property, resulting in additional tax. Your estimated obligation is one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.’”

  “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars!” Granny groaned.

  “Yes, public services aren’t free. There are schools and roads to maintain, and of course the Police Department. Everyone is going to have to pay their fair share.”

  “Even you?” Uncle Jake said.

  “Me?” Nottingham laughed. “I’m exempt. I’m an Everafter.”

  “You’re only taxing the humans?” Granny Relda asked.

  Uncle Jake growled. “You dirty, filthy, rotten—”

  “Ferryport Landing is an Everafter settlement,” Nottingham said. “Too many outsiders have come in here, stealing our jobs, enjoying our hospitals and schools. But not for much longer. Mayor Heart has decreed, and I wholeheartedly agree, that Ferryport Landing is an Everafter town for Everafters!”

 

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