“Sounds good.”
Picking up the gift certificates and boxed pastries, I closed the front door and made my way to Mr. Tinker’s store. Enchanted Island had a population around ten thousand, with the downtown being the heart and soul of the whole island. You could pretty much find any store you needed—mainly because no one really ever wanted to leave and shop on the mainland. We felt safe here. And by “we,” I mean the nearly ten thousand supernaturals that called Enchanted Island home.
At the corner I made a left onto Charmed Street and waved when I saw Sheriff Hawkins and Detective Wolfe roping off the edge of the street and curb for tomorrow night’s Yule Parade of Lights.
Not everyone who lived on the island was a supernatural. Sometimes there was a generational gene skip in families, which was the case with the new detective in town, Grant Wolfe. His dad, Walter, had been adopted and raised on the island by his aunt and uncle before he finally moved away years ago. Now Walter’s son, Grant, was back as the new detective, and I’d already helped him take down a bad guy at the Samhain Festival two months back.
Until that night, Grant had no idea about the true nature of Enchanted Island. Grant’s dad had been raised on the island by Tom and Linda Wolfe. Tom’s younger brother, Walter’s biological father, chose to leave the island when he was just eighteen. The wolf gene had skipped him, and he never felt he belonged on the island. So he left for the mainland, met and married a human woman, and a couple years later they had Walter. Unfortunately, they died when Walter was five, and so he came to the island to live with Tom and Linda. Walter didn’t inherit the wolf gene, so I had to figure Grant didn’t either.
“Are you roping off the edge of the sidewalks this year?” I asked.
Sheriff Hawkins nodded. “Thought this might help to keep the little ones from running into the street.”
Last year, one of Mrs. Mystic’s boys ran out into the street trying to get candy. Luckily Mrs. Anise had been thinking and did a levitation spell and saved the boy’s life.
“I’m still not sure how a piece of string is going to keep the kids from crossing,” Grant said.
Sheriff Hawkins gave me a wink. “I had Mrs. Anise put a little spell on it. Go ahead, Grant. Touch it.”
Chapter 2
Grant snorted. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“Why Detective Wolfe,” I said in my best syrupy-sweet voice, “are you chicken? Bwaawk. Bwaawk.”
Grant scowled. “I’m not chicken…I’m cautious.”
I laughed. “Want me to touch it?”
I knew whatever spell Mrs. Anise had worked, it would never harm kids.
“I’ll do it!” Grant said exasperatedly. “I’m just working up the courage.”
Sheriff Hawkins and I laughed, but a few seconds later Grant reached out and touched the bright orange string. It let out a low whistle and then Mrs. Anise’s warbled voice filled the air. “You better stand back before I turn you into a toad and take you home with me!”
I laughed. “That’s awesome! Trust me, any kid who hears that will think twice before crossing the line.”
“Whatcha got there?” Grant asked, eyeing my pastry box.
“It’s for a raffle the City Hall is doing tomorrow,” I said. “Mr. Tinker is donating the basket, and a bunch of us shopkeepers are donating to fill it.”
“That’s thoughtful,” Grant said. “I don’t suppose you have any extra cinnamon rolls you’d like to get rid of?”
“Or double chocolate muffins?” Sheriff Hawkins added.
I laughed. “You boys stop by the bakery first thing in the morning before the crowd rolls in, and I’ll fix you up!”
“You’re the best, Serena,” Sheriff Hawkins said.
Grant gave me a wolfish grin. “Yes, she is.”
I told myself to get a grip. I was still a little miffed Grant hadn’t asked me out after our last case together.
“You ready for the crazy of tomorrow?” I asked Grant. “This will be your first time to experience Christmas on the island, right?”
He nodded. “Yes. My parents never visited during this time of year, only during the summer. So this will all be new to me.”
Sheriff Hawkins clasped Grant on the shoulder. “It’s a full day of fun and festivities!”
“Didn’t we just have that at the Samhain Festival in October?” Grant asked.
“This is different,” I said. “Tomorrow for Christmas Kickoff, the shop keepers will open their stores early with big sales, the park will have face painting, festival food, and craft booths set up for those merchants without a store. Then when it gets dark, we will have the Yule Parade of Lights here on the streets and end with the mayor lighting the tree in the park. Huge celebration.”
“Sounds exhausting,” Grant said.
“Sounds exciting,” I countered.
“Hey everyone!” Daisy called as she hurried down the sidewalk, her arms loaded with fresh flowers from her sister’s flower shop and candles from The Craft & Candle.
“I see you got more items,” I said.
“I definitely made out,” Daisy said. “We should have a nice basket to raffle tomorrow.”
“Let me get the door for you ladies,” Grant said.
Mr. Tinker’s store had two large display windows up front with a recessed door in the middle. While his window displays were always amazing throughout the year, at Christmastime they were simply breathtaking. I wasn’t sure how he managed, but every year was better than the last. Grant pressed down on the levered door handle and gently pushed the wooden door open.
“You two have a great rest of the night.” He looked into my eyes. “I’ll take you up on that cinnamon roll and coffee tomorrow morning. It sounds like I’ll need it.”
I grinned. “Oh, now it’s cinnamon roll and coffee is it? I guess I can do that for you.”
Grant shut the door, and immediately Daisy pounced.
“Are you two dating?” she demanded. “I mean, I saw y’all snuggled up nice and cozy at the Samhain festival, but I didn’t realize—”
“We’re not seeing each other,” I said. “I mean—no, we’re not. We don’t even know each other that well.”
“Me thinks thou doth protest too much!” Daisy said in a sing-song voice.
I laughed. “Whatever. Let’s give this stuff to Mr. Tinker. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to need extra sleep tonight to prepare for tomorrow.”
“I hear ya. I love this time of year, but it’s so draining.”
I stood on my tiptoes and looked around the room. The very silent room. Antiques were crammed into every nook and cranny of the store, on shelves, on the walls, in display cases…it was almost impossible to walk without tripping over something old and beautiful. To my left was a massive display of vintage Santas and elves.
“Mr. Tinker, are you in here?” I called out. “It’s Serena and Daisy.”
Silence.
“He said five, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Maybe he’s in his back office,” I suggested.
Daisy fell into step behind me as I turned and headed toward the back of the store. “Looks like his light’s on.”
“Good,” Daisy said. “These are beginning to get heavy.”
I raised my hand and knocked softly on the ajar door, causing it to slowly creak open. Startled, I jumped backward and knocked into Daisy.
“Hey, watch it!” she exclaimed.
“Sorry. I just—I wasn’t expecting—it’s Mr. Tinker.”
Daisy’s head peered over my shoulder, and she screamed in my ear. “Is he dead?”
I glanced down at the broken snow globe on the floor, the blood seeping from his head, and nodded. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he’s dead. We need to go get Detective Wolfe.”
Chapter 3
“Who would do this to poor Mr. Tinker?” Daisy mused. “He was a nice, harmless old man.”
I blinked back tears as the paramedics wheeled Mr. Tinker out the back of the store.
“I have no idea.”
Grant strolled over and placed his hand on my arm. “Could I have you two come with me while I ask you questions? We don’t need to be back here. The sheriff is going to need to collect evidence anyway, and we don’t want to contaminate the scene any more.”
“Sorry,” I said weekly. “We weren’t even thinking about any of that when we stood in his office.”
“We were just so shocked.” Daisy’s voice broke off in a sob, and I was afraid she was going to lose it again. I’d just gotten her calmed down. “I mean, he was just lying there with his head smashed. Who does that?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out,” Grant said. “Did he have a wife or kids? Someone I need to call?”
I shook my head. “No. Mr. Tinker never married.”
“He was married to this shop.” Daisy sniffed and wiped her eyes. “He was here almost every day. It was his life.”
“There may be brothers or sisters, but I really don’t know,” I said. “But no wife or kids.”
“Thanks,” Grant said. “I’ll be sure to ask the sheriff . Still trying to learn the family names on the island. And Tinker? I take it he was a…”
“Fairy,” Daisy and I both said.
“Fairy.” Grant smiled. “Still takes me a bit to wrap my mind around all this paranormal or supernatural stuff.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. Grant had received his introduction to the reality of the island two months ago in a cemetery, trying to help me fight off a pissed-off winter witch.
“Daisy, why don’t I start with you,” Grant said, “and you tell me what happened after I left the two of you here in the store.”
Daisy was fairly accurate in her description of what transpired. I was happy she left out the part about asking if Grant and I were dating.
“And then Serena said we needed to go get you,” Daisy concluded.
Grant lifted his head and sniffed. “What’s that smell?”
I shrugged and looked at Daisy. “What smell? I don’t really smell anything.”
“Me either,” she said.
Grant grimaced. “Smells musky yet floral. It’s making my stomach roll.”
Daisy and I exchanged looks again and shrugged.
“Maybe it’s my sister’s flowers she donated?” Daisy suggested.
Grant shook his head. “No, that’s not it.”
“It’s an old shop,” I pointed out. “It could be anything.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure it’ll dissipate soon.” He glanced down at his notes. “Did either of you see Mr. Tinker today?”
“I did,” Daisy said.
“Walk me through that,” Grant said. “What time was it? Was anyone else in the store?”
“I guess it was around two-forty when I came in, because I was at Serena’s bakery right before it closed at three,” Daisy said. “Kyle Night was over by the glass displays looking at jewelry.”
“Okay. What was Mr. Tinker doing? Was he helping a customer when you came in? Was he behind the cash register?”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “He was on the phone. I remember that. He was on the phone with Mrs. Songbird. He was telling her to calm down and not worry, that the Yule Log was fine.” Daisy turned to me. “I could hear her, and she sounded hysterical.”
“Why is that important?” Grant asked me.
“The Yule Log has been in the—well, really the Bearer family, which is Mrs. Songbird’s maiden name—for well over three centuries. It’s an important piece of history to the island. Every year Mrs. Songbird gives it to Mr. Tinker to display in his window for the Yuletide season. Well, technically the month of December, but we don’t split hairs here.”
“Okay,” Grant said. “So you’re telling me it’s an old log?”
I scoffed. “It’s a very important old log, yes. It represents thankfulness to Mother Earth.” I frowned. “Wait. Daisy, are you saying the Yule Log was already here in the store?”
“Yes. Mr. Tinker put up the display yesterday in the window.”
“No.” I shook my head emphatically. “No. No.”
“Umm…yeah,” Daisy said. “I know it is. I told Mr. Tinker when he got off the phone how much I loved the two displays this year, it really—”
I didn’t wait for her to finish. Pivoting, I ran as fast as I could to the front of the store, dodging furniture and leaping over small items when necessary. The whole time I could hear myself chanting, “No. No. No.”
“What’s going on?” Grant demanded close on my heels.
When I saw the display windows, I came to an abrupt stop. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it when I first walked in the store, but while one window was beautifully decorated in vintage 1950, with the popular red Chevy truck hauling a Christmas tree in the back…the other window, which typically displayed the Yule Log, was empty.
Sheriff Hawkins, carrying an evidence case in one hand, opened the store’s front door, took one look at my face, and sighed. “What’s wrong now?”
I pointed to the empty window space. “Mrs. Songbird’s Yule Log is missing!”
Chapter 4
“You go on home now, Daisy” Sheriff Hawkins said. “You’re going to have a busy day tomorrow. If we need you for anything else, we’ll let you know.”
I plunked out a quick text to Tamara, telling her I was with Grant and not to worry, I’d be home later. I received an immediate text back telling me to be good and watch where he put his hands.
I rolled my eyes.
“Where does she want me to put my hands?” Grant murmured in my ear.
I flattened the phone to my chest and whirled. “That’s private, Detective Wolfe.”
He grinned. “I apologize. So listen, I think I have everything I need here.” He looked down at his notepad. “Daisy was able to give me at least one potential witness or suspect to interview. I should probably find this Kyle Night and pay him a visit.”
I groaned. “There’s probably something you should know.”
“Let me guess. Kyle Night is a kelpie who swims in the sea and—contrary to his name—only comes out in the daytime. Therefore, I can’t interview him tonight?”
“Ha ha. Sarcasm will get you nowhere.” I gave him a cheeky grin. “Besides, it’s the Silkstones and the Seamans who make up most of the kelpie and siren population. And they have no problem traveling around during the day or night.”
“She’s right,” Sheriff Hawkins said as he walked over to where Grant and I stood. “But what exactly is she right about?”
Grant shook his head. “I have a pretty good lead on a person who was in the store when Daisy was in around three.”
“Who?” Sheriff Hawkins asked.
“Kyle Night,” Grant said.
Sheriff Hawkins frowned. “I was afraid of something like that the minute Serena said the Yule Log was gone. Looks like we got us a robbery-homicide.”
“You think the whole crime centers around the Yule Log?” I asked.
Sheriff Hawkins nodded. “I do. I guess I always figured it would come to something like this.”
“I have a tentative timeline.” Grant glanced at me. “Ms. Spellburn, I don’t think we’ll need you any more tonight if you’d like to go home.”
I snorted. “You may need me more than you realize.”
“Go ahead, Grant, and let us hear what you have to say,” Sheriff Hawkins said.
Grant’s brows drew together.
“Deputized, remember?” I said. “It’s okay.”
I knew Grant still wasn’t comfortable with my involvement in police matters, but Sheriff Hawkins was the dad I never had, and as far back as I could remember, I’d been tangled in some way with his job. The sheriff and my dad had been best friends, and when my dad died in a boating accident right before I was born, he stepped up and helped my mom. Sheriff Hawkins loved his job and he taught me early on about procedures. I think it was his hope I’d go into law enforcement someday. But baking was in my blood…well, baking and drag
on’s blood.
Grant opened his book. “We know Daisy Woods was in this store around two-forty today. Mr. Tinker was on the phone, and there was at least one more person in the store, this Kyle Night. So two or three people saw Mr. Tinker alive around three. Serena, you found him dead around five. So we have a two-hour window we need to account for. I want to start with Kyle Night, see what he knows.”
I groaned. “I hate this. Kyle is a good kid. He’s only like twenty-three.” I looked at the Sheriff Hawkins. “Surely he wouldn’t be caught up in the feud, you think?”
“What feud?” Grant demanded.
Sheriff Hawkins patted my shoulder. “Go ahead and tell him the story around the Yule Log while I make sure everything is closed down in back.”
I nodded. “Okay. So I’m not sure how many great-great-greats I’d need to go back, but it’s been about three hundred seventy years. Enchanted Island has pretty much always been a peace-keeping island. The families that set up here fled the mainland due to persecution. It was around 1650, before the Salem Witch Trials, and with more and more supernaturals living in the colonies, their true identities were coming to light. The one stipulation to fleeing to the island was that the supernaturals had to pledge to put any wrongs they felt done to them or their families aside for the good of all the people.”
“With you so far.”
“Like I said earlier, Mrs. Songbird’s family are the Bearers. They’re one of the oldest fairy families who still watch over the lands on the island making sure the forest creatures and the vegetation are cared for. One day, as the story goes, Mrs. Songbird’s great-great-great-great—”
“I get the picture.”
I grinned. “I’ll say her great-grandmother, Portia Bearer, stumbled across a small tree that had fallen midway between her property and the Night property. She claimed there was something special about the wood, that it called out to her in the middle of the night. So she dragged it to her cottage, cut the log and branches for firewood, but kept the bulk of the small trunk intact.”
“Weird. Quick question…the Nights would be?”
“Vampires.”
Enchanted Island Mysteries : Serena & Grant Page 6
