Enchanted Island Mysteries : Serena & Grant

by Jenna St James

  “You work from home?” Grant asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you do?” he asked.

  “I grow specialty flowers in my greenhouse for the local florist in town.”

  Grant steepled his fingers. “So you’d have access to a shovel, correct?”

  Anger crossed Treena’s face. “I didn’t kill Grover! I loved him! I was going to marry him!”

  As she broke down in tears again, I handed her a tissue from my purse. “Thank you for talking with us, Treena.”

  She snorted and wiped her nose. “Like I had a choice.”

  Chapter 7

  Clyde Moonstone owned one of the two hardware stores in town. It was a family-run business that had been in his family for generations. His dad had run the business, his grandpa had run the business, and even his great-grandpa had run the place when it started as a General store.

  Since most of the parking along the street was taken, Grant pulled to a stop three doors down from the hardware store. As we strolled in front of Grover’s Odds & Ends, I couldn’t help but feel a pang at the thought of the store never opening again.

  Grant held open the door, and I slipped inside Moonstone Hardware. My senses were immediately assaulted with the smells of oil, wood, and old metal. I had no doubt there would be plenty of implements of death lying around.

  We were greeted by a woman behind a cash register.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised,” Clyde growled as he stepped out from the back room. “Arial, please man the store while I’m away.”

  The girl behind the cash register swallowed, her eyes wide with fear. “Yes, sir.”

  “We can talk in my office.”

  Without saying a word, Grant motioned for me to follow Clyde. I waited until Clyde sat behind his desk before sitting in one of the club chairs next to Grant.

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  “I’m just here to ask you questions,” Grant said.

  Clyde scoffed. “You’re here to accuse me of murder.” He turned to glare at me. “And why are you here?”

  “Ms. Spellburn is helping the Enchanted Island Sheriff’s Department out today. Mr. Moonstone, can you tell me what happened yesterday in Grover Burns’ store when you made an appearance?”

  Low growl. “I went over to confront him about moving his sidewalk sign in front of my store. He’s been doing it now for two weeks.”

  “What exactly was he doing?” Grant mused.

  “He would go out and physically move his store sidewalk sign to right under my window. He was advertising his place on my property!” He crossed his arms over his massive chest. “I go outside yesterday, and Grover’s sign is again under my window on my property. So I took the sign over to his place of business and told him he better not do it again.”

  One corner of Grant’s mouth lifted into a half smile. “And did you demonstrate in front of a group of people what exactly would happen if he did do it again?”

  “I may have ripped the sign in half.”

  “With your bare hands,” I murmured.

  Both men turned to me.

  “What?” I said defensively. “It was the craziest thing I’d seen in a long time. He just ripped the sign in two like it was nothing.”

  “You said this had been going on for two weeks?” Grant asked.

  Clyde’s brows furrowed. “Yeah, about that time.”

  “The first time you confronted Grover two weeks ago about the sign, what did he do?”

  Clyde scoffed. “He denied it! Said he didn’t do it. He claimed the sign was in front of his store last he knew.”

  Grant frowned. “But you think at some point every day Grover went outside and moved the sign onto your property?”

  “Yeah! Who else?”

  Grant and I look at each other in astonishment.

  “Maybe a customer?” I suggested. “Or just some random person moved it while walking down the sidewalk?”

  “Every day? No way.” Clyde held up his hand. “He said he puts it on the property line in the morning when he opens, and somehow it must get shoved back onto my property by accident.”

  “Doesn’t that seem plausible?” Grant asked.

  “No,” Clyde said stubbornly.

  Grant leaned forward in his seat. “Why do you think Grover purposely put the sign on your property?”

  “Because he knew I’d—” Clyde cut himself off.

  “You would what?” Grant prompted.

  Clyde’s nostrils flared, and he emitted a low growl. “He knew I’d be angry. This wouldn’t be the first altercation we’ve had over the years.”

  “After you left the store yesterday,” Grant said, “another customer had an altercation with Grover. Did you hear about that?”

  Clyde’s smile was just a little too predatory for my liking. “You mean about the hex? Yeah, I heard. Lots of customers stopped by to let me know what happened.”

  “Can you tell me where you were last night between ten o’clock and eight this morning?” Grant asked.

  “I was at home. I closed up the shop around six. Went home. My wife made a lovely beef stew for dinner, and then we watched some lame Christmas movie on TV. Then we went to bed.” He paused and leaned in close. “Where I stayed until I woke up around seven to get ready for work this morning.”

  “And I’m sure your wife could verify that?” Grant asked.

  “Of course she could verify that,” he snapped.

  Grant stood. “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Moonstone, for your time today. If I need to ask you any more questions, I know where I can reach you.”

  Clyde frowned. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Oh…well.” He stood and shrugged. “I mean, okay. That’s it.” He blew out a breath. “Listen, I hear tonight may be your first time to turn.”

  I’m not sure who was more surprised at the change in conversation, Grant or me.

  “That’s right,” Grant said. “I’m staying with my grandparents tonight.”

  Clyde nodded. “That’s good. Tom and Linda are great people. They’ll take good care of you.”

  “Thank you,” Grant said. “I’m sure they will.”

  Clyde shuffled his feet. “I mean, it’s just that usually the first turn is a big deal in our way of life. So, you know, good luck if it happens for you tonight.” He chuckled. “I’ve never met someone who had a dormant gene before. You’re the envy of a lot of non-changing werewolves right now.”

  Chapter 8

  “That was a turn of events I didn’t see coming,” I said mildly as I snapped my seatbelt into place.

  Grant laughed. “Agreed. One minute the guy looks and acts like he’s going to rip my head off…then he’s wishing me good luck on my possible change tonight.”

  I reached over and laid my hand on his arm. “I know you’re anxious. I wish there was something I could do for you to ease that for you.”

  “I know you do.” He leaned over the center console and brushed his lips over mine. “And for that, Serena, I’m grateful.”

  “So what’re you thinking with regard to these two suspects?” I asked.

  “I think both Treena and Clyde have motives to kill Grover. Treena was dumped by her fiancé and very angry and upset, and Clyde was also motivated by rage and anger. Both knew about the hex, even though they weren’t in the store at the time it happened. Treena’s alibi is riddled with holes. She claimed to be at home all night but no one can corroborate that.”

  “But that’s totally believable!” I exclaimed.

  He chuckled. “I’m just brainstorming with you.”

  “Then I’ll counter that by saying of course Clyde’s wife will say he was home all night, that’s her husband.”

  “True. So we dig deeper. I want to know more about this picture sent to both Treena and Grover and the spell put on it.”

  “I agree,” I said. “To me, it almost makes it seem like we have to rule Treena out because she was ultimately harmed by it too. It
wasn’t just Grover.”

  “Unless she planned it that way,” Grant said. “Just like Grover accused her of. Takes the suspicion off her.”

  “Hmm. I guess you could be right. I don’t like thinking that of Treena. She’s a nice lady.” I took a deep breath and blew it out. “So now what?”

  “Not much more we can do tonight. I called Maxwell Swift’s office earlier and spoke with his secretary. We are meeting him tomorrow around eleven. I tried to make it as late as possible for you because I know you don’t want to miss too much work.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And then after Maxwell, we go question Mrs. Mystic.”

  I snorted. “You don’t seriously think she did it, do you?”

  “No. But I want to exercise all avenues. What about you? What are your plans for tonight?”

  “I’ll probably stay at Mom’s for a while.” I sent him a wicked smile. “Get all the sordid details of what happened down at the station this morning. Then just go home, grab a bite to eat, and watch some TV with Tamara.”

  “Be careful and be on guard,” Grant cautioned. “We were seen together today, so if one of these two suspects is the killer, they know you’re working with me.”

  “That’s comforting,” I deadpanned.

  Grant drove me to Mom’s house and idled in the driveway.

  “You take care tonight.” I reached over and ran my hand over his cheek. “I’ll worry.”

  He kissed my palm. “I’ll have plenty of support from my grandparents.”

  “I know.”

  He flashed me a grin. “Don’t let your mom or your aunt rake me over the coals too much about how rough I was on Serenity this morning.”

  “No pun intended?” I mused.

  “What?”

  I laughed. “You said not to let them rake you over the coals too much.”

  He slapped his hand over his face. “That’s just wrong, Serena.”

  I grinned. “I know. I’m horrible. It’s one of the reasons you like me so much.”

  He pulled me to his chest and lowered his mouth to mine. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  I’d have argued…but his mouth felt too good on mine.

  Chapter 9

  Tamara and I stayed up late watching movies—and maybe I had hoped to hear something from Grant—so the next morning I was dragging. Since we didn’t have to do much baking on our last day open to the public, we arrived a little late to the bakery, and I drank way more coffee than normal.

  Customers didn’t usually start trafficking in until around seven, so Tamara and I used the downtime to close our eyes. Around six-forty, I messaged Grant again. Still no word from him. Just when I was about to lose my mind with worry, he strolled through the bakery doors around nine.

  “Sorry.” He grabbed hold of the coffee I passed him like it was a lifeline. “I just woke up. It seems I was the only person unaware of how much shifting and running can take out of you. Sheriff Hawkins told my grandparents to let me sleep late this morning.” He leaned over the counter and kissed me. “Sorry if I worried you.”

  “How—you know, how was it?” I asked. “I mean, only if you want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t really remember much, to be honest. But my grandparents said that was normal. The more often I change and get a grasp on being a wolf, the more control and memory I will have.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll stop by around ten-fifty to pick you up so we can go see Maxwell together. But right now I need to run and get a few things done.”

  ***

  Maxwell Swift’s one-story brick office was located between Charmed Street and Black Cat Drive. If the snow hadn’t started falling an hour before, we could have walked. As far as I knew, there were only three Realtors on Enchanted Island. Since most houses are either passed down through the generations or built brand new for families who needed to expand, there wasn’t an overwhelming demand for real estate agents.

  “What sort of supernatural is Maxwell Swift?” Grant asked as he opened the front door to the office.

  “His mom is a witch, and his father is a leprechaun.”

  Tilly Twinkle stood and greeted us from behind an ornate wooden desk when Grant and I walked in. I was a huge fan of Tilly’s eclectic look. She was mid-fifties, had jet-black hair cut in an ear-length bob like mine, and was compact and curvy. Every time I saw her she was in a print skirt with a matching-colored sweater set. But the best part of her look was the ever-changing cat-eye frames she wore. They could be green with rhinestones, or bright neon pink, or even multi-colored. Today her frames were a bold Christmas green and red.

  “Good morning, Detective Wolfe. Oh, and Serena. It’s nice to see you both.” She hurried around the desk, her kitten heels tapping against the tile, and gave me a hug. “I trust you and your family are well this Yule season?”

  “Very well, Ms. Twinkle. Thanks for asking.”

  She fluttered her hands around her face before clasping them nervously in front of her chest. “Mr. Swift is in his office waiting for you—um, both. Do you want me to bring you coffee or tea?”

  “No, thanks.” Grant smiled at Tilly. “We just need to know where his office is.”

  “Of course.” She flittered around us and back to her side of the desk and motioned to the closed door behind her. “He’s in there. Let me just ring him and let him know you both are here.”

  Fifteen seconds later, the door opened and Maxwell Swift filled the doorway. His strained, overly-wide smile told me he was either nervous or extremely put out that we were there.

  “Come in. Come in.” Maxwell stepped back to let us in, and then shut the door firmly behind us. “Have a seat.” He walked with purpose to his desk, then waited until we sat before lowering himself onto his massive black chair. “How may I help you today? My secretary said you had some questions about Grover Burns’ death? I’m always happy to help the police, but I’m not sure what all I can offer you in regards to his death.”

  “You didn’t know Grover Burns?” Grant asked as he pulled out his notepad.

  “Know him? Of course I knew him.” Maxwell steepled his hands and leaned back in his chair. “But I don’t know who killed him.”

  “How did you know Grover Burns?” Grant asked.

  “We were about to close on a deal,” he said.

  I frowned at that answer.

  “What kind of deal?” Grant pushed.

  “Grover was about to sell me his store,” Maxwell said.

  “That’s not how I heard it,” I said.

  Maxwell grunted. “If you are referring to what happened in his store the other day, that was just a misunderstanding. Burns had me draw up the papers so he could sign them. I just figured it was cold feet, and he’d come around eventually.”

  “What makes you say that?” Grant asked.

  “He’s the one who contacted me about five days ago. Said he broke up with his fiancée, and he was thinking of making a fresh start. So he thought he’d take me up on the offer I’ve been making him for years.”

  “And what offer is that?” Grant asked.

  “To buy his store.”

  I frowned. “So why the sudden cold feet?”

  Maxwell shrugged. “Dunno. A couple days ago he calls me and says he’s having second thoughts about selling. That he’s thinking of getting back with his ex-fiancée. So I decided to go to his store and pay him a visit. Remind him of the papers he had me draw up. If they wanted to get back together, that was fine. It didn’t mean he had to go back on his deal with me.”

  I frowned. “What’s the connection between Grover and Treena breaking up and Grover having second thoughts about selling the store?”

  Maxwell shrugged. “I assumed during their reconciliation talk, she pressured him to keep the store and not sell.”

  Grant looked up from his notepad. “Were you in the store yesterday when someone supposedly put a hex on Grover?”

  Maxwell chuckled and looked at me. “Yeah, I heard Serena’s aunt put
a hex on Grover.”

  I was about to jump in with my two cents, but Grant beat me to the next question. “Where were you between the hours of ten o’clock and eight o’clock the following morning on the night Grover Burns was killed?”

  “I had drinks with a friend around eight that led to an invitation to my house. I was there all night with her. I’m not sure what time we finally rolled out of bed the next morning, but since it was a workday, I’m sure it wasn’t too late.”

  I barely refrained from rolling my eyes at that remark.

  “Who is this friend?” Grant asked.

  “Now, detective, is it really necessary for me to bring her into this?”

  Grant just stared at Maxwell.

  “Fine. Her name is Frieda Fairyweather.”

  I knew Frieda. I didn’t think she was the type of person who would lie about an alibi for someone, so if Maxwell said she could corroborate, then I had to assume she would.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Swift.” Grant stood, and I followed suit. “If I have any more questions, I’ll contact you.”

  “I have no doubt,” Maxwell Swift said.

  Chapter 10

  “Do you know this Frieda Fairyweather?” Grant asked. “I assume she’s a fairy?”

  “Actually no.” I buckled my seatbelt. “I mean, yes…but no.”

  Grant snorted and started the SUV. “Which one?”

  “She’s of fairy descent, but Frieda doesn’t have any fairy powers. She’s one of the people who grew up on the island, and even though the magical fairy gene skipped her, she still elected to stay on the island. She’s what we refer to as a Normal.”

  “Did you know Maxwell and Frieda were seeing each other?”

  “I remembered after he said her name. I think because it’s another one of those matches like Grover and Treena—where he’s a jerk and she’s nice—that I forgot Maxwell and Frieda were seeing each other.”