Grant chuckled. “What about his claim that Grover and Treena were getting back together?”
“Maybe I buy it. I think I remember overhearing Grover say something about it during their altercation, but I couldn’t be sure.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, Treena did say he stopped by to see her a couple days ago, but that was to get the ring. If Grover thought they were going to get back together, why take the ring?”
“I think we need to ask Ms. Oakley a few more questions.” He pulled out onto the street. “But first, let’s go see Mrs. Mystic.”
I groaned. “This close to Christmas, all six of her kids will be home. You realize that, right?”
Grant grinned. “Why do you think I’m bringing you as backup?”
Since Mr. Mystic was a fisherman, the family lived near the water’s edge on the south side of the island. It was about a fifteen-minute drive from downtown normally, but with the continued steady fall of the snow, it took more like twenty-five minutes.
“I know I’ve only been here a couple months,” Grant said, “but I can’t help but notice that nearly all the residents live either inside the city limits or on the south or west side of the island. Why is that?”
We followed the main road out of town toward the water.
“Basically because the east and north sections of the island are uninhabitable,” I said. “That’s the way the island wanted it.”
He slid me a glance. “Excuse me?”
“There’s still a lot about Enchanted Island you don’t know, detective.” I grinned. “But the longer you stay, the more you’ll understand.”
“That sounds strangely ominous.”
“It’s up here on the left.” I pointed to a narrow road. “It’s a little curvy, so drive carefully.”
A few minutes later, the road wound its way past seven or eight brightly-colored HardiePlank-sided houses. It didn’t take a genius to figure out which house was the Mystic house. In between the myriad Christmas lawn ornaments were bikes, trikes, toy trucks, baby dolls, and a plastic playhouse.
“Mrs. Mystic is a witch?” Grant asked.
“Yep. Both she and her husband. He won’t be home though, I don’t think.”
The front door swung open and five kids of various ages and bundled in parkas and boots flew outside, screaming and pushing each other. Mrs. Mystic—hair sticking out from her head, dressed in a bathrobe, coffee mug clutched in her hand, and baby attached to her hip—sagged against the door jamb.
“You kids stay in the yard!” Mrs. Mystic yelled out. “Milton, put that down right now! Don’t you dare use magic to throw that snowball at your sister! Milton? Do you hear me, Milton?”
But Milton had already launched the snowball at his sister. As it hurled through the air headed straight for her, I lifted my hand, conjured up a fireball, and tossed it at the snowball as it whizzed past me. The ball disintegrated.
“Cool!”
“Do it again!”
“Awesome! I want to do that!”
“Teach me! Teach me!”
Grant and I picked up our pace before we could be bombarded by the kids.
“Mrs. Mystic?” Grant called out. “Can Serena and I speak to you for a few minutes?”
“Sure thing. Just knock the snow off your shoes and c’mon inside.” She set the little boy down inside the living room. “Can I get you something to drink?”
I gestured to her coffee. “Coffee would be great.”
She laughed and took a long swallow of her drink. “Please, girl. This ain’t coffee, it’s bourbon.”
“Actually, Mrs. Mystic, we’re okay,” Grant said. “I just need to ask you a couple questions about what happened at Grover’s store the other day.”
“You mean when I went in there and hit him with that stupid broken doll he sold me?”
“Yes. Can we have a seat?” Grant asked. “I promise not to be too long.”
“Sure.” She dropped wearily onto the sofa. “But let me just say, you don’t seriously think I found enough alone time to actually drive into town, kill someone, and drive back out here without anyone noticing, do you?”
I snickered.
Grant cleared his throat. “It’s not—”
“Damon!” Mrs. Mystic yelled. “Get the cat’s tail out of your mouth right now!”
Whipping my head around, I nearly fell out of my chair at the sight of the little two-year-old boy spitting a tail out of his mouth.
“Here’s what happened,” Mrs. Mystic said as she took another gulp of her drink. “I bought an enchanted Elf on the Shelf from Grover’s Odds & Ends about a week ago.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” Grant asked.
“It means that Grover cast a spell that would enchant the doll to get up in the middle of the night and move itself. I wouldn’t have to.”
“Innovative,” Grant said.
“A lifesaver for someone like me,” Mrs. Mystic corrected. “Anyway, I get it home, and nothing! I wake up the next morning to my kids crying and screaming about how Zunthor didn’t move during the night.”
“Zunthor is the elf’s name?” I asked.
Mrs. Mystic rolled her eyes and took another drink. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s some demon name I don’t know about, but it’s the name my oldest gave it.”
Grant bit his cheek and looked away, as though trying not to laugh…but I wasn’t as successful. A little giggle escaped. “So Zunthor didn’t move?”
“Nope. Not that night or the next night. So now, instead of making my life easier, it’s one more task I have to undertake.” She tossed back the last of her drink and leaned forward, her hair swaying back and forth in the air. “Do you know how hard it is to remember not only to move the dang thing, but to actually find a place to move the thing and be creative enough to tell a story? It’s been a nightmare!”
“So you wanted your money back?” Grant prompted.
“Damn right I did! I called my mom, asked her to watch the kids, then took myself into town.” She turned to me. “That’s when I met up with you and your mom and aunt outside the store.”
“And what happened next?” Grant asked.
Before she could say anything, the front door burst open and one of the Mystic kids ran inside. “Ma! Milton is hanging Arlow upside down real high in the air!”
Mrs. Mystic sighed, looked over at the locked liquor cabinet, then shuffled toward the open door. Not wanting to miss the show, Grant and I headed over to the window to watch. Sure enough, a boy of about five was hanging upside down, yelling and screaming. I wasn’t sure, but I thought that’s pretty much what all the Mystic kids did all day—yell and scream.
“Milton!” Mrs. Mystic hollered from the doorway, “release your brother right now!”
I gasped when the upside-down boy suddenly plummeted toward the ground. Before I could lift my hands to throw up a spell, Mrs. Mystic waved her hands and conjured up a mini stunt airbag underneath the boy. The impact could be heard inside the house. She didn’t say anything else, just simply shut the door, sighed, looked at the liquor cabinet again, shuffled back over to the couch, and sat.
“Where was I?” she asked.
“Uh—well, I was asking what happened next at the store when you went inside,” Grant said distractedly, still watching the front door.
“Oh, right. Anyway, so I go inside, see Grover talking to someone, and figure I’ll wait my turn. Only like two other people also had it in for him, so by the time I reached him, I was good and mad. I asked for my money back, he said no, and I hit him with the broken elf.”
“Did you notice—”
Grant’s question was cut off when the front door burst open again and this time a little girl stood in the doorway. “Ma! Beldon won’t give me back my babydoll!”
Grant cleared his throat. “You know, I think I have everything I need. Thanks for your time. We can see ourselves out.”
“Wait!” Mrs. Mystic cried as she stood up. “I can go with you. Do you need help? Bett
er yet, I can send a couple of my kids with you to help catch whoever killed Grover. Just put them in the same room as the killer, and the bad guy will confess. I guarantee it!”
I stood and hugged Mrs. Mystic. “Only another week and a half, then they’ll be back in school. Hang tough.”
“I’ll try.”
Grant and I all but bolted from the house. Jumping into the Blazer, I barely had my seatbelt buckled before Grant peeled out onto the snowy road. The back end of the vehicle fishtailed a little, but that didn’t slow our progress down the street.
“That poor woman,” Grant said. “How can she do that every day?”
I snorted. “No idea. Well, I mean, I guess I have a little clue. That wasn’t no coffee in her mug.”
“There wouldn’t be a bottle big enough if that was me.”
I laughed. “Same.”
“Okay. I didn’t think we’d get anything from her, but I wanted to make sure I dotted and crossed everything.”
“So now where?” I asked.
“I want to go back to Treena’s and see what she has to say about reconciling with Grover.”
Chapter 11
Treena Oakley was working in her greenhouse when we arrived back at her place.
“Treena,” Grant said, “I need to speak with you again.”
Treena dropped a miniature spade and sighed. “Now what, Detective Wolfe?”
“Maxwell Swift said Grover called him a couple days ago to tell him he no longer wanted to sell his store, and that you two were thinking about getting back together.”
Treena frowned. “What’re you talkin’ about? Sell the store? Grover would never sell that store. He loved it.”
“Evidently, when you two broke up last week, Grover called up Maxwell Swift and agreed to sell the store to him. But then a couple days ago Grover called Maxwell and said he was having second thoughts. That you two were trying to work things out.”
“News to me.” Treena waved her hand in front of a multi-colored rose. One of the wilted brown petals instantly turned back pink. “I don’t know what to tell you, detective. None of this makes sense.”
“You’re not making this easy, Treena,” Grant said.
“Why should I?” she demanded. “I’m the one that’s hurting. I’m the one that’s been victimized. I lost my fiancé. You realize that, right?”
“Thank you for your time.” Grant looked around the greenhouse. “You have some very beautiful flowers here.”
“Thank you. I hope you find out what happened to Grover soon.” Treena wiped away a tear. “I really need closure.”
***
“Now what?” I asked, clicking my seatbelt.
Before Grant could answer, my cell phone buzzed.
“It’s a text from Shayla. She’s on the island and said she wants to get together tonight at my place for dinner and drinks if I’m available.”
“It’ll be nice for you to see your cousin,” Grant said. “I know you miss her.”
I nodded. “It will be. I hope you don’t mind if I spend the evening with her.”
“Are you kidding? Not in the least. Go have fun.”
I settled back against the seat as Grant drove down the driveway and back onto the main road. “Now where are we going?”
“I’m going to drop you off at your house so you can get ready for tonight, then I’m going to go question Frieda Fairyweather. I want to check Maxwell’s alibi.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” I asked.
“Nope. You go on home and have fun tonight. I’ll either text you tonight or in the morning and let you in on what I learned tonight. You aren’t opening the bakery tomorrow, right?”
“No. I’ll probably head over to Mom’s around two to help her get ready for the Christmas Eve dinner party.”
A few minutes later, Grant pulled into my driveway and parked. Tamara and I lived in a two-bedroom rental cottage about ten minutes from the bakery. There was a half-acre in the back to grow our own herbs and have both a vegetable and flower garden.
“Tell your cousin I said hello.” He brushed his lips across mine. “See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 12
Shayla set the wine bottle on the counter and grinned. “I want to know all the juicy details about you and Grant. I knew the last time I was here you two were throwing sparks.” She smirked. “Or should I say you two were on fire?”
I snorted. “Whatever.”
“He’s cute,” Shayla said. “Smart, sexy, single. You hit the jackpot, cousin.”
I rolled my eyes…embarrassed but pleased. I looked up to my older cousin so much, it was nice to hear her approval.
Shayla was everything I longed to be. Successful, brilliant, poised…and an obvious badass thanks to her job. Tonight her long, auburn hair was pulled into a high ponytail with a single braid down her back. Her emerald green sweater matched her eyes perfectly. She was tall and athletic, but rarely did she have to use her physical muscle since her magic was paralleled to the most powerful of witches.
In fact, I was pretty sure the magic I knew she possessed was only the tip of the iceberg. And most of it came from her father—the person no one in our family spoke about.
“Enough about me,” I said. “Tell me about this case you were on? Who did you apprehend?”
Shayla gave me a wan smile before taking a sip of her wine. “It wasn’t really all that exciting.”
“Not exciting?” I scoffed. “Everything you do is exciting!”
She set her wine on the counter. “I’m going to be forty soon.”
When she didn’t say anything more, I shrugged. “Yeah? And?”
“And I’ve been thinking about a change,” she said softly.
I blinked. “What kind of change?”
She was about to say something when my cell phone alerted me to a text. I frowned when I read it.
“What’s wrong?” Shayla asked. “Bad news?”
I shrugged. “It’s weird. I don’t know this number, and the text says, ‘Isn’t the sky beautiful tonight?’ Very strange.”
Shayla tilted her head and looked out the window above the sink. “It does look beautiful out. Beautiful and cold.”
I laughed. “Since when did we worry about cold?” I let my mouth drop open in mock horror. “Or is that something that happens when you get old and move to the mainland where the humans live?”
The tea towel sitting on the counter suddenly lifted in the air on its own and hit me in the face. Laughing, I grabbed it and tossed it back down. “Why don’t we bundle up and go look at the trees in the backyard that Tamara and I decorated for Yule?”
“You still do that?”
Decorating the trees for the animals during the winter was something my mom and aunt had taught us to do.
“I do,” I said. “Don’t you?”
Shayla snorted. “I live in a brownstone in Maryland. There isn’t a single tree in my tiny yard.”
I frowned. “That’s kind of sad.”
“It is,” she agreed. “So, yeah…let’s bundle up and go look at these magnificent trees you and Tamara have decorated for the animals.”
Five minutes later, we were layered with so many clothes and coats we looked like the little boy in The Christmas Story. Giggling, we shoved our feet into our boots.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wake up Tamara and have her join us?” Shayla asked.
“Nah. She looked like she could keel over at dinner. Let the poor girl sleep.”
“Fine.” Shayla wrapped her arm around mine. “Then let’s you and me go be popsicles.”
My phone beeped again with an incoming text.
“It’s Grant. He said someone tried to break into Grover’s Odds & Ends and the alarms are going off.”
“What a crazy night,” Shayla said. “Hopefully he’ll be able to catch whoever it was.”
I opened the back door off the kitchen and stepped out onto the cement porch. It was so bitterly cold, the wind seemed t
o bypass my clothes and shoot straight into my bones.
“Crap, it’s cold,” I said. “I think the temperature dropped twenty degrees since I got home.”
“I think we need more wine. I’ll grab the bottle and our glasses and be right back.”
I pulled my cap lower over my ears, walked farther out into the backyard, and looked up at the night sky. It really was beautiful. Thanks to the moon and stars, the sky exploded in light. Shoving my hands down into my pockets, I let my head drop back and stared up at the stars.
I heard a branch snap in my left ear and silently agreed. It was so cold out a person could snap off an extremity. Frowning, I strained to see if I could hear Shayla coming outside, but all I could make out was the snapping of more twigs.
I raised my head back to its normal position…and almost fainted. The trees Tamara and I had painstakingly decorated just weeks ago were slowly inching closer and about to surround me!
I stumbled backward and fell into the snow. Jumping up, I tried to run, but a large branch snapped and dropped in front of me, blocking my path.
Where the heck are you, Shayla?
I heard another crack and looked up. A large branch was plummeting to the ground. I lifted my hands and sent two streams of electricity through the wood, causing it to split in pieces when it fell. Orange and apple slices peeked out at me from beneath the snow.
This time when a limb fell, it hit my back, and I stumbled forward. When I righted myself, the trees were almost on top of me. All it would take was one more falling branch, and I was a goner! There was nowhere for me to run.
“Sorry it took so long,” Shayla called out. “I got a call from my partner and he—what the—”
I heard glass shattering, and a few seconds later, I swear I heard painful moaning and wailing coming from the trees…but they collectively shuffled backward. More moaning and groaning…and another shuffle backward.
By now there was a big enough clearing that I could make out Shayla, both hands lifted in concentration, body straining forward as if physically shoving the trees back herself. A loud “pop” filled the air, and apples, oranges, and peanut butter pinecones rained down on my head and back. Clasping my arms over my head, I took the hits.
Enchanted Island Mysteries : Serena & Grant Page 14
