Charmed Offensive

by Annabel Chase

  I took a deep breath. “To be honest, Althea is the real reason I’m here.”

  Amanda glanced up from the order pad. “She suggested you come here for a gift for your husband? That was nice of her.”

  “No, it’s not about me. It’s about Althea.”

  Amanda dropped the pad onto the table and her snakes squirmed under her headscarf in anticipation. “What about her? Is she okay?”

  My heart beat faster. “Not really. She’s been arrested.”

  Amanda regarded me. “For what? Sassing the sheriff? That’s embarrassing for the Valkyrie, but it isn’t a crime.”

  “No, Sheriff Astrid and Althea get along well,” I said. “I know Astrid hated to arrest her.” I took a deep breath. “Someone turned an elf named Albert Geary to stone.”

  Amanda blinked rapidly. “Geary, did you say?”

  “That’s right. Do you know him?”

  “Yes, he’s a customer,” Amanda said. “An avid gardener. Why does the sheriff think my sister is involved?”

  “I’m representing Mr. Geary in a misdemeanor charge,” I said. “Apparently, he came into the office when I wasn’t there and Althea took an instant dislike to him.”

  “Well, he can be unpleasant for an elf, but he’s harmless,” Amanda said. “My sister doesn’t use her powers just because she dislikes someone. Sweet Athena, none of us would do that or half the town would be stone statues.”

  “I know she’s innocent, but the sheriff thinks she has enough cause to hold Althea,” I said.

  “Why? Someone saw her do it?”

  “No, but there are only three Gorgons in town and your sister admitted to having a disagreement with Mr. Geary. Told the sheriff that she set him straight and Astrid got the wrong idea.”

  Amanda pressed her fingertips to her temple. “What a nightmare. Do you have any leads?”

  “I’m working on it. I tried a counterspell on Mr. Geary, but it didn’t work. I need more information on the magic involved. I spoke to Miranda and she doesn’t know anything.”

  “Of course not. None of us would.” Amanda tapped her long fingernails on the table. “Althea isn’t responsible for this. There’s no way. She’d never risk messing up her future as a lawyer. It took her way too long to get to this point.”

  “I agree, but I don’t know anything about Mr. Geary that would help her. I hadn’t even met him yet.”

  Amanda’s eyes glittered. “But I do.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Well enough to offer suggestions?”

  “He competes in an annual gardening competition and it’s coming up soon,” Amanda said. “It’s one of the reasons I’ve been working more hours than usual. More custom orders.”

  “So you think one of the other gardeners may have tried to get rid of the main competition?” I asked.

  “It’s possible. Trust me, these paranormals take gardening very seriously.”

  “Any names spring to mind?” I asked.

  “Too many to list, unfortunately,” she replied.

  I didn’t have time to interview every entrant in the gardening competition either. I’d have to figure out a way to whittle down the list of suspects.

  “I understand. Thanks for your help.”

  “Are you kidding? Thank you. I’ll tell you what—you help get my sister out of prison and I’ll make your statue for free.”

  “Oh, I can’t let you do that,” I said. “It’s huge. It would take a lot of time away from your other projects.”

  Amanda raised her chin a fraction. “My sister is worth it. Family always comes first.”

  I smiled. “Let’s see whether I can help her first.”

  “What are examples of intentional torts?”

  I approached Althea’s holding cell as Britta quizzed the Gorgon using her study cards. The floor was covered in different colored cards. Neither one had spotted me yet.

  “Skip to the harder stuff,” Althea said. “I’ve got this section covered.”

  “I don’t know what’s harder,” Britta said.

  Althea pointed to the red cards. “The colors tell you the degree of difficulty. Reds are the hardest.”

  I cleared my throat. “I don't mean to interrupt a study session, but my visiting time is limited.”

  The Gorgon lit up at the sight of me. “Now here’s someone who can help me study.”

  Britta unlocked the cell to let me in. “I’ve got it under control,” the Valkyrie said. “No need for any real lawyers here.”

  I smiled. “I haven't come to take over study duty. I only wanted to check on Althea and see now she's holding up.” I gestured to the scattered note cards on the floor. “I’m glad you’re putting your time here to good use.”

  “Sheriff Astrid has been very accommodating,” Althea said. “As long as I don't fail my test, I won't hold it against her that she arrested the wrong paranormal.”

  “I feel like I'm getting an education,” Britta said. “I never knew how much lawyers had to learn. I thought they just looked stuff up before whatever case they had.”

  “Well, it is a little bit like that,” I admitted. “Lawyers don't know everything off the tops of their heads. There's just too much information to remember it all.”

  “I think it's cool that you still want to start a new career at your age,” Britta said.

  “I’m sure I should be annoyed with you for saying that, but the truth is it took me a long time to admit I wanted this because I thought I was too old to start over,” Althea said. “Breaking the curse was the first step in helping me to take the plunge.”

  “And if you don't like the way the case is going,” Britta said, “you can just turn the whole courtroom into stone.” Britta stilled. “Too soon?”

  Althea motioned to the walls around her. “I’m still in prison. What do you think?”

  “Yeah, good point,” Britta mumbled.

  Althea shifted her focus to me. “How's that baby treating you?”

  I leaned against the wall. My feet were already sore, but I didn't want to complain. “I’m not here to talk about me. I’m here to offer moral support.”

  “I’d rather have you offer magic to get me out of here, but I assume that's not on your agenda.”

  I lowered my head. “I wish I could.”

  “Me too,” she said and her snakes hissed softly. “Everyone’s been really nice here, but it doesn't change the fact that I’m behind bars.”

  I glanced at Britta. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes alone?”

  Britta headed for the cell door. “No problem, but I'm taking this card with me. I want to know more about red lips.”

  “Res ipsa loquitur,” Althea corrected her.

  Britta broke into a grin. “Yeah, that. The law has some crazy words.”

  “Consider it a gift,” Althea said.

  I waited until Britta disappeared around the corner to continue our conversation.

  “I spoke to both of your sisters,” I said.

  Althea crouched down to examine a few of her notecards. “So what does that mean? We’re profiling Gorgons now because someone was turned to stone?”

  “I take your point, but I didn’t have a choice. Unless there’s a secret Gorgon hiding out in Spellbound, you three are going to be the likely suspects.” I paused. “As it happens, Amanda has a connection to victim.”

  Althea adjusted her headscarf. “I don't care how strong the connection is. My sisters and I don't use our powers. It's just a fact.”

  “For the record, I don't think she did it. I just don't love the fact that you're in here and someone with a stronger connection to the victim is out there.”

  Althea bristled. “Well, I’m not throwing my sister to the wolves to save my own hide,” she said. “And you know better than to think I would.”

  I sensed her frustration. “I know, but he’s a customer of hers.”

  Althea held up a hand. “My sister would never let me take the fall for something she did. We’re too close for that.”<
br />
  “You’d be surprised what others are capable of when their own necks are on the line.”

  Althea’s brown eyes hardened. “You can stop right there, Emma. You know I adore you, but I will not entertain this line of thinking another second.”

  “Okay,” I said in a small voice. I didn’t want to piss off Althea. Ever. “Should we talk about something else?”

  Althea laughed. “Like what? The weather?”

  I shrugged. “Anything to take your mind off the situation. Coven news? The new High Priestess is trying to stamp out friendship groups. She considers them all cliques and, therefore, evil.”

  “She’s a moron.” Althea rose to her full height. “I don’t want to talk about Limpet. I want to talk about how to get me out of here.”

  Finally, a crack in her veneer. “I’m working on it,” I promised.

  “Have you spoken to anyone aside from my sisters?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “I’m planning to speak to Mr. Geary's neighbors today.”

  “Why the neighbors?”

  “The houses are reasonably close together and I found Mr. Geary in his front yard with a gaggle of kids surrounding him. It seems to me that if anyone had been at the house or if there had been some sort of confrontation, then a neighbor might very well have overheard or seen something.”

  Althea nodded, her expression somber. “Good thinking. I don't suppose Sheriff Astrid is investigating other avenues right now.”

  “You know I love her, but I think Astrid is convinced that a Gorgon is the only option and that you’re the most likely one to have committed the crime.”

  Her gaze met mine. “Then I guess it's up to you, Emma.”

  I mustered my best impression of a confident woman. “I guess it is.”

  Chapter Six

  I decided to start with Mr. Geary's neighbor across the street because Mr. Geary’s statue was visible from their house.

  I parked in the driveway and wobbled up to the front door. Even with my slower steps, I managed to trip over my own feet. Thankfully, I regained my balance before I toppled over. Before I even had a chance to knock, the door swung open and deep brown eyes stared back at me.

  “Oh, hello. I was just on my way out,” the woman said. I sensed she was a shifter but couldn’t tell which kind. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I hope so. My name’s Emma Hart and I’m looking into an incident that occurred here within the last few days.”

  Her expression reflected concern. “What kind of incident? This is a wonderfully safe neighborhood. The kids roam freely until they’re called in for dinner. It's one of the reasons I would never want to move, despite the curse being broken.” She cocked her head. “Hang on a minute. Did you say your name is Emma Hart? That's the same name as the sorceress who broke the curse.”

  “Yes, that's me.”

  The shifter looked me up and down. “No, it can't be. The town savior is skinny. I see her statue in the town square every time I go shopping.”

  My hands flew instinctively to my bulging belly. “I’m pregnant.”

  The shifter regarded me. “Well, I can't say I'm surprised, not with the way you’re riding on that poor angel statue.”

  The back of my neck grew warm. “As a matter of fact, it's a statue I'd like to discuss with you. You see, your neighbor, Mr. Geary, was turned into one this week.”

  She blinked. “Turned into one? What do you mean?”

  “I mean exactly that. I’m supposed to defend Mr. Geary in court on a minor charge and when I came to see why he missed his appointment, I discovered that he’d been turned to stone in his own garden. I’m hoping that you might have heard or seen something. Maybe an argument with someone else?”

  She cast a sympathetic glance across the street. “That's horrible. Who would do such a thing?”

  “That's what I'm trying to figure out, Ms.…”

  “Baker. Emmeline Baker. Why don't we go sit on the back porch for a few minutes where it's more comfortable?”

  “Are you sure? I don't want to make you late for something.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “It's fine. I was just going to pick up a book at the library that I've had on hold for a couple weeks. Someone was taking far too long to get through Outlander. That means it’s either really good and they’re savoring it or really dull and they can’t bring themselves to continue.”

  “Oh, it’s really good,” I said, injecting enthusiasm into my voice. “You can’t go wrong with time travel historical romance.” I followed her through the house and out the back door to the patio where the scent of honeysuckle lingered in the air.

  “Your garden is wonderful,” I said. It seemed that Emmeline Baker had saved all of her creative juices to create an oasis. The yard was enclosed by a privacy fence and included lush plants and even a small waterfall that cascaded past two boulders.

  “I can't take any credit for this,” Emmeline said. “Al helped me with all of it.”

  My head snapped in her direction. “He did?”

  She nodded. “He's a real sweetheart, that one. I'm quite lucky to have him for a neighbor.”

  Her opinion of Al was markedly different from Althea’s. “How long have you been neighbors?”

  Her gaze traveled over my shoulder to her backyard. “I have no idea. You tend to lose all sense of time when you live in a place like Spellbound. Al was the first neighbor who made an effort to know me when I moved in. My kind isn't very popular, you see."

  “You’re not a werewolf…”

  “Good Goddess, no. I’m a wererat,” she said. “Not the most common shifter in town.”

  “No less popular than a wereferret,” I replied, thinking of Ricardo from Ready-to-Were.

  Emmeline pulled her chair closer to the round patio table. “I tried to make friends in the shifter community over the years, of course. I’m a social creature, but they've made it clear that I’m not as welcome as others.”

  “That's a shame,” I said. “It’s certainly their loss.”

  She smiled sadly. “That's what I say when I need to console myself. The thing is, I know they don't do it to be mean or hurtful. It's just that they have enough of their own kind that they don't need to bother with me. Wererats don’t have the best reputation. And if you already have a huge network of werewolves, why bother to get to know a wererat, right?”

  I thought of Marjory Limpet's recent efforts to mix up the coven. I'd been annoyed by the directive, but looking at Emmeline now, I began to view the situation differently.

  “So you had Mr. Geary help you create this oasis as a place of comfort?” I asked.

  She hugged her knees to her chest. “Yes. He was more than happy to help. Gardening is his passion. He knew I wanted to create a place where I felt accepted and at peace. He did a grand job, don't you think?”

  “Lovely.” I listened to the sound of the soothing waterfall. “I guess with background noise, it would be hard to hear anything happening across the street.”

  “Depends on the noise. The waterfall is pretty quiet.”

  “But you don’t remember hearing anything unusual?”

  “I wish I had. Then maybe I could have prevented it. I feel like I let him down.”

  “No, don't think that. There's no way you could have known. I'm sure it happened very quickly.”

  Emmeline looked at me. “Do you think he’s in pain?”

  “No,” I said definitively. “It’s like being in stasis.”

  “You’ll want to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Freemont. They live next door to Al in the green house. They’re both retired and tend to be home a lot. I don't know that their hearing is the best at their ages, but they might have seen or heard something.”

  I pushed myself to my feet and tried not to let gravity get the better of me. “Thank you, Ms. Baker. I appreciate your help.” I started for the back door.

  “I don't know if you’re able to communicate with Al in his current condition,” she said, �
�but if you can, please let him know that I’ll water his garden for him while he’s…incapacitated.”

  I spared her a glance over my shoulder. “I will,” I said.

  Now that was a good neighbor.

  I crossed the street and went straight to the green house to interview Mr. and Mrs. Freemont. Their black jalopy was parked in the driveway, so I took that as a sign that they were home.

  Mr. Freemont opened the door and squinted at me. With his stout body, greenish skin, and wide face, there was no mistaking him for anything other than a troll. Tufts of white hair sprouted from the top of his head and behind his ears. A thick pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  “No, Mr. Freemont,” I said. “My name is Emma Hart and I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Geary, your neighbor.”

  “I know he’s my neighbor,” Mr. Freemont said loudly. “Do I look stupid to you?”

  I drew a calming breath. Mr. Freemont wasn’t going to be easy. “No, sir. I’d just like a few minutes of your time, if you don’t mind.”

  “Where is Al, anyway?” the troll asked. “I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

  “That’s one of the things I’d like to discuss with you and your wife.”

  He groaned. “My wife would love to discuss that with you, along with a hundred other topics of no consequence.”

  “Well, I don’t think the subject of Mr. Geary is of no consequence, as you’ll learn in a minute.”

  He ushered me inside and shuffled ahead of me to the living room at the back of the house on the right-hand side.

  Mrs. Freemont sat in a rocking chair with some sort of needlework. With her stout body, greenish skin, and wide face, she seemed like a matching bookend to her husband. Her white hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck.

  “Close the door, Eddie. I’m cold,” she said without looking up.

  “You’re always cold,” he shot back. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got ice in your veins.”

  “I’d like ice in my drink when you get a minute.” She inclined her head toward the glass on the small round table beside her. “And add a little extra fizz. You know I like my bubbles.” She caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye and her hand stilled.