by Susan Harper
He stared at her. “Why?”
“Oh, um… I’m…writing a book,” she said.
Brian smirked. “Really? That’s cool, Monica.”
“Just doing some…preliminary research before I really dive into it,” she said.
“Okay, well, a good cop is going to want to start by checking out the crime scene and interviewing witnesses,” Brian said. “Seeing if the stories line up. Get a list of potential suspects together.”
Monica nodded along as he spoke, listening intently to whatever advice he was willing to share. Eventually, though, the cuckoo clock squawked, and he sighed. “Got to go,” he said, bidding her a kind farewell. “Good luck on the writing. I want to read it when you’re done!”
Abigail laughed. “Sorry, but the thought of you trying to write a book is a bit much.”
“Oh, shut up,” Monica said.
About another half-hour went by before Holly came busting into the shop, wide-eyed. “I am so sorry I’m so late!” Holly yelped, making her way to the back counter.
“You okay?” Monica asked.
“I have no idea,” Holly admitted. “I don’t remember what happened to me last night…” She rubbed her temples. “But the way I was feeling this morning…I think I might have gone out drinking! But I don’t remember a thing!” Holly shook a bit nervously. “I completely blacked out, and then I had the weirdest dreams!”
Monica frowned. “Dreams? What kind of dreams?”
“I don’t know… I think we were here in the shop, and the books were flying around…” Holly said, shaking her head. “I had the worst headache when I woke up.”
“Are you okay to work?” Monica asked.
“I’m fine now, just a little freaked out that I don’t remember getting back to my apartment,” she said. “It’s so weird. I don’t drink, you know? Not usually, so I don’t know if that’s what happened… I had been planning on going to the animal shelter last night, so I have no idea what I wound up doing…” Holly really did look quite perturbed, and Monica felt bad not being able to help her out. After a while, though, Holly loosened up a bit as customers started trickling in.
As the day grew a bit later, Monica eventually told Holly that she was going to be slipping out soon to take care of some errands. She then sent Holly up into the loft area to work on the suggested readings shelf before using the opportunity for her and Abigail to slip through the portal.
Mona seemed to be thinking the same as Monica that morning, as she was giving her own employee a handful of instructions. The sisters, followed closely by their familiars, headed out of Back Room Books and into the town of Wysteria. “I told Aunt Wilma I’d meet her at the Cookey Cauldron. She wants to help prove Uncle Drac’s innocence as much as we do,” Mona said.
“Excellent,” Monica said. “With the three of us putting our heads together, I’m sure we’ll be able to find out exactly what’s going on here.”
“The whole town is up in arms,” Mona said. “There hasn’t been a vampire incident like this in nearly two centuries around here. All the vampires are hiding out.”
“It’s the middle of the day,” Monica said. “Of course they’re hiding out.”
“I mean last night, Monica,” Mona said. “Not a one on the street after that party. They’re all nervous.”
“I imagine so,” Monica said as they arrived outside of the Cookey Cauldron. Aunt Wilma was waiting on one of the patio chairs out front, and she waved them all over.
Abigail hopped up on the table, and Lenore perched on the railing. “I’m glad you’re here too, Monica,” Wilma said. “Were you able to get someone to watch your side of the shop as well?”
“I hired my friend Holly recently,” Monica said. “She’s got it covered.”
“Excellent,” Wilma said. “I have to say, girls, I’m quite alarmed by your Uncle Drac having to sit in that silver-lined cell. Not good for his health at all. And he is very upset by what happened to Penelope. I just don’t even know where to start.”
“We should look at the crime scene and start interviewing witnesses,” Monica said, repeating what Officer Brian had told her earlier. “And we need to come up with a suspect list.”
“There were a lot of vampires at that party,” Wilma said. “Just about every one in town was there.”
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Mona said. “I don’t think we have enough information to create a short enough suspect list to work with.”
“Then let’s go back to Bran Castle and see what we can find there,” Monica suggested.
“Excellent idea,” Wilma said.
Monica had left her broom back home in Bankstown, so she rode with Wilma while Abigail hopped on the back of Mona’s. Soon they were landing on the castle grounds, and they came across a rather grizzly scene of Renfield trying desperately to calm down the three vampires who worked for the count. The three women were bawling in the courtyard, holding up little black umbrellas to keep themselves shaded and wiping their faces with tissues.
Renfield, upon seeing that they had guests, straightened himself up and came over to them. He bowed politely. “Wilma, girls,” he said.
“What’s going on here, Renfield?” Wilma asked.
“They’re just upset about the count,” he said. “They’ve been working for the man since his days in the mortal realm. They’re all very close.”
No wonder Bram Stoker mistook them for wives, Monica thought with a hint of amusement. “Are you three going to be okay?” Monica asked.
“Of course not!” the first shrieked.
“Why are you three outside in the middle of the day?” Wilma asked.
“The count liked the look of the garden first thing in the morning,” the second vampire woman said, pointing at the small flower garden glistening with morning dew. “We’d all sit out and watch the sunrise together before hurrying to bed.”
“Awfully weird pastime for a group of vampires,” Mona grumbled.
“You know Uncle Drac, always charismatic,” Monica said.
Wilma knelt by the three women. “I think it’s probably best you three head inside and get yourselves to bed in your caskets.”
The third woman nodded. “I suppose. I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep after the dreadful news we just received from the authorities!”
“Oh?” Wilma questioned.
“They’ve cleared all the other vampires who were at the party,” Renfield said. “The count is the only one who can’t provide multiple witnesses as to his whereabouts during the murder, or any witnesses for that matter.”
Monica exchanged a nervous glance with her sister and aunt. “The police have confirmed the whereabouts of every single vampire?” Monica asked.
“Looks that way,” Renfield said.
Monica felt like she had rocks in her stomach. It was no wonder the three dutiful housemaids were so upset that morning. Was it possible that her Uncle Drac had actually killed Penelope? As an ex-girlfriend of his, there could be some hidden motive there that they hadn’t yet seen. Monica shook the thought away. She knew her Uncle Drac well enough to know that he wouldn’t hurt a fly. “The police must have missed something,” Monica insisted.
“I agree,” Mona said. “I think we need to go talk to these vampires ourselves. Renfield, do you have some sort of guest list we could use?”
“Of course,” he said. “But I must warn you, it’s quite extensive.”
“We just need the vampires,” Wilma said. “Show us what you’ve got.”
6
Monica was starting to feel incredibly discouraged after the twelfth interview with a vampire from the party. They had plenty more to talk to, but it was starting to seem like the authorities had indeed done their duty in speaking to every vampire, and none of them were anywhere near Penelope during the time of the murder, with the exception of Dracula.
Monica, Mona, and Wilma dragged their feet as they arrived back on Wysteria’s main street. “How many more vampires?” Wilma ask
ed, rubbing her temples.
“Why are we even bothering?” Abigail asked, barely able to keep up with the witches’ long strides at this point.
Monica slowed down, kneeling and allowing Abigail to crawl up her back and wrap around her shoulders to rest. Monica even scratched the grumpy cat’s ear as they continued walking. Mona was digging the list of vampires out of her pocket. “Ugh, we still have nearly thirty vampires to talk to.”
“Ah! No, no. This is not getting us anywhere,” Wilma said. “It’s becoming quite clear to me that the authorities have done their jobs in interviewing all of the vampires who had attended the party. So, I feel as though we are wasting a great deal of time.”
“Agreed,” Monica said, yawning a bit. “I think I should probably get back to the shop and check on Holly.”
“I need to check on my side of Back Room Books as well,” Mona said, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion.
“Yes, shouldn’t leave the shop in the hands of your employees too long,” Wilma agreed. “But we most certainly cannot leave the authorities to finish up this investigation on their own. If all of the other vampires have tight alibis for when Penelope was killed, then they are going to be awfully quick to point fingers at Drac.”
“We certainly are not giving up,” Monica said. “We need to maybe try looking at this thing differently.”
“What are you suggesting?” Wilma asked.
“What if a vampire didn’t kill Penelope?” Monica suggested.
“I don’t know about that, dear,” Wilma said. “She had bitemarks, fang-marks, on her neck.”
“Yes, but maybe someone is trying to frame Uncle Drac?” Monica said, but before any of them could let the thought fester for long, they heard a bit of commotion down the street.
Glancing up, Monica spied a group of mystics huddled together. “What’s going on?” Mona asked as they approached. The group was gawking at something, gasping and pointing.
Monica peered around the crowd, and there was Holly standing wide-eyed, glancing around at the trolls, goblins, and other mystics who had gathered. “Mortal!” Wilma yelped in surprise.
Holly spotted Monica amongst the crowd and pointed at her. “I knew it! I knew I hadn’t been dreaming!” she called.
“Oh no,” Monica grumbled. How had Holly gotten past Mona’s spell? Monica had been willing to write it up as her own mistake before, but Mona was quite skilled in spells to where something as simple as the one they had put on the back door should have worked.
Holly came right up to Monica; she seemed a lot braver this time around. “What is this place?!” Holly exclaimed, more excited than frightened. “This is crazy!”
Wilma came right up to them, pulled out her wand, and pointed it right at Holly. Holly stepped back in surprise, but Wilma didn’t give her much time to react as she put a memory charm on her. “Girls, explain yourselves,” she said once Holly was standing there with her mouth hanging open and her eyes drooping.
“She came through once already,” Monica said. “My spell on the door didn’t work, but Mona fixed it!”
“I am very disappointed with you two,” Wilma said. “Is this your employee, Monica?”
“Yes,” Monica said.
“Holly is her name, right?” Wilma asked. “I’ve seen her in the shop many times before you took over.”
“Yes, that’s Holly,” Monica said.
Wilma sighed heavily. “I will take the girl home myself and put the spell back on the door. I’ll handle the shops for the day as well, but I want you two girls to see what you can find out for your Uncle Drac. Now, which one of you put the last memory charm on her?” Wilma’s eyes lingered toward Monica.
Monica frowned. “It wasn’t me,” she said firmly, though she understood why Wilma had suspected it was her.
Wilma turned to Mona. “Sloppy work. She was saying she thought she dreamed her last encounter! That means some of the memory remained.”
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Mona said. “I’ve done plenty of memory charms before!”
“I don’t want to hear it, Mona. I expect more from you,” Wilma said. “Now, go on. You two see what you can figure out for Drac, and I’ll handle this mess you two have created.”
Once Wilma had marched the zombified Holly off, Abigail started laughing. “Ooh, she told you!” Abigail said, so Monica shoved the familiar off her shoulders.
For once, though, Monica felt like she wasn’t the one who had received the blunt of the bashing. She turned to Mona. “What happened with your memory charm?” Monica asked. “You’re normally really good at those.”
“I have no idea,” Mona said, rubbing her temple. Lenore landed on her shoulder, offering some comfort. “I mean, I was pretty distracted…what with the party and all. Maybe I just wasn’t focused. Same goes for the door. This is on me.”
“None of this would have happened if I had done the spell on the door correctly the first time,” Monica said, sighing.
“Okay, let’s forget about your mortal friend for now,” Mona said. “What now?”
Monica thought for a moment. “I think it’s just what I said before. It’s looking less and less like a vampire is guilty.”
“But, the bites—”
“I know. I know. She had fang-marks on her throat. But what if our killer went after Penelope and just made it look like a vampire did it to throw everyone off their trail? I mean, there were a lot of vampires at the party, so such a broad suspect pool would have helped the real killer avoid detection for a while, right?” Monica suggested.
“So, someone made it look like a vampire killed Penelope to keep the authorities off their trail?” Mona echoed.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Monica said. “So, who would want to kill Penelope?”
“Maybe Max,” Mona suggested. “Penelope was very cruel to him at the party. I can’t imagine what she said when she actually went over to the centaurs. She didn’t seem like the type who would shy away from insulting someone directly to their face.”
“Okay,” Monica said, nodding in agreement. “And definitely Lauralet.”
“Dragons are known to be pretty violent when someone messes with their hoard,” Abigail said. “And Lauralet seemed to believe that Penelope had something to do with it.”
“She’s a shapeshifting dragon,” Monica said. “Never really heard of them killing over their hoards.”
“She’s got dragon blood in her,” Abigail argued. “And, from what you all saw at the party, looks like she has the dragon temperament.”
“So…dragon or onocentaur first?” Monica asked.
“I don’t know if I feel like being burnt to a crisp today by ticking off a dragon,” Mona said. “Let’s start with Max and see if we can’t rule him out.”
“I’m going to go get my broom first,” Monica said. “I’ve already been riding on the back of Wilma’s broom all day. Don’t want to have to do the same with you.”
Mona nodded. They didn’t have to travel far. Once they were just outside Back Room Books, Monica whistled loudly, and a few minutes later, she could see her broom zipping out from the back room and through the shop, eventually swooshing out of the front door. She put her hand out, catching the broomstick just as it swept by her. “I should really bring this with me every time I come to Wysteria. It’s just hard to not look like a lunatic in Bankstown carrying a broom around with you all the time.”
“I think Aunt Wilma put some sort of charm on hers back when she lived in Bankstown,” Mona said. “Shrunk it down or something. You ought to ask her.”
“That’s a good idea,” Monica said as she mounted her broom. “So, where does Max live? I don’t really know him personally.”
“Well, I know the centaurs have a colony just outside of Wysteria’s borders. We could start there and see if they could point us in the direction of any onocentaurs in the area?” Mona suggested.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Monica said as Abigail hopped up on the back of her broom
. She kicked off, and soon she was zipping through the air toward the outskirts of Wysteria.
7
When Monica landed amongst the centaurs, she was taken back a bit by the enormous stature of this particular herd. The men especially towered over her, although they were somewhat friendly. The children especially were very excited to come galloping over to greet the witches who had just landed outside their little herding grounds.
“Wow! You were flying so fast!” one of the young colts exclaimed, his hooves kicking up a bit of dirt behind him.
It seemed that they had interrupted some sort of game. There were a number of children all trotting around kicking a leather ball—a game that Monica had seen young centaurs play from time to time but had never paid close attention to. Two-legged mystics rarely could keep up with the fast-paced nature of the game.
Mona landed a few seconds later, grunting a bit after having overexerted herself trying to keep up with Monica. “I have to hand it to you, Monica, you sure are handy with that broom.”
Lenore went and found herself a spot in the grass and pecked at the ground for something to eat, while Abigail seemed content to go and watch with little enthusiasm while Monica and Mona spoke to the centaurs. “I cannot believe your familiar held on with how quickly you flew in!” one of the young fillies said, smiling a toothless grin.
“She’s gotten used to my flying by now,” Monica said, smiling at the precious young centaur in pigtails. About six young ones had gathered to greet the witches at the edge of the herding grounds.
“Don’t see many witches out this way,” said one of the older boys. “Can we help you with something?”
“Looking for a onocentaur named Max,” Mona said, not wasting much time. Her eyes drew toward another one of the older boys. He was quite peculiar-looking. He was certainly an onocentaur, much shorter than even some of the youngest centaurs standing about. His fur was messy and patchy, but the thing that was so strange about him was his ears. Usually centaurs and onocentaurs looked completely humanoid where their horse-like half ended, but not this unfortunate young boy. He had donkey ears—one of which seemed a bit more untamed than the other, flapping down across the side of his face when he trotted.