Back Room Bookstore Cozy Mystery Boxed Set: Books 1 - 12

by Susan Harper

“You are an angel,” he said, snatching up the food and dipping out to the breakroom.

  Monica looked around at the other officers, all of whom looked just as exhausted as Brian. This isn’t right, she thought. Against her better judgement, she decided to locate Chief Tollr’s office. She had met the man once before, and he had seemed to like her all right. Though she knew it was really none of her business, she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to tell this man off for the way he had been treating his officers lately. He was singling out all of the officers who had been there the day Kevin had gone missing, as though he himself had not been present that day as well. It was starting to really get to her something terrible.

  Eventually, she found her way to the chief’s office, and since the door was partially open, she invited herself right inside. However, he was nowhere to be found. “Honestly,” she griped, and she glanced around the poorly-decorated room with a bit of apprehension. He had a few photographs of him shaking hands with seemingly important people and some certificates and awards hanging on the back wall. He also had a very plain bookshelf with law books and a few works of fiction that looked untouched.

  Monica made her way over to the man’s desk, noting the top drawer was partially open. She couldn’t help herself. She tugged the drawer open, and the desk appeared to almost emit light for a moment. Upon further examination, she realized it had merely been light reflecting off some coins from within the desk. “What’s this?” she asked out loud, reaching into the desk and pulling out a gold coin. “Mystic currency?” she gasped, realizing quickly that the coin was specific to the mountain regions of the other side. Why would the chief have mystic currency…unless…

  “Hem-hem,” a deep voice cleared its throat from the doorway. Looking up, Monica saw Chief Tollr glaring back at her. “Are you snooping around my desk, Ms. Montoya? Surely not.” The round man stepped in, looking quite offended by her intrusion.

  “Sorry, I came in here to talk to you, and your top drawer was open,” Monica stammered, but she stared at him more closely. “Tollr… Oh my god, you’re a troll!”

  The man jumped back in surprise. “Pardon?” he asked.

  “It’s so obvious!” Monica said, slapping her forehead. “You must be a huldrefolk. It’s why you look so human.”

  The chief quickly came into the room and slammed the door behind him, glancing out first before doing so to make sure no one was anywhere near. “How did you…” the chief stammered. “Who are you, really?”

  “My name’s Monica Montoya, you know that. You are a troll, aren’t you?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

  The man’s cheeks flushed for a moment. “What is your mystic lineage?” he asked after taking a deep breath.

  “I’m a witch,” she said matter-of-factly. “Unnatural witch, but a witch nevertheless.”

  The chief let out a laugh, then smiled at her. “Didn’t know there were many other mystics in town,” he said.

  “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re a huldrefolk troll?” she asked.

  “Do I look like a jotnar to you?” he asked with a slight snort, referring to the more ‘trollish’ breed.

  Monica laughed. “No, I suppose not.”

  “I’m only half-huldrefolk. Mother was human,” he said.

  “Interesting,” Monica said. “What are you doing here in Bankstown?”

  “Came here for work,” he said. “The huldrefolk and the jotnar groups have been increasingly friendly with one another, and I just wanted to separate myself from the social drama that has ensued from that.”

  “I didn’t realize the troll clans were starting to merge as well,” Monica said. “The centaurs and onocentaurs have been going through a similar social change.”

  Chief Tollr nodded. “Yes, it’s happening all over the place now.”

  “I think it’s so wonderful to see.”

  “As a half-breed, I would have to agree,” Chief Tollr said, sounding much friendlier than Monica had ever known him to be. He seemed happy to be able to talk freely about his mystic heritage with someone. It seemed likely that he had kept this secret alone for quite some time.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, why leave the mystic realm when things are going so well? You would think as a half-breed, you would be leading the charge for social change,” Monica said.

  Chief Tollr put on a very serious expression. “Yes, well, that’s true. I was at first. But, whenever there is social change to reject oppression, there are those who press against that change as they had once benefited from it.”

  Monica frowned. This was something she had not thought about before. Just as she was about to respond, the door creaked open, and Brian popped his head in. “Hey, Chief, do you—”

  Before Brian could complete his thought, Chief Tollr’s troll part came out. “For crying out loud, Brian!” the chief roared. “I was in the middle of a blasted conversation! I swear, how many times have I told you to knock! Get out right now, or you can spend the rest of the evening cleaning the bathrooms!”

  Brian jumped back quickly with a, “Sorry, Chief!” He shot a confused look Monica’s way before disappearing.

  Monica crossed her arms and glared at Tollr. “If you’re a mystic, then you know what really happened with Kevin, don’t you?”

  The chief crossed his arms. “You know something I don’t, witch?”

  “The Sorcerer’s Council came and got him,” Monica said. “Your officers didn’t have a chance. Why don’t you cut them some slack?”

  The chief pointed to the door. “I don’t take orders from you, pretty girl,” he said. “So, why don’t you go fly on home on your little broomstick or whatever it is you witches do. I’ve got a station to run!”

  “Trolls,” Monica huffed before heading out of his office. This explained so much. Tollr was embarrassed because he didn’t want to look bad in front of his officers, so he was placing the blame on them and bloating up and trying to make himself look big and tough. So very typical of trolls, especially huldrefolk.

  In the troll communities, the two prominent breeds were the huldrefolk and the jotnars. Huldrefolk could often pass for human while jotnars were larger, rounder, and their skin often resembled moss or stone or even wood, depending on the region of their birth. While in most mystic communities, the more humanoid creatures were held in higher esteem, but it was a bit different for trolls. Troll communities valued nature and brute strength, making the jotnars the more privileged within their own communities while simultaneously more shunned by the mystics as a whole. Though, as she and the chief had just discussed, there was a blatant paradigm shift taking place in the realm of the mystics. The chief’s brutish attitude made a lot more sense now. He was overcompensating like many huldrefolk often did, and as a half-breed, he had probably been raised to talk tough to make up for his wimpy human-like features.

  Monica apologized to Brian for getting the chief barking at him, but he smiled and assured her he didn’t blame her before she left him to suffer whatever wrath the chief had for him. As Monica was gearing up to leave, she saw that the other officers were finally being released while the night shift made their way in, but not Brian. She frowned, realizing that the chief was probably keeping him even later simply because he had interrupted their conversation. Trolls, Monica growled to herself with an eyeroll. Then, she grinned. “Trolls…” she said, looking up at the sky.

  Monica dipped behind a bush and pulled out her wand. It was a simple spell, and she could not resist. “Fulgur percutiens!” she called, waving her wand in a large, circular motion while pointed straight up at the sky. A bolt of blue lightning erupted from the tip of her wand, shooting up into the sky above. Dark clouds appeared, and rain began to fall. Soon, the station was surrounded by a sudden and abrupt thunderstorm, with lighting striking all around them.

  Monica smiled and hopped on her bike, zipping away from the station, feeling a bit petty but satisfied all the same.

  Trolls were notorious for their fear of thunde
r.

  8

  Another long day at the shop soon came to a close. Monica was feeling a bit perturbed as Brian had not come in that day at all for his usual coffee. She was starting to wonder what might have come of her little thunderstorm spell. Perhaps it had put Chief Tollr in an even worse mood? “So, what’s the plan?” Holly asked as she turned the sign on the door to ‘closed.’

  “Well, I’m wanting to head to the other side tonight to see if we can’t figure out what happened to Trapper,” Monica said. “I’m not too keen on sitting the evening out again.”

  “Well, what do you want to do?” Holly asked. “Do you want to try to talk to Trapper’s dad again? It doesn’t sound like you got too much out of him. Maybe I can help.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Monica said. “I’m not sure if another visit is a good idea. He wasn’t too pleased with me when I left.”

  “So, what now?” Abigail asked, still half-asleep on the counter as she had been for most of the day.

  “I say we head to the Sorcerer’s Council,” Monica decided. “Nud, Imelda, and Madam Warz were all there that day for the game. Maybe they saw something that could help?”

  “And maybe we can talk to them about me while we’re there,” Holly suggested. “I am wanting to find out what exactly went wrong with that test they performed for me. Maybe they would be willing to try again?”

  “Great,” Monica said, grabbing her broom from the corner of the shop. “Sounds like we got a plan.”

  Monica, Holly, and Abigail stepped through the back door, reappearing on the other side. Mona’s side of the shop was closed, but there were piles upon piles of books everywhere, and the placed seemed a bit dustier than usual. “Mona?” Monica called, eventually finding her sister between two of the enormous bookshelves shouting at some books that had gotten themselves out of order.

  “I said, get back to the fiction section this instant!” she snapped, pulling out her wand in a threatening way. The magical books zipped off the shelf. “On the right fiction shelf!” she called after them as they flew to their proper place.

  “Mona, what’s going on?” Monica asked, looking around at the mess.

  Mona sighed heavily. “Honestly? I left a friend of mine in charge of the shop today so that I could go visit Deimus, and I’ve just been so behind… I’m going to have to work late tonight. My bookkeeping is behind, and I have boxes of new books that need to be shelved, and I need to count the register, and…” Mona shook her head. “I’m going to be here all night.”

  “Do you need help?” Monica asked.

  “I’d hate to ask you to do that,” Mona groaned. “But…honestly? Yes.”

  “Okay, no problem,” Monica said. “But Holly and I need to head to the Sorcerer’s Council first before they head home for the night. We wanted to talk to Nud and Imelda and Madam Warz to see if they saw anything at the game.”

  “Oh, that’s way more important than this,” Mona said.

  “How about I lend you Abigail for a helping paw?” Monica said, smiling down at her black cat.

  “Sure,” Abigail said. “I suppose I can help sort through some books.”

  Lenore, who was flying after a book that was insistent about not going back to its proper place, huffed. “Great. The cat is going to help.”

  “Shut your beak, Lenore,” Abigail insisted.

  “Thanks, Abigail,” Mona said. “I appreciate it.”

  “We’ll be back after we visit the Sorcerer’s Council,” Monica assured her sister. “We’ll help you get everything straightened up.”

  Monica and Holly headed out, hopping on Monica’s broom together to get themselves to the Sorcerer’s Council as quickly as possible. The building was mostly deserted, but Monica imagined that the council was probably still hosting some of their final trials for the evening. The courtroom was empty when they reached it, but Monica could hear distant footsteps down a nearby hall. Monica and Holly headed in that direction, and as they turned a corner, they spotted Imelda and Madam Warz walking together, discussing the most recent case they had overseen. “Yes, I do believe the judgment was fairly passed,” Madam Warz said. “The werewolf had had plenty of warnings from us previously, so it was about time we acted.”

  “Yes, I do agree with you, Madam Warz,” Imelda was saying.

  Monica cleared her throat, and the two older women jumped a bit in surprise. “Ah, Ms. Montoya,” Madam Warz said. “Is there something we can help you with?”

  “We were hoping to talk to you about my friend’s ancestry test,” Monica began, putting a hand on Holly’s shoulder to indicate. “I know you said that it was inconclusive, but we were just hoping to get a bit more information as to why.”

  “As we mentioned to you already, Ms. Montoya, she likely has so little mystic in her ancestry that it merely did not show up,” Imelda said. “Nothing more to it than that.”

  “But if she had so little mystic in her, how then was my aunt’s memory spell not able to work on her?” Monica asked.

  “Well, she clearly has some sort of mystic in her,” Madam Warz said.

  “So, enough for her to be able to reflect the memory charm but not enough for it to show up in the test?” Monica asked. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

  “Not a thing we can do about it, Monica,” Imelda said.

  “Can you maybe try the test again?” Monica asked.

  The witches looked at one another somewhat nervously. Imelda cleared her throat. “I don’t think you will get any sort of a different result.”

  Holly sighed. “Is there anything else we can try?” Holly asked. “Something other than the potion?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Imelda said quickly.

  Holly frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, quite,” Imelda insisted. “Now, ladies, if you will excuse us…”

  “Wait,” Monica said. “Before you go, we were hoping to ask you both some questions about what happened to Trapper.”

  Upon saying his name, Monica could see Madam Warz stiffen. “Oh?” Imelda asked.

  “Yes, well, we are sort of trying to help out with finding out what exactly happened,” Monica said. “I’m sure you know that Deimus was put on house arrest. He’s my sister’s boyfriend, and she’s awfully upset, so we’re trying to do what we can.”

  “Well, what can we do to aid in your efforts?” Imelda asked.

  “Well, for starters, we thought we would ask if you noticed anything suspicious that day?” Monica asked.

  Imelda shrugged. “I can’t say that we did. I know I for one was watching Deimus when it happened, so if someone messed with the podium Trapper was standing on, I certainly missed it. It happened rather quickly, and then those safety witches caused the part of the podium that fell on him to turn to sand so that they could get to him, which took away most any evidence we could have come across.”

  “Same for me. I saw nothing,” Madam Warz said only after Monica looked directly at her.

  “Do you know anything about Trapper?” Monica asked. “We heard that he is part-warlock—that his mother was a witch.”

  “Yes,” Imelda said. “That is certainly true.”

  “Do you know who she is?” Monica asked. “Trapper’s father would not tell us who it was.”

  Imelda frowned. “I don’t believe that is my secret to share.”

  Monica watched Imelda curiously. Her eyes seemed to be exceptionally focused, like she was trying hard not to break eye contact—as though she worried her body language might give away some sort of secret. Monica could tell that the women both seemed anxious. It was clear that both knew the true identity of Trapper’s mother but were not intent on revealing that information to her or to Holly.

  “Yes, Boots said the same thing, and I understand,” Monica said, watching Imelda very carefully as though her stare might just help her to read through her. “But we were told by Boots that she had reached out to her son recently.”

  Imelda seemed to almost choke f
or a moment. She coughed and cleared her throat. “Oh, did she?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s what Boots said,” Monica said. “We thought maybe his mother might know something that could help, but if we can’t figure out who she is, then it’s not like we’re going to be making any progress there.”

  Imelda nodded. “I understand. But if she doesn’t want to come out as having a half-breed child, then it is not my choice to unveil her identity unless the authorities specifically ask me for that information for their investigation. You are not Wysteria authorities, so I do not intend to unveil that truth for you.”

  “I understand,” Monica said, eyeing Madam Warz, who had become incredibly quiet since their conversation had shifted. “I guess I am, more than anything, curious about Trapper’s mother. Why reach out now, you know? After abandoning him when he was little, why the sudden change?”

  Madam Warz straightened herself up. “Imelda, I think I need to go,” she said suddenly, and she spun on her heels and headed off. When she turned the corner, Monica knew that the older woman had begun to cry.

  Imelda straightened herself up. “Are we through here, Ms. Montoya? If so, I have some paperwork to take care of.”

  “Is everything all right?” Holly asked, looking towards the end of the hall where Madam Warz had hurried off.

  Imelda huffed. “I don’t believe that is my secret to tell either.” And, just like that, Imelda hurried off in the opposite direction from which Madam Warz had stormed off.

  Monica and Holly exchanged glances. “Madam Warz knows something,” Holly said firmly.

  “I agree,” Monica said. “I say we go talk to her.”

  Holly nodded, and the two women scurried after Madam Warz.

  9

  It took them a considerable amount of time to locate Madam Warz’s office. For one thing, the building was quite large, and they had lost track of what direction Madam Warz had headed. Unlike courthouses on the mortal side, there was very little indication about how to find specific officers, which kept anyone from popping in without an appointment. Plus, the rooms liked to change on occasion, and the whole place was not unlike a sort of labyrinth, which made for excellent security.