by K. J. Emrick
“Nope. He chose me.” She smiled at her wolf, and her wolf wagged his tail.
As interesting as this gossip is, I want to get back to solving the case. “All right. So, your apartment was locked when you left. You’re sure?”
“Yes. The front door of the complex is locked at night, too.”
I’m sure she’s right, but locking the front door of an apartment building really doesn’t give the tenants any kind of added security. All someone has to do if they want to get in is wait for someone else to be coming out. The door opens, they slip inside with a smile and a ‘thank you,’ and no one thinks twice about it. I’ve used that trick lots of times myself.
“I saw your apartment locks when we got here,” I tell her. “They’re good, but not pick-proof. Someone with the right tools and a few minutes to watch a couple of YouTube videos could have gotten through them no problem.”
“But…but…” Molly looks at me blankly. “I locked the door.”
I’m pretty good at recognizing the different kinds of home security locks. Schlage. Yale. Master Lock. There’s dozens of brands out there but all of them work on the same basic principle. Set the pins along the key channel to the shear line and it opens. Even deadbolts work on the same concept. Molly’s apartment door was no exception.
“It’s okay, Molly. There’s a way past almost every kind of lock, but you’re a witch. Did you have any spells put on the door?”
Kurt shifts from foot to foot and rubs his muzzle across Molly’s forehead. “No,” she says. “I did not. I mean, this is a pretty safe neighborhood and I live with the future king of the werewolves. I figured, who would dare bother me here? Stupid. Stupid, stupid.”
“But you were smart, and you had the box protected, right?”
“Well, yeah, but a lot of good that did us.” She didn’t sound any happier about it. “I should have found the thief right here, writhing on the floor in agony, if they so much as laid a pinky on the box.”
If even half of her spells worked, she’s exactly right. So the thief—Ulva or Lowell—had to be hurt when they took the necklace. I thought back to the visit I had at the Dachiana estate. Ulva had seemed fine, jumping up to argue with me and wearing high heels. Not the actions of a person stricken by a series of protective spells. Lowell, on the other hand…those gloves he’d been wearing, the way he wouldn’t get up out of the chair…didn’t I hear him cough at one point? He could have been hurt and was trying to hide it.
And he just moved up to the top of my suspects list.
“Can I see the box?” I ask Molly. “You said they left it behind, right?”
“Um, sure. I don’t think you’ll find anything. I’ve looked it over a dozen times since this all happened and there’s nothing to see. I can’t even use magic to track the thief with a spell. Believe me, I tried, and whatever residual energy they might have left on the box must be gone because nothing worked. It’s useless.”
I’m about to tell her I don’t actually have any magic, when Harry chuckles.
“Ah-ha,” Harry says brightly. “Never bet against Sidney Stone. She is as fine a detective as I have ever known.”
Aw. That was sweet of him to say. “Thanks, big guy. I’m good at what I do, Molly. Trust me. I might see something that you missed. You’re used to seeing the box and I’m not. That gives me an edge.”
Kurt gets up on his paws, walking around Molly, heading for a short hallway to the right. He stops at a doorway near the end. Turning back, he yips at Molly. His tail thumps at the door.
“Fine, Kurt,” she answers him. “We’ll let her try.”
Their bedroom is…well, it’s a mess. Clothes all over the floor. The king sized bed is unmade. The top of a dresser is piled with books and makeup and a single sneaker. It’s a large room, but it looks cramped with everything dropped just everywhere. And honestly, it smells like dog. I guess with everything that’s been going on, the two of them haven’t had a lot of time for cleaning.
There’s shelves over the dresser, with snow globes and ceramic figurines and more books. While Kurt comes in and jumps up on the bed, turning himself around three times before flopping down on the sheets, Molly goes straight over to the shelves. She points at the bottom one, where a wooden box sits in a space by itself.
Dark wood reflects the light from the stand lamps on either side of the bed, giving it a glossy sheen that highlights the carved designs around the side and on the flat lid. It’s perfect. Beautiful and unblemished. A real piece of craftsmanship. It sits on curving legs, resting there like it’s the most important thing in the room. It probably was, considering what Molly had been keeping in there. The front of it had a latch but no lock. The spells she’d put on it were supposed to be protection enough.
Obviously, that hadn’t worked out so well for her. Or for Kurt either.
“It’s all right,” Molly says. “You can handle it now. Whatever the thief did to get through my magic took it all away. It’s impossible but it’s hard to argue with your own eyes. The box is there, the necklace and the spells are gone. Maybe if I was a stronger witch I could have done better…I don’t know.”
Kurt mutters something, whining softly and pawing at the bedsheets without opening his claws. Obviously, he disagrees with her.
“Thank you,” she whispers to him.
The love in her voice is sweet and strong, and I don’t think that’s a contradiction at all. I swear to you, if they can survive what’s happening to them right now, they can survive anything that happens in their life after this. Anything at all.
“Allow me, my lady.” Harry reaches past me and takes the box, lifting it from its spot, turning it over and over in his hands. Just like Molly had promised, nothing happens. On the bottom as he spins it, I can see a metal tag with a serial number like fancy handmade pieces will have sometimes. Turning it back over he flips the latch and opens it up, and shows me the felt-lined interior. Empty.
“It is a nice box,” he says, holding it up closer to inspect the carved lines. “Expensive. Any genie would be proud to call a box like this his home. Is this real teak?”
Molly shuffles her feet. “I have no idea. It was a gift from Ulva, actually, if you can believe that. She likes to pretend she’s happy about our love by buying us things. She’s not fooling anyone. She knew Kurt was going to be Lupus Regem and she needed to stay on his good side.” She snorts and hugs herself tightly. “She’s the absolute worst.”
The box that held the charm came from Kurt’s sister. Interesting. It wasn’t a handmade gift, just something she bought for her brother and his fiancé. Probably from some online store. That seems like her style. An impartial gift that looks heartfelt, but really isn’t. Molly was right. Ulva really is the worst.
And she knew everything about the box where Molly was keeping the Garoul Necklace. She might have even bought it specifically for this reason. It might have some special way for her to get into it even when it had spells on it.
There’s a lot of ‘ifs’ in there but I think Ulva is back at the top of my suspect list. Right where she belongs.
As Harry is putting the box back up on the shelf, I take a moment to look around their bedroom again. I’m not trying to pry but the thief was in this part of the apartment, and they might have left something behind to tell me who they were. Ulva, or Lowell. The chance of me finding the one clue I need to solve this mystery right here and now is slim, and I know that, but a good private investigator looks for clues everywhere.
On the nightstand on this side of the bed there are three photographs in wooden frames. Lots of people don’t display photographs anymore. It’s a digital age, and nearly everyone keeps their photos in their phone. It’s better for the environment even if it has killed the photography business.
The picture in the middle is the one that interests me most. It’s a lengthwise shot, resting on its longer side. Against a backdrop of a sunny sky and green grass, Molly stands with a good-looking guy, arms around each other, laughing a
nd smiling for the camera. She looks happy. Deliriously happy, in fact, the way people do when they’re in love. Not that I’d know much about that, but I’ve seen movies.
Which reminds me again of the botched conversation between me and Chris. I’m going to have to come back to that at some point. I’ll have to have a real conversation with him. I’m not avoiding it, necessarily, I just have a lot on my plate. I’m too busy to think about what Molly and Kurt have found with each other, or to wonder if I’ll ever look at someone the way she’s looking at him now…
Ahem.
So. Back to the case.
The man standing with Molly in the photograph can only be Kurt. I’ve never seen him as a human but the family resemblance is undeniable. There’s a difference between him and his siblings, though. Where Ulva and Lowell’s sharp cheekbones and aquiline noses make them look predatory, human Kurt looks almost noble. Like a man who is comfortable with who he is and would be ready at a moment’s notice to either lead or follow, whichever the situation called for.
Next to me on the bed, werewolf Kurt lifts his head, sniffing in the direction of the photograph like he was looking for himself in the face of the man standing there. His eyes turn up toward me, and I can clearly see the pain hidden behind that animal expression.
With two small steps Molly is there with him, burying her hands in his scruffy cheeks, leaning her forehead down against his. She closes her eyes and when she does, I see multicolored sparkles burst in the air around the two of them, a light show of magic timed to the simultaneous beating of their hearts.
Looking at them like that, expressing their love in silence and in magic, kind of makes me feel like I’m intruding. Especially since I’m standing in their bedroom. I have to look away.
When I do, Harry is standing right there, watching me.
For a room this size, it sure is close in here. My mind is still on Chris and the things he said. Maybe Harry can help me untangle all that. He’s usually good at expressing how he feels.
Tearing my gaze away from Harry’s, avoiding the tender moment between Molly and Kurt, at the same time, I go back to looking at the photos. The other two are pictures from inside the apartment, selfies taken by Molly herself judging by the way her arm is outstretched toward the front of the shot, obviously holding the camera or maybe her cellphone. Kurt is in one of them, sitting with Molly on that couch out in the living room. The other was taken here in the bedroom, and the smoky look in Molly’s eyes speaks volumes about what she expected to be doing in here.
I swallow and hope to God my cheeks aren’t turning red from the places my thoughts were wandering. There was a lot of emotion in this room, love and lust among them. Maybe I should just accept the fact that I’ve learned everything I’m going to learn in here and call it a night, make plans to go and confront Ulva and Lowell in the morning now that I’ve gotten more information to work with, and then maybe I can—
Hold on.
Bending down, I take a closer look at the photos. Sure enough, in the bedroom shot, over Molly’s shoulder, I can see the carved wooden box sitting up in its place on the shelf. It’s in almost the exact same spot. Obviously this was taken before the Garoul Necklace was stolen, at a time when Molly and Kurt were still happy, still looking forward to a future together that would see the two of them married, leading the werewolf clans side by side while Kurt changed the way they did things for the better. Long before the necklace was stolen, in other words.
I examine the box in the photo as best I can without being able to enlarge it. Say what you will, but there’s benefits to having your photos on your cellphone instead of in frames on your nightstand. I can see it well enough, though. Beautiful carvings all around it, the wood oiled to a sheen, little gouge mark right there in the corner. I look at it closer…
Then I examine the box on the shelf.
The box in the photo.
The box on the shelf.
There it was. That was the clue I needed right there. Now I knew how something could be stolen from a box laced with magic, that couldn’t be touched, and couldn’t be opened. It was right there in front of me, and really it had been this whole time. I just hadn’t been thinking about it the right way. Maybe there was just too much going on in my head to think clearly. Molly’s case, and Arnie Chen’s case, and this whole thing with Chris…well, a girl could be forgiven for being just a little slow on the uptake.
But I’ve got it now.
Harry clears his throat, suddenly leaning in at my shoulder. “Did you find something, my lady?”
“I sure did.” Taking out my cellphone, I pull up the camera app and take a picture of the photo in its frame. Like I said, this is the digital age. What a great time to be alive.
“What?” Molly asks from where she’s sitting with Kurt on the bed. I can hear the spark of hope in her voice. “What is it?”
“The key to the case, I think.” Unless…but that could mean…yes. Yes, it could. “Molly, I need you to do something for me.”
She tucks her sock feet under her and folds her hands into her lap. Kurt licks his lips. “Of course,” she says. “Anything. What do you need me to do?”
In all seriousness I tell her, “I need you to tell me how you and Kurt met.”
She blinks at me, but she doesn’t hesitate to tell me their story. “Well, we met in college. Kurt had just broken up with a girlfriend and I was a rebound date that his buddies set him up with, if you can believe that. We didn’t know how much we would fall for each other, or how quickly…”
I listen to the rest of it, every word, but I’ve already heard everything I need to hear.
Chapter Thirteen
I’m not sure Ulva and Lowell are happy to see me again.
I was parked at the gate for ten minutes or more, just after eight the next morning, pushing the button on the intercom over and over, before Ulva’s voice answered.
“Miss Stone, we are not receiving guests at the moment. You have no business here.”
Press the button.
“But I know who stole your necklace.”
Release the button.
There was such a long pause after that, I began to think maybe she wasn’t going to let me in after all.
No, wait…here it comes…
The gate buzzed and opened for me, and I smiled. The game was on.
The butler met me at the door again. This time he had the gall to ask me if I was armed. The Dachianas weren’t taking any chances. Did they think I was going to bring a gun with silver bullets with me and wipe out the whole clan? That would be really stupid of me. Kind of hard to get paid if you start killing off your employer’s family and friends. Even if one of them is the very thief I was hired to find.
Besides. I’d already asked around and nobody in the city carries silver bullets. Even looking online, I could only find one place that sells them, jacketed in .99% pure silver. I have a case on order. Should be here next week.
“Miss,” the butler repeats himself impatiently. “I was asking if you had a weapon on your person.”
“Yes, I do. And no, I will not leave it in the car.”
He blinks at me, his thin mustache quivering on the top of his lip like it had a life of its own. “My orders, Miss, are to remain right here until I see to it that you enter unarmed.”
I flash him a grin as I start up the steps. “Then you stay right where you are. I don’t want you to get into trouble for disobeying your instructions. Don’t worry. I’ll show myself in.”
His mouth drops, and his mustache droops, but he’s too flustered to do more than watch me as I open the heavy front door and walk myself right on in. Maybe I’ll tip the guy on the way out again for his trouble.
My plan was to march into the sitting room and confront everyone. Spill the facts, let the chips fall where they may. I was fairly certain I was going to find Ulva and Lowell in there. They wouldn’t want me wandering around the house.
Before I get to the doorway, I stop. Someone�
��s about to step out of the sitting room. Ulva, wearing a close-fitting pantsuit and a very angry expression.
You’re not welcome here, she’s going to say.
“Yeah, I know,” I tell her before the words are out. “Trust me. I won’t be long.”
Her frown slips a little, and she takes a moment to gather herself again. “Just…take your cheap tricks and your little belt tassel and leave.” She stomps her foot and crosses her arms trying to look intimidating. She seriously wants me to go.
Too bad. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ulva’s eyes flash yellow, as if the animal inside her is dying to come out. “This is my house,” she growls. “I’m telling you to go and you might want to think about what it means to insult a werewolf in her own den.”
“Believe me, I was happier a few days ago when I still thought werewolves were make believe. I’m still not leaving.”
And why not?
“And why not?”
“Because,” I tell her with a cocky grin, “I know who stole your necklace.”
I waited for her to tell me to leave anyway. Honestly, I kind of expected her to want that information to stay buried. After all, as things stood now her big brother would never rule. She could take over the leadership of the werewolves and keep everything just like it was now. The hunting and the killing would continue just like it always had and who would care if a dozen or so homeless people in Detroit went missing every full moon? Certainly not this arrogant shrew standing in front of me, giving me a cold, calculating stare.
Then she unfolds her arms and tosses her dark hair over one shoulder. “You like to push limits, Miss Stone.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
But she purses her lips as she shakes her head. “That wasn’t a compliment. My brother’s in the sitting room. Let’s go in so we can hear whatever nonsense you think you’ve come up with.”
Boy, is she in for a surprise. She thinks she’s got everything under control here. I know different.