by Tegan Maher
No wonder the clown wanted that candy so bad.
“So you thought I was after the diamonds?” Ray asked Tommy.
“What did you expect? I got a tip-off that you broke into the locker at the train station. Had to get Bobby to steal the candy back. Then when you came to my apartment, Billy tried to warn you off. You didn’t listen. You should be choosier about your clients because now you’re both going to die. My guys should be back any second.”
As if on cue, the roof door burst open.
I braced myself for a barrage of gunfire when Tommy’s henchmen caught Sonja holding a gun to their boss, but they weren’t the ones who came through the door. It was Mike Stevens.
Tommy sure had picked an odd place to do business. He should at least get a lock because this place wasn’t secure; there were a lot of people coming and going.
“Sonja!” Mike rushed over to Sonja. Her face had gone all soft, and her lips had started to quiver when she saw him.
Mike pulled up short when he noticed the gun. “What are you doing?” His gaze flicked to Ray and Tommy.
“I was only trying to get the down payment for our dream house,” Sonja said to him.
It was kind of touching, but luckily, Ray wasn’t the sentimental type. He saw his opportunity and lunged for the gun.
“Let go.” Sonja kicked him in the shin.
“Hand it over before you get in real trouble.” Ray wrestled the gun to the side.
“You’re fired!” Sonja yelled.
“You can’t fire me—I already found the pumpkin.”
“Yeah, and now I’m taking the contents.” Sonja scratched out at his face with scarlet talons, and Ray jumped back just in time to avoid an ugly scar.
Mike must have been little slow because he said, “You did all this for our down payment?”
Sonja glanced at him, still wrestling Ray for the gun. “Yes. I overheard Tommy say he was smuggling them in jack-o’-lanterns with a cat carved into them, and I hired this clown to find them.”
“Turning to crime is no way to make a down payment.” Ray tugged harder on her gun hand as they moved around the rooftop. I hoped they didn’t get to the edge. The wall was only about three feet high, and someone could go over.
As they neared the pumpkin bread, Tommy got nervous. “Watch out! There’re only a few loaves left that didn’t get smashed up!”
He shoved them away from the bread, and Sonja slid in a blob of frosting. Ray made his move, chopping at her arm and grabbing the gun. He stepped back, pointing it at Sonja and Tommy. He gestured toward the corner.
“You two get over there, hands up.” He looked over his shoulder at Mike. “You too.”
They did as asked. Tommy kept looking over at the door, watching for his henchmen to come in at any minute. I really hoped they didn’t.
“I’m calling the cops.” Ray pulled out his phone, but before he could make the call, the door burst open again.
Surprise! It was the vampire that had been following us. He came flying through the door, cape billowing and gun in hand.
Dang! At least it was only one person and not the henchmen. Maybe the vampire had done away with them. But if so, what did he want? And more importantly, how was I going to help Ray get out of this one?
“Hands in the air!” The vampire’s gun wavered between Ray and the others before coming back to rest on Ray. “Drop the gun!”
Ray wasn’t that dumb. He steadied the gun in the vampire’s direction to show he meant business. “You drop yours!”
The vampire cocked his head. “Wait… Ray Leonard?”
Ray squinted at the vampire. “Lance?”
“Yeah, man. I thought that was you I kept seeing you when I was following that witch.” Lance jerked his head in Sonja’s direction then looked suspiciously at Ray. “What’s going on?”
Lance had been the vampire following us. I hadn’t recognized him in the getup, but he and Ray knew each other from way back.
Ray lowered his gun. “I caught your diamond thief.”
Lance shot a look at Tommy, Sonja, and Mike.
“No idea what he’s talking about,” Tommy said. “Who are you anyway?”
Lance popped out his vampire teeth and produced a badge, which he flashed at Tommy, Sonja, and Mike. “Detective Lance Wright, RFPD.”
Since Lance had switched his gun from Ray to the others, Ray lowered his and smirked at Tommy.
Lance turned to Ray. “Explain.”
Ray told him the story from when Sonja hired him to the struggle on the roof.
“And this is Sonja’s gun; I wrestled it from her.” He handed the gun to Lance.
“And this all started with a baking class?”
“That’s the story I got.” Ray nodded at Sonja. “She has the diamonds that I found in the pumpkin. That’s how Tommy was distributing them. Oh, and there’s also a bag of candy out there with diamonds inside it.”
Tommy cut in. “He’s lying. He’s the diamond thief. I’m just a baker.” He pointed to the pumpkin bread.
“Yeah, that’s right. He took us up here and held us hostage,” Sonja agreed. “You saw him holding the gun on us.”
Lance frowned at Tommy. “That’s not what Bob and Billy said. My guys are arresting them downstairs. They sang like hoot owls.”
Three uniformed officers came through the doorway. “All set with the others.”
“Good, then cuff these three and book ’em.” Lance gestured toward Sonja, Mike, and Tommy with his gun.
“Not me. I didn’t do anything.” Mike glanced at Sonja. “But I’ll gladly go in her place. Yes, in fact, it was me all along. She had nothing to do with it.”
It was nice of Mike to sacrifice himself, but Lance wasn’t buying it. He raised a brow at Ray.
Ray shook his head. “He didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Just those two.” Lance nodded toward Sonja and Tommy, who protested loudly.
“You can tell your stories at the station,” one of the officers said as he propelled them toward the door.
“I’ll wait for you!” Mike yelled after Sonja.
As they led Tommy out, he glared at Ray. “I’ll get even for this.”
It was hard to take him seriously. He had drying pumpkin pulp and seeds all over him. There was cream cheese frosting on his arm and leg from when he’d rolled in the pumpkin bread.
Lance must have thought so too—I could tell he was trying not to laugh.
“What happened to him?” Lance asked Ray as the cops shoved Tommy through the door to the stairway.
“A pumpkin fell on him during the fight. We were rolling around on the ground. It distracted him. Helped me get the upper hand, and that’s how I discovered the diamonds were inside.”
Lance glanced over at the pile of smashed pumpkin. “No kidding. Lucky thing that pumpkin fell then, eh?”
Ray met my gaze. I had been sitting on the ledge above the pumpkin mess, watching the scene unfold. “Yeah, lucky thing.”
8
Two days later, I was sunning myself in the window of R&E Investigations when Ray came in, rather noisily I must say, interrupting a pleasant dream I was having about a fluffy white Persian and a sleek blue-eyed Siamese.
He went straight to the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. It was only ten thirty in the morning, so I shot him a disapproving look.
“Don’t judge,” he said as he poured two fingers into a tumbler. “The Novocain is wearing off, and that root canal hurt.”
Whatever Ray had bitten into in that candy had done a job on his molar, and he’d just been to the dentist. So much for just quietly sleeping on the windowsill in silence; once Ray had a drink, he became rather talkative.
“Maybe I can splurge on a new desk now.” Ray eyed the old metal hulk he used for a desk. He was probably thinking about the reward coming his way for capturing the diamond thief and retrieving the stolen diamonds. His lead had helped the police find the candy too. I
was a little peeved that Sonja hadn’t coughed up her other half of the payment, but under the circumstances, I could see why.
I stretched and jumped down from the window, walking slowly to my bowl. I looked up at Ray and meowed.
“You want some food? I got you a special treat.” He opened the little dorm fridge he kept in the corner. I could smell it as soon as he opened the door. Lobster! Finally, he was starting to see what a big role I played in the success of his investigations.
“Enjoy.” Ray scooped the lobster into my dish then sat behind his desk and opened the newspaper that had been lying on top.
“Ha! Get this. Sonja just signed a deal for a book on her experience called Catching a Diamond Thief.” Ray frowned at the paper. “Hey, she didn’t catch him, I did.”
I knew from Ray’s conversation with Lance Wright that Sonja was already out of jail. She hadn’t done anything really except follow us around and hold a gun to us.
“Guess she’s buying that dream house with Mike too.”
I didn’t know if I should feel all warm and fuzzy about those two lovebirds getting together, since Sonja had lied to us and put us in danger. Ray looked happy for them, but I think that had more to do with the whiskey.
Ray put the paper down. “At least Tommy and his minions will be away for a long time. Not that I was worried about his threat. I can take care of myself.”
I glanced over as I cleaned lobster off my whiskers and thought about all the times I’d helped him take care of himself. Oh well, a feline’s work was never truly recognized. At least I had gotten lobster for a reward.
“The reward was nice.” Apparently, Ray had picked up on my thoughts about rewards. “And maybe there was even a little bonus.”
Bonus? I glanced over at Ray. He was holding a tiny clear gemstone up to the light. So that’s what had been in the piece of candy! I didn’t want to think about how he’d retrieved it.
“Might have been worth the root canal.” Ray leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk, and went to sleep.
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The Case of the Foretold Fatality
Nikki Haverstock
When Ella is trapped in a snow storm she finds refuge at a restaurant where an eighty-year class reunion is underway. The owner has a premonition: Ella needs to help solve a murder that hasn't occurred yet. She goes undercover as a bartender and discovers old grudges and new discoveries that leave her with a shocking number of suspects and very little time to solve the crime-to-come.
1
The wind intensified and blew snow across the highway, obscuring the lines and shrouding me in darkness that not even the headlights on my car could penetrate for more than a foot. I took my foot off the gas, resisting the urge to slam on the brakes, which would likely send me into a tailspin.
The car slowed down, which barely seemed possible, as I had only been going faster than a ten-year-old on a bicycle. I was thankful for the wind that blew the snow off the road, as that was all that kept me moving and not plunging into the gullies lining the sides of the highway.
I should have been home in Rambler hours ago, but the unexpected storm had derailed that plan. I was going to miss the Halloween party with Vanessa’s family and the Luck Pumpkin exploding at midnight to shower down luck for the upcoming year. But I didn’t care about that at the moment. I just wanted to get out of the car safely.
When Bear had called the day before and asked if I wanted to make a few easy gold coins, I had jumped at the chance. Sending a monza for pickup was overkill, but I had nothing else to do.
It was just some typical mage shenanigans, driving four hours up into the mountains to pick up a contract that was signed in blood under a full moon then bringing it back to be delivered to a family of some importance in Rambler. So I had loaded up a few audiobooks, stuck Patagonia, my black cat familiar, in the car, and headed out in the morning.
The freak storm was unseasonably early but not so rare that anyone had thought to call and warn me. Magic messed with my phone, so by the time a flurry of weather alerts arrived, I was stuck trying to decide which fate was worse, crawling forward at a snail’s pace while I could still see the lines on the highway or attempting to make a U-turn and head back the way I came. I would have delayed the trip home, but I didn’t get the weather alerts on my phone until it was already too late.
I hadn’t seen much civilization up in the mountains where I’d been picking up the document, and the snow was blowing directly into the windshield, so I initially figured continuing toward home was the best bet, but I was starting to question that decision. I had been driving for five hours, and the mile gauge said I hadn’t put much of a dent in the distance I had to go. I hadn’t seen a car in all that time, let alone a snowplow, and my gas gauge was steadily creeping toward empty.
For the past hour, I had been white-knuckling the steering wheel and leaning forward as though I would be able to see farther through the snow that way. Every muscle in my body ached from being tense, and I wasn’t sure how much longer my bladder would hold out.
I should have pulled off miles ago, crawled into the back seat, and curled up with Patagonia. I was not totally unprepared and had a pile of blankets and snacks in the back seat waiting for me, but I hadn’t seen an exit since I’d decided to continue past the last one. I could stop on the highway, but I feared getting rear-ended by a careless driver.
Just when I was starting to debate pulling over to the side of the road and putting on the hazards—and risk getting stuck in the large snowbank—the snow lightened enough for me to see a sign advertising not only an exit but also gas and food a quarter mile ahead.
Patagonia leaped into the front passenger seat and yowled loudly at me as though I hadn’t seen it.
“Now you decide to join me, you furball,” I muttered under my breath. She had been sleeping peacefully for the past several hours. I had finished listening to an audiobook and had been sitting in silence with just the whish-whish of the windshield wipers for company.
But now, she meowed and snarled and howled while batting at the window.
I locked the door and checked that the window lock was also set so she couldn’t roll down the window and leap out. She was a familiar, able to poof in and out as she preferred, but I wasn’t convinced that she was invulnerable.
As I pulled onto the off-ramp and turned slowly, I felt a sliding sensation as the trajectory of the falling snow shifted to hit the windshield at a diagonal instead of head-on. My stomach flipped slightly, and a slight feeling of vertigo came over me, but I wasn’t really at any great risk, as the car was barely moving faster than a roll. I crept down the asphalt, and like a mirage in the desert, suddenly a restaurant loomed in front of me, too good to be true.
It was lit up, with a half dozen cars parked in front of it. Through the window, I could see people walking around, though their outlines were obscured by the blizzard conditions. A thick layer of snow covered the cars.
I did want gas, but finding a bathroom was a higher priority. I didn’t plan to get back into the car until I was rested and fed, the sky was clear, and the roads had been plowed. I struggled back into my scarf and heavy snow jacket before getting out of the car and gasping as the snow and hail struck my face and neck.
I locked the car and struggled through feet of snow to the door of the restaurant, finally pulling it open against the weight of the wet flakes stacked against the wood, and got inside just ahead of Patagonia, who raced in then flopped onto the carpeting to lick her fur clean.
I was shedding my snow gear as my
eyes adjusted to the light when an elderly woman, bent over with age, took my coat from my hand.
“Monza Ella,” she said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
2
“Seer?” I guessed.
“The bathroom is right over there.” She pointed to a pair of doors I hadn’t noticed on my way in.
I took a second to let my curiosity and bladder fight it out before sprinting for the bathroom with an unladylike lunge. I pushed the door open and was pleased to see that the bathroom wasn’t just clean but immaculate and posh. I took care of business then inspected my reflection in the mirror, cleaning the smeared makeup from around my eyes. Hours of squinting into the storm had left me looking more like a raccoon than a human.
Finally, I splashed some water on my face and worked a tiny little spell to perk me up. It was the magical equivalent of a cup of coffee. I would need to eat soon to regain my strength, but whatever I was about to face, I wanted my wits about me.
When I exited the bathroom, the woman was wiping down a framed picture that looked like it had never seen a mote of dust. Trust a seer to keep everything clean—they knew exactly when company would expectedly arrive. I smiled at her. “Thank you for your hospitality. I’m Monza Ella Patagonia.” I gestured to my large familiar.
It was traditional that a monza took on her familiar’s name in place of her surname, a reference to our vow to abandon all family ties and instead devote ourselves to our work. Monza was a role that mages could take on, like a life calling. They were respected but not well understood by the large community or even by me. One of the few things I knew was that in an odd catch-22, only those who didn’t want to be monzas were actually called to be monzas, and my claiming to be a monza to protect myself was proof that I was one, or at least enough proof to start my training under Monza Colleen. In that time, my magic had grown exponentially even if my understanding of monzas hadn’t.