Crossing Over Easy

by Nova Nelson

  “Word travels fast in this town.”

  She laughed airily. “And faster in Echo’s. I know too much about people around here, honestly.” She paused, and her eyes looked me up and down, assessing me. “Are you here for a cut?” She reached forward and pinched a lock of my hair between two fingers, pulling down to the ends to inspect them. “I could snip off these dead ends for you and it would make all the difference.”

  “Um, thanks,” I said, recognizing a backhanded compliment when it smacked me in the face, “but I just want a blowout today. Maybe tomorrow I’ll come back for a trim.”

  “Ah,” she said, sounding disappointed. But then she perked up again quickly. “Right this way!”

  She led me over to an empty chair in a row of four and wrapped a towel around my shoulders, addressing me in the mirror. “Can I get you something to drink? A fizz rejuvenator or a citrus blast?”

  “I’m not sure what those are,” I said, looking around for signs of other customers drinking them.

  She beamed, her squinty eyes two dark slits of long lashes. “Oh, well, in that case, you have to try the citrus blast. It tastes like fresh orange juice but replenishes whatever minerals you lack. It’ll do wonders to help with these.” She brushed the tip of her finger over bags under my eyes.

  I decided against sharply informing her that the bags were caused by hopping worlds, witnessing a murder, and then being harangued by a ghost all night (the ghost of her dead boyfriend, no less) rather than an ongoing nutrient deficiency.

  Which reminded me why I was there. Not the nutrient deficiency, but the ghost. The murder. “Citrus blast sounds great,” I said. She grabbed one from a tray at the end of the row and handed it to me. It was served in a spherical glass bubble with an open top out of which stuck a glass straw. Points for presentation.

  “If you want a wash, we need Augustus.” She motioned at the hair washer to work his magic, which he did quickly and dispassionately without a single word of greeting to me.

  Once he was done, he hurried off again, except he went to the front desk to whisper conspiratorially with Ladavian since there wasn’t currently another stylist in need of his services.

  “You were there, weren’t you?” Tandy said, leaning forward as I sipped my citrus blast (which was delicious). She massaged sweet earthy oils into my wet scalp.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “At Medium Rare, when Bruce was murdered.”

  I swallowed the drink hard. This was why I was here, wasn’t it? Not for the scalp massage, not for the citrus blast.

  “Yes, I was. You knew him?”

  Her nostrils flared gently and she made a weird chirping sound in her throat. “Yes,” she breathed. “We were in love.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I replied, pretending this was new information to me.

  “I just got the news this morning. I almost didn’t come into work.” She bit her bottom lip as it began to quiver.

  “I’m surprised you did,” I said, trying to sound sympathetic rather than suspicious.

  “I guess I’m still in shock,” she said. “It doesn’t seem real that Bruce was here yesterday and gone today. It just—“ Her voice cracked. “I decided that I’d rather be here, surrounded by my friends than at home by myself. The thought of spending the day alone in my bed, the same one where Bruce and I made such passionate love day after day sounded like an especially cruel form of torture.”

  While I could’ve done without the visual of this young, breathtakingly beautiful blonde tangled up in bed with the bulky Bruce “hairy forearms” Saxon, her story did start to make sense.

  I wouldn’t want to be alone if the love of my life was murdered. I would want to be wherever made me happiest.

  I’d been unfair in my judgment of Tandy. Everyone mourns differently, and she shouldn’t have to sit at home and tough it out if she had a way to take her mind off of it. The sadness would always be there for her to come back to.

  I’d learned that hard lesson when my parents were killed. The first year afterward was torture, but I’d always felt guilty about finding respite from the despair, so I’d forced myself to feel the pain, never allowing much-needed breaks.

  I wished I’d taken Tandy’s route, now that I thought about it. In the end, the pain never amounted to anything worthwhile. And it never brought them back.

  “I’m so sorry, Tandy.” I’d already said it, but I figured saying it a second time wouldn’t hurt. I meant it more this time anyway.

  She nodded somberly. “Thanks.” Then, after a deep intake of air, she leaned forward and said, “Do you like your hair blown forward toward your face or backward to show off your cheekbones?”

  “I don’t think I have a preference. I just tuck it behind my ears either way.”

  “Ah. Okay.” She sounded disappointed. “We’ll blow it forward. Laurel!”

  The windy woman hurried over and Tandy relayed the directions to her. Laurel made quick work of my hair and I was surprised by how much of a change a simple, thoughtful blow-dry could improve in my entire appearance.

  “How do you like it?” Tandy asked, removing the towel around my neck.

  “It’s great. Thank you.”

  She beamed modestly. “Oh, please. It’s your gorgeous hair. We just bring out its full potential. And the citrus blast doesn’t hurt either.” She winked.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She nodded.

  “I hate to bring up a sore subject again, but did Bruce have any enemies that you know of?”

  Her face darkened slightly and she leaned forward to avoid being overheard. “I’ve been thinking about this, too. I keep coming back to Ansel.”

  “Ansel?”

  “Ansel Fontaine. Jane Saxon’s boyfriend.”

  “Why would he want to hurt Bruce?”

  “Well, because everyone knows Jane wasn’t over Bruce, and Ansel is a total puppy dog for her. Or, I guess a total cub for her, since he’s a werebear. I heard he wants to propose but hasn’t because she’s still so hung up on Bruce. I guess she thought they might get back together and didn’t want to commit fully to Ansel while that was still a possibility. Poor Jane. And Ansel. And Bruce.” She sighed. “It’s just a bad situation all around, but Bruce being out of the picture benefits Ansel the most, since Jane will have to give up her foolish hope. Plus, if you meet Ansel, you’ll realize that, while he might be all cute and cuddly to Jane, the rest of Eastwind steers clear of him. He has quite a temper.”

  “Thanks for the heads up,” I said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” A beautiful bit of harp music started playing in the salon. I wondered briefly if it’d always been playing and I hadn’t noticed it or if it had just started. The beauty of it almost brought me to tears.

  Wait, music was about to bring me to tears? Was it that time of the month already? I thought I still had a solid two weeks.

  “Are you going to talk with him?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me. Then something seemed to click. “Oh! Wait! Are you trying to solve the murder?”

  I shrugged. “Yes, I guess so.”

  She leaned close again and whispered, “Is that so Deputy Manchester doesn’t arrest you? I heard you were a suspect.” She grimaced sympathetically, then added, “I don’t think you did it, though. Why would you? Also, I’m a great judge of character. I may not be a witch like you”—how did everyone know I was a witch just by looking at me?—“but I have pretty good intuition about who’s pure of heart and who’s got a guilty conscience.”

  “That’s a good skill to have,” I said.

  “Do you like it?” she asked.

  “Like what?”

  “The music. Is it to your liking?”

  “Oh. Yes. I was just noticing it. Between us, it almost brought me to tears just a second ago.”

  “Yes, it used to be one of my favorite pieces. I’m afraid it’s starting to grate after this many listens, though. Glad you can enjoy it.” She rotated the chair, signaling that it was time for me to g
o, and I followed her over to the reception desk. “Ladavian, since Nora’s new to town, we’re going to make her feel welcome. This one’s on me.”

  I looked quickly from Ladavian to Tandy. “Huh? No, you don’t need to. I have money.”

  She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder to silence me, and I stared into her gorgeous eyes, all bitterness about how much prettier she was than me disappearing under the barrage of admiration for her appearance. “Please, Nora. I need to do something nice for someone else today.”

  That I understood. Sometimes grief can only be assuaged through kind acts for others. “Okay. I’m coming back to see you, though, and then you’ll have to take my money. Deal?”

  Beaming, she reached forward and ran her fingers through my hair where it hung in front of my shoulders, giving it a little extra body. “Deal. Just do me one favor, will you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Go speak with Ansel right away. He works out at Whirligig’s Garden Center. Tall, muscular black guy. Not too hard on the eyes, if I do say so. If you’re going to solve Bruce’s murder, you have to speak with Ansel. I promise you Deputy Manchester won’t even think of it. Heck, he hasn’t even interviewed me yet. It seems like any proper officer of the law would go to the lover first thing.” She sighed. “I’m glad you’re here, Nora.”

  The harp music crescendoed in the background, and I surprised myself when I said, truthfully, “Me too.”

  She walked with me to the front door, and when Grim stood up and loped over, Tandy gasped. “Is he yours?”

  “Um, sort of.”

  “I bet your familiar hates that,” she said.

  “He, um … he is my familiar.”

  She turned quickly to stare at me. “Your familiar is a dog?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Looks like it.”

  “Huh.” She stared at Grim. “Huh.”

  He kept his distance from us, eying me judgmentally. “You done with your girl’s day out? Can we get back to solving the murder?”

  I shot him a sharp look.

  “You know,” Tandy said, “I’m actually quite talented with animals. I’d be happy to give him a wash and trim for you. I should have time for it tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” I said enthusiastically. “That would be wonderful, Tandy. I think Grim would really enjoy that.”

  “If that fairy thing lays a hand on me, I will aggressively mark everything in that salon. You will not believe how much pee I have in the tank until you see it in action.”

  Tandy crouched down, holding a hand out to Grim. “Come here, boy. Let me get a look at those mats.”

  Grim backed up two steps.

  “He’s a little shy,” I explained. “He was the runt of the litter and always got picked on. Now he trusts no one. Except me. Poor damaged soul.”

  “I hope you’re enjoying this,” Grim said. “Because I will find a way to get back at you.”

  “What’s that?” I asked him, then I turned to Tandy. “He asked if you have any lavender scented shampoo. It’s his favorite scent.”

  “Of course! I’ll make sure to have it ready for tomorrow.”

  “Sounds great. See you then.”

  I waved goodbye to Tandy and turned my back to Echo’s. “Okay, Grim, where’s Whirligig’s Garden Center?”

  “You just expect me to help you now?”

  “Oh come on, I was just having a little fun. I wouldn’t let her bathe you in lavender.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah, I enjoy the scent of rosemary far more. I’d have her bathe you in that.”

  “Oh, you’re SO funny,” he said sarcastically, padding ahead of me. “Garden center this way, Princess Funnypants.”

  Chapter Eight

  Turned out, Grim was more passive-aggressive than any dog I’d ever met.

  He got us to the garden center, yes, but only after we’d circled by the same few spots in town multiple times. My feet were killing me, and having only eaten a few bites of lasagna since breakfast, my stomach growled fiercely by the time we reached the vine-covered archways leading into the garden center.

  The narrow cobblestone side street opened at the end of two stone buildings, and what lay beyond was almost unbelievable.

  This was either Whirligig’s Garden Center or simply the Garden of Eden. I would have put my money on the latter. I wondered if crossing into the garden center would actually put me in an entirely different world.

  A tall stone wall stretched out in either direction, facing off against the stone and brick of downtown Eastwind, but it was almost impossible to see any of the fence since it was so thickly covered in vines and violet blossoms.

  Downtown Eastwind looked like it was pulled from some fairy tale, but the garden center was a step above. I’d never seen such lushness. The trees were covered in moss that was covered in moss. It was like someone had painted a canvas bright green and then added splatters of vivid color here and there just to prove that whatever you thought you knew about plants was all wrong.

  I stood at the entrance, which was a tunnel of stone archways covered in vines that stretched from one arch to the next, creating a cozy canopy.

  “Why are we here?” Grim asked.

  I’d forgotten that he wasn’t in on the conversation with Tandy. “We need to talk to Ansel Fontaine.”

  “Ansel as in werebear Ansel?”

  “Yes.”

  Grim’s tail wagged. “He runs with me in the Deadwoods sometimes in bear form. Werebears can be real tools, but Ansel is alright.”

  “Tandy said he has a temper.”

  Grim bobbed his large head. “Oh yeah. No doubt about it. I’ve seen him level a tree when he was angry.”

  “Right. Okay. Well, I’ll try not to set him off.”

  I followed as Grim padded forward beneath the archways. “Nah,” he said. “He’d never hurt a woman.”

  “Glad to hear it. But it wasn’t a woman who was murdered last night.”

  “You think he murdered Bruce?”

  “I don’t think anything just yet. Tandy thinks it’s a possibility.”

  “Tandy also thought I would let her bathe me in lavender, so maybe she doesn’t know anything about anything.”

  Grim ran ahead to greet Ansel when he spotted him.

  Tandy wasn’t joking when she said Ansel was easy on the eyes. It probably helped that he had his shirt off and sweat glistened on him like the dew in a honeysuckle, just waiting to be licked off.

  Small saplings surrounded Ansel on three sides and by the looks of it, he was transplanting them to larger pots. He’d just set one, roots heavy with clotted mud, into an oversized pot when Grim trotted over.

  “Hey, man!” Ansel said when he spotted Grim. “What brings you out of the Deadwoods?” He didn’t expect an answer, which was good because Grim didn’t give him one. Instead, the dog sat in front of him and offered a paw, which Ansel grabbed. They shook.

  “Ansel Fontaine?” I said as I approached.

  He looked up at me, his easygoing demeanor shifting to suspicion. “Yes?”

  “Hi. I’m Nora Ashcroft. I’m, um, new in town.” Shoot. I didn’t know where to go from there. I couldn’t just start questioning him. He didn’t know who I was, and he had a temper. If he was the one who’d killed Bruce, that was a recipe for disaster.

  So instead, I took a different tack.

  “You know Grim?”

  Ansel arched an eyebrow at me. “Who?”

  “Oh. Him.” I pointed.

  “Ah. I didn’t know he had a name. But I guess that one makes sense. Yeah, he and I go back.” He looked me up and down. “I’m curious how you got him to come out of the woods and into so-called civilized society.”

  “He didn’t have much of a choice,” I said. “He’s my familiar.”

  For a moment, Ansel stared blankly at me. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

  “This is so embarrassing,” Grim groaned, tucking his tail between his legs.

  “My man!” Ans
el said, finally able to speak again. “I never thought I’d see the day when you became domesticated.”

  “Tell him I’m not domesticated.”

  “He’s not really domesticated,” I said. “And neither of us is particularly happy about the match, if I’m being honest.”

  Ansel wiped a tear from his eyes. “Woo, man. I needed that. And I’ve never heard of a canine familiar. Well, no wait, doesn’t Ruby have one?”

  I nodded. “Clifford.”

  “Yeah.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you like her?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure yet. I just got here. I didn’t even know I was a witch until this morning.”

  He jerked his head back. “Oh, dang. That’s heavy.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Ruby’s.”

  “Ahh …” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and I could tell he was putting the pieces together. New witch in town. Dog familiar. Staying with Ruby. Finding him the day after a murder occurred.

  “I take it you didn’t come out here to buy plants,” he said.

  “Not today.”

  “You’re here about Saxon’s murder.”

  I nodded.

  “I guess Ruby really is in retirement, now.” He sighed. “I won’t lie to you. I hated Bruce. The way he treated Jane”—the muscles in his forearms flexed as he clenched his gloved hands into fists—“it wasn’t right. No one should treat another person that way. He was always flaunting his other women in front of her, too.”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to get the idea Bruce had a weakness for women.”

  “You could say that again. And for reasons far beyond my comprehension, they had a weakness for him.”

  “Is that why he and Jane divorced?”

  He hesitated, cringing slightly. Then the tight cords of his muscular arms released. “Basically. She suspected he was cheating on her. Took a while for her to come to that conclusion, though. She’d just assumed Bruce was a flirt, nothing more. But then things started piling up. He’d say he was one place, then change his story a few days later. A handful of his admirers started acting just a little too familiar when they came into Medium Rare. And Jane had to sit there and watch it all happen. Finally, she got sick of it. She accused him of being unfaithful and said she wanted a divorce. He called her bluff and agreed to it, though he said he hadn’t been cheating. Tried to turn it on her, in the end. He said he couldn’t be with a woman who didn’t trust him to be faithful. That jerk played the victim.” Shaking his head, he pressed his lips together. There was sheer rage in his eyes. It was lucky Bruce was dead and not standing there in the garden center with us, or Ansel might’ve killed him right in front of me.