by Vreni Fox
“Your choice, loser. I’ll give you a little time to think it over. We’ve lost the morning light but I’ll be back here at the golden hour. Have the cash and the cake ready if you know what’s good for you. Then we can both just move on and put this entire unfortunate misunderstanding behind us.” Mandy clicked away on her teetering high heels toward the door, her assistant following her like a well trained puppy. “Oh,” she stopped and turned before exiting, “and get rid of that nasty cat. I don’t want to see him again this afternoon, he’s making me sick.”
With that she stormed out, all eyes in the bakery following her. Even Pudding’s gaze followed her as he sat upon the counter twitching his tail just like the cat who got the cream, seemingly quite pleased with himself. It took a moment for everyone to collect themselves before my customers resumed their normal chatter. This was probably more excitement than some of them had seen in weeks.
“You just have to turn everything you touch into a raging dumpster fire,” someone hissed from the line, snapping my attention back to my business.
“Excuse me?” I wasn’t quite prepared to deal with two jerks in one day. Most of the people who patronized the Zuckerfee were sweet like my pastries.
“It’s like you were born to make messes, Brunhilde, just like your mother,” a serpentine woman of indeterminate age continued, shaking her head at me.
Ah, I recognized that cold demeanor wrapped in a Chanel suit. It was Sabine Natter, the assistant manager of the Drachenfels Hotel and Spa, our town’s bread and butter. The tension eased out of my shoulders. Sabine was nasty and rude, but it was nothing personal. She treated everyone on Earth with the same level of cool disdain. I had long suspected that it was a job requirement at the Hotel, which catered to only the most elite clientele.
“Frau Natter, I never would have taken you for a social media enthusiast,” I smiled, knowing that she’d find the mere suggestion insufferably gauche.
Sabine winced like I had slapped her. “Hardly,” she sneered. “I doubt that I need to explain to you what I think about young women like that. Unfortunately, however, as qualified as I feel for the job, I don’t set the world’s aesthetic standards. But this time,” a smile crawled across her lips, “you really have mucked things up. That was Chantal Nussbaum.”
I was thrown for a loop. This day kept getting weirder and weirder. “Mandy Unterwegs is Chantal Nussbaum? As in Nussbaum like Mayor Nussbaum?”
“That very one,” Sabine explained. “She’s some distant cousin. Mandy Unterwegs is her social media handle. It’s like a character she’s invented. She pretends to be this person on the internet so that she can sell advertising to sad, desperate young people. You’re not going to believe this,” Sabine’s lips drew back from her canine teeth in a show of disgust, “but young women these days want to be just like her. They’ll buy what she tells them to buy and go where she tells them to go. Nearly a million of them watch her every movement.”
“Really?” I had to agree with Sabine here. It was hard for me to imagine actually wanting to be someone like Mandy or Chantal or whatever her name was. “So now I’ve insulted the Mayor’s cousin and I’m probably in the dog house with the Drachenfels Chamber of Commerce again.”
Great, I cringed. I was probably in for another public scolding. At this point, ‘reviewing Brunhilde’s shortcomings’ was probably a regular item on the Chamber of Commerce’s monthly agenda. I was a constant source of mild disappointment for Drachenfels’ elders.
“Oh, you’ve done much more than that,” Sabine continued. “This Instagram thing is a huge deal to the Mayor. Huge. She’s absolutely convinced herself that social media is the wave of the future and we’re all going to languish in the stone age if we can’t establish some sort of online presence. Drachenfels will just fade into obscurity and be forgotten, just like our dragon.”
“Surely she’s got other things on her mind,” I countered. “She’s been going mad planning this wedding. I’ve spent at least a dozen hours with her confirming that her cake will be perfect. I can only imagine the time she’s invested with you in meal planning. Then there are decorations, flowers, the gown…”
“Yes,” Sabine rolled her eyes. “It’s not every day that one gets married for the fifth time.”
I suppressed a smile and reminded myself that the Mayor’s personal tragedies were no laughing matter. She had already lost four husbands in a series of bizarre and horrifying accidents, yet she had managed to keep her head up and grow in power every year, leading Drachenfels toward prosperity and the future, apparently. Really, she was an inspiration to us all.
“Fool,” Sabine sharpened her gaze. “I’d wipe that smile off my face if I was you. The Mayor is planning this event specifically as a social media advertising stunt. That’s why she’s suddenly become so interested in color palettes and everyone’s wardrobe. She’s invested unfathomable resources into creating the perfect photo shoot for this Mandy Unterwegs, and now you’ve gone and blown the whole thing.”
My face froze. Uh oh. This was bad. Really, really bad. Everyone in Drachenfels knew that I was much better at baking than I was at witchcraft. As such, I was rarely entrusted with any kind of responsibility that didn’t involve cake. And now I’d gone and ruined some Elder plan with my cake.
“You’d better come up with that money, Fraulein. Beg, borrow, or steal. Preferably before the Mayor finds out what you’ve done.”
“There’s no way that this woman seriously expects me to come up with twenty thousand euros in seven hours. What am I supposed to do? Conjure that kind of cash into existence?”
Sabine raised her eyebrows expectantly and I got her point.
“At this point,” she replied, “I don’t think anyone is expecting you to conjure anything. Now… are you still selling coffee here, or have you committed to ruining your own life full time?”
I prepared Sabine’s espresso and added a pistachio and lavender biscotti as a bribe, entreating Sabine to keep this little problem to herself, at least for the remainder of the day.
“I’m going to sort this out,” I promised. “The Mayor doesn’t need to know. We wouldn’t want to stress her out, after all, not while she’s in the midst of planning one of the most important days of her life. I’ll make sure that Mandy Unterwegs cooperates. Or at least, if she can’t say something nice, that she doesn’t say anything at all. I’ll take care of her; I already know exactly what to do.”
“Really,” Sabine replied, a bemused expression on her face. “I’m looking forward to seeing how this all plays out.”
As it happened, nothing played out at all. After I sorted through the breakfast and lunch rushes, I closed shop early so that I could bust my butt making a nearly identical birthday cake for Mandy Unterwegs.
I cringed at the prospect of lost sales. Not only would I miss out on the afternoon’s business since I had to close early, but I also wouldn’t have enough pastry to fulfill my customers’ demands the following day. I might even have to close early a second time, depending upon how my emergency stock held up.
There was nothing to be done though. I might not especially like Sabine, but I did trust her information. If this Mandy was some kind of VIP who the Mayor wanted to impress, then I would do whatever was necessary to impress her and stay in the Mayor’s good graces. Or, at least, stay out of trouble.
My idea was this: I’d clear out the Zuckerfee, rush order an identical cake, and give the girl whatever she wanted for free when she returned. If she wanted a toddler’s cake, by god she would get her toddler cake. She’d get the entire shop to herself to take whatever kind of picture she needed in whatever kind of light she liked.
Surely she’d cool down throughout the day. I just needed to sweeten her up a little bit. I paged through my family recipe book, looking for just the right little something extra to add to get myself into Mandy’s affections. Rose water for romantic love? No. Lemon for friendship? Maybe.
Ah. There it was. Perfect. Exactly what I need
ed. Bitter aloe, to silence the lips of those who would speak wicked lies. Take that, Mandy, you nasty girl. Just try and trash talk the Zuckerfee now.
I wanted to dump the entire vial into the frosting, but I added only a pinch. The powdered herb had a strong flavor and I didn’t want to derail my entire plan by making a cake that actually tasted pretty bad. Plus I knew that a little usually went a long way. I might not be a very talented witch, but I knew my stuff when it came to herbs, potions, and fine desserts.
Now all I had to do was wait. The cake was ready, the bakery was ready, I was ready. Pudding was in the kitchen, invisible to guests. I watched the clock. 4PM came and went. 5PM came and went. 6PM came and I helped myself to an enormous, cold, leftover slice of leek, mushroom, and gruyère quiche. It was delectable and immediately raised my spirits. I picked at the crumbs with my fingertips and wished that I had a glass of wine.
By the time the clock reached 8PM I was ready to accept that Mandy Unterwegs just wasn’t coming back. All that fuss and then she completely blew me off. I’d stressed myself out, throttled two days of income, and worked a double shift just to get stood up.
Secretly, I was relieved. I wanted to right things by the Mayor, but I really, really did not want to see Mandy again. Ever again, preferably, though I knew I’d probably have to eventually. If not at my shop, at the wedding.
At any rate, I gave up. The light was gone, the rest of the businesses on Main Street had closed for the night, and I still wanted that wine.
Plus, I had to bring Heinrich supper. Poor fellow, he was probably starving.
Chapter Three
I wrapped up a huge piece of Mediterranean vegetable and feta Flammkuchen and grabbed a cheese Danish. They were by far his favorite, and I managed to save him one every single day no matter how busy I was.
I locked up shop and headed out back to his pen, where he had been living for the past five years since my neighbor found him wandering the local forest lost and confused.
Poor Heinrich. The residents of Drachenfels had been trying to help him, or at least figure him out, ever since his unexpected arrival. Enchanting men without a trial and conviction by a jury of one’s peers was strictly forbidden by the Drachenfel Chamber of Commerce Bylaws. The punishments were severe; one could lose their business license or even worse.
Whoever had turned Heinrich into a pig, though, wasn’t exactly stepping up to claim responsibility. I wasn’t even sure, personally, if anyone in Drachenfels had either the skill or natural talent to pull off a job like Heinrich. It was immediately apparent to anyone with our abilities that Heinrich was no ordinary pig; he was a cursed man. Unlike some enchanted beasts, however, Heinrich had no ability at all to communicate with the world of men.
God knows I’d tried. I didn’t even know his real name; I’d been calling him Heinrich as a kindness, in an attempt to recognize his humanity. No one knew who he was or where he came from, and due to his massive size, at least three hundred and fifty kilograms, he had to live outside in a pen. He was too big to get up the stairs to my flat but, since he was a man, didn’t have the tools necessary to defend himself from the wild hogs and other animals that roamed the woods at night.
I glanced around for his round pink heft and got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Usually Heinrich did not like to be late for meals. I don’t know if it was the man in him or the pig in him, but every night he waited for his supper right at the gate of his pen.
Tonight, though, he was nowhere to be seen. Was he asleep already? That didn’t seem likely. Supper wasn’t that late.
Then I saw it: a pile of dirty clothes topped by a slightly smaller pile of gold straw from Heinrich’s shed. What even was that? Someone had just dumped their trash in the pig’s pen? Rude. I knew that sometimes this kind of stuff happened in Drachenfels. Sometimes our lovely visitors could be a bit less than respectful of our town, especially when they had been drinking.
As I approached the mess to clean up, I was stopped dead in my tracks. That wasn’t a pile of trash. Or if it was, I knew that trash.
That was Mandy Unterwegs.
I dropped Heinrich’s supper and ran to her. The closer I got, though, the more apparent it became that I was too late. Whatever had happened to her was done. Mandy was gone, and it was obvious that there would be no reviving her, either medically or magically.
“Mandy,” I cried softly, not knowing exactly what I ought to do. I could see Heinrich cowering in the corner of his shed. I wasn’t surprised. The body creeped me out too, and I certainly wouldn’t have been very happy if someone had dropped it — her — in my home.
“What happened?” I asked Heinrich softly, knowing that he couldn’t tell me. He stared back at me with his usual blank expression. I felt sure that he would explain if he could, but he just wasn’t able.
You’d better call Officer Horst.
Pudding had sauntered up to my side and evaluated the scene. I wasn’t able to communicate with Heinrich, but Pudding was another story. As my familiar he was entirely capable of understanding me and making himself clear… when he felt like it.
“You think she had an accident?” I asked him.
Do I think she accidentally strangled herself and then fell into a pigpen in someone’s backyard? No, I don’t think that, Pudding answered, seemingly unfazed by the situation at hand.
“Right,” my hands were shaking. “I need to get a hold of Horst. Like, right now. This is definitely an emergency situation.
Yes, Pudding agreed. I would say so. You’d better try his cel. Otherwise you’ll definitely be patched through to the Munich police and God only knows who they’ll send out. Certainly not someone sympathetic to you.
“What was that supposed to mean?” I glanced at the cat. “Why wouldn’t they be sympathetic? This is a traumatic experience. Someone was murdered, possibly at my home. What if the murderer is still lurking about?”
Pudding sat motionless, staring at the remains of Mandy Unterwegs, not answering me.
“You’re right, though. I’d definitely feel much safer talking to someone I know.” I dialed Horst’s cel. It rang and rang until it went to voicemail. I hung up and tried again.
Officer Horst didn’t live in Drachenfels. In fact, Drachenfels did not have a single police officer. Horst lived in the nearby village of Tüchersfeld and handled all of the local policing, along with his deputy Officer Franz. As far as I could tell, his job consisted primarily of policing traffic. The mountain’s roads were treacherous, narrow and curvy, and the wealthy young people who visited the Hotel had a tendency to treat them like a test track for their luxury cars, especially when they had been out partying.
“Horst, come on, what are you doing? It’s 9PM on a Tuesday. I know you’re not busy. Answer the damn phone. Do you think he’s ignoring me?” I asked Pudding.
Pudding rolled his eyes, or rather his eye. Was it even possible for a cat to make smart ass facial expressions? Apparently yes.
I knew what it was. Horst and I had something of a… history. Drachenfels didn’t have very many single men. I’d always wanted a family of my own, but at age thirty six, it seemed less and less likely to happen. Horst and I had danced around the possibility of dating for years, but of course it never happened.
It was impossible. Horst wasn’t from Drachenfels. He didn’t know what I was. Just a few hundred years ago, people like him burned people like me alive. I didn’t hold him personally responsible, but still, I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Do you think I should pull her out of there?” I asked Pudding, feeling bad for the woman who had threatened to ruin my life just a few hours prior. She was face down in the muck, covered in filth. Pieces of hay stuck to her pretty blonde curls and, no doubt, her body was probably freezing in the mountain’s cool night air. I imagined how her parents might feel seeing her like that and my heart broke.
I don’t think you’re supposed to touch a crime scene, Pudding answered.
“Well do you think I should
move Heinrich out of there? He looks pretty upset.” I’d already forgotten all about his dinner. He was probably hungry, cold, and frightened. Just as I was about to spring him loose, I saw blue lights reflecting on the side of his shed. Horst’s patrol car had pulled up on the street out front.
“What’s the matter, Chef?” Horst rounded the corner into my yard. “Grand theft muffin? Someone parked without a permit? Wait, no, don’t tell me… it’s litterbugs again. Don’t worry, girl, I’m on it.”
I shot him a dirty look. Yes, maybe it was true. Maybe, just maybe, I’d called him a few times when it wasn’t completely necessary. I may or may not have wanted to get a look at him.
And damn, did he look good. He was out of uniform, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that ended just above his biceps. He was lucky he was so cute because he could be awfully annoying sometimes. I had no idea how he stayed so fit, given what I knew about his diet. I watched him eat a piece of cake for breakfast every single morning in my own bakery. Sometimes two.
“As a matter of fact,” I lectured him, “you may actually have to do some real work today.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Cookie. A hardboiled cop like me never stops working.”
“This isn’t funny, Horst. Take a look.” I indicated Mandy Unterwegs, what was left of her, with a sweeping gesture.
“What the... “ Horst’s eyes nearly popped from his head. “What did you do to her? Jesus.”
“What did I…? What the hell do you mean what did I do to her? I barely know her. She stopped by my shop earlier and told me that if I didn’t hand her twenty thousand euros, she’d destroy my life and the entire village of Drachenfels. And now she’s dead.”
Saying it out loud like that made me realize how bad I looked.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I quickly added.
“Well how did you mean it?” Horst’s voice was dripping with skepticism. “She turned up at your business demanding protection money and now she’s dead? Man, you girls are wild these days. I need to call this in to Munich. This is way beyond my authority. Hildi, this is a really, really big deal. You might want to get on the phone with a lawyer.”