“Nothing’s wrong with them,” Sheriff Astrid said. “The victim was stabbed and we’ve yet to identify the murder weapon.”
Ashini blanched. “You think I stabbed Andrea with my own two hands?”
“We don’t know,” Britta said. “Maybe you only used one.”
Ashini seemed genuinely shocked by the accusation. “Why would I do that? If I were going to stab anyone, it would be Adam.”
“The producer?” I asked. “Why would you stab him?”
“Is it because he wears that newsboy hat between his horns?” Britta asked. She touched her own head, as though imagining the hat there. “I don’t know how he manages to keep it on.”
“That certainly doesn’t help,” Ashini admitted. “It’s mostly because he’s irritating, though, and he treats poor Bethany like a pet.”
“Maybe you meant to kill Adam and it was dark and you accidentally killed Andrea,” the sheriff said. I could tell by the Valkyrie’s expression that she knew she was grasping at straws.
Ashini blew a raspberry. “Even in the pitch black, I wouldn’t mistake an elf for a minotaur. I’m not a moron.”
“We had every incentive to keep Andrea around,” Ryan said. “She was firmly on Team Ryshini.”
“What’s Team Ryshini?” Britta asked.
Ashini gestured to her husband. “Our names combined. Team Paigim didn’t stand a chance. Even their combined names sound awful together.”
“How did you know that Andrea was rooting for you?” I asked.
“Because she said so,” Ryan said.
“With actual words?” Sheriff Astrid asked.
A dreamy smile spread across Ryan’s face. “With her blue, blue eyes.”
Ashini smacked her husband’s arm. “She wasn’t that pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you, my most darling of darlings,” Ryan said. “You’re like Parvati, Lakshmi, and Durga combined.”
“Are those opera singers?” Britta asked.
Sheriff Astrid rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m confused. Isn’t Jim Andrea’s twin brother?”
“Exactly,” Ashini said. “From what I understand, they didn’t get along.”
“Then why have him involved in the show at all?” I asked.
“I heard another couple dropped out at the last minute,” Ashini said. “And Adam is such a taskmaster that Andrea freaked out and begged her brother and Paige to pose as a house-hunting couple.”
“Andrea wasn’t going to choose her brother,” Ryan said. “It would’ve been favoritism. She just needed to fill the slot.”
“Got it.” Sheriff Astrid scribbled a few notes on a pad of paper. “And what is it you do for a living, Ms. Lizzo?”
“I model leggings,” Ashini said.
“Just leggings?” the sheriff asked.
“Exclusively,” Ashini said. “My legs are very in demand. They’re even insured for a million coins.”
I tried to peer under the table to catch a glimpse of these sought-after legs, but to no avail.
“What kind of leggings?” Britta asked.
“All the major MLM brands,” Ashini said.
“Do you have a favorite design?” Britta asked. “I saw a pair of black leggings with a skull design in Ready-to-Were that looked pretty cool.”
The sheriff licked her lips. “Deputy, I know it’s been a long day, but can we stick to the topic?”
Britta looked aggrieved. “I thought we were talking about leggings.”
“And what about you, Mr. Hill?” the sheriff asked. “What do you do?”
“I’m an introvert, so I have the best job in the world. I create and sell chalk art from the comfort of my own home,” Ryan said. “It’s only available online. No bricks and mortar. The store is called Chalkaholics.”
“Chalk art,” Sheriff Astrid repeated.
Ryan offered a proud smile. “That’s right.”
“Do you use the fat chalk or the skinny chalk?” Britta asked. “Because I find the skinny chalk gives me a hand cramp after too long.”
Ryan stroked his spiky goatee. “I like to experiment. Go with the moment.”
Britta nodded slowly. “Cool. I dig it.” She looked at her sister. “Can we get online yet? I’d like to buy chalk art for above my fireplace.”
Sheriff Astrid shushed her.
“If you don’t mind me asking, if you’re interested in my wife’s talons, then why am I here?” Ryan seemed eager to escape the spotlight. I wondered whether it was the introvert in him or that he had something to hide.
“We’re not specifically interested in your wife’s talons,” Sheriff Astrid said. “It’s just a conversation until we know more about the murder. We should have a report in the next few days that will help us narrow the investigation.”
Ashini stretched her hands across the table. “Feel free to swab my hands for evidence or whatever it is you need to do. I have nothing to hide.”
“I’ll be happy to do that in a minute,” Sheriff Astrid said. “Before we get there, I’d like to know if you can think of any reason why anyone would hurt Andrea.”
“I mean, she was a no-nonsense associate producer,” Ashini said. “You’re bound to rub others the wrong way when you’re trying to create the perfect episode. I get that. I request as many retakes as I can in pursuit of the perfect shot of my legs.”
“Do you think the murder was connected to her job?” Ryan asked.
“Well, she died on set with no one else around,” I said. “It’s a good possibility.” My gaze inadvertently moved to the spot on the floor where I’d found her body.
“I’d talk to that sister-in-law of hers,” Ashini said. “I know for a fact that they unfollowed each other on social media recently.” She hesitated. “Not because I stalk them or anything. I just notice these things.”
“You don’t follow me on social media,” Ryan huffed.
“Because that association would hurt my image,” Ashini said matter-of-factly. “We’ve discussed this. Women who wear quality leggings are not the same women who buy chalk art. Different demographics.”
Britta nodded. “That’s true. I like the idea of leggings, but you would never catch me wearing them. It would be like wearing long underwear outside. Meanwhile, I’d buy the crap out of chalk art.”
“Any idea where you’ll be staying while you’re in town?” the sheriff asked.
“We saw a new hotel close to downtown that looked chic,” Ashini said. “I thought I could take cool snaps there to upload.”
Another vote for Markos’s new place, it seemed. I’d have to stop by and see it. It had been ages since I’d spent any time with the kind minotaur.
“Deputy Britta, would you do the honors?” Sheriff Astrid inclined her head toward the talons and Britta quickly set to work. “Thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch. Remember, no leaving town or I won’t hesitate to issue a warrant for your arrest.”
“Not to worry. As fabulous as I would look in a mugshot,” Ashini said, “I have no desire to spend time in a filthy prison cell.”
Ryan gazed at her adoringly. “You really would look amazing in a mugshot.”
She stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Thank you, darling.” She faced us again. “Any recommendations for restaurants? Preferably somewhere the food is camera-ready.”
“I’d suggest Secret Garden,” I said. “It’s right at the base of the town square. Very romantic.”
Ryan glanced at his wife. “I’m sure Jackie or Natalya will go with you.”
“Why not have dinner together?” I asked. Maybe it would help smooth out the obvious wrinkles in their marriage.
Ryan scrunched his nose. “I prefer to take my meals in solitude.”
Ashini sighed. “It’s for the best. He chews with his mouth open.”
“I do not,” Ryan said. “It’s called breathing.”
“That’s why the gods gave us nostrils,” Ashini snapped. “When your mouth is full of food, you use those as air holes.” She slipped
out of her chair and shifted to a standing position. “Let’s go, Ryan. I need to rest my feet before dinner. These heels are killing me.” She clicked her way out of the room in her pricey heels with Ryan’s goat legs waddling after her.
It was hard to imagine what life was like in the Lizzo-Hill household. I was pretty sure whatever image Ashini presented on social media was far from reality.
“I’d watch a whole show around those two,” Britta said, once they were out of earshot.
“Are you serious?” Sheriff Astrid asked. “I don’t think I could get through one episode.”
“Hey, maybe we should,” I said, my mind spinning with ideas.
“Should what?” Astrid asked. “Torture ourselves for no good reason? I’d move in with the harpies if that’s the life I wanted.”
“No, maybe we should look through the footage that’s been taken so far of the episode,” I said. “Maybe there’s a clue.”
“Good thinking,” the sheriff said. “But I have no idea how that works.”
“You forget I grew up in the human world,” I said. Lemon Grove, Pennsylvania to be exact. I leaned back in my chair and smiled. “Watching television is one of my specialties.”
Although Adam wasn’t thrilled with handing over the footage, he eventually relented when we promised to follow his list of fifty rules that he carefully dictated for Bethany to write down—oh, and the fact that Sheriff Astrid threatened to get a warrant for possession of them if he didn’t agree.
“I’m going to have to keep referring to the rules or I’ll forget them,” I said.
Sheriff Astrid scanned the excessively long list. “No finger smudges? That’s pretty broad.”
“I think he means on the film, except it’s all digital now so maybe he just means he wants everything kept in pristine condition.”
“I can sit with you while you watch,” Bethany offered. “In case you need help with anything.”
“Thanks, that’s probably a good idea,” I said. “Technology isn’t really a thing in Spellbound and I wasn’t very technical even when I lived in the human world.”
Bethany settled in a chair at the head of the table while the sheriff and I huddled over the screen. “The footage is raw, so it’s not going to look the way you’d expect,” she said.
“That’s okay,” I said. “We won’t judge the quality. We’re not watching for entertainment.”
There were lots of reaction shots of the couples walking into each room of the house. I noticed Paige’s eyes moisten when they entered the nursery and my heart swelled. She looked ready to start a family.
“It must be nice helping buyers find their forever home,” I said.
Bethany snorted. “Forever home is such a con. Nobody buys a forever home. They buy a five-to-seven-year home, but that doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I said. In fact, it sounded more like a prison sentence. I continued to watch the unedited footage. Andrea wasn’t in any of the scenes and I didn’t spot anyone grabbing an item that could be used as a weapon. “How long have you been working on the show?”
Bethany’s eyes shifted upward as she mentally calculated. “Too long, but technically I work for Adam, not the show.”
“You’re a personal assistant?” I asked.
“I’m an everything assistant,” Bethany said with a rueful smile. “Whatever he needs help with, I’m on deck to swoop in. Specialty hair gel for minotaurs. Gluten-free snacks. A fruit basket for a network executive. That’s all me.”
“I hope the pay is good,” I said. I couldn’t imagine being at someone’s beck and call, except Diana’s, of course. Then again, she was a helpless infant and I loved her above all else.
Bethany twirled a strand of brown hair around her finger. “The pay is reasonable. Adam is a pain, but I like feeling necessary.”
Her comment hit home with me. “There’s definite value in that,” I said.
We finished viewing the footage and the last of the guests filed out of the house to find suitable accommodations until the sheriff gave her blessing for them to leave town. Sheriff Astrid was the last to linger at the door.
“I’m sorry about the intrusion,” she said.
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “Daniel and I are the ones who decided to open our home. We should have been smart and declined.”
Sheriff Astrid smiled. “You’re too nice for that.”
Yes, nice was becoming a problem for me. I needed more boundaries.
I glanced helplessly around the empty foyer. “Can I do a cleansing spell now?”
Sheriff Astrid nodded. “Britta and I have done a full sweep. I think it’s safe.”
“Thanks, let me know if you need to come back for any reason,” I said. “You know my door is always open.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Sheriff Astrid joked. “Maybe you should close it and lock it.”
No kidding. “I’ll do that right now.” I closed the door behind her and locked it. Then I went straight to the bag of items I’d bought earlier at Mix-n-Match. I didn’t want to wait for the fairy cleaning service, so I decided to use magic for cleaning the physical space as well as cleansing any negative energy that resulted from the murder.
This is the most sensible thing I’ve seen you do all day, Sedgwick said, swooping into the room. And that includes elbowing that husband of yours when he snores.
Gareth materialized at the same time and gave my stash of herbs a serious dose of side-eye. “Are you certain this is a wise idea?”
“Are you worried that I’ll accidentally expel you from the house?” I asked.
The vampire ghost dropped his gaze to the floor. “Could be,” he mumbled.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I said, although a small part of me wondered whether I should create a safe space for him. I was still haunted by the movie Poltergeist and didn’t want to watch Gareth get sucked into another dimension.
Gareth decided to err on the side of caution. “As satisfying as it might be to observe your efforts, I think it’d be best if I stayed out of the house while you undertake Operation Deep Clean.”
Relief flooded me. “Okay, sound the alarm if you can’t get back into the house later.”
“No worries. I’ll be the one haunting your car.” Gareth’s form dissipated and I immediately set to work so that I could finish the spell before Diana’s next feed. My whole life seemed to revolve around the baby’s next feed, but it sure beat revolving around a murder.
Chapter Six
“I see you brought the little brat,” Dr. Hall said.
I recoiled, cradling Diana’s head protectively. “You told me I could, and don’t call her brat. You need to at least wait and see how the terrible two’s pan out.”
Dr. Hall glanced at the sofa. “I suppose you’re going to want the more comfortable seat now.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to loathe all the special treatment.”
I took my usual place in the wingback chair. “Diana and I will be fine here. Don’t let my creation of a new life disrupt your normal routine.”
Dr. Hall moved behind the bar to pour herself a drink. “What are you talking about? You’ve been disrupting my routine during this entire pregnancy. Now I guess it’s going to continue.” She dumped bitters into the glass. “How long do you expect this to continue? Are you like conjoined twins now?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s still early days. If I want to carry on coming to sessions, then I have to make some accommodations.”
“Can you at least enjoy a cocktail or are you stuck with mocktails?”
“Still no alcohol while I’m nursing,” I said.
Dr. Hall pretended to snore. “I have a new one ready for you to try when you’re finished with all this boob food. I call it Mother’s Milk.”
I squinted at her. “You’ve invented a cocktail named after breast milk?”
“Consider me inspired. It has rum in it.”
Dr. Hall dropped onto
the sofa and placed her drink on the coaster. “I’ve been dying to hear all about your father. Tell me everything.”
Diana squirmed and I shifted her so that she could face the vampire therapist. “So far, he seems entirely normal.”
Dr. Hall swung one leg over the other. “Interesting.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s a pretty basic word. You need me to define it for you? And here I thought you were a lawyer.”
“I know what interesting means. It’s just that usually when you say something’s interesting, you have a particular train of thought.”
She observed me silently for a moment. “The fact that you think he’s normal is surprising,” Dr. Hall said. “Your father is a demigod, Emma. He’s the son of the goddess of darkness. I don’t see how he can possibly be normal by your human standards.”
Diana started to make noises of dissatisfaction. “I don’t know. He came for tea. We had a nice conversation. He seemed genuinely interested in the baby.” I shrugged. “If you were expecting tales of destruction and despair, I’m sorry to disappoint you.” I’d leave those to Laurel’s research.
Dr. Hall draped her arms along the back of the sofa. “I have to admit, I am somewhat disappointed. I was hoping for a body count.”
I gave her a wry smile. “Well, there is a body count at my house, but it has nothing to do with my father.”
She leaned forward eagerly. “Do tell.”
“It’s a long story. I should probably limit the discussion to my own issues.”
“At least you’re acknowledging you have them now. That’s what I call progress.”
Diana cried softly. “I think she’s hungry.” I started to unbutton my blouse and Dr. Hall waved her arms in dramatic fashion.
“What do you think you’re doing? This isn’t a strip club. If you want that sort of therapy, you need to go to Dr. Gordon. The old perv would love to have you removing your clothes.”
“I’m not stripping,” I said indignantly. “I’m breast-feeding. It’s the most natural thing in the world.” Well, sort of. I wasn’t finding it as easy as everyone claimed. The baby often had trouble latching onto my breast.
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