I decided to do my best to ignore the fairy taffeta and wings and treat her as I would any other person. That was what she was, after all. “I don’t know if I would put it like that either. But I did come to speak to Mark.” That was only partially true. Upon crossing the street, I had every intention of talking to Mark, but then I had the hopes of something just like this, talking about Mark with someone who knew him. Well, not exactly like this. No way I could’ve imagined anything like this.
“I would ask you to remember, Fred, that some good wizards can be abrasive and grumpy. While some of the most charming and captivating wizards work their evil with a flash of smile and flattery of tongue.”
Glinda, if that really was her true name, was a trip. “You don’t break character, do you?”
For the first time, puzzlement crossed her features. Instead of responding, she gripped my forearm lightly with her wrinkled knobby fingers. “I know Barry and your mother well.” Her eyes narrowed as she cocked her head. “I don’t suppose that’s accurate. Not well, but for a long time. Just like the abrasive and grumpy can have hearts of gold, those who are scattered, flighty, and seemingly unresponsive are good at heart as well. They are just lacking certain… qualities that come in helpful when they are lord of the manor.”
At any other time, and if spoken with even an ounce of sincerity, I think I probably would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it. Both in the formal phrasing and the idea of Barry and my mom being lords of the manor. Although, considering the number of properties Barry owned and the two of them managed, I supposed the comparison was apt, but still….
I had released Watson’s leash without being aware, and he’d wandered over to the counter. Only his rump was visible, his tail wagging. Even though I couldn’t see the front portion of him, his snuffling could easily be heard over the background of tinkling new age music.
Glinda turned and laughed. “Your companion is hungry.” Without waiting for a response, she returned to the counter.
I studied her wings as she moved. They were impressive, and probably expensive. I couldn’t see straps or how they were affixed. If there really were fairies in the world, Glinda was one of them.
She looked back at me as she stepped behind the counter. “May he have another?”
“Yes, thank you. My… companion is most definitely always hungry.” I crossed the distance and took a spot on the other side of the counter, a few lengths away from Glinda so it didn’t feel like I was towering over her in an aggressive manner. “Since you are aware of why I am here, I don’t see any reason to pretend otherwise. Obviously I’m trying to figure out who might have killed Sammy. And I learned some things this morning that made me think I might need to meet Mark.”
Glinda’s lips thinned this time, and when her gaze hardened, there was a sense of hostility, though it didn’t seem directed at me. “Even good wizards make human mistakes from time to time.”
Her declaration stole my next words out of my mouth. Once I got past the wizard part, it was a fairly telling statement. One that could be taken multiple ways. Was the wizard’s mistake his affair with Sammy, or the murder of her? “What do you—”
A tinkling of bells announced the door opening. Glinda’s eyes widened as she looked over my shoulder, and I turned to follow her gaze. A large man stepped into Alakazam. Even without the heavy black robes that clothed him from neck to floor, I would’ve known Mark Green. Susan was the exact same height as I was, but Mark was several inches taller. He was also obviously several years older than Susan, but the differences stopped there. They could’ve been twins. Same chiseled face. Same massively strong build. Same pale blue eyes.
He looked every inch a dark wizard.
Mentally, I shook myself at the thought. He wasn’t a wizard. Glinda wasn’t a fairy or a witch. But in this environment, with Glinda’s wings and Mark’s wizard robes, I was the one who felt out of place. I was the human who had stumbled into Oz. I even had a relatively little dog by my side, for crying out loud. If I hadn’t gotten ahold of myself in time, I might’ve pulled up the hem of my broomstick skirt to see if my brown cowboy boots had been magically replaced with ruby slippers.
Mark’s gaze flicked to Watson, who was now at my feet, and then back to me, his gaze growing every bit as dark as his robes. “How dare you come here.”
My mouth moved, but I couldn’t find words. Though he was huge, and clearly angry, I was surprised to discover I didn’t feel threatened by the gravel of his voice. It took a heartbeat or two before I realized what I felt.
Guilt.
He took several steps across the space, then stopped less than three feet away, towering over me as I’d avoided doing to Glinda. Still, even as he shook with anger, I didn’t feel threatened. “She’s not in the ground yet, and you come here? Ready to accuse, to point fingers. Ready to wallow in my grief and exploit it so you can feel better than everyone else. Prove to the police that you’re just as smart as they are? Smarter?”
He took another step, and if I hadn’t already been against the counter, I would’ve attempted a step back. I didn’t look away, but I heard the rustle of Glinda’s dress as she hurried around the counter.
“Do you think just because Susan didn’t approve of Sammy and me that she won’t do her best to find out who did this?” His words were barely more than a whisper. “She’s better than you. In every way. How dare you use Sammy’s death, my loss, as a way to humiliate my sister?”
Mark started to take another step, but Glinda, the tiny fairy that she was, moved in, placed her hand on his arm, and held him still. “Not all forces of light fight along the same side even when facing the same foe.”
He looked down at Glinda, irritation crossing his features as some battle waged behind his eyes.
With Mark’s attention focused on someone else, I was better able to read him. He looked utterly exhausted, completely devastated. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. And though he was tall and strong, those broad shoulders seemed slumped in defeat as if the world was crumbling down over them.
I hadn’t come over suspecting Mark, but his wife. She was still a possibility, and I didn’t learn anything about her. But from his expression, if he’d been a suspect in my mind, this would’ve cleared him. Sure, lovers sometimes kill in the heat of passion and are later devastated. Maybe I would recognize it, maybe I wouldn’t. Every instinct I had told me that was not what Mark was experiencing.
He kept his gaze on Glinda, but pointed a rock-like finger toward the door. “Get out. Never come back.”
I spared a glance toward Glinda, but she didn’t look my way either, staying solely focused on Mark.
For a couple of seconds, I wondered about the two of them. Was she Mark and Susan’s mother? Maybe she had some strange and disturbing obsession with Mark himself? Maybe one that would cause her to rectify her good wizard’s mistakes with her own hands?
Mark looked at me then, causing me to flinch and bringing my attention back to him. “I said, get out.”
I didn’t hesitate another moment. I angled around him and hurried to the door, patting my thigh as I walked. Watson joined me, and I reached down to scoop up his leash as we stepped back outside.
We hurried over the wooden walkway and emerged from the shelter of the waterwheel back into the winter sunlight and cotton-fluff snowflakes that fell over the downtown. It was like emerging from another world, suddenly finding myself in reality and strangely discombobulated by it.
Several stores down, a wooden sign hanging over a door caught my attention. Penelope’s. Lunch. Food would help ground me once more and be perfect fuel for sifting through what had just happened. Even if it had the same name as one reincarnation of the Garble sisters.
Though I still had hold of Watson’s leash, I patted my thigh again. “Come on, buddy. This calls for cheeseburgers.”
The cheeseburgers were as good as always. Unfortunately they weren’t magic and didn’t offer any lightning-bolt revelations—though the grilled onion
s were out of this world. The fries that Watson and I split—five for me, one for him—didn’t have any superpowers either. By the time lunch was done, my appetite was sated, but I had more questions than I’d walked in with.
I still didn’t suspect Mark of hurting Sammy. But despite being charmed and mesmerized by Glinda, she had wormed her way into that coveted spot. It was clear she put Mark on a pedestal. Maybe she saw Sammy as a home-wrecker and decided to take away her wizard’s temptation. Of course, none of what I’d learned in Alakazam gave me any insight into Mark’s estranged wife. She could still be an option.
And I had a third suspect. One Mark had offered up, though unintentionally. What had he meant that Susan didn’t approve of Sammy? Probably simply because she worked for Katie. But surely that couldn’t be a motive for murder. Inasmuch as I didn’t like Susan, me not liking her didn’t put her in the suspect category, even if she didn’t show me the same courtesy. Although, now that I thought about it, if she had killed Sammy, what more could she ask for than peddling it off on me. Get rid of Sammy and me with one fell swoop.
But that was ridiculous. Susan wasn’t a suspect.
I mentally started to scratch her name off the list, then hesitated. There was no reason to take anyone off the list. It was too soon. Under that frame of mind, I added Mark as well. If for no other reason than to suddenly have five suspects instead of one.
I probably should strike off Carla’s name, but I couldn’t make myself.
I expected another bombshell when I visited Carl and Anna at Cabin and Hearth, but to my disappointment, they weren’t there. The shopgirl said they were in Florida visiting their daughter who’d just had a baby.
It seemed to be that season. I’d forgotten they’d mentioned they were waiting when I’d seen them the other day.
After checking out several more shops and coming away with nothing else, by the time the sun set, Watson and I were heading home, and I felt rather deflated. A phone call with Katie made me feel a bit better. She was excited about my theories and hadn’t been aware that Sammy had been seeing Mark Green.
Dinner consisted of a container of Mom’s leftover meatless chicken cacciatore, this time with grilled chicken breast on the side—one for me and one for Watson—from an actual chicken. As I was settling down in my pajamas in front of the fire to read, there was a pounding on the door.
Regretting my choice in sleepwear as I crossed the room, I pictured Branson Wexler on the other side. He hadn’t been over in weeks, but it wouldn’t be the first time he showed up unexpectedly after a murder. Forgetting the training that had been drilled into my head as a detective’s daughter, I threw open the door without bothering to look through the peephole, and nearly slammed it shut.
Susan Green didn’t give me the chance as she barged through, causing Watson to let out a stream of atypical barking. She waved him off. “Oh shut up, you little furball. I’m not going to kill your mother.”
Her assurance didn’t convince him, and he continued to bark.
I was either going to cook him another chicken breast or give him a cupcake for his whole-hearted defense. I glared at Susan. “If you don’t have a search warrant, you don’t have permission to come in.”
She rolled her blue eyes and gestured at her sweater and jeans. “Do you see a uniform?”
I glanced outside. No police cruiser. Just an old Chevy truck, one that looked fairly beaten-up, though it was hard to tell in the dark and shadows of the surrounding pines. Okay, so not official police business. She wasn’t arresting me, it seemed. When I turned back, she was glaring at Watson once more.
“Watson. It’s okay.” I patted my thigh and squatted down to stroke him when he walked over to me. Though his barking quit, a rumbling growl continued in his chest.
Maybe another chicken breast and a cupcake.
“Even out of uniform, you’re not allowed to barge in without an invitation.” I looked up at her and felt slightly at a disadvantage. I patted Watson once more and stood.
“I’m not entering as a police officer without a warrant, so this isn’t illegal. And I’m not a vampire, so I don’t technically need an invitation to walk over your threshold.” Susan was so angry she was trembling. Clearly she’d just heard from her brother.
“Actually, entering someone’s house without permission is illegal.”
She scowled. “You opened the door.”
“And didn’t invite you in.” I rolled my eyes right back at her. “And it has nothing to do with you not being a vampire, though I bet I could make the case that you might be. It’s a little thing called trespassing. If you were a better police officer, you might be familiar with the term.” Even as the words left my mouth, I wanted to kick myself. I didn’t have a violent temper by any means, but I did have a quick one, and at times it made my tongue a little too sharp. Especially when I sounded like a twelve-year-old on the playground. Angrier at myself than Susan at that point, I slammed the door shut, causing Watson to jump. As I cast him an apologetic glance, I addressed Susan. “I swear you can make me act like someone I absolutely despise.”
She opened her mouth to retort.
“And I’m willing to bet I do the same to you.”
For once, Susan was speechless and closed her lips.
I gestured to the kitchen. “I guess let’s get it over with. I’m sure you’re here to yell at me for going to the magic shop today.” I didn’t wait for a response and led the way, Watson by my heels, still growling softly. “Might as well do it over hot tea. Take a seat at the table if you want.” Despite the words, I couldn’t make my tone overly welcoming, but neither did I sound like a moody preteen, so I counted that an improvement.
After putting the kettle on the stovetop, I turned to find Susan standing in the kitchen, halfway between the doorway and the table, her arms crossed, her gaze flitting over the room not missing a beat.
The words take a picture, it’ll last longer flitted over my tongue, but I put them back. Not trusting myself, I just waited.
Finally she focused on me. “Your refrigerator and oven are robin’s-egg blue, right out of the sixties, your table is sea-foam green, the curtains over your sink are tie-dyed with pink flamingos on them, and you’re wearing fuzzy orange slippers.”
All true. I’d redone most of the interior of my grandparents’ cabin, but I was rather fond of the retro appliances, and as long as they worked without too much maintenance, I wanted to keep them. “Sorry, Susan, I can’t read your meaning. Did I exceed your expectations? I can’t imagine they were very high.”
She shrugged. “It’s all pretty much what I pictured from a woman like you. Although the orange fuzzy slippers are a far cry from the boots you always wear.” I wondered if she realized just how much she was admitting she’d observed me. “The curtains are atrocious; surely you know this.”
“They were a housewarming gift. Barry picked out the material, my mother made the curtains.” Why was I telling her that?
She laughed. Susan actually laughed. And though the sound wasn’t exactly warm and friendly, it was still surprising. “Of course he did. Now they make sense.” She crossed to the table and sat down as her pale blue gaze lifted to mine. “We can’t pick our family, but it’s amazing what we’ll do for them, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean? Did you kill Sammy for your brother?” The words were spoken in anger, but I hadn’t really intended to say them either. I couldn’t stand Susan Green, but she wasn’t a killer.
She laughed again. And this one had some humor in it. “Oh, yes, I crept into your horrible little store in the middle of the night and killed Sammy for messing around with my brother.” She cocked her eyebrow. “Why was Sammy in your store in the middle of the night again?”
It was a question I’d pondered but had no answer for. And without any witness or real suspect, there was no one to ask to find out. “Don’t know. Sounds like she was spending her nights with your brother. Maybe we should ask him.”
“Just be
cause my brother’s an idiot who dresses in purple wizard robes doesn’t make him a murderer.” She sneered. “Nor does his horrible taste in women.”
I nearly corrected her that he was wearing black robes, but the kettle started to scream. I moved it off the flame. Maybe he’d been wearing black robes for mourning. The notion seemed right. I glanced at Susan over my shoulder. “Decaf chai all right with you?”
She shrugged.
I took that as a yes. I didn’t bother asking how she took her tea, expecting the same response, so I made it to match my own, with a little cream and honey. I brought the cups over to the table and sat down across from Susan.
“Okay, you’re here. We both know why. So, let me have it. Yell at me for having the audacity to go into the magic shop to talk to Mark.” I lifted my finger before she could interject. “I do want to point out, however, that Alakazam is a store, one that people can walk in and out of freely, at least during business hours. My home, even if I opened the front door, isn’t. Keep that in mind during your tirade.”
“You’re so smug. All the time.”
There was such quiet disdain in her voice that it brought me up short.
She didn’t wait for me to respond, instead pounding her finger onto the tabletop for emphasis as she spoke. “You’re not a cop. I don’t care what your daddy did, what your ex-husband did, or what your boyfriend does. Or whatever Branson is to you in whatever given moment.” She held up her hand as I started to object. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t give a flying leap what Branson does. He’s just like my brother. Horrible taste in the opposite sex. But unlike my brother, who Branson dates affects the job—and what does that tell you about how great of a sergeant he is—and who Mark dates affects my family.” She continued to jab at the table. “So, let’s be clear. You have no business shoving your nose into this case. It doesn’t matter that Sammy was murdered at your store. It’s our case to solve.”
Savage Sourdough (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 4) Page 7