by Erin Johnson
The two officers stepped forward and spelled golden, glowing handcuffs around the botanist’s wrists.
He looked down at them, his face pale and slack. “What? No!” He looked up, his thin chest heaving. “Who-who’s going to take care of my plants while I’m gone? They need me!” He still clutched the small seedling in the pot.
The officers marched him past me, out into the street.
“They’ll die without me!”
The door swung shut behind them, leaving us in the now quiet, dimly lit space, surrounded by a forest of plants.
“Sir.” Peter stepped toward Bon, his face pinched. “I know we need to close the case, but I have strong reason to believe we’ve arrested the wrong person and—”
Bon lifted a hand and cut him off. “We need to close the case because we’re under pressure from one of the richest couples on the island—shell! In the whole kingdom! You should’ve thought of that before you interrogated Amelie LeBec and really inked her off!”
He shook a finger at Peter. “And unless your ‘strong reason’ includes more than just your dog telling you he’s being honest, it’s over.” Bon raised his brows. “Case closed.”
He glared at me as he walked past and joined the other officers and Martin Shaw outside.
31
Extra Curricular
Peter walked me a couple shops down to my door, which was plastered in posters for bands and covered in graffiti. I crossed my arms and leaned my shoulder against the brick wall beside it.
He shrugged. “Guess this is it.” He gave me a tight-lipped smile as Daisy sniffed the gutter behind him. “I’ve, uh—I’ve really enjoyed working with you, actually.” His eyes flitted down to his shoes, then back up to my face.
I was positive there was no way he could actually be flirting with me. Not when I looked like something that belonged in that gutter. I lifted one shoulder. “Sorry I didn’t help more. Not too many animals to read.” I tapped a finger to my temple.
He scoffed. “You kidding? You’re a natural detective, psychic powers or not.” He grinned, his gaze far off. “The way you talked to Amelie LeBec—man. You’re pretty fearless.”
I pressed my lips tight together and looked to the side. I liked to act tough—well, had to, really. It had gotten me through my time in the orphanage and made me a top lawyer at my firm. But if only he knew how petrified I was of anyone finding out the truth about who I was… he wouldn’t call me fearless.
“Here.”
I blinked and turned to face him, startled out of my musings. Peter held out a small leather satchel. “Your payment.”
“Ah.” I hesitated a moment, then took the bag and gave it a little shake. Coins jingled inside. “Thanks.” I sighed. “My landlady probably heard that. It’ll only be a matter of moments until she shows up to take this.” Still. It was a good thing to not be evicted.
Then why did I feel so… disappointed?
“Hey.”
Peter looked up.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the payment, and as much as I hate to agree with your dog, but….” I lifted a brow. “I’m not sure Martin Shaw is guilty.”
Peter let out a heavy sigh and glanced to the side.
“I think we should keep looking into this.” I couldn’t believe the words had come out of my mouth. I had my payment—walk away, Jolene! Old me totally would have. Yet here I was, pushing to do more work? What had washed over me?
Peter shook his head. “You heard the inspector. The case is closed.”
I lifted a palm. “Yeah, but why would he kill her?” I tilted my head. “The first death, Bim, might have been a crime of passion. But this? This was premeditated. He already knew the police were looking into him, why risk another murder?”
Peter shrugged. “Maybe he was worried someone would still be turning on the sign?”
I shook my head. “Then why go for the secretary? If it were me, I’d take out Turk himself. If the business goes under—no sign anymore.”
He lifted his palms. “Look, I don’t disagree with you, but—” He gave a small shake of his head. “But there’s nothing else I can do now. The case is closed, there’s a lot of evidence against him, and now it’s up to the justice system to see if it’s enough to convict.” He stared me in the eyes. “We’ve done our jobs.”
Huh. So it really was over.
He dipped his chin. “See you around?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “See you around.”
He started off, Daisy in tow. She gave me a growl as she prowled past. See ya never.
I barked at her, but disguised it as a cough. I’m going to get you a muzzle.
She swung her head back to glare at me, and I wiggled my fingers in a wave. She and Peter joined the other cops and marched Martin Shaw toward the jail at the top of the mountain.
Who was I kidding? I’d even miss that grumpy fleabag of a dog.
I yanked my door open and trudged upstairs. I pushed through the beaded curtain, tossed the satchel of coins on the kitchen counter, then threw myself onto my couch. Had to say, I hadn’t really missed this place. It was good to get out in the world with Peter.
I sighed as I slumped down into the worn cushions and folded my hands on my stomach. I hadn’t realized how deep of a rut I’d been in until Peter came along and pulled me out of it. The experience had been—invigorating. It reminded me of back when I was practicing law—the thrill of helping people and seeing justice done.
I rolled onto my side and considered using a couple merkles to buy some ice cream from one of the carts downstairs and binging. A couple of days ago, I would’ve indulged without hesitation, but now… it didn’t quite feel right to numb out like that. I bit my lip. How could I go back to the monotonous, run-down life I’d been living?
I sat upright. Maybe, I wouldn’t have to… yet, at least. I jumped to my feet and paced back and forth in front of the sofa. I had a strong feeling the cops had arrested the wrong guy, which meant the killer was still out there. Peter might not be able to look into it further, but that didn’t have to stop me.
I grinned as I walked off some of my nervous energy. I knew I wouldn’t earn any extra money and was under no obligation but… I wanted to investigate more. My grin widened. It’d been a long time since I’d actually been excited about something.
I strode to the kitchen and found a short bit of blank scroll and my old quill in a drawer, then set myself up at the table with its velvet cloth. I slid my headphones on, clicked the play button, and let those sweet ocean sounds wash over me. Anything to tune out Gary the cockroach’s musings from the cupboard about whether cat or dog fur tastes better. Ugh.
With waves crashing in my ears, my hand trembled slightly as I began to jot down the suspects. Just like when I’d been a lawyer, I’d write out all the facts and my thoughts and hope some pattern emerged that would lead me to the killer.
32
Another Runner in the Night
“Urg.” I set down the quill, tossed my headphones aside, and plunked my head into my hands. A bass beat from the bar below thumped in rhythm with the throbbing in my temple, while shouts and faint strains of music wafted in through the open front windows.
I dragged my hands down my face and yawned. On the scroll before me, an elaborate web of names, places, and motivations sat connected by lines and circles. I blinked my burning eyes and gave myself a little shake.
I’d been here at my kitchen table for hours, trying to work out who’d really killed Bim and Zozanna. I yawned again, then groaned. That chipper dummy Peter. He’d gotten me into somewhat of a day schedule, and now, in the wee hours when I’d normally have been wide awake with the bustling Darkmoon Night Market, I could barely keep my eyes open.
I pushed to my feet and paced back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. A couple of my spider roommates whisper-sang creepy little ditties, and out in the hall a few rats dished about the best places to find good table scraps.
A few years ago, w
hen I’d first moved in, a guy who lived in the building next door had laid it on real thick. Despite my politely, and then not so politely refusing his advances, the dude didn’t give up.
Eventually, I had to resort to making a deal with the rats—infest this guy’s apartment in exchange for a heads-up whenever the landlady called the exterminator or laid traps. It turned out to be a real win-win, as harassment guy had moved out within days.
I smirked as I walked across the worn carpet. My “gift” occasionally had its uses.
My living room looked different tonight. It wasn’t blanketed in the typical neon wash of light from Turk’s sign across the street. That thing was blinding whenever it came on.
I stopped. Blinding. I worked my lip. Blinding. Why was that triggering something? I cast back through my memory. When Peter picked up Bim’s camera at her studio, the flash had accidentally gone off, blinding me.
The hairs rose on the back of my neck, and I felt that familiar tingle of being on the brink of some big realization. I paced again, quicker this time. The parakeet had also mentioned the sign being bright.
I stopped short. “Ah!” I laughed, then pressed my lips tight together. Then laughed again. That was it.
Maybe the killer had been blinded, too, and didn’t kill the intended victim. Maybe they came up the stairs just as Bim turned on the sign outside, and temporarily blinded, didn’t realize they’d killed the wrong person. And if Bim was the wrong person, that meant Zozanna had to have been the target all along.
“We’ve been going about it all wrong.” I dragged my hands through my tangled hair. “We’ve been looking for a reason someone would want to kill Bim and Zozanna, but we only need to find a connection to Zozanna. Bim was an accident.”
I needed to test this theory. I strode to the kitchen, grabbed my key ring, and jogged downstairs. I debated using the front entrance, or the back, and decided on the back stairs that led in through the storeroom.
I slid past revelers in the street down a narrow alley, steam curling around my ankles. I grabbed the worn handle on the door and yanked. It rattled, but didn’t open—locked.
“Snakes,” I hissed. Dur. Of course it’d be locked.
I paced again and tapped a finger to my lips. I already had a hunch about who the killer was, but I needed to get inside to test my theory that coming from a dark storeroom into a room suddenly filled with neon light from the sign would be blinding. I needed to get inside.
If I’d still had my powers, I could probably just magically pick the lock. I groaned. Stupid curse. I let out a heavy sigh as I stared at a metal fire escape, hanging askew on a building with dark, cracked windows.
I could get ahold of Peter by calling the station, but it was the middle of the night. The guy was probably asleep. I rolled my eyes. And even if he wasn’t, his ridiculous boss had closed the case—Peter couldn’t help me now, even if he wanted to.
I could try to wrangle up some street urchin to break in for me but—it’d be so much easier if I just had a key. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. I knew someone who had a key—and he lived just down the street.
33
The Key
“Mr. Molino?” I gripped the gilded bars of the fence and rose on my tiptoes. “Turk?” I yanked on the golden cord, and again the concerto doorbell started up.
Somewhere down the street, a drunk tripped and knocked over a metal trash can. I glanced over as the guy scrambled to his feet, then tripped over it again. I stifled a smirk, then turned my face back to the garish home and tried again. “Mr. Molino!”
I rattled the gate, but it stayed shut tight. A light turned on in the front window, and I settled back onto my heels. Awesome. I’d been obnoxious enough to wake him up.
But when the door swung open, it was Millie who stood silhouetted against the golden light from inside.
She craned her neck and peeked out, curlers piled high on her blond head. “Who’s there?”
I twiddled my fingers. “It’s me—Jolene.”
Millie pulled the neck of her fluffy pink robe closed with one hand, slid her feet into some slippers next to the door, then shuffled toward me across the courtyard. She blinked as she neared, her face creased with sleep lines.
“Oh, you.” She leaned over and looked past me. “Where’s that officer and his dog?”
I’d had colder welcomes—it wasn’t going to stop me.
“Oh, they got called away on other police business.” I waved a hand and raised my brows as if to say, ain’t it always the case?
Millie frowned. “What do you want?”
“Can’t a neighbor just come by for a friendly chat?”
Her face slackened, and she turned to go.
I reached through the bars and waved at her. “Wait! Just a joke. I, uh—I need to speak with Turk. Is he around?”
Millie covered a yawn with her hand. “He’s asleep. Like I was.” She gave me a pointed look. “Why do you need to talk to him at two in the morning?”
“I, uh—” A welcome sea breeze cooled the nape of my neck, which had gotten sticky in the muggy summer evening. “I need to borrow a key—to get into the office.”
Millie’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t the case closed?”
I blinked. I hadn’t expected her to have heard about that already. Though I supposed Martin Shaw arrested for murder was probably a big enough deal to have circulated the Darkmoon Night Market gossip circles already.
“Let’s not worry about the details.” I waved it off.
“Are you really here on official police business?” She gave me a hard look.
I nodded. “Of course.” Not.
Her eyes swept up and down me. “I’ll call in to the station to double-check that.” She turned to go, but I again reached out to stop her.
“Wait! Millie, wait.”
She spun and raised a suspicious eyebrow.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, truth is the case is closed, but I have a strong suspicion they’ve arrested the wrong person.”
She paled and turned to face me. “You do?”
I nodded. “Look, I can tell how close you and Bim were—I’m sure you want to see her killer brought to justice as much as I do.”
Her throat bobbed and her eyes grew glassy, but she didn’t speak.
“I have a theory—I just need to get into the office to test it.” I raised my brows. “Can I borrow that key?” I plastered on my “pretty please” smile.
Millie’s chest rose and fell, then she lifted her eyes to me. “Have you told Officer Flint about your theory?”
I shook my head. “It just came to me. But he can’t help us anyway—his boss has taken him off the case.” I gripped the iron bars and waited for her response.
She looked away, then back to me. “I’ll do you one better—I’m coming with you.”
34
Blinded
Millie, still in her robe and slippers, unlocked the back door and held it open for me. I trudged up the dim stairs, clinging to the metal railing on my right. As the door swung shut behind me and Millie’s footsteps sounded below, the stairwell fell into absolute darkness.
I paused as Millie grumbled something about falling to her death. Light flashed, a pale blue, and our shadows loomed ahead. I glanced back. Millie held her lit wand at shoulder height.
“Thanks.” I turned and continued up, chagrined again at not having my own wand and powers anymore.
I pushed through into the storeroom, Millie a few steps behind. Together we threaded between tall shelves stacked with vases, rugs, barrels, and crates. Then I led the way into the office.
I stopped just inside, followed by Millie. The heavy metal door swung shut with a clank. Goose bumps prickled my arms. It was eerier than it had been the other night, when the place was full of people.
To my left stood the receptionist’s hub where Zo had once sat, the covered parakeet cage still resting on the tall wall that wrapped around the desk. I had a sneaking suspicion that her job here
had been the end of her.
“Alright.” I rubbed my palms together as I strode past a couple of desks toward the window. I found the magical lever beside it and flipped the sign on. It buzzed, and then a bright flash of purple and pink light flooded through the wall of dingy windows. The colors changed, flashing red, then blue, then orange.
“This sucker is bright.”
Millie covered a yawn with her hand—clearly enraptured by my machinations.
I stalked past her. “Now if my theory is correct, the killer came up the back stairs through the storeroom, where it was dark, and entered the brightly lit office.” I yanked the heavy storeroom door open, jogged back a few steps and paused as the door swung shut. I stood there, silent for several long moments as I let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
I let out a shaky breath, my nerves tingling with excitement at being so close to cracking the case—I could feel it!
“Okay!” I called so that Millie could hear. “Coming out!”
I shoved the door open and strode through. The bright light hit me, and I blinked rapidly, shielding my eyes with my arm.
“Millie—could you go stand by the window?” Purple and pink light floated behind my closed eyes, but she let out a heavy sigh and her feet scraped over the carpet as she shuffled away.
“You there?”
“Mm-hm.”
I took a deep breath, then opened my eyes. I could barely see, my eyes would hardly open in the brightness, but there was Millie. I could make out her silhouette, but none of her features.
“Ha!” I grinned and paced between desks, blinking away my fuzzy vision. “I knew it! The killer didn’t mean to kill Bim, they meant to kill Zo, but couldn’t tell the difference because they were blinded by the light.” I clicked my tongue. “Which meant it had to be someone who knew Zo stayed late—who’d expected her to be the one turning on the sign.”