Charms & Clouds

by Emilia Spring

  “She’s not that old,” Gianna put in. “Why do lesbians wear plaid?”

  “That’s a good question.” Riley looked at me this time.

  “I have cooking to do.” Cheeks flushing, I finished chopping up the peppers and onions, spreading them out in the glass dish. I started preheating the oven, keeping an eye on the time. “I meant to have dinner ready before you got here,” I said, apologetic.

  She shrugged. “I’ve basically just had coffee today,” she said. “My stomach sort of shut down.”

  I stared at her. “I thought that only happened on detective shows.”

  She grinned at me. “I wish.” She did seem less tired, the smudges under her eyes finally disappeared.

  “Did you take a nap?” I put the pieces together.

  She looked chagrined. “Is it that obvious?”

  I nodded.

  She ran a hand through her hair, her expression shifting and becoming darker. “Not a good thing, though.”

  I frowned, but my attention was on slicing the chicken breast and not my hands. “What do you mean?”

  Riley sighed, sinking into one of the dining room tables. Her elbow was on the dark wood, her head in her hand. “Somebody took the body.”

  I paused mid-chop.

  “Come again?” Gianna asked, beating me to the punch.

  “Clara's body,” she said, suddenly looking weary. “It disappeared from the morgue.”

  I opened my mouth and then closed it. “How? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure you can't just walk out of the morgue with a body.”

  Both Gianna and Riley gave me a look. Obviously I missed something. “Magic,” Riley said dryly.

  Oh. I sighed. That thing that made things really cool? It also made things suck.

  I scooped the sliced chicken breast into the glass dish and took a couple packets of taco seasoning from Gianna. It was easy enough to sprinkle those on top and stir things around, then pop it in the oven. “Once these are done cooking, we should have fajitas.” I sounded a lot more confident than I felt.

  I didn't know if she liked fajitas. I probably should've asked if she had any allergies. But, she had eaten everything at dinner at the main house and didn't seem to complain, so.

  “I like fajitas,” Riley said with a shrug. “And not-fajitas.” She paused. “Although I prefer them not burned.”

  I shook my head, came over and poked Riley gently in the shoulder. “You shouldn’t make fun of a lady.”

  “Good thing you’re not a lady,” Gianna muttered. I turned and looked at her, half-outraged.

  “I am a lady!” Sort of. Not that it really mattered.

  Riley laughed. “I will neither deny or confirm.”

  Gianna moved behind Riley so that Riley couldn’t see her but I could. When she caught my eye, she fake-swooned and made goo goo eyes in my direction.

  “Don’t you have homework to do?” I eyed her.

  She smiled at me. “Already did it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Really?” I asked. “We've only been home from the pet shop an hour.”

  She shrugged. “I'm just that good.”

  “What if I let you have your iPad for the evening?” I tried.

  “It's my iPad,” Gianna said, unimpressed.

  I looked at where it was locked up in my desk. “I'm sorry, I think it's mine.”

  Gianna huffed. “You call me when dinner is ready,” she informed me. That wasn't a question, no please or thank you.

  I would take it. I went over to the desk, unlocking the drawer and pulling her tablet out of it. “I'll call you when dinner is ready.”

  She saluted me, and then skipped towards her bedroom, iPad in hand.

  Riley had a wry smile on her face. “You're really getting used to this parenting thing, aren't you?”

  I glanced at Gianna’s retreating form, heard her shut her door. “It's different than I thought it would be,” I admitted. Gianna was overall fairly well-behaved, but I didn't expect that to last much longer. We were already further into a honeymoon period than I thought would last. Maybe I was jinxing her by waiting for the shoe to drop.

  “Have you had kids before?” Riley looked at me out of the corner of her eyes.

  There was a wry smile on my face. “I'm fairly certain that if I had kids before, you would've heard about them at dinner.”

  She conceded the point with a head tilt.

  I moved to peer into the oven, flicking the light on to ensure that everything was starting to cook. Though to be fair, it had only been a few minutes. Nothing really had changed.

  “What is that saying, a watched pot won't boil?” she said.

  “Something like that.” I frowned at the dish as if it would make it cook faster.

  “We had to let Oscar go,” Riley said quietly. I popped back up and looked at her. She had lost the smudges, but she still looked like she’d had a long day of work.

  “I'm sorry,” I said, and I meant it.

  She nodded, exhaling and letting her shoulders relax. “So who are the suspects?”

  I decided to be kind and not tease her. “There's four potential suspects,” I said. “Diane, Marguerite, Oscar, Tiernan.”

  “What about the new person?” Riley asked immediately.

  “Zane,” I said, having forgotten him. I winced. “That doesn't narrow things down, does it.”

  “Welcome to my world.” Riley smiled. “What should we be following up on first?”

  “Excluding Marguerite –” I met her eyes, arched my eyebrows – “I would be most curious about Oscar and Tiernan.”

  “Why?” She leaned back in her chair.

  “Oscar has means, motive, and opportunity,” I said promptly. “Tiernan has a motive. And it’s the oldest motive in the book. Love.”

  Riley nodded. “And then there's the jewelry.”

  I nodded. “But if it was one of them, how would they get the body out of the morgue? I'm presuming you were still holding Oscar at the time?”

  Riley looked thoughtful. “We did have him in custody,” she said. “I'm not sure whether that moves him up or down on my suspect list.”

  Unfortunately, I agreed. If he was working by himself, it could have excluded him. But the chance he was working with Tiernan didn’t rule him out completely.

  “What about Diane?” I bit my lip. I’d met her some previously, but not much. She was nice though, easy-going.

  “As far as I know, she doesn't have a motive,” she said. “She and Clara don't have any history of spats. Clara was her mentor, and they seemed to get along.”

  “And what about Zane?” I’d done some reading on him, but there were always more things to learn.

  Riley frowned. “I don't know nearly as much about him as I would like.”

  “So basically we’re going in a circle,” I said with a grin.

  Riley smiled at me. “Welcome to police work.”

  “What are our next steps?” I asked promptly.

  “Our next steps?” She looked doubtful.

  I arched an eyebrow. “As if you think you’re going to get me to leave it alone now.”

  Her eye roll was fond, and there was a resigned tilt to her lips. She sighed. “What would you say we do next?”

  “I want to do some more research into Clara's background,” I said after thinking it over. “I want you to keep looking into Oscar and Tiernan's alibis.”

  “Oscar’s alibi was the same as the rest of the council members’,” she pointed out.

  “I know,” I said. “But it never hurts to ask again.”

  Riley looked at me for a few long seconds, grudging respect in her eyes. “Fine.” Her eyes narrowed. “The moment you find anything out, you come to me.” There was no give in her words.

  I sighed. “If I have to.”

  She stared up at the ceiling, but she was smiling.

  I heard Gianna’s bedroom door open, heard her pad out into the living room. Then the oven timer started beeping. “Where's
my dinner?” she asked, a hand on her hip.

  I turned to look at Riley. “I’m hungry,” she offered.

  “I hate both of you,” I muttered.

  “Be polite,” Riley said.

  Everybody was a critic.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Gianna was at school, and I totally shouldn’t have been doing what I was doing, but that had never stopped me before. I know, I know. I said I would look into Clara, and I told Riley to look into Oscar and Tiernan. Yet there I was, standing just outside Oscar's home. I tried to look innocent and failed, so instead I tried to look friendly. I was waiting for him to buzz me in.

  Because it would've looked really freaking sketchy if he didn't.

  That was part of the advantage of being an investigator. Even if I was an unofficial one.

  Reluctantly he opened the door, watching me warily. “What do you want?”

  I smiled at him, polite. “I was glad to hear that you were released.”

  He grunted. His eyes were narrowed to slits, his hand still gripping the door as if he was ready to shut it at any moment.

  “I had a few questions for you, if you have the time?” I’m sure he was tired of me. But I hoped maybe, just maybe, I would get something from him that would help.

  “I don't have any answers for you,” he said, half-closing the door.

  “Please.” My voice was soft but firm. “I want to find out what happened to Clara.” The door stopped half-closed.

  “What?” The words were fast and obviously wary.

  I couldn’t really blame him, given what had happened over the past few days. “Was anybody else hanging around Clara before she died?” I asked, going for the most neutral question first.

  He studied me in silence for a few seconds, as if trying to determine what I was actually getting at. “We were all talking to her,” he said. “No one singled her out.” He adjusted his collar, but I kept my face thoughtful and distracted. I wanted him to underestimate me, as much as he could.

  “What do you think of Zane?” I went for the next safest question.

  His frown deepened. There was surprise there too, like it wasn’t a question he had expected me to ask.

  “He's good enough to make it on the Council,” Oscar said diplomatically.

  Sigh. I wasn’t going to get anything. To make things even worse, Tiernan appeared, her hands on her hips and her eyes hard. “What are you doing here?”

  I held my hands up. “I’m done,” I said, backing up from the door. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said with absolutely no actual feeling.

  “Have a good day.” I smiled, receiving nothing in return, then turned and headed towards the path. The door slammed shut behind me.

  Instead of directly leaving, I snuck into the garden. I could see a window open, and I could feel a breeze. It wasn't my same happy breeze, but it was similar. It still felt familiar. “Can you go check for me?” I asked the breeze, my voice a whisper.

  It almost vibrated with excitement, wiggling at being given a task to do. It was strange how much the breezes felt like pets. Who knew, maybe I would be giving them names next. The breeze twirled around my head a few times, around my hand, and then started trailing inside the house. For a few moments I crouched there, waiting. The breeze had to make a full circuit to bring the words to me.

  Not long later, the breeze was coming back, swirling around my head before going back down around my hips. It was weird, but it was a nice way to stay cold. The voices filled my ears, a lot louder than I expected them to be.

  “Why did you tell them?” Oscar asked, his voice dark.

  “They were going to find out anyways.” Tiernan said.

  “Not when you handed it to them,” Oscar muttered. The wind gave me the impression of Tiernan rolling her eyes.

  “We have to be careful,” Tiernan said pointedly.

  I could hear Oscar’s sigh of exasperation. “Yes, I –”

  The voice faded, as the wind went for another round. This time, the first noise I heard was rattling, as if the wind was jarring the window frame. I winced, and ducked further out of sight, so nobody looking out the window could see me.

  “I didn't see anyone,” Tiernan said, the wind in my ears.

  “Still, we’d better be careful.”

  I could feel Oscar's suspicion. I cut the wind off before it could go for another round, thanking it for what it did. It spun around me a few more times, as if giving me a hug, and then disappeared.

  I was really going to have to talk to Marguerite about that. She hadn’t mentioned anything about hugging wind.

  I took a deep breath, and sighed. Had Oscar and Tiernan worked together to kill Clara? I headed back to Ruth, then back to the warehouse. I glanced at the time and sighed. Not only was I an hour late for practice, but I had to go get Gianna from school first.

  I texted Sam, telling her about the change in plans, and turned my car around.

  Hopefully Gianna was up for practice.

  “I thought we were going to the shop?” Gianna turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing.

  “We’re making a detour,” I said diplomatically.

  Her suspicious expression deepened.

  “I may have missed practice.” I winced.

  Gianna snorted, then shook her head as if she wasn’t surprised.

  “Hey,” I said, half offended. “Where's your respect for your elders?”

  She arched an eyebrow, exasperation written all over her face. “I'm so very sorry that you were irresponsible.”

  I shook my head at her, but it was fond. “Are you up for practicing with us?”

  I could see a sudden tension in her shoulders, but it disappeared almost as fast as I saw it. “I would like that.”

  “Is there anything you'd like to practice specifically today?” I asked. I mean, we would always do meditation, but it had to be getting tiring. Even I was tired of it.

  Then again, I had no idea how the process went for young witches. Maybe it was normal to do meditation for months before doing something else. I was wary of pushing her too far too fast, not wanting her to burn out or overextend herself.

  “I'm not going to break,” Gianna said, amusement in her voice. “I'd like to see if I can deliberately communicate with a ghost.”

  “Besides Aunt Mabel?” She was the ghost who stayed around whether we wanted her to or not.

  Gianna grinned. “I don't think we’re ever going to get rid of her.”

  “Are you sure there's not some kind of spell?” I asked doubtfully, turning down the road that led to the abandoned warehouse.

  “Find me a book on my magic and I’ll tell you.” Gianna crossed her arms over her chest.

  I gave her that. Our best documentation was from Marguerite, and if I had to guess, she was making it up as much as we were. Just with slightly better knowledge behind her.

  Sam and Avery's cars were already at the warehouse when we showed up, and I parked Ruth next to them. The cars were hidden by the bulk of the warehouse, which was safer if anybody happened to drive by.

  It still made me laugh that Riley got everybody to think it was haunted, but that didn't stop some occasional people from trying to sneak in. If anything, in my experience with teenagers, it probably encouraged it.

  “Ready?” I said, looking at Gianna.

  “Are you ready?” She tilted her head, her face teasing. “Are you going to make it hail this time?”

  “I don’t do that every time,” I protested on rote. I stopped when we got inside, I wasn't exactly expecting what I saw. Instead of our usual empty warehouse, there was a pseudo-kitchen set up. Sam was standing in it, furiously stirring something in a pot. Avery was sitting a few feet away, up on a stool, playing with her phone.

  “Your exam isn’t going to kill you,” I said, alarmed.

  Sam didn't look up at me, but Avery did. “I've already tried that route,” she said. “Multiple times.”


  “You're only saying that because neither of you are anywhere close to your exams.” Sam’s words were distracted, all of her attention on the pot in front of her.

  Gianna, however, popped out from behind me and went over to the kitchen. She was too short to properly see over Sam’s shoulder, so she used a step stool. Why there was a step stool in the fake kitchen, I didn't know.

  “What are you making?” Gianna asked innocently.

  “Risotto,” Sam said mulishly. I walked over, peering over Gianna’s shoulder. It looked creamy, which I thought was right, but there was a little bit of extra liquid.

  “You added too much liquid,” Gianna said, seeming to enjoy stating the obvious.

  “I know,” Sam said with a sigh. “I am good at my job.”

  “It doesn't hurt to make sure,” I said innocently.

  Sam looked at me, and then she swirled the risotto a couple more times, and the excess stock seemed to absorb into the risotto as a whole.

  “Would you like to try?” she asked.

  I looked at Gianna, who nodded. We were both gifted tiny samples of risotto in little paper cups with tiny plastic spoons. It was like those samples you would get from the store. It was nice and creamy, the rice just the right doneness.

  “I could have sworn that something went wrong.” I winked.

  Sam wiggled her fingers at me, and then went back to stirring the risotto. “The advantage of being a kitchen witch.”

  I watched, surprised, as she distributed it into four containers, and then popped it into the fridge. “Waste not, want not,” Sam said, catching my eyes.

  “She means, this way she doesn't have to cook for a while.” Avery rolled her eyes. “Although, to be fair, we can steal the leftovers.”

  Sam pointed a ladle at her. “If you steal half my leftovers again, Avery, we’re going to have a talk.”

  Avery arched an eyebrow at her. “And who won last time?”

  “That was only because you took my phone,” Sam grumbled.

  “As if I can’t do that this time.”

  I heard Gianna snicker. She settled on a stool close to Avery, looking at her out of the corner of her eye.

  Avery looked at Gianna, half a smile on her face. “You okay?”

  “How did you steal her phone?” Gianna asked, the words coming out in a jumble.