The Strongman's Spell

by Amorette Anderson

  “That’s Alyssa’s dryer,” Beatrix said. “I can’t make sense of it. Why would it be in Carlisle’s room? I’m sure she packed it for our weekend stay. She always dries her hair after washing it, so it’d be as necessary to pack as a toothbrush. When you mentioned that the hairdryer that killed Carlisle was pink, well I thought, ‘it couldn’t be...’ But then, when I returned to the suite that Alyssa and I are sharing, I looked for hers in her suitcase, and... it wasn’t there.”

  She sounded frightened. Her voice shook slightly as she continued in a hushed tone. “Now, I’m not saying Alyssa killed her father. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She’s a good girl. It’s just—” She stopped abruptly.

  I knew that she wanted me to interject, but I held my tongue. There was more she wanted to say, and I knew I just had to wait for it. She twisted her hands together a few times nervously, and then stepped in closer to me. Her voice was even more hushed as she continued. “There’s a will, of course. Alyssa stands to gain quite a bit from it. Again, that doesn’t mean she killed her father... it can’t mean that. She didn’t. She’s a good girl. But it’s on my mind, and I thought you should know.”

  “Thank you, Beatrix,” I said. “I know that wasn’t easy for you. This could be important information for this case. It could help me figure out who killed your husband.”

  “Please do,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder again. “I’d better return to my suite before Alyssa worries about me. I’ve been gone for quite some time.”

  She stepped away from me.

  I watched her go. There was so much more I wanted to ask her, but I knew that it wasn’t the right time. She was cold and tired, and I was more than ready to lay my head to rest, as well.

  I looked to Skili, who was still perched on the roof of the van. “That was interesting, hm?” I transmitted.

  She moved her feathered head in a subtle nod. “Very,” she returned. “Now we know who the murder weapon belonged to. We also know that Alyssa had motive.”

  “According to Beatrix,” I added. “But what if she’s lying?”

  “Hm,” Skili said.

  “At least I know who I want to talk to next,” I said.

  “Alyssa?” guessed Skili.

  “Yeah.” I stretched my arms up and yawned. Then I transmitted, “But first, I need some sleep. Goodnight, Skili.”

  “Goodnight, child,” she responded, before lifting off of the van and soaring up to a high perch on a nearby tree.

  I stood and watched her for a minute, and then I headed into my van to find a resting spot of my own.

  Chapter Eight

  I slept well. I was so exhausted that I didn't even wake up once during the night.

  The next morning, my cell phone alarm went off at 5:30. Part of the weekend workshop included a bootcamp-style workout with Neil at sunrise. I knew that plenty of the guests were excited about it, but I was still sleepy, so I turned off my alarm, rolled over, and drifted back into dreamland.

  When I woke up next, this time without an alarm, I spent a few moments transitioning into my waking state. Wisps of my dreams evaporated, and I looked out of my van window through my dreamcatcher at the bright blue sky outside. The sun was up. I glanced at my phone and saw that it was 6:30. I felt grateful for the good night's sleep. I definitely needed it.

  I also needed a shower.

  I used to go to Penny’s house to shower a lot, when the weather was too cold for stream-side grooming sessions (which I loved, by the way—something about splashing around with biodegradable soap and ice cold water was very refreshing). But once the center was constructed, I started going inside and use the women’s locker room section of the spa. I liked the rainfall showerheads, yummy lemon-cucumber water, and plush bathrooms.

  I grabbed my toiletries and clean clothes, stepped out into the crisp sunshine-filled air, and greeted Skili, who had just returned from a nighttime hunting session. After a quick stretch, I headed into the building. Skili stayed up in her favorite tree to get some sleep.

  After a steamy shower, I dressed in a pair of loose-fitting tie-dyed pants, my softest tee, and a baggy beige sweater. I braided my wet hair, put on my biggest feather earrings, and topped off my look with my vest.

  I was feeling good as I made my way to the lobby.

  A few of the center’s magical guests were sitting in chairs, big mugs of coffee and tea in hand and little plates of food before them. I grinned, feeling grateful for the catering spell that Annie and my witch sisters had conjured up the night before. Apparently, it was still delivering.

  As I made my way to the buffet table, I glanced around to see if Beatrix or Alyssa were in the mix. I spotted Neil the Strongman, the vampire couple, and the merwomen I’d spoken to the night before.

  “Unicorn poop!” I muttered as I saw the merwomen. “I booked some massages!”

  I didn’t see Alyssa. I went about filling a plate with food and readying a cup of Chai tea. Then I found an available seat and began eating. When I was halfway through my breakfast, I looked up and spotted Alyssa descending the wide staircase.

  She had a scowl on her face, and her hair was a wavy, frizzy, auburn mess instead of the sleek bob that it had been the day before.

  I waited for her to fill a plate with food before I flagged her down with a wave.

  “Morning, Alyssa,” I said as I plopped down in the empty seat beside her. “Did you go to the bootcamp this morning?”

  “Ugh,” she said. “Bootcamp? Me? No, thank you. I am not a workout kind of girl. I hate lifting heavy things, and I can’t stand sweating.”

  “Oh.”

  Her eyes were puffy and red. I sensed she’d been crying recently. “How are you holding up?” I asked. I genuinely wanted to know.

  She shrugged, and then pushed aside her plate. A sparkling engagement ring glittered on her left hand, but I didn’t see a wedding band. “I thought I’d try eating, but I don’t think it’s going to happen,” she said. “I have zero appetite.”

  Was guilt messing with her appetite, or was it grief? Or both?

  I decided to try asking some questions.

  “Alyssa,” I said gently. “I was wondering if I could talk to you a little bit about yesterday afternoon.”

  She didn’t say yes or no. She stayed still—frozen—staring down at her full plate.

  I decided to continue. “As you remember, I picked up you, your mom, and your dad at the portal gate, and drove you here. You and your mom headed up stairs around three, and I stayed in the lobby with your dad.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Alyssa snapped. “Will you just hurry up already? I have a headache.” She pressed a hand against her temple.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just wondering... Did you and your mother go straight to your shared suite?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And... What did you do then? The meet and greet started at four, and I saw you down in the lobby then. But I’m wondering what you did during that hour before the meet and greet.”

  “You mean, while my dad was being murdered,” she said.

  She pulled her hand away from her temple and drilled me with a puffy-eyed glare. “I can’t believe you’re insensitive enough to treat me like a suspect,” she said. “Do you even know what I’m going through right now?”

  “I do,” I said. “I’m really sorry for putting you through this. Believe it or not, I’m actually a really sensitive person. But your dad asked me to figure out who killed him, so I have to start putting together a comprehensive picture of what was going on here in the center between three and four.”

  “And you’re starting with me?” she said, raising her brows. “I didn’t kill my father, okay?”

  She huffed out an annoyed sigh, and then reached for a cloth napkin that was by her plate. She tossed it on top of her untouched food, and then picked up her plate and stood. “I’m not in the mood for breakfast,” she said. “I’m going to the mud baths for a soak.”

  “A
lyssa,” I said, jumping up to my feet, too. “I know that the dryer that killed your father was yours.”

  She gasped and stopped in her tracks. Her cheeks paled.

  “So I need some answers,” I continued. “I’m trying to understand how your dryer got into your dad’s bathtub. If you could please just tell me what you were doing between three and four, that would really help.”

  She licked her lips. Her eyes darted back and forth, and then finally landed on mine. “I didn’t kill my father,” she said again. This time, her tone was softer. It wasn’t full of the false-bravado of defensiveness. Instead, she sounded scared.

  I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “I hear you. I’m not accusing you of that. I’m just trying to understand.”

  She took a breath. Then she said, “Okay. You brought us to the lobby. Mom and I went and checked into our suite. I... I was tired. Yeah... really tired. Mom wanted to go to the meditation room, to see what it was like. She used the bathroom and then left.”

  “What time was that?” I asked.

  “I don't’ know... maybe 3:10,” Alyssa said. “Something like that. Then I just... I just spent some time in the room. Then I got ready for the meet and greet. I wanted to look nice.”

  “You spent some time in your room...” I repeated back to her. “Doing what?”

  “Just... just you know, generally checking it out. Getting a feel for it. I guess I unpacked a little bit.”

  “Did you unpack your hairdryer?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Do you know if your hairdryer is in your room now?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” she said.

  I eyed her frizzy, wavy hair. “Alyssa, a hairdryer killed your dad. Like I said, it was pink. I have it in my possession, and I’d like to know if it was yours. It would also be really helpful to know if your dryer is in your room now. If you want, we can go up to your room now and look together...”

  “No!” she said. “No, that won’t be necessary. Fine. I couldn't find my dryer this morning, okay? Does that make you happy?” She glared at me some more. “I have no idea where it went. Like I’ve told you twice now, I didn’t kill my dad. He’s my father, Marley. I loved him. And this is all really emotional for me, so—” She pressed a fist to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Then she opened her eyes. They were glistening with tears. She stepped back. “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  She placed her plate of food down on the table and hurried away.

  I looked at the food. Part of me wanted to pick it up and walk it over to a station for dirty dishes that was by the buffet table. But then a stronger instinct took over.

  Where was Alyssa running off to? I wanted to know. I watched her cross the room. She looked over her shoulder at me as if to make sure I wasn’t following her, which made me want to even more. I busied myself with staring down at the half cup of tea in my hands.

  She was so eager to get away from me. Why? I wanted to follow her, but then a thought struck. It was almost 8:00. I had a massage booked. How could I follow Alyssa and fulfill my massage obligations at the same time?

  Just as I considered all of this, a fairy swooped down and fluttered over Alyssa’s plate. She was only a little bit bigger than Skili in size. I recognized her from yesterday, when I admitted her through the portal gate. Her name was Margie. She wore little round spectacles and had a little gray top bun on top of her head. She wore a simple house dress with a white collar and belt, and her wings were shimmery and gossamer.

  “All done?” she asked, as she wrapped her delicate hands around the edge of the plate and lifted it up. “I can take this for you. No need to trouble yourself with it. You have enough to handle, young lady.”

  “Thanks, I said. “But you totally don’t have to do that, Margie! You’re a guest. You should be sitting back and relaxing with a cup of coffee yourself.”

  “Oh, nonsense.” She released a hand from the plate and waved it at me. The plate tilted and for a second, I thought everything was going to slide right off of it. But she righted her hand again just in time.

  I turned my head to see where Alyssa was going. I knew better than to look directly at her. Instead I watched her in my periphery as she reached the French doors that led out to the deck, looked over her shoulder, and then furtively darted through them.

  “You look interested in that woman,” the fairy noted. “Isn’t she the dead reviewer’s daughter?”

  “She is,” I said.

  “Well?” Margie’s wings fluttered. She motioned with her head toward the French doors. “Go follow her!”

  “I want to,” I said, “But I really can’t. I have a massage booked for eight o’clock.”

  “I could do the massage, if you like!” she said happily. “Please. I really love to help. Everyone has a purpose you know, and mine is to be helpful. I’m a fairy godmother. I feel happiest when I’m providing assistance.”

  “But you’re here to learn,” I said. “And to make your own magic stronger. I can’t let you work!”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Really. It’s not work for me. Helping is pleasurable. I’m a great masseuse, you know. I do Thai massage, using my feet. I was trained by a master.”

  I eyed the deck again. I really wanted to know what Alyssa was doing out there.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Margie grinned even wider.

  “Absolutely positive!” she said. “It’s really my pleasure to be able to help you.”

  “Well...” I hesitated. I felt bad about asking the kind fairy to take over the massages I’d foolishly booked.

  “Come now,” she said. “You’re trying to figure out who killed the record keeper, right? The sooner you catch the killer, the better off we’ll all be. Let me help, in this small way.”

  That convinced me. “Okay,” I said. “If you help me with my eight o’clock, that would be great. I’ll be back in time for the nine.”

  She winked at me and flew toward the spa. On her way past the buffet table, she dropped off Alyssa’s dirty plate. Then she buzzed toward the spa doors. Her wings were moving so fast that they became a blur, and she reminded me a little bit of a hummingbird.

  I wandered over to the French doors, but tried to look casual, as though I wasn’t intentionally following Alyssa. I didn't want her to get freaked out if she happened to look back inside.

  As I neared the doors, I pretended to be checking on the health of a planter of succulents that was balanced on the windowsill by the door. That way, I had a view of outside, but I looked busy at the same time. I could see Alyssa in one corner of the deck. Sunshine was pouring down from above, and we’d set up tall space heaters that looked sort of like umbrellas. She was under one of the heaters, talking to a man.

  I recognized the guy—I’d admitted him the day before. His name was Adam, I recalled, though I couldn’t remember his last name. He had a slight build, pale skin, and sandy-brown hair that stuck out around the bottom of the fedora he wore. A mud-brown goatee dusted his chin. He wore khakis and a baggy gray top.

  Alyssa and Adam were the only two out on the deck. I couldn’t figure out a way to get out there without being totally obvious, so I stayed in my spot and simply watched through the glass.

  Alyssa was gesturing to Adam in a way that made me think she was angry. She threw her hands up in the air a few times, and shook her head as if with disappointment. Adam crossed his arms. He listened to Alyssa’s apparent tirade for a minute. She shook a finger in his face. Then he erupted into an angry display of his own. He uncrossed his arms, stepped forward, leaned into her, and shook his finger back at her.

  Yikes. The two of them were really going at it. Just the sight of it made me feel uncomfortable—like ants were crawling around under my skin.

  I hate confrontations. When my witch sisters and I used magic to create this center, I envisioned so many beautiful things happening out on the sunny, heated deck. I thought people might sip tea, connect thro
ugh deep conversations, and form new bonds with each other. I imagined smiling faces, heads tilted back with big belly laughs, beings embracing with loving-kindness flowing through their hearts, and maybe even a drum circle or two.

  Not this.

  Not arguing.

  Who was this guy, anyways? And what were he and Alyssa arguing about?

  I was so wrapped up in my spying that I failed to notice Cora approaching me. When she spoke, I jumped.

  “Morning, Marley!” she chirped in her usual cheery tone. She was dressed in bright yellow and white spandex leggings and a hoodie that matched. Her short blond hair was up in a high ponytail and her mega-sized sports watch glistened on her slender wrist. In one hand, she held the leash that was attached to Blueberry Muffin, her feisty Chihuahua familiar. In the other, she held a giant mug of coffee.

  “We missed you at Neil’s bootcamp workout this morning!” she continued. “It was crazy cool. He really knows how to fire up a crowd! I am so glad I asked Silas to watch the kiddos this morning. This was totally worth the trip into town. And the buffet turned out fabulously!”

  I nodded, but felt too distracted to answer her. I looked through the glass doors again. Adam was walking across the deck toward the lobby in long, determined strides. Alyssa was following behind him, speaking to his back as he walked.

  “What’s going on?” Cora asked, as she followed my gaze.

  I gave a quick shake of my head, to indicate that I couldn’t discuss it at the moment. I turned away from the door just as it opened. To appear busy, I said loudly to Cora, “And this planter only needs to be watered once in a while. Maybe we could enchant a few watering cans, and have them float around just like the appetizers did last night. That way...”

  I let the sentence drift off as Alyssa and Adam passed by us and began crossing the lobby together. Once they were out of hearing distance, I pointed to them. “Cora, see that guy with Alyssa? I want to know more about him.”

  “Oh! Is this about Carlisle’s killer? Of course, I want to help! I was keeping my eyes out for any funny business during the bootcamp workout, too. Nothing happened—unless you want to call a good sweat-set funny business. So what’s up with that guy? Why do you want to know more?”