Black Arts, Tarts & Gypsy Carts

by Erin Johnson

“You’re probably wondering what’s going on….” Rhonda made kissy faces up at Francis. He scrunched his nose at her. My stomach churned.

  “Rhonda and I have been….” Francis’s low drawl trailed off. “Seeing each other.”

  “Since when?” I blurted out.

  Rhonda rubbed his chest. “Remember when those sexual-tension-filled cupcakes of yours caused us to kiss?”

  I nodded, numb. I was responsible for this?

  Rhonda grinned, her cheeks flushing plum. “Well, that was just the start.” She bit her lip. “But, as we’re both celebrities, we didn’t want rumors started and we hadn’t established what we were to each other, so we didn’t say anything.”

  Francis nodded.

  A realization hit me. “The night Madame Zerna died. You two were—” I pointed a finger between the two of them.

  Rhonda bit her lip and cocked a brow. “Oh yeah.”

  Hank paled, and I pressed a hand to my mouth.

  She grimaced. “That’s actually why I found the body.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  Rhonda grimaced. “We’d… gotten a little adventurous and wandered into the magician’s tent. No one was around and the table was out in the open, so we….”

  “Oh my God!” I gagged. “Please tell me this was before the dead body?”

  “Ew.” She gave me a look. “Of course. So anyway, afterwards I couldn’t find my necklace.”

  “The one I gave you?” Francis asked. Rhonda nodded. “That’s been in my family for generations.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Exactly. So I retraced my steps and went back the next morning and found Madame Zerna and started screaming, and then you guys found me.”

  “And your necklace was in the table. That explains it.” I nodded. Wait a minute. “You mean to tell me you had a perfectly sound alibi, and instead of admitting you two were together, you made me run around doing detective work?” After I’d finished waving my arm around, I planted my hands on my hips.

  “I fly. At night. As a bat,” Francis explained, his arms wrapped around Rhonda. “So yes, we were together part of the night, but I still couldn’t have given her an alibi for all of it. It wouldn’t have made a difference. I would have tried though, had I known. As soon as I heard what happened, I came back.”

  I huffed. “It might have made a difference.”

  “Besides”—Rhonda fluffed her braids—“I didn’t know if it was a casual fling or what, and when he didn’t come visit me, I figured he was embarrassed. I didn’t want to bring up my personal business for nothing.”

  “Me? Embarrassed of you? Never. How could I be?” And with that Francis plunged his face back into Rhonda’s, and I turned away. Seriously, a room for those two. Even a cell would do.

  After I wrapped up a few loose details with Inspector Bon, Rhonda pulled her face away from her vampire boyfriend for a few moments and thanked me sincerely for clearing her name. With my world still rocked by Rhondis or Franda—they were already debating their celebrity couple name—I headed back to the carnival, patting myself on the back.

  Mysteries solved, well done, Imogen. Even mysteries I didn’t want solved had been, and I now had plenty of information, some might say too much, about everything.

  Still, a pit sat in my stomach. I’d looked back as I descended from the air pad, to find Hank beside Shaday in her billowing gown and scarves, following me with his eyes. Urg. Stupid feelings. Why couldn’t we be as simple and nauseating as Rhonda and Francis?

  I jogged down the path canopied by thorny brambles. I’d have to think about that later. Right now, I had a flame to pick up and a ghost to visit.

  If only they weren’t halfway down the mountain I’d just sprinted up.

  23

  Graveyard

  When I got back down to the carnival and slid through the crowd to the baking tent, I received a mixed welcome. Maple threw her arms around me.

  “Ow. Hi.” I may have heard three of my ribs crack.

  She pulled back and put her hands on my shoulders, staring me hard in the face. “Where have you been?”

  “Uh….” I tried to delay, knowing she wouldn’t be happy about me questioning Riga and Scullivan alone after I’d expressly promised not to.

  “Hey—can I get muffins?”

  Maple threw the guy jingling a handful of coins at her the dirtiest look I’d ever seen on her face. “Just—a—minute.” She turned back to me, her scary face dropping into concern.

  “Where’d you go? I took off out of the potion maker’s booth thinking you’d be right behind after you finished talking to Prince Harry. And when you didn’t come I thought maybe you two had fought and you were upset and crying somewhere, or maybe you’d mud wrestled Shaday, and then as night came on I nearly died of worry thinking something terrible had happened—”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, Maple. I’m so sorry—I should have let you know. That was really thoughtless of me.”

  She pressed her lips together, the space between her brows creasing in a little vertical line. She crossed her arms.

  “Lady! The muffins!” The impatient crowd bumped up against the long table in front of the tent that acted as our counter, the guy with the coins leaning way over to get Maple’s attention.

  “Snakes! Enough with the muffins.” She grabbed tongs, tossed a few muffins in a white paper bag, and threw them at the guy’s chest like a basketball. “There’s your muffins! Can’t you tell I’m having a conversation with my associate?” She gestured between the two of us, then turned to me, shaking her head. “Some people.”

  Wow. I had a whole new level of fear and respect for my friend. I didn’t want to get on her bad side. In fact, before now, I hadn’t known she had an anything less than perfectly sweet side. I gulped. And what I’d done this evening might push me across the line.

  “I’m sorry I made you worry. I got so caught up in everything.” I swept my bangs back out of my eyes, trying to remember everything that’d happened. “I talked with Riga and Scullivan again, then saw Frennie and Edward and I got the diary and found the hidden pages, then Frennie and I stopped the airship and—”

  Maple held up her hands. “Whoa.” She walked to the table and faced down the grumpy line of clients. The tablecloth flapped in the wind and the flag bunting across the opening waved wildly. She wrote “closed” across the chalkboard and plunked it down on the table facing them.

  “What the sinkhole?”

  “Seriously?”

  “But I’ve been waiting all day for another hand pie!”

  Maple planted her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. “Well I’m afraid you’ll all have to wait a little longer. We’re closed for a half-hour break. Come back then.”

  Grumbling, the crowd dispersed, and Maple pulled us up some stools. “Okay. I want to hear everything.”

  I recapped for her, glancing every now and then at my little flame in the oven. He hadn’t popped out to say hello.

  When I finished, Maple clapped. “Oh. I’m so glad it all turned out and that Rhonda’s free! I can’t believe Madame Zerna killed herself.”

  I bit my lip and nodded. “Yeah. I wonder why she thought her death would help her daughter? Riga didn’t seem to care at all.”

  Maple shrugged. “When the fog clears.”

  I frowned. “Hm?”

  “Oh, it means, I’m sure the answer will reveal itself. We just don’t have any way of knowing when or how.”

  “Ah.” I nodded.

  She leaned closer. “You don’t seem totally relieved?”

  I huffed. “I’m not. I know I should be… but I can’t help feeling like we’re missing something.”

  “Well….” Maple scratched her cheek.

  “I know, I know.” I smiled at her. “When the fog clears.”

  She smiled back.

  “By the way, what was that back there?” I waved a hand at the long table piled with pastries—though the blueberry hand pies were getting low. “Hey,
has Cat been stealing more goodies?”

  “No… I’ve been feeding them to him. He’s off playing somewhere. Now, what did you mean?” Maple tucked a blond lock behind her ear.

  “I meant, where’d all that sass with the customers come from?”

  She bit her lip. “Was it too much?”

  I shook my head. “I love my sweet Maple, but that was great. A little sass looks good on you.”

  She smiled and her cheeks turned pink. “I’m working on being more assertive.”

  “Well, practice makes perfect and that was good practice.” I licked my lips. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been the worst baker ever lately—”

  “Only because you’ve been a good friend and detective.” Maple smiled.

  “Oh.” I touched my fingertips to my collarbone. “You think so?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. You figured all that stuff out and saved Rhonda—you’re like my superhero.”

  I grinned. “I just asked a bunch of questions. And Edward helped me with the spell on the diary.”

  She squeezed my hand. “Still. You were the only one putting in the effort.” She smiled and wiggled a little on her stool. “I’m so glad you’re my friend.”

  “You?” I wrapped her in another big hug. “I’m so glad you’re my friend.”

  A gagging noise came from the oven. I pulled back and Maple darted her eyes toward Iggy, then mouthed, “He’s mad.”

  “I heard that.”

  I dropped my jaw and called to Iggy, “We didn’t say anything.”

  “Exactly. I heard the silence… and it was very telling.”

  I got up off my stool as Maple turned to help a brave customer who’d ventured back. I bent over slightly to look into the oven, and found Iggy, flame arms crossed, in the back.

  “What’s wrong? We didn’t miss the ceremony, did we? I didn’t forget, I promise—I made sure I came back in time.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No. It’s not that. We still have time… though we should leave soon.”

  I nodded. “Then what is it?”

  He let his arms drop and they became part of his fire. “You went without me!”

  Aw. He was worried, too. I gave him a half smile. “You’re so sweet. But you didn’t need to worry—except for the Riga and Scullivan part.” I held up a hand to the side of my mouth and whispered, “Don’t tell Maple.” I dropped the hand. “But aside from that I had someone with me and was perfectly safe.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure you were! No, jellyfish brain, I’m mad because I slave away in this boring oven all day and night, browning pies for idiots lugging around oversized stuffed dolphins, while you’re out solving puzzles and having adventures.”

  “Jellyfish brain?” I planted my hands on my hips. “I don’t appreciate that.”

  “Most people with a jellyfish brain couldn’t fully appreciate that insult.”

  I glared at him. “Oh come. You’re a baking fire—you had to work today.”

  “You’re a baking human—that didn’t stop you from playing hooky.”

  I tipped my head side to side. “You’ve got me there.”

  His eyes relaxed and he even grinned a little.

  “Aw, there’s that little smile I love.”

  He rolled his eyes, but grinned and turned away to try and hide it.

  “I saw it. Too late.”

  I stuck around for a little longer and helped Maple and Iggy bake and man the till. As midnight approached and the customers died down, Iggy hopped in the big black lantern with star cutouts and we headed to the graveyard, a bag of assorted goods slung over my shoulder.

  We joined a trickle of other mourners winding through dark alleys and narrow streets. Apparently, there wasn’t only one graveyard on Bijou Mer, but each temple had its own, and Iggy couldn’t list all the temples on the mountain. We headed to a smaller one.

  “Nan liked her peace and quiet,” Iggy explained. “And it’s where her husband’s buried.”

  I nodded and stepped under a tall, sky blue gate adorned with gold foil decorations. My sandals scuffed along the gray rectangular stones of the graveyard path, leaves skittering across in front of me and blowing into the gravel that lined the path. Stone lanterns with peaked tops lined the way, the flames inside guttering in the strong breeze and sending the dark shadows dancing.

  I shivered, my arms prickling with goose bumps. Something about the place felt sacred and watched. The other mourners and Iggy and I grew quiet. As I walked along, only the wind rustling the tall cedar trees that guarded the path made any sound.

  We followed the path around a gentle curve and came down a small hill to the graveyard itself. Gray gravestones jutted up at jumbled angles across the small field that overlooked the sea. I held Iggy up and he pointed the way for me.

  Families and friends already gathered around ten or so of the graves, a few more trickling in with us. Some knelt in front of the marker, others laid candles and seashells on the flat slab that covered the coffin, still others laid out picnic blankets, weighted down with rocks on the corners, and food for a feast.

  I spotted a headstone standing straight in front of a grave piled with fresh earth. A few people gathered, leaving cards, flowers, and candles. I leaned closer to get a look and gulped. The inscription read “Madame Zerna,” and I guessed these were some of her fans. No sign of Frennie though. I hoped she’d change her mind and would still come to visit.

  I stepped carefully, making sure not to tread on anyone’s resting place, and followed Iggy’s directions to a marker with two sets of engravings. It sat close to the low, moss-covered wall that bordered the quiet path. A couple and a young boy knelt by another grave close to the edge of the bluff in our row, but other than them, we stood apart from the others.

  I set Iggy down, making sure he was shuttered enough from the wind, then crouched next to him. On the left, the marker read, “Bidden Marten, Loving Husband.” He’d died ten years ago. I remembered Iggy saying he and Nan had gotten close after she lost her husband. On the right, the marker read, “Nan Marten, Loving Wife and Royal Baker.” Below the years indicating her death earlier this year, a quote had been engraved. “Don’t let me rise, or I’ll become the Walking Bread.”

  I choked.

  Iggy smiled sadly at me. “She stipulated that be engraved in her will.” He shook his head. “Dear Nan.”

  Well, it certainly fit with the items Iggy’d had me pick up earlier in the week. I gave up trying to keep my bangs from flying in my eyes in the wind, and dug through the bag. I pulled out the pack of Rowdy Randy cigarettes with the shirtless buff guy on the front. I found a rock and used it to weigh the packet down in the grass in front of Nan’s grave.

  “I didn’t picture her as a smoker.”

  Iggy shook his head. “She wasn’t. She liked to look at the guy on the packet.”

  I stifled a laugh. “So instead of smoking a pack a day, Nan liked a smokin’ six-pack a day, am I right?” I winked at Iggy.

  He shot me a blank look.

  “’Cause of—you know, his abs and the—”

  Iggy lowered his lids. “Just no.”

  I huffed. Next came Nan’s favorite candy. I wedged the little box in under the rock.

  “She loved candy cigarettes though. Loved to get that puff of powdered sugar when she first blew on them.” Iggy shook his head, smiling fondly. “She could cram five in her mouth when she felt like it, and still knead away.”

  “She sounds like… quite the woman.”

  Finally, I pulled out a stack of love letters tied in string, written between her and her husband over the years. They’d written anytime they’d been apart for even a day or two. I smiled and my heart swelled. I secured the letters under another rock. “How romantic.”

  Iggy nodded. “She entrusted them only to me. She said, whenever she went, she wanted me to bring them here on the Night of the Dead.”

  “Does she want you to read them to her one last time?” I pressed my hands to my hea
rt.

  “Good guppy, no! Are you insane?” Iggy looked around, horrified. “There’s a child nearby.”

  “I—”

  “No. She wanted me to burn them in her presence. She said they were too dirty and explicit to be discovered by some unsuspecting dope, and she wanted to make sure they were properly disposed of.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing. So not the time and place. Instead I nodded and forced my face into a serious expression. “Right. Of course.”

  Deep temple bells tolled nearby, the vibrations reverberating through my chest. I glanced at Iggy in his lantern. He gulped. “It’s starting.” As quick winds blew wispy gray clouds across the sky, the bells tolled, the echoes of others around Bijou Mer adding to the solemn sound.

  I gasped as, down the row, a floating specter appeared above the gravestone the family sat in front of. Other glowing forms sprung to existence around the graveyard and grew brighter and clearer. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when a glowing green orb sprung to life in front of us. It grew taller and thinner until a plump old lady with braids wrapped around her head and twinkling eyes appeared.

  “Nan,” Iggy breathed.

  She smiled at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Iggy, me boy. I miss ya.”

  Iggy gulped and nodded, his fire eyes big and round. I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back tears. I knew how much he missed her, too. I turned and marveled at Nan’s hovering, glowing green form. I guess there was an afterlife. Huh.

  She swiveled toward me. “And who might your pretty little friend be?”

  Iggy looked over at me, then gave Nan a tight smile. “This is my friend Imogen.”

  Aw. He called me friend. Usually I interpreted “dolt,” which he called me often, as “friend,” but it was nice to hear he did actually think of me that way. I gave a little wave and dipped my head. “Nice to meet you. Iggy’s told me all about you.”

  “Did he?” Nan barked out a laugh, coughing and wheezing after. “All good things I hope. Hope he kept the juicy stuff to himself.” She looked between us, narrowing her eyes. “She taking good care a you?”

  Iggy nodded. “Even brings me linden branches.”